Chapter Text
I feel the tears pouring out as though bursting forth from the dam of my emotions. I hear the full-hearted laughter bubbling from within me — not hysterical, but genuinely joyful — though I could never articulate why. I feel the silent but warm arms of Nikeh and Benjamine around my shoulders. And through my tears, I see him and her — and I can say, without a doubt, I am truly happy for them.
Or — I would be, if they could just get their absurdly endearing acts together!
Even now, as I’m being comforted by my friends, Sir Alois has a distraught look that screams of self-loathing all over his gorgeous features. And dear Nanalie, meanwhile, looks sad and helpless, as though sharing in his pain, but has no idea how she might ease it.
“He’s got a long, tough road ahead of him,” Sir Alois says quietly, eyes still averted. “If only I’d been more able to fight him myself. I should’ve been able to.”
I’m not precisely certain of what he speaks of — distracted as I was by my own emotional outpour — but Nanalie seems to understand him.
“No, that’s not how it is at all,” she says passionately. “You fought well, more than well, really, and it’s thanks to you, Rockmann, that I was able to defeat Städal at all. Thanks for saving me back then.” She pauses and swallows, then continues earnestly. “I just...I just wanted to make sure I got the chance to say that to you.”
For some reason, she looks close to tears in her effort to snap him out of his self-loathing.
The two of them have been very gracefully sweeping around and across the dance floor for a fair few songs by now. A large swarm of Sir Alois’s admirers are now hovering around jealously waiting for a turn with him — biting down on laced handkerchiefs in frustration every time he passes them by without even a glance. I almost pity them — I used to be one of them, hovering and begging for scraps of his attention, if never his affection.
But tonight, neither Sir Alois nor Nanalie notice anything beyond the space between them. Not even when their dance takes them right in front of us — and Satanas cheekily waves his hands, pulling multiple rude faces at them — going so far as to blow kisses and a raspberry in their direction — not even then do either one of them notice. To be honest, I’m not even sure if they are aware of the dance in itself — they both look more intent on their thoughts and conversation than anything else.
If I look closely, I can see Sir Alois’s hands skillfully leading Nanalie from one step to the next—at her waist, along her back, fingertips brushing her shoulder, a steadying touch at her nape as he dips her. I’ve never seen him dance so intimately with anyone else. And yet they seem wholly unaware of it. It’s as if Sir Alois, lost in heavier thoughts, has let his instincts guide him, and Nanalie — her usual fire gone quiet — follows without thinking. It’s beautiful… and a little frightening to watch.
They have been dancing in silence for a while now, as they once more draw close to where we are simply standing around, observing them. That’s when dear Nanalie surfaces from her thoughts and unconsciously tightens her grip on his left hand.
“Um... I have to tell you something. Just...one more thing,” she says softly, looking nervously up at him.
“What is it?” Sir Alois asks wearily, his mask slamming hard into place, smoothening his raw expression from earlier back into his usual calm composure.
“Uh-oh...” Mutters Prince Zenon, upon seeing Sir Alois’s reinstated expression.
Nanalie doesn’t answer immediately. She looks as though her lips have been spelled shut. She seems to be struggling to move her mouth. She appears to be chewing on some rather intense emotions.
I can see her fists clenching unconsciously — one in his left hand, and the other on his upper arm just beneath his right shoulder. He doesn’t even wince, even though that grip of hers on his upper arm looks rather painful.
“Hey, um, we all know this is it, right? Think Nanalie might need some help? Doesn’t look like she’s getting it out sometime tonight,” mutters Satanas unhelpfully, while Benjamine shushes him and Nikeh kicks his ankle.
Then, Nanalie takes a deep breath. Her resolve takes form in her determined expression. I may not be able to read minds, but I think — nay, I’m certain — I know what’s coming.
It seems she’s bravely telling herself that it’s time — time for her to name the overflowing feeling that has come bubbling up from deep inside of her.
Sir Alois slows their already slow dance further, until they are almost at a standstill right in front of us. He takes a quiet step back — not out of grace, but out of instinct, the kind of step one takes to create distance when they know a blow is coming. Her hand slides down his right arm as she is forced into the movement. He catches her hand almost mechanically, fingers tightening just enough to steady her, but not enough to draw her closer.
He holds her there, at arm’s length, his body a barrier of calm that feels more like surrender than composure. His eyes — those crimson eyes that could cut through any falsehood — are unreadable now ... too still ... too quiet ... as he just looks at her with a carefully guarded expression, while she stands there, silent and fidgeting. This is the look of a man who has already accepted his fate — resigned to live out the rest of his life without that which he most desires, yet resolved to give up everything in order to protect that which matters most to him.
For a long moment, neither of them moves. Then, finally, finding the words that express what she wants to say, her lips part.
“I love you.”
Still, she manages to look straight at him and maintain eye contact the whole time.
It comes out as a mutter, a half-whisper, as fragile as candlelight in a storm. Yet somehow, she manages to keep her gaze steady — eyes locked on him, maintaining unwavering eye contact the whole time.
Sir Alois freezes. He does not move. He does not breathe. Were it not for the faint night breeze stirring his golden hair, I might have thought he’d been overcome by the same ice curse that once claimed him on the battlefield. For one suspended heartbeat, it feels as though time itself has frozen for Sir Alois Rockmann — frozen by the beautiful ice witch he loves so.
Their dance halts mid-step — his longer stride caught half-forward, hers a fraction behind, leaving them in a strangely tangled pose, neither properly balanced nor entirely apart. His grip loosens, just enough for her fingers to slip against his, and for a breathless instant they hang there, caught between motion and stillness. The space between them remains — a full arm’s length of deliberate restraint — the distance of a man too aware of what it would mean to draw her closer.
He leans in then — not enough to bridge that distance, but enough to hear her clearly, his movement slow and cautious, like someone approaching the edge of something vast and dangerous.
“What did you say?” he asks in a carefully measured voice, though beneath it, I could swear there’s a tremor of disbelief. “Just now?”
“I—I’ve said it once, and I’m not going to say it again!” She babbles, eyes wide. “Um, ah, bye now, you dunce!” Then, she twists around and makes to pull away. “Oh and stop being so hesitant and doubting yourself! Lighten up!”
Dear Nanalie’s highly expressive body language is screaming ‘I’m going to die’, as though she were going to die right there, on this very dance floor. She actually looks like she’s going to throw up.
But at the same time, there is a peace about her, as though she’s come to embrace this side of her — the her who is bravely, courageously in love with Alois Rockmann, of all people.
Most amusingly, it would seem that the shock has left Sir Alois with delayed reflexes — apparently a first for him. Dear Nanalie is already half a step away from running off, before his reactions finally kick in.
“Whoa, hold up, Hel—”
He grabs her hand before she can fully turn away from him, and thanks to that, she loses her balance, what with the already awkward position their halted dance had left them in. Their legs get tangled together, and it’s not long before the two of them fall with a bang right to the ground.
“Ahhh!” Dear Nanalie lets out a yelp of surprise, as, this time, he catches her without hesitation. And before they can hit the ground, I see it …
A look of stubborn determination — not born out of resignation and resolve, but out of hope and dreams — graced the radiant features of Alois Rockmann. Right before impact, I see him roll with the agility of the Royal Knight that he is, absorbing the full brunt of their fall. This inadvertently places her on top of him — as he lies there on the ground beneath her, cushioning her fall.
As the two of them just lie there in shock, I take in the scene with mild amusement. Sir Alois — always so perfectly immaculate - is an outright mess. His Navy blue cloak is rumpled and askew, giving him a humanly attractive look. His glasses have fallen off to reveal his beautiful crimson eyes, which are wide with surprise, making him look downright innocent. His luscious, silky blond hair has escaped its binding, and now spills enticingly off to the side. Dear dear — I’m not sure this vision is meant for the eyes of mortals!
And, mind you, this is the second time in under half an hour that Sir Alois Rockmann — Captain of the First Platoon of the Royal Order of Knights, the Royal Chief Mage of Doran, beloved nephew of His Majesty the King, and sworn companion of His Highness Prince Zenon — is frozen in stunned silence.
This time, the moment freezes for the whole dance floor, as heads turn in the direction of the stage, at the foot of which Sir Alois and dear Nanalie are still lying in each other’s arms. An all-encompassing, pin-drop silence falls over the place — even the musicians stop their serenade.
“Oh, dear. Can’t have anyone accidentally stepping on this and breaking it.” His Highness Prince Zenon is the first to react, gallantly stooping to pick up Sir Alois’s silver-rimmed glasses off the floor near my feet, where it had landed from their fall. “Hmm, I don’t see that ornamental hair clip he was using. Tch — it would be a lot of trouble if some admirer of his has gotten hold of it—! Ah, found it.”
“Um, do you think they’re okay? From the fall, I mean …” Nikeh murmurs worriedly. “Should we be checking on them? Might be a bit awkward right now … but …”
“Nah, Alois is a knight — and a Captain to boot, at that! For crying out loud, Nikeh, we’ve seen him in much, much worse. He’ll be fine,” Satanas snorts, with a mischievous grin. “I vote we leave them there — much more entertaining that way!”
“Don’t be such a fool,” I hiss, frowning at Satanas. “Dear Nanalie and Sir Alois are becoming quite the spectacle already! They really don’t need scandalous gossip spreading around!”
“Well,” mutters Benjamine, “it’s not everyday that you get to see Alois Rockmann on the ground like that. Of course people are bound to stare — transfixed, if you will.”
It feels like a drawn out moment of suspense. But, in truth, only mere seconds have passed before Sir Alois comes back to life — though it takes dear Nanalie a few more seconds to process what’s happening.
Right there on the floor — without a care for the silently watching crowd, without taking any notice of their friends and family gleefully observing —
Alois Rockmann leans up almost imperceptibly and gently kisses Nanalie Hel.
Still dazed, Nanalie kisses him back, leaning into it.
And for a tender moment, I could have sworn there are sparks and steam in the air.
“Sir Alois?”
“Nanalie?!”
“Good heavens, what a shameless display of affection...”
The beautiful and refreshing moment is shattered by the loud and sharp interruption of Sir Alois’s admirers. I could have screamed in irritation at those ladies who thought — who still think — they have a chance, more so after his wish has been granted by the King.
At hearing those jealous voices, Nanalie finally catches up to reality. She flusters magnificently as she registers that she’s lying on top of him — her body is against his, his face is against hers — and her mouth is lost to his, as his lips are still pressed against hers.
Her eyes, wide with surprise, snaps up to meet his. His eyes are glowing resplendent crimson, and a visible heat suddenly flushes her cheeks as their eyes meet, her hands beginning to shake.
Her face is thoroughly beet-red, as she pulls away from the kiss. I can see her panicking, worried whether this looks like she planned it and pushed him over to kiss him. But, underneath it all, there is a sort of … awe in her face — like she couldn’t believe what’s happening…? — perhaps the glow of a first kiss…?
She scrambles to get off of him, rushing to slide away from him. I could have reassured her that those of us watching closely could never have mistaken what we saw for a deliberate act of seduction. But Sir Alois beats me and everyone else to the reassurance by holding her tight against him, one hand on the small of her back, as he says—
“I love you too.”
—as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Huh? Uh, wha-what?” splutters dear Nanalie, completely caught off guard by his confession.
Sir Alois smiles — a warm, tender, loving smile from the bottom of his heart.
My breath catches. In all these years I’ve known him, I’ve seen him wear all sorts of different smiles — but never one as true and sincere, as passionate and radiant, as breath-catching and heart-stopping, and … as warm and loving … as the one he gives her in this moment. Not even the smiles he shows his family, nor even the open grins he has when doting on his younger brothers, can hold a flicker of a candle to the smile he has right now. If I had any doubt of his love for dear Nanalie, this smile alone — without any words, without any actions at all — would have swept them clean out of my mind.
Around me, even our friends are not spared from the shock of seeing such a smile. Nikeh is blinking rapidly, murmuring “Captain…?”. Benjamine is shaking her head, muttering to herself about all his previously faked smiles. Satanas is holding up his hands as though shading his eyes from the glare of direct sunlight, grumbling weakly, “Ugh, think he could turn it down a bit?”. And Prince Zenon — well — His Highness looks stunned in awe. I would have thought that — as the one who has known Sir Alois the longest — he, at least, would have seen the sides of Sir Alois that we’ve never before glimpsed. Even as I watched His Highness staring at his cousin and dearest friend, Prince Zenon blushes — not from the heat of being in love, no, but from the flush of admiring something so breath-takingly beautiful.
Unable to bear her embarrassment any longer, Nanalie arches her back as hard as she can to get away from him. This time, he doesn’t try to pull her back. She slides off of on top of him, but, funnily enough, doesn’t really pull away, as she’s still on the floor right next to him, half leaning over him, and staring into his face as though trying to figure something out.
Without a doubt, he had said — clearly and unequivocally — that he loves her too. He obviously heard her confession, then — he must have been in shocked disbelief himself when he asked her to clarify earlier, before she tried making her escape. Right now it would seem, however, that she is having trouble believing what she heard, looking as though she’s trying to make sense of it all.
“Uh, does someone need to, like, spell it out for her or something?” Satanas mutters, practically dancing on the spot like an overexcited child. “She’s looking kinda silly right now!”
“Stop that nonsense this instant, you dear fool!” I smack him with my fan again.
“Will you shut up for once, Curly!” Prince Zenon mutters his retort.
“Nanalie kissed him back, right?” Benjamine is also muttering, with one hand over her mouth. “Did you see? My eyes weren’t playing tricks, right? She leaned in, didn’t she?”
“Bet that was pure instinct,” Nikeh mutters back, mirroring Benjamine’s hand over her mouth. “One hundred pegalos says she isn’t even aware she returned his kiss.”
“Make that two hundred pegalos,” chirps Satanas.
Prince Zenon rubs his temples, frowning. For a moment, I think His Highness is about to tell them off. Then, he slips his hands into his pockets and says with a completely straight face, “Make that three hundred.”
Oh dear.
Prince Zenon glances over at our shocked expressions, and doubles over, laughing, one hand clutching his stomach.
I shake my head, fighting a smile at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see dear Nanalie’s expression finally shift out of that stunned, flustered disbelief. As I turn back to watch, she looks down at the man beneath her. I can see understanding dawn on her lovely face. It’s not just the understanding that he returns her feelings. It’s not joy or flustered giddiness. What I see in her face is a calm, mature and steady understanding — perhaps the realization that this love between them will have its joys and difficulties, and the ups-and-downs and downs-and-ups will likely go on for a long while yet. And yet, she’s not running away, as their eyes lock, with him still on the ground and her leaning over him like that.
The moment is so quiet and precious. I know I’ll lock this away in memory as the single most refreshing romantic scene I could ever hope to see.
Well — but of course the onlookers would intrude!
“You did it, Nanalie!” calls a woman who seems to be one of dear Nanalie’s colleagues at the Sorcerer’s Guild.
“But if you marry a Marquess, you’ll be a Marquise! Are you going to quit your job?” frets a dignified woman who I believe is the Director of the Sorcerer’s Guild — I seem to recall her holding up the magical barrier after the Knight Commander collapsed during the battle.
At the word ‘marry’, Nikeh, Benjamine and Prince Zenon all turn to look at me at once — but they needn’t have worried. I’m grateful, though, for their concern — I am truly blessed with such good friends — but I really am alright. Even when dear Nanalie and Sir Alois had kissed, I can most honestly say I found it good and refreshing. The complete lack of envy surprises me, but not as much as the ease of my joy for the two people I hold so dearly — I don’t even have to direct my emotions anymore, it just comes … naturally.
I give my friends a wink and raise my voice, so that dear Nanalie wouldn’t miss it.
“Oh but my dear, they haven’t said a word about marriage, now have they?” I say cheekily.
Prince Zenon flashes me a thumbs-up, while Nikeh and Benjamine give me a high-five each, and Satanas just pulls a rude face at me.
“Nah, that’s totally obvious that that’s where this is going. Premier Querohli wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble just so that they could date each other.” Prince Zenon choruses after me, roaring with laughter, and even throwing an arm over Satanas.
“Your Highness! What in the world are you trying to imply?” cries Nikeh, shocked by her Vice Commander’s behaviour. “Nanalie, are you all right?”
“Looks like Alois can really get it with the ladies, can’t he folks?” Satanas hollers with a big troublesome grin. “Really, who needs a job when you’ve secured permanent employment, huh Nanalie?”
“Naru? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about making me your bride before you start commenting on other people’s marriages?” Benjamine rejoins, while grabbing Satanas by the ears.
Dear Nanalie looks like she desperately wants to crawl into a hole — as she pushes herself up into a kneeling position, one hand still on Sir Alois’s chest. In all the chaos of the crowd, I see Sir Alois quietly tapping the back of her hand on his chest with one gentle finger in a steadying rhythm. She looks around, and finally settles on only one protest among all the heckling they are receiving.
She raises her voice high and loud to answer the question about quitting her job:
“I want—I want to be a receptionist lady!”
Then she turns around and pulls Sir Alois up into a sitting position.
And as he sits up, I watch his gaze meet Prince Zenon’s, as they exchange a quiet nod of solidarity. His eyes are clear, unshuttered and steady — calm and at peace — and I think to myself:
Finally! The silence of his love is heard, at last.
This is a story that no one knows; this is a story that someone knows.
This is the story that only I will know; this is the story that they will never know.
This is the story behind the love story of the receptionist lady and the noblest gentleman the world will ever know.