Despite having celebrated the holiday before, to some degree, Eithne felt as if she had never truly experienced the Starlight celebrations until she had come to Ishgard. In the Twelveswood, it was celebrated quite differently, and she hadn’t spent enough winters in Gridania after the Eikon scourge had been laid to rest to see the festivities at their proudest. The usual dreary stone edifices alit with oil lamps in different colors, garlands of tinsel and crushed velvet draped across every entrance, every hearth. The air had become suffused with the scent of pine and spices— It was as if the place had fallen under some sort of wondrous magick, one only possible within the coldest and darkest days of the season.
She recalls a dimly lit evening beside the hearth, Camp Dragonhead silent under the mantle of night, save for Haurchefant’s bright laughter punctuating their quiet conversation, Alphinaud sound asleep against her shoulder.
“You must make sure you enjoy the Starlight celebrations this year, dear Warrior, should your journey permit.” His tone was always so fervent, his spirit suffusing every word with warmth. “There is no more joyous holiday on this continent.”
He smiles at her, and Eithne feels the corners of her mouth softening into one of her own, so infectious was his glee. Before she knows it, he’s moved closer towards her, and she can see the light from the fireside flickering across his eyes, sunlight across a sky-blue expanse.
“I would very much enjoy spending the holiday season in your company.”
That’s as far as her memory is willing to take her.
Now she stands before House du Fortemps manor, a now older lord and lady beside her, awaiting the guard to bid them welcome. There is no gentle knight awaiting them beyond the entrance, his mirthful laugh now but an echo in her memories, and never would they spend the holiday season with each other as he had wished. At the door it is not the guard who welcomes them but the former Count, Edmont himself, his deep-set smile heavy yet filled with the self-same warmth she had found in his son’s, and within the halls Eithne is greeted with a wonderland of Starlight spirit come to life. She watches as Alisaie almost flies towards the grand pine tree, ogling at the glimmering baubles of red and gold littering its lush branches, boxes of presents underneath stacked with care.
Alphinaud is quick to excuse himself with a chuckle, his coat slipped from his shoulders and taken by the manservant as if he were in his own home, so naturally the motion came to him. He too joins his sister, and in their eyes Eithne sees the stars, myriad constellations yet uncharted. Beside her comes Edmont, and she slowly turns to greet him.
“Grateful am I, to have you and yours join us for our Starlight celebrations. We have missed you and young Alphinaud dearly.” His baritone voice is rich and warm, and Eithne cannot help but smile at the thought that this man sounded more like her father than her sire had ever had the chance to. “You’ve cut your hair?”
Eithne brings a hand up to fiddle with the locks at her neck, brushing her fingers through any tangles her scarf could have caused.
“Yes...” She doesn’t know what to say, how to tell him of all she had experienced. It had only been months to him, but to Eithne it felt as if a lifetime had passed since she had ventured out across the rift. How could she tell him that she had traveled through time and space to save a world suffused by light? That in Norvrandt she had found pieces of her she had thought lost forever?
She remembers Alisaie’s trembling hands as she held the scissors, the other holding onto a tuft of her white hair as if it were precious silk. Once they had returned to the Source, G’raha Tia awoken and her friends able to stand upon their own two feet once more, she had bid the young girl to cut her hair in secret, before she let Jandeleine do as he pleased afterwards. She had wanted someone she held dear to bear witness to the new promise Eithne would make to herself: to find out who she truly was, the woman that waited beyond Hydaelyn’s will, beyond the mantle of Warrior.
“I wanted to mark a new beginning, and it seemed the simplest way...”
Edmont smiles, and Eithne feels foolish for overthinking her answer. “Well it suits you wonderfully, my dear.”
They both know the trio would not stay past the night. It had been all Eithne could do to whisk the two Leveilleurs away from their duties, to pry some of their time away from the Eorzean Alliance’s insatiable clutches. Not when the Telophoroi spread their tendrils across the land, when Zenos’ ghost chased her even now. Still, for the night, Edmont endeavored to provide them with a true Starlight celebration— He would spare no expense for his family.
Before they were to settle down for dinner, Eithne set out to deliver some gifts and good tidings to Sidurgu and Rielle, and once she returned to the manor she was greeted by Alphinaud, a small colorful package in his harms, a floppy eared ribbon tied fast around it.
“A package just arrived for you, I had thought the courier must have forgotten something when you knocked.” She must have made her confusion apparent, once Alphinaud’s smile curves a little too high to the right. “It seems the Saint of Nymeia has a little helper in our midst. One quite taken with the Warrior of Light.”
Eithne does not think on his words further as she enters the familiar foyer, her hands taking the package and placing it on a nearby table near the center of the room. Alisaie comes over to join the two of them, as Eithne trails her fingers across the From: G’raha Tia, To: Eithne Cuinn written in neat handwriting along the front. Could she have read it so quickly, the last time she had stood in this very room?
“I didn't know our Raha was a little helper this Starlight.” Alisaie’s voice is saccharine, but Eithne knows when she’s fishing for a reaction. Unfortunately for her, there is none to give, and she simply begins unwrapping the ribbon.
The contents are simple, a tin canister of arabesque patterns in the Sharlayan style, and a sealed letter. The fragrance, however, is heavenly, and Eithne can distinctly make out the rich chocolate notes of darkly roasted Thavnarian black tea, the scent of dried rose and peppercorns interwoven throughout. Eithne can see Alphinaud and Alisaie close their eyes in contentment, the tilt of their heads almost cat-like.
“Dear gods, that smells delightful...”
Eithne opens the letter, her fingers making quick work of the wax seal, and begins to read its contents:
Dear Eithne,
Forgive me for such a humble present. I have, regretfully, become unaccustomed to the Starlight celebrations after my time in Norvrandt. Before I knew it, you and the twins had made your preparations for Ishgard, and I was still unable to prepare something more suitable for you.
I hope you will enjoy this small token, and should you feel inclined to do so, I would be delighted if you could enjoy it amidst pleasant company on these joyous days.
Setting the unfinished letter down, Eithne looks to Alisaie.
“Would you mind preparing a pot for us? Perhaps you can invite Edmont as well.”
It is only when the twins have left the room, fragrant leaves in tow, that she continues.
I am regretful to not have reached out to you sooner, had I known you would be away for the holidays.
Her eyes follow the words carefully, committing his handwriting to memory, imagining the way he could’ve flicked his wrist at the end of a word, or added a flourish to his punctuation. Reading had become easier for her, but she feared it would never become natural, that she would always sound out each letter in her head, misunderstand a peculiarity of someone’s handwriting.
I would very much enjoy spending the holiday season in your company.
She feels the tension in her hand increasing, but she would not suffer even a single crease upon these pages. In her breast swelled an emotion she could not yet place; a common occurrence, after her stint as the Warrior of Darkness.
I hope that next year, we can spend this time together, should you grant us the honor. I am sure the other Scions would feel the same.
Forever your friend,
G’raha Tia.
For the first time since Ishgard’s cold had frozen her heart solid, Eithne began to feel a warmth both familiar and entirely new. Although tomorrow is never promised— the hope for more joyous Starlight days bloomed within her heart.