#thank you boel and sara... i have no words (sniffle)

[arcstral]

waving chrom off too enthusiastically for her own good, sara sends him on his way through the billowing flaps of the tent so that she may enjoy a private audience with the hero-king. just as it had then, it does not occur to her now either that the small trinket in her possession could be a precious item. sara herself has no single belonging she values for any reason that is not personal sentiment alone and even her attachment to the kia staff is a fickle one at best, spoiled by the associations it will always carry.

searching the bustling ward for marth's face, the heart in her chest grows tight with anticipation to a degree that she almost does not recognize herself. to be caught wanting discomfits her and she ponders if somewhere he would truly be waiting to receive her so fondly as only leif does. for a split second she fancies keeping the ring for a memento of time cherished even if it had not been among her original designs. thankfully, his figure comes into view before temptation gets the better of her, and sends her racing off to the cot that he is perched atop upright, doubts forgotten.

"i borrowed this without asking," she informs him, all but flaunting her lack of self-reflection. through an opening in the side of her uniform, sara retrieves the jeweled band from the pocket she'd tucked it into for safekeeping. it appears, by all measure, in tact, small fingers protectively curled over the bauble as she extends it to its rightful owner in an upturned palm.

"i assumed you'd want it back. it did me no favors anyways." her face grows a touch distant yet thoughtful, mouth plainly struggling for the right words. there was never any doubt that she'd had fun. for a day to come that she would be able to accept loss with grace is a testament to the strange effects fodlan has had on her. even in defeat, she stands whole, alive and well enough to see tomorrow. "no, that is not the full truth. out there, today you gave me something more valuable than any triumph. you should know i come from a background where holding back is not an option unless one should like to forfeit their life to those who would do them harm, but you have shown me a different way. i won't soon forget the lesson you imparted to me⁠— and, in the future, i'd do it again. and i do not wish for this to be our last meeting. i wish to see you again... after... after i... rest..."

While the clerics attempt to guide him toward the process of healing, King Marth is in many parts a model patient. Sturdy yet docile at their poking and prodding, compliant in his suffering role as an invalid, and quiet at the itchy redressing of his wounds as new bandages are swapped in for the old. He complains very little, but this silence is also helped; his waking hours are filled with the curious thoughts of a girl he has known for only a day. Charming was not a word that could have described their encounter by any stretch of the imagination, but nevertheless there had been an impression. Most certainly, an impression.

His aching joints still remembered her talents, the spells that tossed him back with such force that all his teeth knocked together with the fearful illusion of shattering. The aftershocks of her final spell rattling his very bones. A most competent mage, to be sure, but also a competent gourmet of life as well. There had been such purity in the sound of her laughter... Joyful and childlike. Touching qualities he would not have previously dared to imagine on a battlefield, much less brandished for a man with no intentions of peace or surrender.

And so: recovering his strength in the infirmary, he could not help but wonder how Sara fared in the comparatively lawless jungles of Gronder Field. Not only whether she had seized another victory to carry her to the end, but also whether she’d found cause to laugh like that again. Marth would have liked to know that she did.

Soon there is a path to his answers. She approaches him on the tempest of eager footsteps, turning every head subject to the feeling of a small wind. He sits up to receive her, of course, as a king and even a friend ought to, a small smile crinkling his mouth at Sara’s frankness. A truthful messenger and an innocent thief, he anticipated her admission; however, there had been no signs to precede the confession that followed, so deep a trove of emotion as if Sara had kept him in her thoughts as soundly as she occupied his.

At that, the Hero-King’s eyes alight with thoughtful albeit motionless understanding, lips void of even a underlying mutter to betray any sound, until at last he reaches for her palm - the ring curled within it seemingly returned to its rightful owner as he raises it to the light. “...This ring, and all of its kind, are crafted to legitimize a king’s coronation. This one in particular was made to suit the measurements of a larger finger. Mine, to be exact.”

Crusted with a trillion-cut emerald, the golden band winked as if honoring the king’s narration, and continued to shimmer with the same charm even when he carefully took hold of the girl’s hand. Sliding it gently down the pole of her slender thumb to coil around the base. “In your case, it will fit better when worn here.” His touch fell away, signaling a heart confidently decided on its course. “Keep it, Sara. And consider it my redress. A cure for the guilty mind, you could say. I’ve done a considerable number on your clothes so I’ll be all the sounder of mind for it. There are no limits to the rings that can be made to replace it, anyhow.”

More importantly... A tenderness entered his gaze as he looked at her. Battered from head to toe, unkempt by the ugly holes in her sleeves, and with a weary lilt in the voice that signaled a due appointment with sleep. It did not escape his notice how urgently she ushered such a tired little body to move; not for the sake of herself, but for another. Behind her head, he nodded at a waiting cleric and did not take his attention away from Sara again until she was claimed by their greater authority.

“The connection I have with you, however, is irreplaceable. I’m glad that I could show you mercy, Sara... It wouldn’t have made me happy to know that I hurt a dear friend. After you’re healed, we can certainly meet again. You will always be welcome to me.” Reflecting his amusement, the delicate line of his smile inched into a grin. “You and your games, of course.“