Chapter Text
It’s obnoxiously early on a Tuesday, and Hilda is sitting on her bed painting her nails. It’s a very impromptu beautification session, because she works from home and would not typically be caught dead awake before 11 am on a ‘I am not doing work today’ day.
She grumbles and fidgets impatiently while glaring at her phone and waiting for her nails to dry. Claude was supposed to have texted her by now so they could pick a place for breakfast, she was eager to hear more about how things were going with Byleth honestly. It’s been almost five minutes since she’d texted him asking where the heck he was, and he was typically the sort to reply back right away.
All of this was to say that she started painting her nails because it was that, or worry, and worrying was a big no thanks.
It was only moments after starting to layer on a top coat of polish that her phone buzzed to life. It was through sheer skill she managed to cap the polish, answer her phone and set it at the crook of her shoulder without getting it caught in her hair, and then uncap the polish and continue to finish her nails. All without smudging a single nail.
She was a woman of many, oddly specific, talents.
“Claude, you better have a good reason for whatever is up.” The ‘hmph’ she adds at the end of that statement is entirely necessary for emphasis and not at all because she’s covering for worry that something is up.
“Actually, I kind of do? I hope.” Claude sounds sheepish, rather than strained, and immediately all of Hilda’s non-existent worry drains away.
“Spill it, you owe me for making me wake up early and no breakfast. I’m gonna just assume breakfast and gossip is a no-go today?”
Hilda shifts and leans further back so she can get comfortable, and stretches out a hand to admire the finished manicure in the sunlight through her window as she listens to Claude explain about a weird call from Byleth and how he’s going to their house and blah-blah such and whatever.
Don’t get her wrong, she’s glad for him, but those two are something else.
“Can it loverboy, just text me when you’re free after so I know you didn’t get murdered or eaten by Byleth’s demon cat.” She huffs a little sigh, and she can practically hear Claude rolling his eyes on the other end.
“We can do breakfast another day. Your treat of course,” she adds cheekily. He always pays anyway, but it’s fun to say anyway.
She can hear him laughing on the other end, and they say their bye’s and hang up as Hilda swings her legs over the side of her bed and stretches.
‘Ugh, so much effort and I’m too awake to laze the day away,’ she sighs to herself and looks through her closet for something to wear. It doesn’t take long to decide what to do, and she sends Lorenz a quick text to see if he or Leonie is at their stables today.
When she gets a reply, overly wordy as always, from Lorenz saying Leonie is there and has free time ‘til later this afternoon, Hilda smiles.
“Perfect!” is the reply she sends, and then she drops her phone on her bed so she can go get dressed and ready and be on her way.
(She gets an essay reply from Lorenz but she doesn’t read it for another couple of hours, because honestly Lorenz. She does not have time to read ten paragraphs of why he isn’t there because he’s at the zoo with Ferdinand.)
---
It’s another two hours before Hilda is finally at Leonie’s horse ranch and stables, The Golden Horseshoe.
(She personally thinks its a silly name for a stable, but can admit it’s better than the many alternatives she’s heard Lorenz pitch, so she knows better than to say anything. Hilda still rolls her eyes at the sign as she drives up the path.)
She’s leaning against the fence, chattering away at Leonie about nothing and everything while simultaneously trying to ignore the unpleasant smells that come from being near so many large farm-type animals. Her white ribboned sun hat is perfectly pinned on her head to prevent hat hair, and her dress is definitely not farm appropriate but it’s decidedly country chic, just to play into the aesthetic for the day. Also because she refused to wear anything she really, really liked when she visited the stables. One bad experience and a ruined outfit was lesson enough thank you very much.
From where she’s leaning, Hilda can watch as Leonie puts Dorte through his paces, and although she knows nothing about horses, she knows Marianne’s Dorte. The great big Clydesdale and former parade horse that Marianne had rescued was now the sweetest star of Leonie’s horse therapy sessions. Hilda had never been to one of those sessions, but Leonie and Marianne had let her feed Dorte a slice of watermelon once, and he was very well mannered about it, delicately taking the slice away and not being fast or overeager or anything. It was enough to make her change her mind about horses, mostly.
(Lorenz’s show horses still made her a little uneasy. She was entirely convinced they lived to scare her, so she refused to walk past where their areas were anymore, which was fine.)
Hilda watches as Leonie lead Dorte to the fence where she was leaning, and leans over the top rail to stretch out a hand and cautiously pat him on the neck. Leonie rolls her eyes, and unhooks something from the halter-thingie she’s been using to lead him around and gives Dorte a pat. She then hops the fence to stand next to Hilda, ignoring her small squeak of alarm.
“There’s a perfectly good gate like two feet futher down ya know,” Hilda whines at her, and needlessly readjusts her hat before leaning back against the fence next to Leonie.
“Yeah yeah, that gate we keep ziplocked up now ‘cause our new rescue learned how to unlatch it.” Leonie says this with only the slightest of grimaces, but Hilda tilts her head in a mixture of curious alarm.
“Horses can do that?!” The ‘that’s terrifying’ is left unsaid, but Hilda feels like it’s obvious how she feels.
And it must be, because Leonie just sputters out a laugh.
“Yeah, sometimes. But this is a little different.” She wipes the sweat from her forehead with the bottom of her shirt and then stands upright, and reaches over to take Hilda’s hand. “Come on, wanna see ‘em?”
Hilda wrinkles her nose at the feeling of Leonie’s sweaty hand in hers (and also at the smell because she still can’t convince her to wear some damn deodorant, ugh) but lets herself be pulled along anyway. “As long as we don’t have to go by the show horses,” is her only stipulation, and she’s relieved when Leonie nods.
“Yeah no worries there, he’s in this first stable. Linhardt is gonna come by later to check on ‘em and I don’t wanna waste his time by chasing the new rescue down and herding him in a stall.”
Leonie’s boots make tiny clouds of dust appear as she tromps down the well worn and clear path from the fenced in area to the first stable, Hilda half trotting to keep up.
Hilda thinks not for the first time that it’s a really nice stable, for well, a stable. Whitewashed walls and the smell of hay and well water fills the air and with no breeze blowing the scent of what’s shoveled away into the stables currently it’s not altogether so bad.
She’s looking around for which stall the new horse is in, eyes above top rail level trying to spy a tell-tale pair of triangular ears, when Leonie comes to a stop. At a seemingly empty stall. Hilda looks at her, brow wrinkled in confusion, when she hears a funny wickering from inside the stall Leonie is leaning over the door into.
Hilda notes the zipties on this door too, before cautiously peering into the stall, and then cooing without a second thought, because, “Oh my god, he’s so cute!”
In the stall is a tiny horse? Pony? He’s all legs, and big ears, and from how he’s prancing at the sight of them, all energy too. White, with black splotches all over and big brown eyes, and he’s adorable.
Leonie is watching Hilda’s delight with a smile as she leans over to give the pony-horse pets and attention. It’s when she sighs quietly that Hilda’s attention is brought back to her. Now, there’s some things that Hilda is decidedly oblivious to, but her she can read people like nobody's business. So the tension in Leonie’s shoulders and the crinkle between her eyebrows all adds up to something not so good.
“What’s the bad news about this little guy? And, not to sound like a total city girl, but what is he anyway? I’ve never seen a horse like that before, and you’ve shown me a lot of them.” She keeps her tone light, a smile on her face to try and help alleviate any tension, encouraging a joke or two even maybe.
It works, because Leonie’s smile returns, and she pulls back from the whatever horse thing that is and leans her back against the wood paneling making up the walls of the stall before looking at Hilda.
“That little guy is a mule, maybe six months old? He’s little for a mule though, the horse he’s parented from must've been a shorter one cause he’s not gonna get that big.” Frown returning, she continues, “He got dumped in some wooded lot, probably by someone who bought him without realizing how much space and food he’d need.” She shakes her hand at the air, and sighs.
It’s only through a lot of work that Leonie has managed to redirect her frustrations in a positive light, and there’s so many things she’s better about than she once was, but stuff like this will always made her see red. “Marianne heard about it and gave me a call, and now he’s here.”
Frowning, Hilda turns back to look at the little thing - mule, she corrects herself mentally. It’s so cute, and she can get the appeal, but like... She doesn’t have a pet specifically because she understands they are so much work, so why doesn’t everyone else get it?
“Marianne is amazing,” she sighs quietly, and when Leonie huffs, Hilda blushes and scoffs. “Oh you know what I meant. You both are. I don’t know how you do so much good stuff, it’s so much work.” She doesn’t have to look at Leonie to know she’s rolling her eyes.
“You know what I mean though, and I don’t understand how so many people just.. don’t get it. Animals are too much work, even if they’re all so cute.” She wrinkles her nose, and amends her statement, “Almost all; most of them are cute. I draw the line at Claude’s screaming blob monster.”
“You mean his giant frog?” Leonie chokes out her question once she’s got her laughing under control.
“That’s what I said.”
Leonie only snorts.
They linger there for a few minutes longer before deciding to get lunch. It’s nothing fancy, just stepping into a kitchenette built into the upstairs loft of the stable and making some sandwiches, then grabbing a bagged salad and throwing it all on plates. The quiet is comfortable, if a bit heavy.
Hilda chows down on her salad with gusto; she did miss breakfast after all. It’s not long after they finish and she’s sipping at her water that Leonie props her head on her hands, elbows up on the table, and gives her a look.
Hilda can just guess what’s coming next.
“So… have you asked Marianne on a date yet?” Her smug grin is enough to make Hilda groan.
“Ugh, these things take time! I have to be smart about it after all.”
Leonie’s grin does not become any less smug, and Hilda sinks into her chair and pouts.
“Hilda you’ve been mooning over her for months. Ya gotta make a move eventually.”
“Since when are you the romance expert?” Okay so, she may have a point, but that doesn’t mean Hilda had to admit it.
It’s only when Leonie’s smile drops a little that she winces.
“I don’t have to be an expert to know that if you don’t do anything, nothing is gonna happen,” she says with a shrug.
Whatever reply Hilda would have had is cut off by the sound of a car driving up, and Leonie launching out of her chair and checking the time. “Fuck, sorry Hilda, my lesson is in 15 and Ingrid specifically planned it for her at a time when no one else would be here. I gotta -”
Hilda raises her hands, and smiles. “No worries, I’m out of your hair like I was never even here. Thanks Leonie.”
After a quick dash down the stairs, she gives her a cheeky wave and walks down the path to where her car is as Leonie splits off to walk over to the car that just drove up. Through the windshield she can see Ingrid’s familiar blonde hair, but she doesn’t recognize the person sunk down in the seat next to her. Shrugging it off (not her business), she slips into her driver’s seat and heads back home.
--
The drive home is easy, windows down and Carly Rae Jepsen playing loud enough to make her rearview windows shake slightly to the thrum of the music. There’s no real traffic which is a goddess given gift, road rage was something she was still working on.
And then she pulled into the parking lot for her apartment complex and had to slam on her breaks as a car pulled out in front of her, throwing a box out the window before zipping through the stop sign and speeding away. And now Hilda’s blood is boiling, because what in the actual fuck.
She’s seething as she parks her car in the closest spot, maneuvering carefully around the box, and she counts to ten to get her mind in check before doing anything else. When she’s not grinding her teeth and contemplating ax murder, she slips out the car and walks over to the box, planning to pick it up and throw it in the bin so it doesn’t cause anyone to swerve out of the way and get into an accident or anything.
Carefully she bends over to look at the box, checking to make sure it’s not like, a dead body or drugs or anything she doesn’t want her fingerprints on. So she’s prepared for odd, but what she is not prepared for, is the tiny plaintive mew, that comes from the box.
“Fuck.” Hilda’s eyes grow wide as she lifts up the box with unsteady hands and looks inside.
Somehow she’s made her way back to her car, because she’s slumped against the side of it and looking at the tiny calico kitten in the box. It’s so small she could hold it in the palm of one hand, and it’s looking at her and trembling. It’s big green eyes and heart shaped black splotch around one eye are enough to have her trembling right back.
“Oh no, oh fuck.” She’s shaking more now as the tiny thing lays its head back down and stops meowing. Her heart is in triple time now, and she thinks of the car, the people that did this, and she’s so mad she could spit. But she can’t get mad, because there’s a tiny little living thing in her arms and oh no. Oh no, no, no. She doesn’t know what to do.
And it’s not until she sees water droplets on the cardboard that she realized she’s crying, this is so out of her wheelhouse and Claude is busy and she can’t foist this off on him and oh no, fuck.
The thought of Claude makes her remember veterinarians exist, and then..
She’s in the driver’s seat of her car and carefully buckling the kitten’s box in the passenger seat before driving off as quickly and safely as she can. Directly toward Blue Paw’s Veterinary Clinic.
“Please, please let Marianne be in today,” she mumbles, trying not to think about anything except that Marianne will know what to do, she’s a vet, and she’s nice, and the thought of her is about the only thing keeping Hilda from full panic. Someone will know what to do, and that someone she can go to hand this problem to happens to be a someone with pastel blue hair and a kind smile who loves animals.
She pulls into the first available space she finds, the whole parking lot is empty except for the employee cars and she’s grateful for it. Carefully she picks up the kitten box before dashing inside.
Ashe’s usual cheerful greeting is cut from a, “Hello!” to a gasp, and he quickly steps around the front counter over to her, “Hilda did something happen? What’s wrong?”
It didn’t occur to her that she must look a mess, she didn’t wear waterproof anything today so her eyeliner and mascara must be a drippy mess, and now that she thinks about it her hat came loose at some point and it’s definitely not on her head now. And then there’s the box in her arms, which is the only really important thing.
“Ashe is Marianne here? Please, I need her to help, please Ashe?” And she must sound strained or something because he just nods at her with a small reassuring smile, and steps through the door to the animal care rooms to grab Marianne.
Hilda is left alone in the lobby, and is emphatically glad there’s no one else at the clinic right now, because this is so much and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if the kitten isn’t going to be okay.
She realizes then that they’re probably starting to close up for the day—it’s later than she realized—and she’s stupidly impossibly grateful Ashe is a good friend who didn’t just boot her out the door.
“Hilda, Ashe said you were asking for me - oh.”
Marianne steps through the door, Linhardt close behind, and walks over to Hilda. Marianne’s gentle voice is a balm to her frayed nerves she didn’t know she needed.
Without any prompting, Hilda holds out the box to her and Ashe, and they can both see the tiny unmoving kitten inside of it.
“Someone threw it out their car window, and I don’t know what to do.” The last word comes out strung long, almost a whine, and she’d be embarrassed about it if she weren’t genuinely worried about the fluffy little thing in box. “Please tell me it’s okay?”
There’s something about the way she says this that has Marianne’s eyes snapping toward her, and there’s a flutter to her expression Hilda can’t read. She can’t think clearly right now regardless, so it’s probably nothing.
But then Marianne takes the kitten out of the box and holds it in her arms with a smile. “Don’t worry Hilda, I’ll take her to a room and give her a proper look over, it’s going to be alright.” She walked toward the door to the back rooms, but pauses a moment to look over her shoulder, “I’m glad you brought her to me - thank you.”
Ashe is carefully making sure Hilda sits down in a chair, he’d noticed her trembling more than she really had. She’s sitting there, blinking owlishly at the door Marianne had stepped through, when he sits next to her with a box of tissues.
Gratefully she takes one and blots at her eyes and tries to clean up her mess of makeup. She deeply appreciates Ashe’s quiet chatter as she leans back in her chair and tries to stop fretting.
Ashe pauses for a moment in his stream of reassurances, considering his words carefully.
“You know… you’re kinda like how I was when I found my first kitten.”
Hilda turns her head slowly to look at his sweet, guileless, bright smiling face. And closes her eyes with a sigh.
“Ashe, I love you to death, but that is not at all reassuring.”
He laughs, and she smiles; somehow it’s unexpectedly comforting. “Linhardt saw me panicking about it, and helped me make sure it was okay.”
“He was much worse than you are right now,” Linhardt chimes in from the back of the room where he’s doing... something. Probably responsibly putting everything in order for the end of day like how Ashe usually does when he isn’t having to help crying messes who’ve brought in rescued kittens.
Oh. A slight blush warms Hilda’s cheeks.
Well, maybe it was slightly comforting, considering those two have been together for ages, and how she feels about Marianne…
But that’s not appropriate. And she’s trying to tell herself that, and that she’ll just take the cat to a shelter or something.
But when Marianne confidently walks back into the room with a meowing kitten in her arms, Hilda knows she’s going to do absolutely no such thing.
“This little girl is going to be just fine, she’s clear of all the basic feline worries, and I went ahead and started her on round one of kitten vaccines and shots. It seems like she was just in shock, and a little dehydrated.” Marianne is smiling at the kitten and at Hilda, who has stood up and walked over toward her.
Hilda looks at Marianne, and back toward the kitten. She can feel herself smiling, but she’s still unsure, and she’s still angry at the people who did this. Her mouth turns into a strained line as she grimaces.
“I’m so glad she’s okay, and whoever did this is hideous. I just...” She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her shoulders slump, and she reaches out to run a finger gently down the kitten’s back.
“Marianne, I have no idea how to take care of a kitten.” She’s blushing, and embarrassed, because that sounds ridiculous but it’s true. She looks up and meet’s Marianne’s eyes. “I’m serious, I’ve never had a pet before. I don’t know the first thing about it.”
“Oh!” Her quiet exclamation is almost like torture, because Hilda is convinced that whatever good image she’d had in Marianne’s mind is gone now with that confession. But her hand is soft as it rests on Hilda’s arm, and her smile is sweet without a trace of judgement.
Carefully, she maneuvers Hilda’s arms, and places the kitten in the safe cradle of her arms.
“There, see? It’s not so scary as all that.”
And as Hilda gives her a bashful, grateful smile, she swears she can see a blush spread across Marianne’s cheeks.
“Why don’t I grab you some basic supplies for her? We keep extras in the back for our kennels and I trust you to bring them back once you’ve gotten your own.”
She turns around to leave without waiting for an agreement, but before she can, Ashe waves her to stay, and slips in the back to gather everything necessary.
“I’ve got it Marianne. I’ll grab everything Hilda needs.”
Marianne and Hilda are standing close together, avoiding looking at each other by watching the kitten paw at loose stands of Hilda’s pink hair, when Marianne suddenly clasps her hands together.
“Hilda, I have a great idea. Why don’t I give you my personal number? That way you can text me any questions, and you can send me pictures of her whenever she does anything cute.” The smile on her face is warm and brilliant and Hilda can practically feel her brain melting.
A kitten? Marianne’s phone number? What is happening today?
“Oh, that sounds wonderful. Thank you so much! Marianne, you’re the best,” is what she actually says though, thank goddess for that.
The kitten in her arms is rumbling up a storm, and Hilda nestles it closer and looks at Marianne, happy but perplexed. “Is this normal? The purring so much?”
“She probably already feels safe with you, you’re gonna be just fine.”
Hilda feels herself blush for like the fourth time in the space of half an hour. “Oh, well that’s nice. That’s... That’s really nice. I’m going to take good care of her With you helping me, there’s no way this can go wrong.”
Both women smile at each other, and it’s not long before Ashe brings out everything Hilda needs. She takes it with many, many thanks. Careful as before, she puts it all in her car, sighing as she sets the kitten back in its box and buckles it in before driving off with a wave to the clinic.
“Well. This has been one hell of a day.” She sighs, “I can’t believe I finally have her number.”
The kitten chimes in with a loud meow.
“You can say that again.”
---
Marianne is standing at the window of the clinic waving as Hilda drive away and with a blush on her face so warm she’s sure she could bake a tray of cookies just by turning toward them right now.
Ashe and Linhardt have wrapped up the closing duties for the night, and the place is ready to be locked up and they walk over to the door with her, both of them looking at each other conspiratorially.
Linhardt simply sighs. “Caspar is going to be so giddy when he finds out what finally prompted you to give Hilda your number. Please don’t send him any pictures of the kitten Hilda sends you, he’s weak and we don’t need a fifth cat.”
Marianne and Ashe laugh as Linhardt smiles quietly.
“Someone has a cruuuuuush,” Ashe grins, happy for her.
Marianne smiles. “Yes, I think you’re right.”