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Marianne rather liked the royal castle in Fhirdiad, more than she did her adoptive father’s estate in Edmund. Though there was more activity, more flurries of servants and knights running from one duty to the next, everyone also spread out more, and it was far easier to steal a few moments of peace and quiet in the gardens when the stables proved too busy and the chapel wouldn’t do.
Except the gardens were no longer as quiet as last time, with the city newly liberated. She heard their song rising from within the thick hedges that bordered the path, always singing and twittering, the branches and leaves trembling as they jumped about, but never emerging.
To Marianne their chirps sounded like complaints. The gardener was too big and too loud, a cat with an appetite for sparrows had taken to prowling around, they had enough space and debris to build their nests but not enough food to feed their hatchlings.
To Marianne a garden without birds was worse than a graveyard, and though Castle Fhirdiad was not her home she couldn’t bear the thought of its gardens going silent.
So she had a project to occupy her while other matters busied Dimitri. She hired a craftsman in the city to carve a few birdhouses and baskets for feeding receptacles, but she struggled to hook them from the gazebo’s overhang, especially after filling the baskets with birdseed.
Her arms ached with the effort of holding it up, and she realized she stood too short to manage and that she might have to bother the gardener or Ashe after all.
Until her burden lightened all at once, and a dark figure towered over her.
Marianne’s lips parted in surprise as Dimitri hooked the basket from the overhang. “Is this what you were trying to do, Marianne?” he wondered.
She stepped away from him, caught unawares by his appearance - he’d promised to meet her at dinner and hadn’t expected him till evening. “I...yes, that’s it.”
“And the others?” Dimitri gestured towards the other filled baskets and birdhouses. He didn’t wait for her to nod before grabbing them and hanging them one at a time.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t be a bother,” Marianne said, even as he didn’t strain nearly as much as she’d tried. He lifted each with ease and was plenty tall enough to accomplish what she couldn’t.
Dimitri crossed his arms as he admired his - their - handiwork. “This is hardly a bother,” he assured her. A hint of a smile flickered across his face. “Really, that was nothing, and it gave me a welcome break from a day of wearying meetings.”
Marianne found herself smiling too, a part of her willing herself to believe him, that maybe she’d brought him some small measure of good luck rather than misfortune. “I’m glad then.”
“Why have you taken this upon yourself?” Dimitri then wondered. “Ashe told me you were...worried about the birds?”
Her face flushed. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so honest with Ashe if she knew it would come back to Dimitri, and if he deduced she understood some of the birds’ speech then what if he chased her from Fhirdiad and—
“The birds in your gardens are hungry,” Marianne said instead. She perched on a bench before, in a rare fit of bravery, patting the spot beside her. “And...it might be nice to see them flying sometimes. Birds aren’t meant to live their entire lives inside the bushes.”
Dimitri looked almost thoughtful as he sat next to her. They lapsed into silence, letting the birds do all the talking while they watched the baskets and birdhouses, waiting.
Well, it probably wouldn’t work right away, Marianne knew, but she hoped Dimitri would be here to—
A bird burst from the bushes in a fluttering of leaves and alighted on the rim of one of the baskets. It jerked its head from side to side, searching for predators, before leaning down and scooping a great gulp of seed into its beak.
It flew back into the bushes.
A chorus of birdsong rose as the adventurer shared her discovery with her fellows. A few tried to steal, but she insisted they go search for themselves before giving her hatchlings their meal.
The birds took turns bursting out, one by one then a few at a time, always wary of that cat or the gardener, but paying no mind to Marianne and Dimitri, watching them.
She clasped her hands in her lap and smiled, a rare flash of accomplishment washing over her. It had felt...nice to do something, even something small, for herself, and maybe for Dimitri too.
“How is it you knew exactly what they wanted?” he wondered, and she thought she didn’t imagine the awe in his voice.
All creatures need to eat, Marianne could’ve said, and it would’ve been true, but instead she found herself taking a risk and admitting, “I just listened to them.”
“And they said they wouldn’t come out of the bushes until you gave them seeds?”
“They did say they were hungry,” she said, “but they were also worried about a cat.”
“So you dangled the seed up high,” Dimitri said, nodding. “I’ve...never really stopped to appreciate something like this before.”
“Birds?” Marianne half-turned towards him, frowning.
“That too, I suppose,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “But more the things some need to consider even when searching for food, or how difficult it is...and, well, it seems that birds are always in famine or in war.”
“Why do you think so?” she asked.
Dimitri pointed to a blackbird with a bright yellow beak. “I swear I’ve seen that exact one five times since we sat down.”
Marianne laughed. “He has four hungry hatchlings,” she said. “You’ll probably see him many more times if you stay longer.”
He hummed and tapped his chin. “I...if I might ask, Marianne…”
“Yes?”
“You...still plan to leave in a week’s time?” Dimitri said. “Or will you be here to tend to this?”
Marianne’s heart skipped a beat, and she again seized her courage and pushed away that part of her that still whispered she didn’t deserve happiness. “Do you know why my adoptive father sent me in his stead, Dimitri?”
“I don’t,” he said, “but I’m very glad he did.” He took one of her hands then.
Marianne clutched his hand - big, rough, covered with more scars than she knew how to heal - with both of hers. A smile spread over her face when her gaze found a pair of doves sitting in one of the baskets and feasting as voraciously as their smaller fellows.
A sign of good luck from the goddess, she hoped, though she suspected she no longer needed such a sign.