Chapter Text
This is stupid. Absolutely, utterly stupid.
I’m sitting in the Duke’s carriage — the Duke’s carriage, for gods’ sake — like some doll waiting to be unwrapped. My hands are knotted in my lap, my staff tucked uselessly by my side, and the longer I sit here, the more I want to bolt.
I’m not here by accident, though.
This—ridiculous, nerve-wracking, lace-curtained carriage situation—is deliberate.
Prince Zenon — having heard from Nikeh about my current predicament — cornered me three days ago, smug as only a prince with too much free time can be, and said, “Hey, Nanalie, how would you like to make Alois very uncomfortable?” Which, naturally, I said yes to before even asking what he meant. Then he explained.
Apparently Rockmann’s parents had been complaining to His Highness about their wayward son refusing to bring me home for dinner, even after they’d asked. Again. And again. Which, come to think of it, I do remember Duke Rockmann saying something along those lines when he came to see his son in the barracks. I almost melted into the floor from embarrassment, but Prince Zenon just grinned like the devil himself. So, between him, the Duke and Duchess, and—well, me—we hatched this plan.
Step one: I accept an invitation to dine at the Rockmann Mansion.
Step two: Their carriage collects me first.
Step three: That same carriage “just happens” to collect Rockmann from the barracks.
Which leads to Step four: the two of us trapped in close quarters all the way to his parents’ mansion.
And what am I supposed to do when he gets here? “Hello, Rockmann, long time no see, sorry I screamed my love at you mid-battle and kissed you senseless before we blew up a demon together”? Perfectly normal tea-time chatter.
Perfect. Foolproof. Painfully awkward.
I smooth my skirts for the thousandth time, forcing my pulse to calm. I asked for this. I agreed. I’m done waiting for him to close the distance, so I’ll do it myself.
The sound of footsteps outside jerks me upright. Voices. One of them his — low, clipped, entirely too calm. My stomach knots.
And then the door opens.
There he is. Alois Rockmann. Polished to perfection in his formal uniform, crimson eyes narrowing a fraction when he sees me already inside. Of course he doesn’t look surprised. He never does. Him and his perfect uniform, perfect posture, perfect scowl-that’s-not-a-scowl. Golden hair catching the lantern light, crimson eyes locking right onto me like I’m the only person in the room.
Three months, and he hasn’t changed one bit. Meanwhile, I’ve been—well—me.
For one insane moment, I think about throwing the door shut in his face. But my mouth moves faster than my brain, and what comes out instead is:
“Took you long enough, fire fool.”
The air between us crackles for a single heartbeat.
Then I lunge.
My fist connects with his chest as ice magic bursts from my palm, cold and sharp as my temper. “Three months of silence, you absolute fire fool!”
His reflexes are instant. Flames flare in answer, colliding with my ice in a hiss of steam that fogs the entire carriage. The door is still open, neither of us properly inside, and yet here we are — locked in a childish tug-of-war of elements, glaring through the mist like rivals back at the Academy.
Outside, there’s a startled chorus — then a collective shove.
“Hey—!” Rockmann staggers, losing his balance, and the next thing I know his full weight crashes into me. I yelp as my back hits the cushions, his uniformed frame pinning me down, steam curling around us like we’ve conjured our own personal cloud.
The door slams. A thrum of lightning seals it shut. His Highness’s voice carries smug and princely through the wood:
“Don’t return until you’ve sorted yourselves out.”
The wheels lurch into motion.
Inside, chaos reigns. The momentum of the carriage, as it takes flight and tilts sharply upwards, throws us together in a heap. Rockmann mutters something sharp under his breath as he tries to push himself up, but my leg is tangled with his, my staff clattering uselessly to the floor. I shove at his shoulder, ice still sparking at my fingertips.
“Get off me, you brute!”
“Stop flailing—!” His hands clamp around my wrists, firm and infuriatingly steady. Heat radiates from his skin, steam thickening between us. “You’ll freeze us both solid.”
“Well maybe that’d be better than you smothering me alive!”
We writhe, twist, shove — the rocking carriage only making things worse — until finally we freeze, breathless, glaring at each other through a haze of steam so dense the whole world feels narrowed to just us.
The carriage rattles onward, each bump pitching us closer, until I’m practically nose to nose with him. His hair falls forward, golden strands damp with steam, his breath hot against my cheek.
Too close. Way, way too close.
“Rockmann—” My voice hitches, traitorously. “Get. Off.”
His eyes narrow, crimson smolder cutting straight through the haze. “I’m trying,” he says flatly, though his tone is as steady as ever. Always steady. Always maddening. “You’re the one tangling yourself up like a child.”
“Excuse me? You’re the one crushing me!” I twist again, only to tangle us worse. My knee knocks his hip, my dress wound around his legs, his elbow jams into the seatback, and now his hand is braced right beside my head, pinning me like—like—
My face goes hot enough to melt the steam itself.
I stop struggling. Just for a second. Just to breathe.
That’s when I see it.
Not the irritation. Not the smug restraint. But the raw, unguarded look beneath it. Tired. Guilty. Longing.
Three months of silence, and suddenly it all slams into me at once.
“…Why?” The word spills out before I can stop it. My chest feels tight, my throat raw. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
His jaw tightens, just barely. “Because,” he murmurs, voice low, “if I hadn’t… I wouldn’t have been able to stop.”
The words hang there, heavier than fire, heavier than ice, heavier than anything we’ve fought. The steam curls around us like a curtain, sealing us off from the world outside.
My breath catches. Wouldn’t have been able to stop?
The nerve. The absolute nerve.
“You—!” My fist tightens in his uniform. I slam him back against the seat, steam swirling around us like a stage curtain. “Three months, Rockmann! Three whole months! You vanish like some smug fire phantom, leave me tearing my hair out wondering if you’re dead, or cursed, or just too busy being Captain Perfection to bother with me—and your excuse is what? That you wouldn’t have been able to stop?!”
His eyes stay maddeningly calm, only the faintest flicker betraying the storm beneath. Which, of course, makes me angrier.
“You think you get to decide that?! You think you get to vanish on me, then show up acting all calm and noble, like you’re doing me a favor by holding back?!” My words tumble faster, sharper, cracking like ice under strain. “I nearly froze to death from worrying, and you— you—”
I trail off, choking on the mess of fury and heartbreak clawing up my throat. My grip loosens, my forehead dropping against his shoulder with a dull thud.
“…You didn’t even answer me,” I whisper, voice ragged. “That day at the lake. I asked you if my feelings annoyed you. I told you I love you. And you—” My chest aches as the words scrape out. “You said nothing. Nothing, Rockmann. Do you have any idea how that feels?!”
The silence afterward is suffocating. Steam hisses faintly against the carriage windows, and I feel the tremor in my own hands where they clutch his sleeves.
I’m fully aware that this is totally not my typical style, especially not with this fool.
At last, his hand lifts. Fingers brush lightly over my cheek, firm enough that I can’t look away. His gaze pins me, steady as fire itself.
“You want an answer?” His voice is low, even, but there’s an edge of heat that makes my stomach twist. “Then hear it clearly. Nothing about you is annoying to me. Not your feelings. Not your temper. Not even when you pin me to the ground and scream in my face.”
He leans in, close enough that his breath ghosts across my skin, crimson eyes boring into mine.
“And as for the rest—Hel, I didn’t need to say it back.” His lips curve, faint but certain. “Because I’ve already been living it. Every day, you ice idiot.”
“Wha—? How is that any sort of answer?!”
“It’s obvious isn’t it?” He says with a casual smile, finally succeeding in disentangling himself and moving to sit opposite me. “I love you too.”