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The battlefield was no place for a lady, and although some may categorize that mindset as being lazy, Angela didn't mind. She hated all of the traveling, staying at random inns, and worst of all. Putting up with these two boneheads.
Hawkeye usually wasn't a problem, besides his constant flirting and smooth-talking. In a way, he could be useful when the party needed information. But Duran was hopeless. He once snuck out in the dead of night to swing his sword around for hours, claiming he was "training" in the Frostbite Fields. This led to him catching a cold, and Angela scolding him ruthlessly about how stupid of a decision that was.
Nonetheless, Angela was grateful they stuck with her to retrieve the mana sword (and clean up its aftermath). There were only a few benevodons left, one of them being Fiegmund, the benevodon of Water.
Shards of ice rained down from the heavens on Fiegmund's command, slicing anyone in their way to shreds. This foe was fearsome, that's for sure. Angela had lived in Altena for her entire life, and yet the water benevodon's icy breath caused a layer of frost to form on her skin. The mage could feel her ice-cold blood trickle from the large gash on her back, and it took every ounce of determination to rise back to her feet. Luckily, she didn't have to survive for long.
With a mighty battle cry, Duran gallantly thrust his sword into the benevodon's exposed chest, delivering a fatal blow to the heart. The monster howled in pain, stumbling only to fall limp with a tremendous thud. It was over, they had finally defeated the treacherous enemy.
"Woohoo! We did it!" Hawkeye cheered, his voice echoing off the frozen caves' walls as he threw his hands up in victory. "How many more?"
"Two? I think. All I know is that it's a small number." Duran responded casually, gruesomely pulling his sword out of the slain monster's chest like it was nothing.
"Alright! We're on a roll!" Hawkeye beamed, pumping his fists in the air excitedly. Soon he could go home and reunite with Jessica and Niccolo. So soon!
"Eww… How are you guys not gross?" Angela pointed out accusingly, motioning to her filthy attire. Apparently, Fiegmund had a grudge against mages, leaving all sorts of cuts and bruises on Angela's exposed skin, including a fairly large gash on her back. The little clothing she had was soaked by the ice attacks and miscellaneous monster goo, making it unfit for combat. Some cloth segments were frozen together, or even worse, ripped off entirely.
"Sheesh, that's gotta sting." Hawkeye winced, giving Angela a supportive pat on the back. "There's an armorer in town, and I think we have enough gold to buy some more. Don't worry!" The carefree thief chimed, waltzing to the exit like nothing had ever happened.
That wasn't a bad suggestion, but sadly, Angela had spent most of her gold on items to stock up for this fight. The items came in handy, but she'd be no use to anyone without proper armor.
"I have some extra clothes, if ya' need 'em." Duran piped up, jumping down the ice stairs and reaching out a hand to assist the mage.
"O-oh, that won't be necessary-" Angela blabbered embarrassedly, taking a step forward and instantly regretting it. Apparently, during that fight, the benevodon managed to snap one of her heels right off, leaving her movement impaired. Not to mention the ice coating everything in sight.
Angela leaned forward, ungraciously falling head-first into Duran's chainmail armor, almost tumbling him over in the process.
"Oof- Jeez, warn me next time, ok?" Duran reckoned with a chuckle, assisting the groaning mage to her feet. "Do you need help?" He asked tenderly, not wanting to imply that she was helpless. Angela’s enraged glare would disintegrate him on the spot if he even thought of her as weak.
"What? N-no, I'm fine." Angela stuttered, shooing Duran away, taking a few more steps only to slip and fall to the floor like a cartoon character.
Duran approached her form with a huff, helping Angela rise to her feet for the second time. "Please don't kill me-" The swordsman prayed barely above a whisper, skillfully picking the mage up and carrying her bridal-style in no time.
"W-What are you doing?!" The mage's shrill voice squeaked, face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
"Don't worry, Hawkeye's already far ahead of us. Just relax." Duran attempted to soothe the flustered mage, and surprisingly, it worked. She huffed, but soon sank into his inviting arms.
Lucky for them, Hawkeye was so kind as to clear out any enemies left lingering in the cavern, so it was all smooth sailing. Angela would never admit it, but being carried like this was… kind of enjoyable. Duran's warm arms that jostled with each of his steps, his hands loosely gripping her to make certain the mage couldn't fall even if she tried. And the redness of his face almost parralleded hers.
It might've been due to the chill of the cave, but Duran's face was a subtle red hue, his ears a much brighter crimson. Even after they left the cave and travelled back to town, those rosy cheeks remained, along with the swordsman's occasional nervous glance to make sure the mage was alright.
Duran gracefully set Angela down, who wiped her clothes with a pompous attitude, averting her gaze as an attempt to save face. Angela could be covered in slime goo, but she'd never lose her dignity.
They hurried to the inn, hand in hand to make sure Angela didn't trip, and arrived at the party's room. Opening the door with a wide motion, Duran was surprised to find Hawkeye missing. You'd think that he'd be resting after such a day, but no, he was out doing goddess knows what.
Angela was quick to claim the bathroom, wanting to rid herself of this disgusting clothing at once. Maybe she could sell it for a few measly gold? She'd need the cash if she has to buy an entire new armor set.
Turning on the shower, Angela made sure to turn the water just hot enough to cozily tickle her skin. Heat always felt so nice after such a cold day, and she couldn't help but bask in the warmth. That is, until a firm knock rang from the bathroom door.
"I left clothes at the door." Duran called, hoping Angela could hear him over the roaring water.
"Kay, Thanks!" Angela responded simply, coming out as more of a yell as she gingerly cleansed her wounds.
Well, guess this moment of bliss was over. Quickly cleaning her hair and body, Angela turned off the water, ringing her long violet locks dry. Taking one of the inn's towels, Angela patted herself down the best she could, the dense moisture trapped in the room not helping her cause. Creaking open the door, the mage shielded her towel-covered body with one hand and stuck the other out into the chilly room, blindly searching for clothes of some kind. Her fingertips finding fabric, Angela picked up the entire stack and snaked her arm back into her warm humid bathroom.
Quickly throwing on Duran's clothes, Angela couldn't help but notice how different their choices of style are. Duran likes plain, and usually modest, clothing. Everything he wears is based solely on functionality, rather than appearance. Angela, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. She didn't care how it felt, as long as it was cute she'd buy it. So, the three-sizes-too-big gray tee and black basketball shorts were definitely… different from what Angela would prefer.
Emerging from the steamy bathroom, Angela stretched like a relaxed cat, only to begin shivering. "Jeez, it's so cold." The mage noted, using a towel around her shoulders to pat her hair dry. Duran was absently gazing out the large window, Angela's entrance catching him off guard.
"Oh! Uh, yeah." Duran tripped on his words, a pink hue dusting his nervous face. He had also changed out of his heavy armor into a more comfortable outfit, which wasn't much different from Angela's. He wore a faded white shirt and dark shorts; the swordsman wasn't one for switching up his style. And, it's nightwear, who's going to see him in them anyway?
"Do we have a furnace or something?" Angela grumbled, mainly to herself, as she felt goosebumps rising to her skin. Curse you, cold weather.
"D-don't think so." Duran stumbled over his words, roughly clearing his throat in an attempt to keep himself stable. Angela had this cute pout on her lips as she continued to dry her hair, grumbling about how cold it was and how she wanted to leave at the brink of dawn. He couldn't help but smile, her persistence and stubbornness a trait that she'd never lose. Not to mention, Duran's baggy clothes looked out of place on her smaller frame, which wasn't a bad thing; but it definitely perked his interest.
"What're you lookin’ at?" Angela interjected in on his thoughts, glaring at the swordsman like he was a pervert.
"N-Nothing! Nothing at all! Just thinking about… how cold it is! Y-yeah!" Duran babbled on, making up his excuse as he went. Angela seemed satisfied enough, slowly drawing her gaze from the flustered swordsman to the setting sun.
"Ya know, I'm kinda surprised Hawkeye isn't back by now. Where could he be?" Angela pondered, quickly changing the subject (which Duran greatly appreciated).
"Dunno. He could be off at the tavern drinking like a boozie, who knows with him." Duran dismissed Angela's worries with a flick of his wrist, plopping down on one of the beds with a thud and feeling himself slowly sink into the mattress.
"That does sound like him. Going out to get drunk after a victory." Angela trailed off, eyes glancing from Duran's overrelaxed form to the colorful sky as the sun drifted below the distant mountains. "Well, no use worrying when there's nothing to be done." Angela declared, plopping herself down on a bed adjacent to Duran's.
"And that's good, cause I'm tired as hell. Damn benevodon ruining my perfectly good armor…" Angela grumbled, tucking herself under the stiff, cold bed sheets.
"I wouldn't worry so much about that. We can always buy more, you just need to rest." Duran sympathized, sitting up with a long satisfying stretch and a drawn-out yawn.
"Mm… yeah, good point." Angela noted, snuggling into the mattress. "Well, goodnight." She murmured, closing her eyes and hoping a warm fuzzy sleep took her quickly.
"Goodnight, Ange."
-
And a good night it was not. Angela could barely sleep, the chill of the room not helping her cause. And, like most people, when you lay awake and are unable to sleep, all of the horrible thoughts stored deep down inside of you spring back to life.
She tried to steer her mind away from the painful memories, but each time they resurged with double the strength. Her mother scolding her when she was young, being kicked out of her kingdom, watching her former comrades rampage Valensa, each and every memory haunted her as sleep continued to evade her.
Angela felt herself tremble, tears welling in her eyes as she thought that maybe this could've been avoided. Maybe, just maybe, she could've done something to stop this madness. But no, now she was stuck reminiscing the "good old times", but was there ever a good time in her life? Was she ever truly happy?
The building tears fell down her face freely as she attempted to blink them away, suppressing an ungraceful sob. In the midst of her mind racing, Angela wiped her cheeks dry and looked to Duran, as if somehow he could help her.
The swordsman, as expected, was fast asleep and not budging soon. He snored, quieter than usual, but still loud enough to rile someone from their sleep. Angela couldn't help but chuckle as she recalled the countless times she's scolded Duran for his obnoxious snoring, usually ending in a heated squabble. Angela would never openly admit it, but sometimes arguing with the swordsman could be pretty fun. Especially when she teased him, he always got so flustered and immediately went on the defensive.
Angela felt herself quake as an unknown chill seeped into her bones, rudely reminding her that she wasn't going to sleep as blissfully as Duran anytime soon. An idea popped into her head, not exactly a good one, but an idea. And looking as it was now, anything was better than feeling miserable about yourself in the dead of night.
Sneaking out of her bed, Angela crept over to Duran's sleeping form. Hesitantly lifting one of the covers, Angela carefully dove in, making sure not to awaken the sleeping swordsman.
Of course, Duran groggily awoke the second he felt an ice-cold hand brush his skin. "..Hm?" He groaned, groggily blinking his eyes open to find a particularly surprised mage at his side.
"S-Sorry!" Angela peeped, her mind screaming as she wished she could shrink away. Bad idea. Bad idea!
The sheepish mage began to retreat from the bed, her arm being captured by Duran's strong grip. "Ange-" He began, looking up to find her eyes swollen and red from tears. Angela quickly averted her gaze, finding the potted plant from across the room much more intriguing.
"It's alright." He breathed out hoarsely, using his hand to lightly pull the mage back.
Wait… really?
"A-Are you serious?" Angela puzzled, voice quaking with anxiety and disbelief. She slowly turned towards the swordsman, finding an empathetic smile on his face as he propped himself up with a spare elbow.
"Of course."
The mage cautiously lowered herself back onto the mattress, Duran's comforting smile leading the way. "It's okay." He breathed out, loosely pulling her into his embrace.
In a normal case scenario, Angela would probably beat the living hell out of Duran. But this was no normal, and the vulnerable mage felt that his embrace was oddly comforting in this difficult time.
Quickly easing up, Angela wrapped her arms around the swordsman's torso, absolutely basking in his warmth. This was so much better than that frigid bed, and she mentally thanked Duran as she snuggled closer to him.
Exhaling softly, Duran rubbed soothing circles into Angela's back. He knew something had happened to Angela, but judging by the way her icy-cold fingers clung onto him, she wasn't ready to talk about it. All Duran could do was support her, and support her he would do.
"Why are you so nice to me?" Angela muttered under her breath, fingers curling with apprehension as she rested her head on Duran's broad chest.
"What type of question is that?" Duran murmured with a hint of a chuckle, rewinding himself after mentally scolding himself. Now was not the time.
"I'm nice because you mean something to me, Ange." He went on tenderly, absently running a hand through her violet locks.
"Aren't I just a burden? I can't do anything right..." The mage trailed off, her form slumping dejectedly. "Losing the mana sword is my fault. The benevodons returning is my fault too. I'm just a failure." Her voice faltered, head sinking as her entire being trembling more and more with each passing second. "I-I shouldn't have even gone on this quest. I should've listened to my mom and gave her my spirit." Angela continued hoarsely, voice cracking as more tears threatened to fall. "Then, at least she could've been happy. I could've actually helped someone, I-"
"Angela!" Duran was quick to interject on Angela's monologue, startling the mage by grabbing her chin and forcing her to look into his wounded and concerned eyes. "Don't… Don't say things like that. It's not true." He quickly softened, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "You aren't a burden in the slightest, and nothing that has happened was your fault. You were put in a tough spot, that's all. I would've made the same decisions if I were in your shoes."
"Yeah, but-"
"No 'but's! If you hadn't gone on this journey, I never would have met you. Valsena and I would be burned to a crisp, and you would've wasted your life helping that crimson bastard." Duran couldn't help but spat when he spoke of the Crimson Wizard, but continued nonetheless.
"I-... I'm just gonna say it. I couldn't live without you, Ange. You mean so much to me, and it's really painful watching you think you're nothing. You are something, especially to me, and I'm proud of you for doing the best you can every day."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the first time Duran said something that didn't infuriate Angela.
Angela couldn't believe what was happening. She really couldn't, and although Duran probably thought it was weird, Angela just smiled. How come the man, who she thought was stubborn yet stupid, say something she so badly needed to hear? Not her mother. Not her friends. Not even the goddess herself. But Duran.
"...Thank you." She managed to squeak out, her cheeks that were once filled with anguish tears were replaced by joyous ones.
"Anytime." Duran gave her a quick peck on the forehead, a gentle smile on his features. "We should probably get some sleep, tomorrow's gonna be a doozy."
"Ugh, yeah." Angela groaned, memories of her destroyed attire rushing to her mind.
"Don't worry, it'll all be okay. Just get some rest, you deserve it." Duran consoled, pulling Angela tighter into his warm embrace.
"Thanks, Duran. You too."
-
Bonus
-
Hawkeye, in fact, was not going out to get drunk after a victory. He actually went back to the armorer in town, hoping to find something for Angela. The thief knew that Angela was very particular about her style, so he hoped and prayed to the goddess that they still had her previous armor.
But of course, the armorsmith said that the clothes they bought were one of a kind, and would take weeks to recreate. So, Hawkeye went back to the entrance of the Labyrinth of Ice, hoping to find Josephine. The cat-like merchant explained that she was (ironically) sold out of women's armor. But, she gave the tip that Pedda was rumored to have the most exotic and sought-after armor in existence. That perked Hawkeye's interest. Buying and selling rare armor could be a pretty good flip, eh? Not to mention a new outfit for himself!
Taking the fastest boat ride to Pedda, Hawkeye was met with ruins as far as the eye could see. Vines littered the forgotten city, slowly but surely breaking its concrete walls. Weeds grew in every sunny patch, although the looming surrounding trees made them far and in between. Long story short, Josephine gave him a bad tip. Officially giving up, Hawkeye dejectedly awaited the next ferry back to Alrant.
Finally making it back from such a taxing day, Hawkeye lamely swung the door open to their shared inn room. Sneaking in to make sure not to awaken a furious Angela, the thief was met with a curious sight. There was only one occupied bed, with two sound-asleep inhabitants. Wait… holy shit.
Dashing out of the room, (but softly closing the wooden door) Hawkeye thought it'd be better to rent his own room for the night. He always knew they both had a thing for each other… but damn. Way to warn a guy.