Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ A Nest Lasts a Lifetime ❯ A Nest Lasts A Lifetime ( One-Shot )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]
In the first year of Rafiel's arrival at the city, it had not be a surprise for the prince to find himself faced with many questions as soon as his health became stable. Yet the longest discussion he entertained had been with its queen, on his clan's customs.

For all he knew about wolf laguz, Queen Nailah was an especially good listener. Her soothing voice and strong presence kept him from thinking too much.

He had suspected, as most of her court did, that her title wouldn't allow for much more pleasantries, though. And so he had tried to be ready for the day when another would come in her stead and he would never see her again but from on her throne during official events.

At first without realizing, and then more and more consciously, he began to dilute his answers in order to keep her interest alive as longer as possible.
Despite of time, her eyes never failed to shine whenever she could learn something new about clans and people. This, among many other things made many a discussion very pleasant.

Sadly, in too short a time, they had discussed Beorc, Branded, Wolf and Heron, from body language to laws, manners, even when every other thing was said, even mating rituals. Before long it became fair to say that Nailah and him knew more of each other's clans than many commoners even did about their own.

By then, he had heard and felt enough from her mind and heart, to learn what could catch her fancy and how to please her in tiny inconsequential ways. And he had barely hesitated before using it for his own sake.

Her apparitions at his door or window kept happening but he was always pleasantly surprised by them. He didn't understand how, but after one year passed, Nailah kept finding time to spend alone with him.

Time flew and diluted from memories, no very different from the steam that poured from her huge lapis-lazuli water pipe. So many time he spent in her smocking room; if not singing, then retelling stories: some originals and retellings, faithful or a little creative. The soft movements of the queen's chest, reclined on the largest cushions he had ever seen, became the measure giving rhythm to his evenings, his days, his life; just as the echoes of her mind, the colors of her spirit, the most precious things to Rafiel's heart. Their bond grew steadily through small and larger trials, devoid of passion, striving on fondness and trust, it got solid still by the day until he couldn't imagine sleeping too far from her.

Then, a new season came.


He was walking almost aimlessly the day when he stumbled upon a heap of wheat. Yet as soon as his saw the rich sheaves, he walked before thinking, and seized a thin heap without hesitation.

A smile slowly etching itself in his face at the idea of tying a nest.

It would be so simple to do.

He could imagine placing the wheat crown on the desk in her study, or a cushion of her smocking room... It was not as conventional as putting one at the edge of a bed, but still, much less flamboyant and audacious than setting it on her throne. This harmless idea itself was entertaining, though.

Smile growing, he caressed the golden strands fondly, thoughts filling with the best manner to weave them for his queen.

Every straw crown was different, but not due to the tastes of their recipient. Before all, a nest was expected to reflect the identity of the male and what he was could offer.

Not much in his case.

Still, before he realized it, some traitorous part of his brain has already designed an arrangement. The plaid wouldn't be very thick but he would make sure the tie never gave. The decorations he would chose would be rich or, dried, and young tiny leaves, some thread of blue too, perhaps. If he made it by tradition, he would have to dress in deep shade of blue, and work on his hair as well... It would have been proper for a noble to add a family gem of the same color in the plaid. He...he wasn't a noble anymore, was he?

Not that it really mattered of course. In any case, it would be persistent, if not simply inappropriate. If he was to offer the wolfess, a new beginning with him, doing so by the tradition of his clan alone would be egocentric. His family, and perhaps all of his clan has...disappeared years ago and very few on Tellius would have any care about the useless traditions of a lost country,

In more way than he cared for, he was still a guess in this country, tolerated only because of his discretion and weakness. Every eye was set on the throne of Hatari and there was no time left for headless courting when its Queen did her best to keep him out of attention from both beorc courtesans and the head circle of her beetapaik.

He opened his hand let the top of the wheat sheaves caress is palm in a silent flutter, making sure not to bruise the fertile wheat sheaves because of unrequited hopes.

The evening where Nailah entered his room with nothing but her jewels on her body, all thoughts about wheat and flowers flown from his mind, along with the rest of the world. She strode completely naked in his bedroom with the casual grace that vested her as she sat on her throne and made it look like something absolutely normal.

She came to stand by his bed with a stare burning ember in his eyes and Rafiel didn't dare to breathe, afraid of breaking an illusion, and another, most basic part of him lingering on the ears, the tail and the fangs alone, making him feel the most exposed between them.

Before he realized that she carried something, she broke eye contact to set her package on his pillow and when he saw the crown of rich wheat sheaves set on top it, the heron felt as if he had been struck by a lightning tome. Lips ajar, suspended on silence, his eyes grew into two green orbs.

As soon as he remembered how to use his arms, he jolted a little and made sure that his clothes were away from the wheat crown.

"Th-this..." he stuttered wings open and taught as if readied to flee, "Is it...a-a nest?" He didn't trust his eyes enough to lift them on her.

Her mind's impulsion went to irony, but her heart tempered it and she nodded. "Yes." This word, in her gallant voice, cut thought his thoughts like butter, leaving him barely able to process her next ones.

"I decided to come to you instead," she followed up. "It seemed more wise to skip the singing and I have no idea of the appropriate song," It was the first time that he heard her babble. He felt his eyes water, his tongue growing heavy and dry in his mouth the more he fumbled with his native language to find appropriate words. Surprise, pride, sadness, gratefulness, grief and joy melted into raw emotion in his eyes.

Black, red and golden silk ribbons breaded into a thick plaid or rich wheat sheaves a simple yet tantalizing design. How much the crown resembled her forced some respect...could it be that she really tied it so perfectly from her first attempt?

His senses caught the stray memories in her mind before he could stop them and he fought to hide a fond smile. Eyelids covering his troubled eyes, his fingers dug into the mattress as he found himself torn, his heart thundering against his eardrums for action; anything, preferably positive /and/ before the spell waned.

"A-" (Instead, he croaked one syllabus...) "A nest stands a lifetime," he added  hesitantly, desperate to make sure that she understood the ritual, that she didn't merely  seek companionship for a night, or a decade.

"I know." When he barely blinked she elaborated, "I couldn't desire anything more, Rafiel." His round eyes grown with his shock at her confirmation.

He practically jumped on the wheat crown. 'Covering the nest in a dignified manner' couldn't feel more petty a requirement right now, while he was still struggling to keep his smile from tearing his face apart.

Heart ready to jump on the tip on his tongue, he fought tears once again when she embraced him and slowly descended on his lips. With more than enough time to answer or refuse her embrace, he grabbed her hair and pulled her down before he could mind himself.

It was only fortunate that Nailah—no, that his mate (a new goofy smile etched itself on his face and cloud all of his mind with an almost indecent joy) remembered that both wolves and herons usually needed to breath. As she drew back to shower him with an all encompassing gaze, he gave them the barest time to get some air before catching her lips again with stubborn determination. She supported his head and tried to take the nest from under his head but as soon as his senses felt her design, he stopped her.

"You can't move the nest," he said, so very seriously. The literal sentence made her feel imagine the two of them in a real nest and it felt so irrational that she had to bit in her lip to keep from erupting in laughter. Despite of this, she remembered something he had said long ago about how rude it would be to move an unused nest once it had been set, and she had to blink to make sure that this was really happening seriously.

When he was sure that she would not try to move it again, he let amusement reach his eyes from the thread of the sudden inconsistent picture her mind conjured.

"Even it doesn't incommode you, it will not in your hair and might unravel..."

"It's natural that a nest shall be made a little messy," he said, eyes riveted on hers and she blinked again, before the ghost of a smile uplifted her lips.

"As you wish, my dear."



"I hope that you understand," Nailah later breathed with an amused smile, "that I still have no intention to sing," the vibration of her voice coursing in the crook of his neck about one hour later as his fingers played around the beads of her jewels.

"Well then... Perhaps-perhaps I can sing for both of us," he asked carefully.

When she grew hesitant as she considered it, he lifted a hand to rub the round muscle on her shoulder in gentle circles.

"Even if they heard, they will not understand. And I have seen you lock every door and window."

For once, his traditions being poorly known would prove useful, he thought, trying to recall all he could of the galdr's lyrics.

The face of the Queen of Hatari relaxed into a rare dreamy expression as his voice rose to fill and echo in all of the room with joyful and solemn stanzas.


The first song is the Calling. In both name and purpose, the prince explained later. The second was a Galdr: Blossom.

I see,
she mumbled low, somewhat distracted by the alabaster curves of his chest and waist, What are the effects?

As soon as she asked, he fidgeted. Getting used to his habits, she realized that didn't need to hear his thoughts and emotion to tell.

Fertility, her mate eventually answered, a smile lilting his voice with irony.

The wolfless went silent for a while.

Then she squeezed the heron's shoulder.

Good then. At least the wheats should recover from my slaughter.