Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

un: amitié

The torrid heat of Sunshade’s deserts were a stark contrast to the snow covered valleys of Flamesgrace. The land that stretched before her was barren, with nothing but the occasional cactus or wandering merchant to fill the space of endless coarse sand, scorching to the touch.

She was unused to such vast emptiness, and the brittle sand storms that raged against her every so often, biting at her skin. She much preferred the cold of Flamesgrace’s snowy pastures, the roof and walls of the chapel lined with delicate layers of frost.

“Is something the matter Ophilia?” Primrose stood in front of her, eyebrow slightly raised in concern.

She shook her head, letting out an embarrassed giggle. “I’m sorry, Primrose. I guess I got caught up in my own head. Sunshade is just very different from Flamesgrace.”

Primrose nodded. “That it is. Are you feeling homesick?” Her voice was soft and gentle, yet sultry.

It was no surprise to Ophilia that Primrose could so easily charm those she passed by. Primrose was gorgeous, and she exuded confidence and charisma so seamlessly that it seemed akin to breathing for her.

“Maybe a bit?” Ophilia pondered the thought. “Though your company certainly helps.”

——

It was true, the longer she thought about it. Primrose’s presence had truly alleviated the stress and loneliness from being away from Flamesgrace, and from Lianna and His Excellency. In Primrose, she had found a partner—a confidant of sorts; someone to watch her back.

Primrose was ruthless with her dagger, obliterating the bandits and creatures they came across in the desert. She was captivated by Primrose’s strength, and mesmerized at her elegance even in battle. And though Ophilia knew that she was more likely a burden than a help, Primrose never gave any indication that she shared that sentiment.

In fact, despite Primrose’s callousness in battle, she was nothing but gentle and warm to Ophilia.

Although Primrose didn’t talk often, whenever she did, she spoke with purpose and conviction. Ophilia didn’t know much of her story, beyond her desire to avenge her father’s death, and the suffering she had been willing to endure for that revenge. But whenever she did speak of her past, her father, or even her time with Helgenish—Ophilia felt entranced, unable to turn away, incapable of focusing on anything but the enigmatic dancer before her.

Then, there were those stops between towns, where they’d have to camp outside to rest. Primrose would, once in a while, relay stories she’d overheard working at the tavern. She’d tell tales of thieves, and warriors, and merchants from all over Osterra. She was quite the storyteller too–with dramatic pauses in just the right places, and hand gestures to further embellish her stories.

In return, Ophilia would tell the stories of the scriptures she had read, of Aelfric’s astral fire which defeated Galdera’s greed.

Sometimes, she’d reminisce on the memories of her and Lianna when they were young.

Other times she’d tell Primrose of Flamesgrace’s beauty; the hidden peak that held a direct view of the chapel, illuminated by the holy light of the sun, her and Lianna’s favorite place.

Primrose would listen intently; body leaned forward, hands clasped atop of her knees, lips slightly curved in a smile.

--

“Hey, Primrose?” She started, looking up at the dancer in front of her. They sat in Sunshade’s tavern; Primrose sipping a glass of red wine sent by one of the men sitting at the table across from them.

Primrose lowered her glass onto the table. “Ophilia, darling?”

She couldn’t help the heat that she felt rising in her cheeks. She knew that was just how Primrose spoke, but her terms of endearment never failed at making Ophilia blush.

“I-I, um, I was wondering…” She took a breath. Primrose raised her eyebrow in intrigue. “Are we… friends?”

Primrose gave a warm chuckle, her eyes softening. “I think you’re the second person that’s asked me that.”

“I am?”

Primrose nodded in response. “A special person asked me that before, as well. Her name was Yusufa, she was a dancer here.” Her lips smiled but her eyes shone an earthly sadness.

“I’m sorry… D-Did I resurface something bad?” Primrose only shook her head in response, putting her palm over Ophilia’s knuckle.

“No, it’s alright. I think she would’ve been happy to know I’ve made a friend like you. I truly appreciate the company of someone as kind, and courageous as yourself. You have made this journey more bearable, Ophilia.”

She couldn’t help the smile that overtook her lips.

Chapter Text

deux: réconfort

Primrose had never been one to burden others with her problems—not that Ophilia would’ve ever considered them a burden.

They had been traveling quite a while, towards Saintsbridge, and Ophilia could feel herself getting closer and closer to the enigmatic dancer. And yet, it was never enough.

She wasn’t sure if it was her fear of overstepping keeping her at a distance, or it was Primrose herself. But whatever it was, it felt impenetrable.

She’d gotten close enough to read Primrose’s moods. She could tell the smiles that were for show, a weapon to allure those around her, and the smiles that were real: genuine and warm, and only shown when they were alone.

She knew how quiet Primrose would get when she was upset: unnervingly silent, and chillingly calm. Her body tensed, ever so slightly. She’d learn to pick up on most of Primrose’s subtle cues. 

But when it came to comforting her; to easing her burdens and calming her nerves...

Ophilia's body felt frozen; the words stuck at her throat unable to come out. 

And so she stayed there, behind the invisible wall that separated her and Primrose; unable to do a thing. 

--

It was raining.

A gloomy dark grey painted the skies of Saintsbridge. Thankfully, they had made it to the inn before the downpour started, so they weren’t dripping wet.

Removing the hood of the rain cloak, Primrose brushed off the droplets of water on her sleeve.

“Thank you again for letting me borrow your cloak, Ophilia.” Primrose’s hair was frizzy and disheveled from the rain; droplets of water slid from her bangs, dripping against her forehead.

Ophilia blushed. “It’s no problem at all! I packed extra, I’m just glad it came to good use. Besides… you look better in that than I ever could, Primrose.”

Primrose turned her head sharply, looking directly in Ophilia. Her gaze was as intense as the sun, olive eyes pulling Ophilia in—a forest of evergreen.

“Ophilia, I wish you wouldn't talk about yourself like that. You are beautiful. I promise you that.” Her hand was gripping Ophilia’s gently.

“I-I… Thank you Primrose.” Her cheeks flushed in response to Primrose’s earnesty. Her heart raced against her chest.

Primrose’s kindness, while making her chest slightly erratic, did little to alleviate the guilt that set within her. In fact, it made it so much worse.

Her inability to relieve Primrose of her emotional burdens weighed heavily on her heart, tightening her chest the more she thought of it. She had vowed herself as a cleric, a healer, a mender of wounds and of hearts.

And yet, here she was, incapable of helping someone she deeply cared for.

Primrose, who’d only shown Ophilia gentleness and kindness. Primrose, who had to watch her dear father, murdered before her eyes, unable to do a thing. Primrose, who held her silence, subjected herself to abuse after abuse from Helgenish; all so she could one day avenge her father.

Primrose, who deserved peace, who deserved relief.

And yet, here she was, incapable of giving her that peace, unable to ease her burdens, and so, completely, utterly, useless.

--

The moon’s gleam shined through the windows. Ophilia sat leaning against the bed frame, reading her scriptures.

With the events earlier that day still weighing on her mind, she found some sense of calm reviewing the histories of her faith, and the words which she lived by.

Yet her thoughts kept wandering back to Primrose, who lay asleep in the bed beside her own. Primrose didn’t necessarily push Ophilia away, but she was certainly keeping her distance. And despite Ophilia’s desire to close the gap, she wondered if she really had the right.

What could she have done for Primrose, anyways? She was just a simple cleric from Flamesgrace; she had never even traveled out of the town until she decided to undertake her sister’s pilgrimage.

Perhaps Primrose kept her at a distance because she knew that Ophilia could do nothing to ease her burdens. And what right did she have to go against her wishes?

A quiet ruffling noise broke her out of her thoughts. She looked to the window, wary of possible intruders. With the constant ambushes from monsters and mercenaries, she’d learned quickly to be prepared for danger. To her relief, she only saw the droplets of rain, cascading down the window pane.

The relief quickly vanished when she realized, looking over to the bed beside hers, that the noise was Primrose.

Primrose tossed again in her sleep; the sheet of blanket covering her was ruffled against itself. Her hands scrunched into fists as she gripped the bedsheets, a thin layer of sweat lining her forehead.

Ophilia heard her rapid distressed breaths, too short and uneven to be normal. She slowly walked over, gently sitting down on the open space at the edge of the bed.

“...ather…” She heard Primrose mumble in her sleep. Or at least, that was the only part she was able to understand. Her hand hovered above Primrose’s shoulder; unsure if she should touch or not.

It was only when Primrose’s breathing became more rapid, and her incoherent mumbling gained tempo that Ophilia’s hand gently pressed against Primrose’s shoulder.

“Primrose?” Ophilia tentatively called out her name, trying her best not to startle the dancer.

Primrose’s eyes jolted open, her hand reached out, clutching at Ophilia’s wrist, trembling ever so slightly. Her eyes darted around, as if to reorient herself with reality. Her breathing was ragged, albeit soft enough that Ophilia almost missed it.

With her free hand, she placed her palm atop Primrose’s, clasping it to still the dancer’s slight tremors. “It’s okay, Primrose.” She whispered. “Just breathe. It was just a dream.”

Primrose blinked. “I… I'm alright.” She slipped out of Ophilia’s grasp, releasing her clutch on Ophilia’s wrist to pull herself up into a sitting position. Already, Ophilia missed the warmth she felt of Primrose’s fingers gripping her skin, her hand enveloped in Ophilia’s own.

“A-are you sure?”

Primrose took a breath. “Yes. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

And there was that distance again. That wall that struck Ophilia in the face whenever she tried to get closer, as if reminding her to not overstep her boundaries.

But she was adamant this time.

“... It sounded like it was a pretty bad nightmare.”

Primrose only smiled, sadness shone in her olive irises. “More of a memory. Not one I hadn’t relived before. It’s alright.”

“Um…. was it… about your father?” Ophilia asked tentatively. She was surely overstepping this time.

Primrose didn’t move for a second, her expression almost blank. She gave a slight nod before moving towards the edge of the bed and standing up.

“I think I’ll go out and get some air. You should get some rest, Ophilia. I’m sorry if I’ve burdened you.”

As she turned away, Ophilia’s arm flew out, clutching at Primrose’s wrist. Their roles now reversed.

“Primrose!” The dancer stopped, turned around, clearly surprised by Ophilia’s sudden gesture.

Even she was surprised at her sudden boldness.

“Please don’t keep forcing yourself to deal with these problems alone. I know I can’t alleviate all of your pain, b-but I am here. I know you don’t need me. You’re so strong on your own already. It inspires me—empowers me even—it has since we started traveling together.”

Ophilia steadied herself.

“But… I know that it must be hard—and painful. I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, nor will I have all the answers or solutions… But… But I want to be there for you. I’m your partner. And your friend. I won’t force you or push you to talk if you’re not ready… but please just know I’m here. I want to be here. I want to help. In any way I can.”

She took a deep breath.

“So please… please … let me in.”

Now, with the words out of her, she felt like her throat was closing. And to make matters worse, Primrose only looked at her.

A moment of silence passed by, Primrose staring at Ophilia, her thoughts completely indiscernible.

Until finally, she let out a sigh before sitting back in the bed. Ophilia’s fingers were still wrapped around Primrose’s wrists.  

“I’m sorry if I’ve worried you. Or if I’ve been pushing you away. To be quite honest, I’m not very used to seeking comfort from others.” Primrose’s eyes softened as she looked at Ophilia.

For some reason, she could feel a soothing heat in her chest. She nodded in response. “I understand.”

“You know, when I was working as a dancer… Most of the other dancers there... weren’t too fond of me.” She let out a dry laugh. “But I thought it was for the best; I was only working for Helgenish to get closer to finding those three men. It would’ve been tricky, and dangerous for the other girls to have known. I suppose I haven’t been able to drop the habit of keeping my problems to myself. I’m truly sorry, Ophilia.”

“No!” Ophilia replied quickly, leaning forward. “Y-You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Primrose smiled at her. That warm smile that made her heart seize just slightly.

“Darling, I can tell this has been weighing on your mind for quite a while. I should’ve realized you were worried about me. I will try to be more forthright and open in the future.”

Ophilia gently squeezed Primrose’s wrist. “Do you… want to t-talk about your dream?”

Primrose averted her gaze, looking down at the bed. Ophilia could feel her chest tightening. Had she made things worse? Did she ruin whatever progress they had just made?

“Ah… I dreamed of my father’s death. It’s been so many years; and yet… I still can’t seem to forget it.”

Ophilia paused for a moment before replying. “Do you want to forget it?” She asked.

“I…” Primrose trailed off, still looking down. “I’m not sure. Part of me does… I want these visions to stop haunting me at night. But… they were the last moments of my father…” She looked up at Ophilia. “I suppose, I don’t want to forget them completely. But reliving them like this…” She let out a bitter laugh. “It’s hell .”

Ophilia nodded in response. “I understand how you feel, Primrose. Mm… well if you want to try and relieve the nightmares... I believe there is an herb called Sleepweed? I hear it can aid sleep. Perhaps we could ask an apothecary around about it?”

Primrose gave a small nod. “Yes. I’d love to try. Thank you, Ophilia.” The sadness in her eyes had dimmed down, and it put Ophilia’s heart much more at ease.

Ophilia gave Primrose a warm smile before finally releasing Primrose’s wrist from her grip. She turned towards her bed, ready to let Primrose alone to rest.

“Ophilia.” She stopped, turning to look at Primrose. “Would you stay with me tonight? You don’t need to if you don’t want to. I’d just prefer to not sleep alone for tonight.”

Ophilia could feel her heart racing against her chest. She could hear the pounding in her eardrums. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Y-yes, of course!” Primrose let out a melodic giggle, before pulling out a portion of the blanket for Ophilia to lay in.

As she relaxed herself into the bed, she couldn’t help but notice Primrose’s scent—a mix of plumeria and vanilla. She found herself unconsciously leaning against the dancer’s shoulder, further enveloped in Primrose’s smell. “Ah—I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—” She stammered out, about to raise her head before being interrupted by Primrose.

“No, it’s alright. I don’t mind. Actually I’d prefer if we stayed this way for a little bit.”

Ophilia allowed herself to nestle further into Primrose, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest and tiny knots in her stomach. Primrose leaned her head against Ophilia’s, her soft curls bumping Ophilia’s shoulder.

“I think you were right.”

“About what?”

“Not dealing with my problems alone. I feel lighter, after talking to you. I think I’ll try it more often.”

Ophilia let out a giggle.

“Yeah, I hope you do.”

Chapter Text

trois: peur

They were nearing the sea town of Goldshore, located in the eastern parts of the Coastland.

Their merry party of two had grown to five with the addition of an apothecary named Alfyn, a scholar named Cyrus, and a thief named Therion.

Ophilia welcomed the new abundance of energy; not that traveling with Primrose wasn’t enjoyable enough already, but their adventures had become even livelier with the addition of her newfound companions.

Primrose seemed especially fond of teasing Therion; their relationship akin to an older sister and a younger brother. Ophilia hadn’t seen this more playful side of Primrose until now, and she was glad Primrose’s shoulders seemed lighter, and her genuine smiles were becoming more commonplace than not.

She was especially grateful to Alfyn for showing them how to properly use sleepweed to aid sleep. And rightfully so: Primrose’s nightmares seemed to have lessened.

Then, there was Cyrus, whose intelligence and abundance of knowledge had proved a great asset in battle. Outside the battlefield though, Cyrus could at times be a bit aloof; especially to the advances of Therion.

Watching their relationship, Ophilia couldn’t help but think about the feelings hidden in her own heart.

Though she had never truly felt love before, she wasn’t ignorant of how her heart seemed to gravitate toward Primrose. She knew that the care she felt for Primrose was different than how she cared for the other three.

With Primrose, it was deeper, more consuming. Ophilia’s name sounded like honey slipping off Primrose’s lips; her heart fluttering against her chest. Her flowered and vanilla scent intoxicated Ophilia’s senses, and she found herself wanting to just drown in the smell of sweet plumeria.

Primrose’s skin sliding under her own, her fingers brushing Ophilia’s wrist, felt electrifying. It was a sensation she couldn’t get enough of, something she so desperately craved.

And she was at a complete loss at what to do. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to be. And it scared her. It twisted her stomach, and seized at her heart.

Primrose’s smile had become even brighter than the Sacred Flame. Every beat of her heart was screaming Primrose’s name.

And she didn’t know if even Aelfric himself could’ve silenced her.

--

The ocean was a glistening sapphire, reflecting the gleam of the sun. The breeze carried the smell of sea salt tinged with an earthly undertone; the scent sprinkled into the trees, the grass, and filling the atmosphere all around.

Ophilia sat under the oak tree, leaning against its bark, inhaling in the aroma of the ocean around her.

Primrose let out a slight giggle. “You seem very relaxed.” The frills of her outfit slightly danced from the breeze. Her hair was completely let down, curls bouncing in the wind. She sat next to Ophilia, fingers in her hair, brushing her bangs to the side. “I’m glad to see you smiling so peacefully.”

Ophilia’s cheeks heated up in rosy pink; she silently prayed to the Sacred Flame to still her heart’s racing.

“O-oh! I just haven’t really gotten to experience the ocean up close like this. Most of the water in Flamesgrace had frozen over.” She kept her gaze fixed on the ocean, knowing that if she turned towards Primrose, she might not have been able to turn away.

“It must feel nice, venturing out from your hometown.” Primrose mused. Ophilia felt a warm pressure against her knuckles. Primrose’s palm was atop her own, her fingers woven with Ophilia’s.

“Darling,” Primrose started. “You’ve been seeming a bit off lately. Is everything alright?”

“I-I… I’m o-okay.” She manages to stammer out, completely taken by surprise. Had Primrose noticed that Ophilia was having a war inside her chest? Of course she had.

Primrose Azelhart was nothing if not incredibly attentive and intuitive.

Ophelia’s stomach sank as she realized she had worried Primrose because she couldn’t sort out her feelings.

“R-really,” She tried to assure her (and herself). “I’m okay. I-I’m sorry if I’ve worried you, Prim.”

Primrose looked at her, brows slightly scrunched in slight disbelief. Still, she gave a slight nod. “Alright.” She settled, after a moment. “If there is something wrong, do remember I am here, by your side.”

Ophilia averted her gaze, hiding the blush painting her cheeks. “I’m just really lucky… t-to get to be by your side. I guess I’m a bit scared… because I don’t want to lose what we have right now...” The warmth in the pit of her stomach might as well have erupted into a flame.

And then, Primrose’s finger was under her chin, lifting her face up so she was eye to eye with the dancer. She felt entrapped by the forest in Primrose’s eyes, her aroma filling Ophilia’s senses.

“Listen to me, Ophilia.” She could feel her breath hitch in her throat from her proximity to the dancer. Unable to get words out, she simply nodded. “Until you complete your pilgrimage, I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Deep inside Ophelia’s heart, there was a terrible voice that hoped her pilgrimage wouldn’t be complete anytime soon.

--

Vanessa was on her knees, her ‘hired help’ unconscious and scattered around the floor of the cave.

Ophilia was barely standing herself, her energy and mana nearly drained from the repeated usage of light magic. Primrose stood next to her, the Azelhart scabbard in her hand. Her body trembled slightly from her own over-usage of dark magic; blood seeped through her dancer garment from a gash on her shoulder. Vanessa had managed to dig her dagger into the dancer before she was incapacitated. Primrose had pulled it out, not even giving Vanessa the satisfaction of a wince, but still, the wound looked deep. Ophilia would have to heal that as soon as they were back at the inn.

To their side, Therion and Cyrus were in similar positions. Ophilia could see how pale Cyrus’ complexion was, no doubt from all the elemental magic he had used. Blood dripped down the side of Therion’s arm, the gash inflicted by Vanessa’s sellswords. But still, he stood tall and alert, constantly looking over Cyrus.

Alfyn was making his way back with the town guards. They stayed there, awaiting for his return while making sure Vanessa didn’t escape.

And then, she heard a scream. She could feel her stomach lurching as she turned just in time to see Primrose’s body slump to the ground.

“Primrose!” She quickly dropped toward the ground, sliding her arm around Primrose’s limp body, her quivering hand moving her head on to Ophilia’s lap.

Time seem to stand still, as did Ophilia’s heart. She could hear Therion, the venom laced in his voice as he spoke to Vanessa, most likely demanding to know what she had done. She could hear the sound of Vanessa’s weak laughter in response. But she couldn’t make out what they were saying–didn’t even attempt to do so.

Primrose. Primrose. There was nothing she could think of except the girl collapsed on her lap.

Primrose’s face was pale, and Ophilia could feel heat radiating off her body. The red sunset fabric of her garment was dyed a sickly purple. She shakily peeled back the tattered shoulder sleeve of Primrose’s clothes. The gash on her shoulder had turned a grotesque shade of crimson; but even more concerning was the violaceous tint that surrounded the wound. Her skin was painted in vein-like dark violet from her shoulder to her clavicle.

“P-Primrose, j-just hold on. I-I’ll fix this, I-I p-promise. P-please, please just hold on.” Ophilia’s pleas came out like small whispers, shaking and on the verge of cracking. She could feel her whole body tremble; her chest constricted and it was so, so cold. She fumbled for her staff, the tremors of her fingers making it difficult to hold it steady.

Ophilia gripped at the staff with one hand, the other still clutching onto Primrose’s frame. “L-let your w-wounds be healed,” she stammered out, tapping into as much spiritual reserve she had left in her. “P-please, l-let, l-let y-your wounds b-be healed. P-please, please, please h-heal her wounds.” The words caught in her throat; she felt like she was suffocating, as if the oxygen in the atmosphere has ceased to exist the moment she saw Primrose’s frame fall to the floor.

Her knuckles white from how tightly she held onto her staff, her fingers digging into her palm. She could feel what little energy she had leaving her body, could feel the world blurring. “H-heal y-your w-wounds. S-sacred flame, p-please,” She could feel her body swaying, her voice barely audible; the strength to even speak was slowly falling out of reach.

“It-it’s not w-working.” Ophilia cried out, the panic eating at her chest. “W-why… I-I d-don’t understand. It-it’s not w-working.”

If she had thought she felt fear before… this was complete terror.

With every passing moment, she could feel the heat in Primrose’s body intensify, her complexion ghostly pale. The purple tint in her skin was spreading to her neck and arms; it was rapidly gaining surface area and speed. She was petrified to the core of her being. It felt like the blood had stopped flowing through her veins, like her heart has ceased its beating. Her mind was a flurry, and the only thought she could truly discern was Primrose.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t bother to turn around; she wasn’t even sure she had the strength to do so. It felt like if she moved, even an inch, she’d collapse into herself. And Ophilia couldn’t do that; she couldn’t leave Primrose like this.

“Ophilia, you don’t have enough left in you to heal her.” She faintly heard a rough and rugged voice in the background… was it Therion?

“It-it’s not,” she stammered out between gasped breaths—stifled by overexhaustion or fear, she wasn’t sure. “S-she won’t wake, I-I don’t…” She swallowed back the lump growing in her throat. “P-please, let your wounds b-be healed.”

“Ophilia, she’s been poisoned. This isn’t something you can cure, even if you did have the energy left in you to do so.” It was Cyrus. His voice, gentle yet firm, barely grazed Ophilia’s eardrums, barely even registered in her brain.

“Oh s-sacred—” The staff fell from her hands, her fingers losing the strength to even hold it,her arm falling to her side. Any essence of Aelfric left in Ophilia has been lost into the atmosphere. And yet , as she looked down, Primrose still lay lifeless and unmoving.

She had exhausted all she had left in her, but Primrose wouldn’t stir. She was sure that it was only through sheer willpower that she was able stay upright, her arm still clutching Primrose’s body.

“Cyrus, do you hear that?” She heard Therion ask.

Ophilia could faintly hear footsteps echoing through the cavern. It was Alfyn; it had to be Alfyn.

Please, please, please, let it be Alfyn.

She heard his name reverberate through the walls of the cave; and then she realized she was the one screaming it. Her lips begging him to hurry, please hurry, because Primrose was dying and Ophilia couldn’t lose her.

Ophilia looked down at her lap, the poison’s tint now spreading to even Primrose’s fingers.

“P-please, Prim, I’m begging you. Don’t l-leave me, please, please.”

She wasn’t even sure if she said that out loud or not; her mind was too muddled, her vision too blurry, the sound of Primrose’s scream echoing in her eardrums.

“ALFYN! Alfyn, where are you!?” She tried to scream out.

Did those words even leave her lips? Did sound even come out? Why was it getting dimmer in the cave? Would Alfyn get there in time?

Ophilia could feel herself being pulled toward the ground, the room spinning around her into a mess of dark blue and grey. Numbness starting from her fingers traveled up her arm and down her torso, until all she could feel was the beating of her heart, as it murmured Primrose’s name.

Please don’t leave me. I need you. Please wake up.

It wasn’t until she heard Alfyn’s voice call out for her that she finally let her eyes close.

Chapter Text

quatre: désespoir

Ophilia woke up to Therion by her bedside.

“Finally awake?” His voice held it’s typical roughness, but his eyes shone with a sort of sympathetic softness. “How do you feel?”

She tried to raise her head, but found that she lacked the strength to do so. “W-where’s Primrose? Is she okay?” Her voice was a feeble whisper, but the panic was still so evidently clear.

“Easy there. I’ll give you as many updates as you want; as long as you stay in bed. After that stunt you pulled, you need the rest.”

She gave a sigh, easing back into the bed. Truthfully, her body felt like lead and even such a small movement made her dizzy. Despite how badly she wished to get up and run to Primrose’s side, Ophilia had a feeling her body wouldn’t have complied.

She turned her head to face Therion, still wearing his signature poncho. “How is she? Wh-what happened?” Her voice was raspy and her throat was dry; most likely from all the screaming she had done.

“Slumberthorn.” He deadpanned. “I think that’s what Alfyn said it was.” He paused for a moment, in thought. “Yeah, slumberthorn. Vanessa had laced one of her vile concoctions with some kind of poison—viper venom I think—and slumberthorn. The venom has slow acting effects while the slumberthorn is fast acting. So I guess they kind of… mixed?”

“So that’s why it didn’t hit right away when Vanessa cut her…” Ophelia thought out loud. “But then when it did, it was spreading really quickly?”

Therion gave a small nod. “Yeah. Don’t worry though, after she told me what she’d used on Primrose, I gave her a bit of her own medicine.” There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice.  “When she told me about slumberthorn, I realized I’d heard it before, from our own apothecary, no less. Alfyn had his own helping of it; no poison though.”

“So…” Ophelia drawled out. “You used slumberthorn on her?”

He let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, she was too weak to move, I just had to prick her.” He paused, his voice softening slightly. “You were there y’know, not that you noticed I take it.”

“I’m sor—” She started to say, only stopping when Therion held up his hand.

“It’s fine, I get it. Besides, she deserved it, fuckin’ using people like that. And doing that to Primrose. I’m a thief and even I wouldn’t go so far as to scam sick and poor children.” Disgust gleamed in his eyes as he talked about Vanessa. “Honestly, I think rotting in jail is too good for her.”

Ophilia only nodded; Vanessa’s fate was on a particularly low tier in her list of current priorities.

Truthfully though, she could feel the scorching heat of rage in the pit of her stomach when she thought of how Vanessa had hurt Primrose. But she was a cleric, a healer and a helper of those that needed it. She didn’t punish evildoers, she just helped those who suffered from their actions. And despite the anger she felt towards Vanessa, hidden in the innermost layers of her heart, it didn’t hold a candle to the anger she felt at herself, etched at the core of her being. In the end, she was the one who had truly failed Primrose. She had been the one who was unable to heal her, to save her, to protect her.

“Ophilia?” Therion’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, back into reality. His eyebrow raised in concern and confusion. “Tired? Should I leave?”

She shook her head slightly, though even that slight motion managed to make her slightly dizzy. “No, I’m sorry. S-so…” She took a breath. “Is Prim… gonna be okay? How is she doing now?”

Therion’s eyes darkened as he slightly averted his gaze downwards. “Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat things with you here. It honestly doesn’t look that great.” He sighed, raising his arm and running his fingers through his air, the frustration of Primrose’s condition visible on his face. “She…” He paused. “Look, Alfyn has done his best to make an… antidote… of sorts. But the poison has spread so much… and mixing it with slumberthorn gives it some sort of deadly potent effect.”

Ophilia felt like she was choking, like her heart was stuck in her throat and she was choking on it.

“His antidote will help reduce the symptoms and help stop the poison from spreading, but it’s up to her.”

He stopped, raising his head to look at Ophilia. He looked hesitant, as if unsure whether or not to continue.

“They’re worried that her body doesn’t have the strength to fight it off. Especially after she exterted herself so much fighting Vanessa.” He said, after a while.

It felt like someone had reached into her chest and pulled out each heart string, one by one. She could feel her fingers unconsciously gripping the bed sheets.

“Primrose is a fighter. You know that better than anyone. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Of course, Ophilia knew she was a fighter. Primrose was a fighter as much as Ophilia was a healer. And yet, she could do nothing to heal the only woman her heart had ever called for. Could she even blame Primrose, then, if she was too tired to fight?

“I need—I need to see her.” Ophelia winced at the sound of her voice cracking. Mustering all the strength she could, she pushed herself into a sitting position, trying her best to ignore the shakiness of her arms, and the heaviness in her body.

Therion promptly stood, his hand on Ophilia’s shoulder. “Oh no. Just where do you think you’re going?”

“I need to be with her right now.” She willed her voice so remain steady, to not mirror the tightness of her heart, cracking every second that Primrose’s warmth remained unreachable.

His hand was firm, and his gaze unbending. “I get how you feel. But you can’t help her right now, not when you’re this weak.” She could see bandages on his arm, outreached and no longer hidden under his poncho. She'd have to ask him about it later, offer to heal it maybe... but first she needed to see Primrose.

Ophilia turned her body sideways, kicking her legs out, dangling them over the bed as she sat on it’s edge. “I have to go.” She pushed herself upwards, ignoring the wobble of her feet as they met the ground.

“No you don’t. You’re staying, whether you want to or not.” He sounded exasperated, and harsh. She didn’t blame him; she knew he’d been looking after her this whole time. She knew he had other things to worry about, another person to worry about.

She stood up, releasing her grip on the bed sheets. “Therion, please. I have to be beside her. You have to understand, better than anyone.”

Ophilia tried to take a step forward, her body begging her not to, but her soul crying out its need to be near Primrose. The room was spinning again, her head pounding, and her legs ready to give out any second. But it was no matter; she’d crawl to Primrose if she needed.

And then she stumbled, and then she was falling. She closed her eyes, bracing for the impact of the wooden floor, but was met with warm fabric.

She looked up at Therion, his arms around her body, holding her upright. “When are you going to stop being so selfish?” His voice was biting. “In the caves, you nearly killed yourself trying to save her. And now, you’re going to do it again trying to be near her. Alfyn and Cyrus are doing everything they can to help Primrose.” He looked down at her, a fierce blazing in his eyes. “If you collapse, that means instead of focusing all their attention on Primrose; they’ll now have to worry about you.”

He helped her back to the bed, setting her down against the bed frame.

Therion let out a sigh. “Ophilia, please. For tonight, just get some sleep.”

He turned around, walking towards the door.

“What if…” She spoke barely above a whisper, but knew with full certainty Therion could would hear her. “What if it was Cyrus?”

He stopped, his hand at the door handle, body tensed up. There were a moment of silence. She wondered if he could feel her piercing gaze in the back of his head.

“I would’ve done the same as you.” He finally spoke, an aching rawness in his voice. She knew the feeling all too well. “That is precisely why,” he continued, “I’m the one making you sure you rest. Cyrus would want me to. And Primrose would want you to, as well.”

And with that, he left the room. Ophilia sat there in silence, the weight of her feelings suffocating her; a heavy burden she wasn’t sure she could bear.

---

The next day had come (too slowly for her liking), and after resting for a whole day, she felt much better. Full recovery was still quite out of reach, what with all the energy she had taken from her body to try and heal Primrose in the caves, but, at least she could stand (somewhat), and even walk for a bit.

Therion had come by in the afternoon, hair messy and ruffled, with an apple in hand. “Let’s go see Primrose.”

She nodded, letting him help her off the bed. They walked towards Primrose’s room together, across the hall and three doors down.

Ophelia’s heart felt erratic inside her chest as they neared Primrose’s room. Therion’s hand rested on the doorknob, looking over to make sure she was ready, before pushing it open.

Alfyn sat in a chair beside her bed, dark circles visible under his eyes. Cyrus stood against the wall, a book of poisons and herbs in hand, skimming through it, the wear and exhaustion of battle apparent on his face.

But when she turned toward the bed, every other thought slipped out of her head. Her mind, her heart, her body only saw Primrose, Primrose, Primrose.

She slipped out of Therion’s grip, making her way towards Primrose’s bed side. The dancer’s shoulder was wrapped in gauze, her cheeks flushed and her complexion pale.

“Oh, Ophilia!” Alfyn greeted her with a small worn down smile; he was obviously exhausted. “Feeling better? Has Therion been a good caretaker?” His voice still light and playful.

Ophilia nodded in response. “He’s been great, actually. What about you, Alfyn? You look like you haven’t slept. You too Cyrus. You both should rest for a bit.” She wasn’t in much of a position to talk herself, but at least she had slept.

Cyrus looked up from his book, noticing Ophilia for the first time. “Oh! Hello, Ophilia. Are you feeling better today?” He gave her a soft smile.

“I am, thank you.”

Cyrus nodded in response, closing the book and making his way towards Therion.

Alfyn got up from the chair, stretching his arms and neck. “You’re right. We’ve been here a while, we should get some rest.” He looked at Ophilia; his warm gaze made her feel like she was being enveloped by the earth. “We’ll be right across the hall, if you need just call out. I’ve already changed her wound so there shouldn’t be anything else you need to do.”

Ophilia nodded, making her way to the chair Alfyn was sitting in. Alfyn walked towards the door, before stopping and looking back.

“Slumberthorn can induce nightmares, painful ones. Sometimes so painful that your body physically hurts. It doesn’t always, but it might. Just.. be wary, alright?” He said, before walking out, closing the door behind him.

--

With everyone else gone, the silence in the room became deafening. She leaned over Primrose’s body, taking her limp hand into Ophilia’s own.

“I know you can fight this. I know how strong you are.” She took a deep breath. “I need you to fight this. Th-there are so many things I need to say to you.”

Primrose’s body was scalding hot, a damp cloth on her head to combat the sticky layer of sweat that formed.

“I don’t feel like I’ll wake up—I mean really wake up—until you do Prim.”

Her mind felt like a haze, as if it was cloaked in a layer of fog that wouldn’t dissipate until Primrose’s eyes opened again, until she heard Primrose utter her name again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” Her voice was cracking, and her hands were shaking. “I am so sorry. You have always protected me. You’ve looked out for me, and you’ve cared for me. And yet… ” She swallowed down the sob, at the back of her throat. “I-I am a healer, and I-I couldn’t save you. What’s the point of all this if I-I c-cant even save…” She squeezed Primrose’s hand. “I couldn’t even save you .”

--

“Prim, please. It’s been days.” Primrose didn’t move in response. The only indication she was even alive were the faint breaths that Ophilia had to focus her ears to hear.

“I’m begging you.” She was starting to grow desperate. Day after day, she found herself in the same position, hands clasping Primrose’s limp ones, sitting beside her bed.

Her heart felt caged, clawed at, with each day that passed. It felt like her world had stopped spinning on its axis. The days, nights, and time itself had become muddled. Much of everything had been lost in the fog that was her mind and heart.

It was only Primrose that she saw clearly, that she could feel anymore. And Ophilia feared what would become of her mind if Primrose never opened her eyes again. But she refused to allow herself to descent into such thoughts; she wasn’t sure she’d ever climb back out if she really fell into such a hole.

“I don’t know what to do. Please open your eyes again.”

The silence was deafening. She wished it would stop.

--

And then she heard Primrose scream; and she was practically begging for the silence to come back.

It was ear piercing and agonizing, and she felt it penetrate into her chest, like a dagger that wouldn’t stop twisting in her heart.

Alfyn had rushed in the room, but there was very little he could do, aside from dabbing a washcloth against her forehead and reexamining her wounds.

Primrose’s body tensed, her back arching and her fingers digging into the bedside, and into Ophilia’s palm.

“Prim, it’s going to be okay. I promise, I’m here, whatever is happening will pass. Please be strong. I’m so sorry. ”

Primrose’s hand was clenching Ophilia’s so hard, her knuckles had turned white. But she didn’t mind; if it helped, even a little bit, she wouldn’t mind.

She held Primrose’s limp hand close to her forehead, closing her eyes while she prayed. “Lord Aelfric, I am but one of your humble servants. B-but please I’m begging you to make it stop. Please make her stop hurting. I will do anything you ask. ” She winced at the pressure of Primrose’s nails against her skin. “I have helped and healed and guided people to happiness and prosperity. And I will continue to do so. In your name. So please, I beg of you, make her pain stop. ”

She stayed with Primrose that night until the screams stopped. She had gone to bed with her palm clawed and bleeding. But it was the screams, echoing through her eardrum as she lay in her bed alone, that truly kept her up that night.

--

“I don’t know how long it’s been anymore.”

Silence.

“Please come back to me. ”

Silence.

“I feel like I can’t breathe without you here, Prim. I feel like someone’s taken the air away. Every breath feels like it’s my last, and I just— please wake up .”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have expended so much energy fighting Vanessa. I should’ve noticed something was wrong with your shoulder and stopped Alfyn from going to the guards. I should’ve done something. I should’ve done better. I should’ve protected you from her. I will, I promise I’ll do better. Just please come back. I am so so sorry. ”

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

“Please, Primrose.”

Silence.

“I love you.”

She could only hear the sound of her heart cracking in response.

Chapter Text

cinq: amour

Ophilia was asleep the first time it happened, her body bent over, leaning over the empty space at the edge of Primrose’s bed. She had felt a slight pressure on her fingers, her head bolting up in response.

She thought she must’ve been imagining it; a delusion from her drowsy subconscious. But, at the core of her being, there was a spark of hope; that Primrose truly did squeeze her hand. Alfyn had said it was great news, a sure sign of progress. But still, he reminded her, she had to be patient.

The second time it happened, she wasn’t in the room. She had gone out to the town to find some herbs and powder for Alfyn; it was a good chance to stretch her legs again, and she wanted to do as much as she could to help Primrose recover. Her strength had started to come back, and though she was far from being able to use holy magic again, at least she could move about of her own accord.

She heard about it from Cyrus when she came back with the herbs, dropping the bag of them into his hands and promptly running into Primrose’s room. Alfyn had given her a smile and a nod.

And it felt like maybe, just maybe, the oxygen might start to come back into her system.

The third time, she was praying, her posture hunched over, Primrose’s fingers intertwined with her own, her lips on Primrose’s knuckles. She whispered prayers into Primrose’s skin; maybe Lord Aelfric’s blessings would be transferred into Primrose’s body and soul.

“I have embarked on this pilgrimage to light the flame around the regions of Orsterra. But, please, Lord Aelfric; the light in my eyes, the fire in my heart, please bring her back to me so that I may properly carry out my duties. I beg of you —”

And then she heard a faint coughing; and she swore that she could practically feel her heart still itself, frozen with anticipation.

She opened her eyes; blinking twice to make she wasn’t dreaming and that really was Primrose. Primrose, whose eyes were opened (albeit dazed), looking back at her.

“...philia…?” Her voice was hoarse, and barely audible; but Ophilia could swear it was the clearest sound she’d heard in days.

“Primrose. Primrose, oh gods, Primrose. I’m here, I’m here.” She could barely catch her breath, the words tumbling out of her mouth; her heart felt electrified inside her chest. Every inch of her skin was on fire, every muscle in her body yearning to lean over and clutch at Primrose and beg her to please never leave me again.

As if Primrose knew, Ophilia felt her fingers gently squeezed, and she could feel the heat rising in her stomach, up her chest, onto her cheeks.

Ophilia called for Alfyn, but her eyes did not break contact with Primrose—couldn’t break it even if she tried. It felt like the earth itself had welcomed her back, a forest of evergreen; like the oxygen had flowed back into the atmosphere and she could finally breathe again.

Primrose had woken up. And finally, so had Ophilia.

--

Primrose fell back asleep, shortly after, obviously still very weak, and it took every bit of willpower Ophilia had in her body to not wake her back up. But this time, she reassured herself, was different. Primrose’s eyes would open again in the morning, and she’d be able to hear the name ‘Ophilia’ slip from her lips again. Primrose’s honeyed voice would echo in her ears, instead of that agonizing scream she tried her best to forget.

In reality, it had been in the dead of night that the dancer awoken. The crescent moon’s silver gleam illuminated the room, and Primrose’s face, though pale in complexion, looked ethereal under its glow.

“Y-you’re awake, Prim?” She was slightly dozing on, but Primrose’s gaze had woken her up completely. “A-are you okay?”

Primrose gave a small smile, nodding her head in response. “Just tired... You look as if you haven’t slept in days.” Her voice was soft and barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“I… I-I just… I’m glad… you’re okay.” She prayed for her heart to still, fearing that even Primrose could hear it pounding against her chest: so loudly, so erratically, that she felt like she could have a heart attack. “I’m just… r-really glad you’re… okay.” 

Primrose’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry. You must have been quite worried. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She could feel the composure in her starting to wilt: all the fear, guilt, grief, and hopelessness she’d been buried under, and now the relief that it was all, finally over.

“But, it’s all right now, Phili. I’m all right. You don’t have to be scared anymore.” Primrose’s voice was gentle albeit hoarse, but Ophilia felt it reverberate in the core of her soul.

And then the tears started to fall, she felt her body trembling; all the emotions inside her were overwhelming and she could no longer keep them at bay, she didn’t need to hold herself together anymore, because Primrose was here, she was awake, and she was okay.

Primrose’s eyes flashed with concern, and then her arms were outstretched gesturing for Ophilia to come towards them, as if asking for her to fall into them. Without a second thought, she complied; Primrose moved over slightly, Ophilia lying in the empty space she had created.

And then she was nestled into Primrose’s arms, her head resting in the crook of Primrose’s neck, her arms clutching at her body, as she muttered the dancer’s name in between muffled cries, over and over again.

Primrose was radiating a warmth that Ophilia’s body so desperately needed, so painfully missed. She could feel Primrose’s arms envelop her frame; Primrose’s fingers ran through her hair, her sweet words like a gentle kiss against her ears: I’m here, and I’m here, and I’m here, and I won’t leave you like that again.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” Ophelia managed between hiccups, her voice feeble and cracking. “I-I’m s-sorry f-for not pr-protecting you. I-I sh-should’ve done better, I-I should’ve been b-better.” Her fingers were gripping the hem of Primrose’s shirt, her being melting into Primrose’s presence and warmth. “I-I w-will never let t-that happen a-again; I will never l-let you d-down like that again.”

She felt a gentle warmth against her forehead in the form of Primrose’s lips. “Shh, easy now . Breathe, Ophilia. It’s all right, you did your best. I was careless, I should’ve been on guard. You did nothing wrong. Hush now, darling. It’s all right.”

Primrose’s touch felt like the ocean, her warmth enveloping Ophilia like gentle waves. Primrose’s voice rocked her heart back and forth; her aroma filled Ophilia’s every senses with the scent of plumeria and vanilla. Primrose was an ocean and Ophilia wanted to drown in her, to never rise up and breathe in the oxygen again. She wanted to sink down to the darkest depths of the Primrose’s presence and warmth, until all she could feel, see, smell, hear, was Primrose.

“P-please don’t l-leave, I-I d-don’t know what I w-would…” She swallowed, her words caught in her throat. I don’t know what I would do without you. I need you. I love you. “I-I j-just,” She hiccuped.

Primrose hushed her. “It’s all right, Ophilia. I won’t go anywhere. I’m right here. Just close your eyes for me.”

She could feel her tears dampening Primrose’s neck; and the guilt of once again making Primrose worry and take care of her twisted her stomach. “I-I’m s-sorry, y-you just,” She said between gasped breaths. “Y-you just woke u-up and I’m..”

Another soft kiss against her temple, Primrose’s fingernails rubbing up and down her back. “Easy, Ophilia. It’s all right, darling. Just as mine is for you; your presence is just what I needed right now.”

“R-really?” Her breathing slightly more steady, her heart less erratic. “D-do you mean that?”

“Truly.” Primrose reassured her. “But, now I must say, I’m feeling… quite tired. Would you sleep with me tonight?” It wasn’t even the first time they’d slept together at that point, yet the idea of spending the night with Primrose, even in the most innocent of ways, still set her heart aflutter.

“Yes. Of course. I’d be honored to.” She sniffled; her voice noticeable calmer, her words more intact. She took a deep breath. “Before y-you go, uh, P-Primrose; there’s something I have to tell you.”

And then, it was as if all the progress had been washed away; her words were once again lodged inside her throat, unable to escape. Her stomach twisted in knots, she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. She gave a silent prayer of thanks to Aelfric for her position, nestled against the crook of Primrose’s neck, her face hidden from view.

“Yes, dear?”

“I… um…. It’s j-just that I…” She swallowed. I love you, I love you, I love you Primrose. I love you .

But what good were her feelings to Primrose? A flattery at best and an inconvenience at worst. Would she ruin the friendship they had? The partnership she’d grown to treasure, so so much? Besides, Primrose wasn’t short of suitors already: men and women coming forward to buy her drinks, watch her dance, and invite her to spend a night (or two) with them. And yet, Primrose had always declined, with a smile, a ‘sorry’, and a wink. So what would be different about Ophilia, a simple cleric from Flamesgrace, to the Sunlands dancer who captivated all who she passed by?

“I’m j-just…” She swallowed down the words, mentally kicking herself for naivety. Primrose had enough to worry about without being guilted into entertaining Ophilia’s feelings. “...glad you’re back. And th-that you’re okay.”

A tense silence followed.

“Mm, yeah. I’m glad to be back.” Primrose’s voice was nothing but gentle, and yet… there was something else about it… something akin to disappointment?

She laid in bed that night, enveloped by Primrose’s warmth, by her arms. The silence in the room, a cruel reminder of her heart, heavy from the weight of all the feelings she could not say.

--

They decided to stay in Goldshore one more day, before setting out north. Though their stay had been sufficiently extended (what with Primrose’s injuries and all), they never got to truly experience the coastal town for all it’s beauty.

“God, it feels so nice to be up and about again. I swear, I haven’t seen the sun in months.” Primrose was stretching her arms, head tilted towards the sky to bask in the warmth of the sunlight shining down on her face. “It’s so bright and warm; gods I missed it!”

Ophilia let out a giggle. “It’s only been about two week or so.” Two terrible, dark, hopeless weeks that felt like they stretched for eternity. But she didn’t say that, and besides, it was over now. Primrose was here; Primrose was okay; the waking nightmare that had captured her days had finally subsided.

Primrose was laughing. “It feels like it’s been months.” She turned to Ophilia, breathing in the fresh air, a smile apparent on her face. She was absolutely mesmerizing, and of all the beauties this town had to offer, none could compare to the dancer that stood in front of Ophilia. “I’m just so glad to be out here, having a good time with you. I’m excited to explore the town together.”

Ophilia tried to ignore the jolt she felt in her heart, a blush painting her complexion. “Me too.” And then Primrose’s hand slipped into the hold of her own, fingers intertwined.

“Mm, shall we then, Ophilia?” And looking at Primrose, her eyes shining with excitement, her gentle smile as bright as the sun, Ophilia could only give an upbeat ‘yes’ in response, the giddiness in her voice reflective of the racing heartbeat in her chest.

They walked hand in hand, surveying the shops that decorated the town plaza. Merchants would occasionally stop them, offering to sell their wares at ‘discounted prices’ for such feminine beauties (she was sure they meant Primrose).

Sometimes it was jewelry, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and the such; other times it was different brands of fine wine; and then there were also merchants and stores who sold clothing, armor, weapons and herbs.

They mostly declined the offers, Primrose putting her hands up, a small slight wave of the hand. “Oh, sorry, we’re just browsing around,” she would say, with such smooth charisma that the shopkeepers could do nothing but smile and nod back.

There was a stand with a young lady behind it, jewelry lined the table, the shiny gems shining from reflecting the sun’s gaze. Primrose brushed her finger against a silver brooch, with an oval shaped light sapphire gem at its center.

“Mm, will you tell me about this one, ma’am?” The shopkeeper beamed with delight at the interest of one of her products.

“Of course I can, miss! Ye’ got a good eye there; this sapphire brooch here’s been directly linked to the great almighty Lord of Fire himself! They say it’d grant the wearer divine blessin’ and protection. And I’d bet it’d look great on ye’.” Ophilia found herself mentally nodding along; of course it would look beautiful on Primrose. What wouldn’t look beautiful on someone as stunning as Primrose?

Primrose smiled politely in response; shaking her head. “Ah, no… this isn’t for me.” She turned to face Ophilia. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

Ophilia nodded, forcing her lips to form a smile. “It's gorgeous, I’m sure it’d suit whoever you bought it for.” She tried to ignore the slight pressure in her chest at thought of Primrose buying presents for someone else, not that she had any right to be upset. Of course Primrose had someone special; with all the people whose eye she seemed to catch, it would only make sense she’d find her perfect match in her sea of suitors.

“How much, ma’am?”

“2,500 leaves, miss.” Primrose nodded, pulling out the leaves and handing it over. She took the brooch in her palm, before turning to Ophilia.

“Will you let me put it on you?” Ophilia supposed the bewilderment was apparent on her face by Primrose’s sudden burst of laughter.

“M-m-m-me? Th-this is for me?” She instinctively put her hands over her face; an attempt to hide the blush that colored her cheeks in rosy pink. “I-I… um… y-yes! Yes! Of course, I’d like—no I’d love that!”

Primrose’s eyes twinkled, a grin on her face as she took the brooch and clipped it against Ophilia’s bangs And of course, Ophilia was never naive about her looks. It wasn’t that she thought she was unattractive, in fact she knew conventionally that she was attractive. But, next to Primrose, who shined and dazzled like a burning inferno, Ophilia was but a small dying flame.

But the way Primrose had looked at her, as if she’d just seen snow for the first time, the glimmer of warmth and adoration shining in her eyes, made Ophelia’s knees weaken.

“My, my, you look beautiful, my dear.” And she believed it: that in Primrose’s eyes Ophilia truly was beautiful. And it made her almost dizzy with happiness.

“Th-thank you, Prim.” She mumbled flusteredly. She opened her mouth, about to speak until she stopped, a yelling from the distance.

“Miss Primrose! Miss Primrose!”

Ophilia and Primrose both turned around towards the sound to see a man running towards them. It was one of the tavern keepers in Goldshore. Apparently there was a festival happening that night in the town plaza, known as The Water Festival to honor the spirits that have been trading so successful for the harbor city of Goldshore. It seemed their star dancer had fallen ill the night before, and they still hadn’t found a suitable replacement for her.

“Miss Primrose, I’d be eternally in your debt.” His hands clasped together, head lowered as he stood in front of Primrose. “I know of yer’ talents, Miss. Many have talked of the Lady of Sundance. If you’d be so kind as to perform in her stead, it would be a sight to behold. And really save my skin… heh.”

Primrose was silently as she contemplated the tavern keeper’s request. “All right,” She said finally, with a small nod of the head. “I’d be happy to.”

--

They sat in one of the wooden tables set up for the festival; Ophilia donned a short sleeved light blue dress, with frills at the shoulders. Her hair was down still, save for her side part clipped up by Primrose’s brooch. She sat with Alfyn, Cyrus and Therion seated across from them from the other side of the table.

After Primrose had accepted the tavern keeper’s request, she was busy the rest of the day practicing her dance at the theatre. Though Ophilia was a bit disappointed at their time alone being cut short so promptly, she was more than excited at the chance to truly get to see Primrose’s dancing.

And besides Therion, who was vehemently against festivities, Alfyn and Cyrus seemed to readily tag along. It seemed they shared her sentiment over witnessing Primrose Azelhart’s dancing in its purest form. Therion had agreed to go because crowds were a good chance for pickpocketing, though truthfully Ophilia believed he would’ve gone either way if Cyrus was accompanying them.

When the curtains had fallen down, Ophilia saw Primrose standing there, her usual dancing garment switched out for a gorgeous magenta gown that seemed as if it was made for her. It was loose and flowing, but highlighted all the curvatures of her body, from her waist down to her knees. It covered most of her body, leaving only her left leg exposed.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, and Ophilia felt like her heart had seized and frozen in complete astonishment.

And then Primrose started dancing.

The music was playing in the background, a mixture of woodwinds and strings. But Primrose brought the stage to life. Every movement of her arms and wrists, every twirl of her body, completely captivated Ophilia.

She felt like she was mesmerized, unable to turn away from Primrose, unwilling to miss even a single stroke of her wrist, or a tilt of her head. Every movement felt pivotal to her performance, and god, did Ophilia feel Primrose through her dance. The elegance, the strength, her dignified demeanor that never wavered—she could feel every essence of Primrose through her dance.

And it engulfed her senses; her heart and body felt like it was enraptured by the performance in front of her. She didn’t want it to stop, didn’t want to feel, see, or hear anything else but Primrose Azelhart.

She didn’t even notice that the music had stopped until Primrose’s eyes met with her own. The dancer gave her a wink, and she could feel her heart being set aflutter all over again.

When Primrose had finally come back to the table she’d changed from her dancer outfit; she instead opted for a more simple low cut black dress that stretched to just below her knees, her shoulders and neck bare and exposed.

Ophilia couldn’t stop herself from flinging her arms around Primrose’s waist. “That was so beautiful Prim, I-I can’t even put it into words. You’re just amazing.” She spoke into Primrose’s chest, her lips brushing against the smooth black fabric of her dress.

She could feel Primrose’s hand brush against her hair. “Thank you, my dear. I’m very glad you enjoyed it.” She wanted to completely immerse herself in Primrose’s scent, until she heard a cough.

She looked up towards Alfyn, who smiled at her. “We’re going to get some food. Let you two hang out. We’ll meet later, yeah?” And with a nod, they were off; and Ophilia was alone in Primrose’s arms.

They sat down on one of the benches, near the harbor, overlooking the ocean. It was strikingly beautiful under the light of the moon. Her heart was still erratic, her mind a whirlwind of emotions; Primrose’s dance was still lodged so deeply in her thoughts.

“So, you really liked it huh—” She could barely hear the words over the sound of her own heartbeat. As if reminding her of how much it yearned for Primrose.

“I-I love you!” The words had escaped her lips without her realizing. She could see a look of surprise on Primrose’s face, and normally, it would scare her. No, in fact, it did scare her. The knowledge that she’d done something permanent, said something irretractable, terrified her in the core of her being.

“Pardon?”

But it was as if there was avalanche in her brain, in her soul; as if all the words that had been stuck in her throat, all the feelings she’d kept inside were tumbling out. And she couldn’t stop them. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“I-I just, I love you. I do. I love you , Primrose. Gods, how could I not love you? Y-You’re everywhere I look, everything I see, and you’re in me. You’re so d-deeply in my heart. I just, I love you. And I know-I know, y-you don’t feel the same. You don’t have to. H-how could I expect you to? You’re, gods, you are the sun to me a-and I don’t expect you to feel the same.”

Ophilia could feel her fingers trembling.

“I sh-should’ve told you earlier. God, I thought… I thought when you were hurt that I would never be able to tell you. A-and then when I-I told you, you didn’t wake up. And I was scared, gods, I was so scared you wouldn’t wake up.”

Her words were coming out faster than her breaths were coming in. It was hard to breathe, but still, she couldn’t stop.

“I-I can’t not think about you. I can’t do anything without thinking about you. And wh-when you didn’t wake up Prim—I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t breathe. Because I love you, I love you. I just—” Her voice was cracking, and the lack of oxygen was making her dizzy.

“Darling,” Just the sound of Primrose’s voice was enough to center her mind again. She took a breath. “I have been waiting to hear you say that, for quite a while now.”

Ophilia could feel the nerves bustling inside her body, her stomach twisted in knots. “Wh-wh-what do you mean?” She stammered out.

And then Primrose’s hands were atop her own, and her face leaning in, inching closer until they were mere millimeters apart. Primrose lifted Ophilia’s hand up, placing it against her own chest. “What I mean, is that I love you too.”

Ophilia could heart the rapid pace of Primrose’s heart, not unlike her own. “I-I… y-you mean…”

Primrose nodded. “Yes, of course . You make my heart race, and I can’t help the urge to always be near you, be around you, by your side.”

She felt breathless, her head was spinning, her whole body trembling from excitement.

Primrose loved her back; the racing heartbeat in Primrose’s chest was because of her. Primrose loved her. Primrose wanted to be near her. Primrose wanted to be by her side. Just as she wanted to be with Primrose.

“Y-you,” She gulped. “Y-you really love… me?” Primrose only smiled at her, the warmth if it seeping into her chest and melting all the doubt and fear that she’d bury for the past few weeks.

“Gods, Ophilia. How could I not?”

And then it was like all the tension in her body had been released; all the composure and self control she’d instilled in herself had melted away. And she found herself completely collapsing into Primrose’s arms; beside herself with pure happiness and bliss.

“May I kiss you, Phili?” Primrose’s voice was sultry, yet sweet. And Ophilia was unable to answer, only responding with a nod.

And then Primrose’s lips were against her own; her fingers tucked under Ophilia’s chin, lifting it towards her. She could taste the cinnamon, and smell the plumeria, encasing all her senses. Primrose was slow, gentle, with a sweetness that she couldn’t get enough of. Her arms were around Primrose’s neck, as if they were her support, because letting go meant she might fall and this might stop, and she really, really didn’t want it to stop.

When Primrose finally pulled away, Ophilia could hear herself panting slightly, feel the pattering against her chest; even her skin feel electrified, with heat coursing through her whole body.

“I-I’m a l-little… dizzy....” She managed to get out through staggered breaths.

Primrose gave a giggle in response, though her voice was huskier than usual.

“It’s alright, darling. We can take things slow.” Ophilia nodded, leaning her head against Primrose’s shoulder; trying to steady herself as she waited for the stars to stop spinning in circles. “There are a lot of things we have to talk about; like how we want to move forward with this relationship and such…”

She paused.

“But for now, I think I’d just like to enjoy being with you here, like this. And knowing that everything I’m feeling, you feel it too.”

She murmured a quiet agreement, and let the sensation of Primrose’s arms, envelop her whole body.

Primrose kissed her forehead, the shape of her lips breathing out ‘I love you’ against her temple.

She laced her fingers with Primrose’s, giving them a squeeze.

I love you too.