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Snow fell gently over the marketplace of Garreg Mach, piling up on the crumbled buildings and newly-erected shop stalls. The town was livelier and more assembled than a few months prior, now scattered with welcomed businesses and friendly faces. Although the biting chill of the winter had slowed reconstruction considerably, the refugees brought with them a fortitude to persevere in harsh conditions. To Hilda’s surprise, even in the dead of Pegasus Moon, buildings were steadily being mended, shops and restaurants were opening for business, and homes were being made.
She really didn’t know how they did it. Hilda hated the cold and hard work. The combination was nauseating.
Yet, here she was, out in the elements, a huge errand newly completed at Mr. Leaderman’s request. And more than that, Hilda was willing to endure the nip stinging her fingertips if it meant she would soon be rewarded with the warmth of Caspar’s hand entwined with hers. Once that occurred, then all the consideration she put into perfectly timing this errand to end approximately around dinner time, and all the research she endured to find the perfect restaurant— not that there were many options anymore— to satisfy Caspar’s particular tastes would be worth the work.
She just had to get him to hold her hand first.
And unfortunately, he’d missed her last ten hints. If grazing her fingers against his arm, and commenting on how adorable other couples appeared, and even falling down so that he’d pull her back up didn’t make her desire loud and clear, then perhaps once she was a frostbitten delicate flower he’d be urged to take her shivering hand in his own. All it took was one conveniently misplaced glove and one harmless white lie.
Caspar walked abreast of her, an alert gaze roaming over the dispersed crowd, undoubtedly ready to spring into action the moment he spotted wrongdoing. Yet, his pace seemed slower than normal— was that due to the impending snowy walkway or consideration for her leisurely gait? Either reason, it only made her yearn more for his touch. How could someone be so close and yet seem so far away?
Hilda wound her hands into tight fists, the juxtaposition of one warm, gloved hand and one bare, numb hand contrasted even more with the action. Once she set her plan into motion the distance between the two of them would be crossed!
And that plan started now!
“Oh, no!” Hilda gasped sharply and came to a sudden halt, snow crunching loudly under her boots. She spun in a circle, eyes savenging all over the white ground of the marketplace. A pitiful whimper escaped her lips. “I can’t believe this happened!”
“Something wrong, Hilda?” Caspar asked from behind her as his footfalls ceased.
Hilda didn’t answer. Instead, she continued to fret, scouring every last inch of the area, making as big and as helpless a show of her plight as possible. Caspar came up behind her, his familiar heavy trudge growing louder with each step closer.
“Hey, now,” he said, concerned. “What happened?”
Once again, he was mere inches away, but to Hilda’s disappointment he didn’t reach out a hand to offer comfort. Hoping to urge a more affectionate reaction, she bestowed upon him the most heartbroken pout she could muster.
“Ugh, I’m just so incompetent at the smallest things these days!” she groused, stomping her foot for emphasis, which caused flakes of snow to flounce into the air. “Claude keeps forcing more and more tasks on me, and I can’t even keep track of one measly glove!”
She held up her bare hand, fingers spread wide. “Why does he think I can manage a whole army!”
Hilda heaved a sigh and rubbed her gloved hand over the exposed one. Her pink, manicured nails starkly contrasted the white tips of her fingers. Frowning, she hid the sight beneath her glove, squeezing her fingers tight. Her hand really was freezing.
How pathetic was she that she’d rather endure discomfort than voice her request? She just wasn’t brave enough to face the possible rejection. Or worse, feel guilty she forced Caspar to hold her hand when he wasn’t comfortable with that yet.
He regarded her for a moment before a reassuring smile spread across his face. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job! I mean, look, you just persuaded the apothecary to give us one hell of a discount! Not just anyone could’ve gotten him to drop his prices that low! So what if you lost a glove? It’s not like it’s something important like the rations’ log or a battle map.”
Hilda frowned, but in truth, his compliments brought warmth to her frigid cheeks. “You say that now, but just wait. I’ll probably lose the quartermaster’s reports next, and then it’s bye-bye Hilda. Either the Professor or Claude will kill me.”
“Nah, they wouldn’t,” Caspar replied with a chuckle.
He stepped around her, starting to look around. The hem of his robe brushed across her calf. Even through the thick leather of her boot, the accidental contact set her skin on fire.
“Besides,” he continued smugly, “I wouldn’t let them touch ya.”
A voice in the back of Hilda’s head screamed that she wanted his touch.
“Well, I sure would rather be dead than live to see how disappointed they’d be,” she demurred.
In truth, the thought of failing every little task Claude or the Professor burdened her with did scare her, but witnessing how proud they were at each accomplishment had steadily encouraged her continued efforts. Even Holst wrote high praise in his last letter.
But it had been Caspar who had held her close after she failed to set Claude’s fire scheme ablaze and Garreg Mach almost fell yet again. Caspar had listened to her woes and let her tears soak his shirt. Caspar had not turned his eyes to the ground and uttered empty phases like “I miscalculated. Even brilliant guys like me make mistakes sometimes.” Instead, Caspar let her feel her guilt and didn’t offer condolences or advice or worthless empathy. He just held her, ran his hand soothingly over her soot-infested, tangled hair, and didn’t judge.
“Good thing you got good friends like me to ensure thata never happen!” he crowed, grinning so wide and enthusiastically that Hilda felt her heart flutter.
Her heart hammered even harder when she realized that the boast echoed the same endearments found in his words on that forlorn night.
“Stick by my side, Hilda,” Caspar had muttered into her neck, barely audible above her sobs. “We won’t fail if we work together, got it? You can always count on me. That’s a promise.”
Really, how was a girl supposed to not fall victim to such sincere words and such earnest emotion? Caspar was just too kind and five years of growth had made him all too handsome. It really was his fault that he sprouted into such a dashing, tenderhearted young man. Who could blame her for being smitten with him? Who could blame her for being in love with him?
He had said he liked her as well, not all that many nights ago, and sealed the confession with one passionate kiss after the other. But since that rendezvous, he hadn’t snuck more than a few stolen kisses between training drills, and hadn’t held her hand under the table during war meetings no matter how many times she “accidentally” bumped him with her knee.
Hilda was beginning to think she dreamed those past intimate encounters.
“Come on!” Caspar bellowed, rousing her from her reflections. He waved a hand and started walking back in the direction of the apothecary. “We'll find your glove, no sweat!”
Searching for the silly accessory would have sounded more appealing if he would have grabbed her hand to tug her along. But no, her hand still remained barren of his touch, and now the distance between them had grown substantially.
“Oh, I really don’t want to trouble you, Caspar,” Hilda protested, running to catch up— to be close again. “Honestly, it could be anywhere!”
He turned to her with a confident smirk. “Well, we’ll just have to start somewhere then! And I told you before, I don’t find doing stuff for you to be any trouble at all.” His voice fell soft, and maybe it was just a flush from the cold, but she swore a blush bloomed on his cheeks. “It actually makes me pretty happy when I can help you out. And besides, I know how much you like your clothes and stuff.”
Guilt twisted in Hilda’s stomach. She should have counted on Caspar to be too earnest. Of course he’d make it a personal mission to hunt down the missing accessory. Knowing how stubborn he was, he’d probably never rest until he found it.
“Ah, it’s really just an old, ugly thing,“ she lied— the gloves were new with adorable bows and laces she had personally added on. “I can buy a new set with my next allowance. I saw some merchants had some pretty cute ones in stock.”
Caspar’s brows furrowed. “I coulda swore you said they were your favorite pair when Mercedes complimented them...”
Hilda bit her lip. Of course Caspar observed something like that, but couldn’t take notice to her fingers fleeting across his wrist in yearning!
“Um, no, that was, uh, a different pair. It’s fine Caspar, really. I doubt we’ll find it in all this snow.”
Caspar frowned. “I guess, if you’re really sure…”
Hilda nodded. “Those gloves were so Guardian Moon! Actually, I’m excited to have an excuse to splurge on new ones!”
Suddenly, a cold wind ripped through the square, bringing with it a flurry of snow. Hilda stopped moving, wrapping her arms around her chest as the chill speared through her many layers. Shivering, she buried her hand under her cloak and under her armpit. Still, the bite didn’t leave her tingling fingertips.
“Here,” Caspar said once the gale subsided.
Hilda turned to find him tugging off one of his own leather gloves.
He offered it out to her. “You can borrow mine for the trip back to the monastery.”
Hilda stared down at the blue accessory. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept that. I’d feel just terrible if your fingers went numb just to protect mine.”
He shrugged. “I’ll tough it out.”
“Thanks, Caspar, but it’s just going to slip right off, you know.”
With a crooked smile, Hilda took the glove from his hand and put it on. It was so long, the fabric bunched up at her elbow and she had to tug it partway up her bicep so the base of the fingers lined up with palm. As expected, her hand was swimming in the depths of the cowhide. Each finger was uncomfortably spread apart, and while her pinkie was hopelessly lost, the other four fingers scarcely managed to fill two-thirds of the tunnels. Still, it made her slightly giddy to wear something of his.
To demonstrate her point, she flipped her hand over, letting it dangle down. Instantly, the glove fell right off.
“See?” she laughed as she retrieved it.
“Okay, maybe that’s not such a good idea,” Caspar admitted as she handed it back to him. “But I can’t have you freeze in the meantime!”
He yanked off his second glove and crammed them both into his coat pocket. Then, with a surprising gentleness, he took her hand in both of his. Hilda’s heart leapt and her thoughts spun, like those surreal moments in battle when she couldn’t tell if she was awake or lucidly dreaming. His focus turned intense as he began kneading her fingers and palm, spurring warmth back into each digit.
Hilda knew the goosebumps creeping across her skin weren’t caused by snow or wind. More and more prickled down her arms as he massaged a different patch of frozen skin, and soon a burst of new gooseflesh sizzled like lightning down her back, for Caspar hunched down to her height and puffed a warm stream of air into their cupped hands.
Five times.
His breath was just as warm as she remembered when it wafted across her neck, ears, and cheeks between his every fumbled kiss, nip, and love bite during their last intimate encounter. Still, he had been too shy, too respectful, and a little too naive. She wanted him to explore her body more, to know what it felt like to have his fingers twist between her own. But to her disappointment, he hadn’t dared such actions.
“Your hands really are small,” Caspar commented innocently, now pressing firm ministrations into the tip of her index finger.
Suddenly, he stopped kneading. A curious expression tugged at the corner of his eyes as he spread her fingers out over his own, sizing their two hands up. Hilda’s fingertips barely reached the third joint of each of his fingers. Compared to her slender digits, his were so blocky and square, so rough and callused. And, oh, did Hilda want to slot hers between his and lock them tight.
“Of course they are,” Hilda muttered, hoping he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice. “I’m a dainty and delicate lady.”
“Well, hopefully not that dainty.”
Hilda scrunched up her brows in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I’ve got an idea!” Caspar explained. “Come on, let’s sprint back to the monastery! If you get your blood pumping, you won’t even feel the chill!”
Hilda gaped. “You want me to run!”
“Yeah, let's go! We’ll be back by a fire in no time flat!”
As he turned away, ready to take off, he retracted his hand. Hilda’s pulse quickened and she latched on, wrapping her fingers around his palm, chasing the comfort of his touch. With a burst of strength, she tugged him back.
He jerked to a halt and cast her a puzzled look.
“Actually,” Hilda stammered, her tone more panicked than she intended, “I think I’d be much warmer if you held my hand the whole way back.”
She cast her gaze down to her snow-crested boots. Her stomach writhed, her lips felt glued with molasses. Why, why was it so hard to just be brave and say what she wanted?
“Honestly…” she said in a whisper, mustering every ounce of her courage. “I’d really, really like if you did that. Please, Caspar. I’ve been wanting to hold hands all evening.”
Within seconds her resolve faltered. “But, um, we don’t have to...if you don’t want that...I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything silly like that.”
Hilda pulled her hand away, but Caspar tightened his grip, holding firm. Her head shot up to meet his crimson face.
He wet his lips, and his eyes darted nervously to their tangled hands. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Hilda shrugged, completely helpless. “It’s still...hard for me to do that. I guess.”
Caspar fell silent, an odd pensive look burdening his features, and Hilda couldn’t breathe. The wind blew harshly again, but this time her whole body felt completely numb.
There was that awkward acquiescence she hated so much.
Yet to Hilda’s surprise, Caspar said in an apprehensive voice, “I wanna hold your hand, too. I just...I wasn’t sure if that would mess up your whole favor...thing. I mean, you gotta ask a lot of people to do things as quartermaster, so, I...thought if more people knew we were together, then it would make that hard for you.”
Hilda couldn’t help her laugh. All this time he was just trying to be considerate? Still, his confession made her completely giddy.
She stepped closer to him and squeezed his hand. “I think I’m charming enough that even with a big, intimidating lover on my arm, most people will still want to help me out. I’m pretty persuasive.”
Caspar smirked shyly and ran a thumb over her knuckles. “Heh, yeah, you are.”
The gaze he cast her sent shivers down her spine. She could only describe it as admiring. And something told her it wasn’t a skindeep quality he was appreciating.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Wait. Were you hinting that you wanted me to buy you new gloves when you mentioned the shop a while back?”
“Uh,” Hilda started, but his fingers lacing between her own offered an all too engrossing distraction.
His hand was so warm. Soothing and anchoring. Protective and reliable. Somehow, the notion that they’d be unstoppable together didn’t seem so far fetched anymore.
“Cuz, I don’t mind treating you to a present! Just tell me whatcha want and I’ll do it for you, Hilda. Promise.”
He shook their entangled hands and grinned broadly. “Just like this!”
“Oh,” Hilda replied, feeling uncharacteristically bashful. “Well...if you really want to dote on me, I’d actually prefer it if you took me to dinner. I, um, don’t need new gloves right away. I have that other pair after all.”
“Sure thing!” he boomed, agreeing so easily— maybe saying what she wanted wouldn’t be so scary if it was between the two of them. He looked down at their entwined hands. “Are you sure you’ll be okay without both gloves though?”
Hilda leaned her head on his shoulder. “I think with the way you’re making me flush, I’ll stay pretty warm.”
Caspar stiffened, and his voice revealed his embarrassment as he spoke. “Ah, okay. Then, uh, where do you wanna eat?”
With a jolt, he headed off to the right before Hilda could answer, tugging her along. She almost laughed. He was such an open book when nervous. Always fidgeting or scrambling to release the anxious energy.
Hilda skipped back to his side and swung their hands playfully back and forth. “There’s a really charming tavern on the east corner of town. They specialize in dishes from the Kingdom. Not a single fish on the menu. I know you’re a bit picky, but I think you’ll like this place.”
Caspar shot her an offended look. “What? I’m not picky!”
He then whirled them around and propelled them in the other direction, now heading eastbound as suggested.
Hilda giggled, “Oh, of course not! Sticking your nose up to half the dining hall menu isn’t picky at all.”
“When have you ever seen me not finish a meal?”
“Inhaling your meals to avoid the taste is entirely different than actually enjoying it!”
“I don’t do that,” Caspar muttered, but then brightened. “Okay, so what’s the plan? Dinner, then dessert after?”
“Oh, is my dear Caspar planning to spoil me?”
“Yup! Lemme know whatever you want and I’ll make it happen! You negotiated a great contract for the army, let’s celebrate!”
“In that case,” Hilda said, feeling her cheeks heat up, “after dinner and sweets, would you like to come over? To my quarter’s that is. I have some, uh, tactics I’d like to discuss with you that I think will pair very well with a second dessert.”
Caspar chuckled, “I kinda have a feeling you wanna do more than talk.”
“Oh, catching on, are you?”
Caspar tucked her even closer and smiled wolfishly. “Yeah, think I am. Especially if those ‘tactics’ include the best way to keep you warm tonight. My instinct’s telling me the snow’s gonna come down pretty hard! And, you know, after five years of wandering around, I picked up on quite a few ways to keep nice and toasty!”
The small fire on Hilda’s face blazed into an inferno. At her dumbfounded response, Caspar’s flirtatious spark of confidence wavered.
“Uh, sorry! Did I miss something again? I thought you wanted to— “
She bumped her hip against his, knocking him off balance. Not daring to meet his eye, she boomed, “I’m very much looking forward to your strategy, General Bergliez!”
Caspar burst into laughter. Once he regained equilibrium, he planted a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Oh, I’m confident that it’s gonna blow your mind, General Goneril!”
Hand in hand, they made their way to the restaurant, laughing and bantering cheerfully. Caspar’s fingers interweaved with Hilda’s banished away every shiver and sting of winter and soothed every doubt in her mind.
She’d get better at this whole being direct thing, because Caspar’s heart had more patience than any impulse that ever raced through his mind.
When they arrived at their destination, Hilda tore her snow-covered cloak off to drape across the restaurant’s chair. Much to her chagrin, her “misplaced” burgundy glove tumbled out of the garment’s pocket.
“Oh my, how’d that get in there!” she cried, feigning surprise. She retrieved it and held it up with a triumphant hop.
“Oh good! Glad you found it!” Caspar cheered earnestly. “See? It was somewhere after all!”
Hilda slid into her chair across from Caspar. Looking up at him with her best puppy-dog eyes, she asked, “You’ll still hold my hand on the way back, right?”
The request still felt strained, but this time she feared his rejection less.
And, naturally, Caspar didn’t disappoint.
He reached across the table and entwined their fingers. “You bet! ‘Course I will, Hilda!”
He flashed her a broad grin— the same kind that always had her feeling so completely smitten.