okay i could probably do another entire series about FE4. i probably won’t but picking just one thing was hard.
also, for this one i’m going with the headcanon that Lachesis was her father’s legitimate daughter, and Eldigan a bastard adopted late in life because Holy Blood.
brought to you by the fact that all three of Nanna’s pre-destined are kings, and none of Lachesis’ predestined are acceptable princess fare, and what’s up with that ?
History drips into Nanna’s ear all throughout her mother’s bedtime stories like a beloved poison, mixing the familiarity of the figures Lachesis recalls easily with the aura of the mythical; huddled under thin covers, her eyes wide, Nanna drinks in the tales of the princess of Nordion, growing up, her golden childhood, the brother she found almost as an adult; and the rest seeps through, like humidity in winter, Lachesis’ disregard for society’s rules, her forbidden love, up to falling for a mercenary she never married.
It trickles, a cold constant, all the way to Nanna’s core, the truth that Lachesis lost all that, out of impulse and a refusal to plan her dreams; it trickles and freezes, into ice, into diamond: Nanna will never go for the poor outlaw; she will never reject society’s rules.
Family history’s shaped her the way erosion, sometimes, carves cliffs into statues; she fantasizes over Eldigan’s son and stands by the prince who called her sister (she never called him brother), and doesn’t melt upon meeting her brother; she gets golden promises and pearls, instead of thief swords and louche flirtations, and always – always, she marries for a crown.
Fire Emblem, FE4
also, for this one i’m going with the headcanon that Lachesis was her father’s legitimate daughter, and Eldigan a bastard adopted late in life because Holy Blood.
brought to you by the fact that all three of Nanna’s pre-destined are kings, and none of Lachesis’ predestined are acceptable princess fare, and what’s up with that ?
History drips into Nanna’s ear all throughout her mother’s bedtime stories like a beloved poison, mixing the familiarity of the figures Lachesis recalls easily with the aura of the mythical; huddled under thin covers, her eyes wide, Nanna drinks in the tales of the princess of Nordion, growing up, her golden childhood, the brother she found almost as an adult; and the rest seeps through, like humidity in winter, Lachesis’ disregard for society’s rules, her forbidden love, up to falling for a mercenary she never married.
It trickles, a cold constant, all the way to Nanna’s core, the truth that Lachesis lost all that, out of impulse and a refusal to plan her dreams; it trickles and freezes, into ice, into diamond: Nanna will never go for the poor outlaw; she will never reject society’s rules.
Family history’s shaped her the way erosion, sometimes, carves cliffs into statues; she fantasizes over Eldigan’s son and stands by the prince who called her sister (she never called him brother), and doesn’t melt upon meeting her brother; she gets golden promises and pearls, instead of thief swords and louche flirtations, and always – always, she marries for a crown.