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Shamir had just resigned from the Knights of Seiros. She was allowed to stay on the grounds for as long as she wanted - even rescind the request - but she knew she needed to go.
“Need to burn off some steam,” she muttered to herself. After such a tense resignation with Emperor Edelgard, she needed to expend some of the tension coiled up in her body.
Some people were not happy with the news, despite her attempts to keep it under wraps. I guess word spreads fast when you're one of five Knights, and the only Master Sniper, at that.
“This is the best place you could be!” Alois told her, before she left the 2nd floor. “What other place can give you the satisfaction of winning a hard-fought battle, not to mention our spectacular room and board? Ooh! And all of the opportunities to catch all sorts of fish! When Jeralt and I--”
That’s roughly when Shamir stopped listening. Alois was surprisingly good at inching forward when she tried to inch back, out of the conversation. Frustrating. His love for nostalgia is going to get him killed if he doesn’t reroute his thinking toward the present, Shamir thought.
Shamir decided some target practice in the woods would suffice. She wasn’t up for a run where “hey, Shamir!” was all she heard. She’d feel some tugging obligation to tell her students good-bye. And that wasn’t in the cards.
No, she was heading out by morning. Where? She wasn’t sure. Dagda had certainly rebuilt itself over the past ten years, but would it be too painful…?
“Ten years isn’t enough time for some wounds,” she said, nailing a curved shot around the tree in front of her.
She had no one that remembered her, or would. No one knew who she was. It was as refreshing a thought as it was depressing.
Another shot, this time straight up, seeing if she could hook at the very last second. Tactical shots were her specialty and gave her something to focus on.
Back at her boarding school, she fell for this fencer. Though she’s not sure exactly how it happened, the girl liked her back. Shamir smiled, despite herself.
Laverne was her name. She was… well, to put it mildly, she was ripped. And had this blonde hair that complemented her own darker hair --Shamir had a type. At least, that’s what she’d doodle in class. Shamir wasn’t much of an artist, but for Laverne, she practiced. And never showed her.
Shamir snorted aloud. “I was so young, so… smitten.” A frown. Stinging eyes. No, it’s been ten years , why can’t she just get over it?
They had plans to open up a fencing school for young girls. Some kind of defense course - fencing wasn’t very practical, which bugged the hell out of Shamir, and they went back and forth on those details. In the end, they knew they wanted to help young girls defend themselves. Both Laverne and Shamir knew what it was like to be on the other end of a power-hungry jackass; Shamir noticed adult men outside pubs, leering at the young girls as they played nearby. It made her sick.
“Scumbags like that should rot !” Laverne once said, over scones. Shamir nodded, smiling at the enthusiasm.
“We could just deck ‘em in the face,” Shamir responded, bumping her scone with her girlfriend’s. “If we don’t step in… who will?”
“Okay okay. Punches won’t work - not enough lasting damage.. Okay, I’ll learn the necrotic arts and you hold them in place and I swear I won’t accidentally slip up and attack you…” and soon Shamir was laughing, and coughing, and laughing some more.
Back in present day, Shamir nailed another curved shot, this time farther away. The lump in her throat wouldn’t go away. She knew what happened next: the invasion.
The village they lived in was decimated, the Empire was thorough in making sure not one building was left standing and there were no civilians alive.
Either way, Shamir lived on the other side of the village from Laverne and got there too late. Stupid idiot went back in to save her two cats that were under her bed!
Tears trickled down Shamir’s cheeks as a sob came out. Why’d she have to go back in?! We could have saved her! She’d still be here…
Shamir put down the bow and rested against the closest tree, allowing herself to weep in private. It did no good to bottle up such feelings… but she wasn’t exactly going to talk to anyone about this, either.
Oh. Oh how she hated the Empire for what they did. Joining Edelgard's army wasn't her first choice, but the idea of a secular nation appealed to her. Would Edelgard be any more fair of a ruler than Rhea? Maybe. She never seemed to have a grandiose ego, somehow. How would Laverne react if she knew the whole continent was dominated by the Empire?
How different would Shamir’s life be if Laverne were still alive?
Shamir shook her head; those kinds of thought exercises weren’t productive. But…? She sank to the forest floor, thinking. She never would’ve been homeless, or if the fire was still as bad, she wouldn’t have been alone. A partner to brainstorm with would have been nice. She never would’ve come to Garreg Mach, that’s for sure. Laverne wasn’t particularly devout, either, but the idea of fighting revved her up.
A chuckle. Maybe the Officer’s Academy would have appealed to Laverne. Would she have followed Laverne, if that was the case?
Her gloved hand forcibly pushed away the leaves to one side of her, a dark expression on her face. She knew the answer was ‘yes,’ but didn’t want to say it. Imagining Laverne alive, how she’d look ten years later, what weapon she’d pick, her as a sparring partner… Her gaze softened at the wistful thoughts.
“Fuck. If she were still alive, I’d follow her anywhere,” Shamir admitted. She threw a few rocks at a tree. “That’s not good, huh?” Ten years and still smitten with the idea of her.
Would going back to Dagda really be such a good idea? Effectively, she’d be homeless again, always wandering, always on the move. She wasn’t too worried about money, and she was plenty capable of getting around the rough terrain outside of the monastery. She’d go back to being a mercenary.
Alone.
Was that what she wanted? She knew she didn’t want to -- couldn’t -- stay here anymore. Her debt to Rhea and Edelgard paid off, she had nothing tying her to this place anymore.
It was time to move on. She got up from the dirt and picked up her bow, slinging it over her shoulder. Just one more night’s sleep here, maybe breakfast, then it was time to leave.
Unfortunately, as she tried to open her door, she found it jammed.
Taking a quick peek around -- no one around -- Shamir got down on one knee and pulled out a hairpin and got to work picking the lock. Just as she heard the click, though, the door swung open without her provocation.
“Catherine?”
A white lily was shoved in Shamir’s face.
“Awww, I thought you were joking! You’re really down on one knee for me?”
Shamir rolled her eyes and got up. “You know you're the only person I'd kneel for.”
“You should always open your gifts, shouldn’t you?” Catherine said, a bit too coy for Shamir’s liking.
“Who set you up for this? Alois?” Shamir asked, leaning against the doorframe with a none-too-pleased expression.
“Hey, lighten up, will ya? It’s your last night here and I…” Catherine looked around, as if it would help her find the right words.
Shamir shouldered past her into the room and started packing a bag. “And you thought it’d be funny to lock me out of my room. Ha. Also ha.”
“No!” Catherine stomped, insistent. “I, uh… kinda locked myself in here. So, thanks for freeing me!”
The image of Catherine locking herself from the outside AND inside was pretty good. Shamir shook her head, raising a brow.
“Funny. Now what are you doing here?”
Catherine, suddenly a bit bashful, hid the flower behind her back. “Um. Don’t laugh, but…”
“I am definitely going to laugh, now.”
“Don’t be mean!”
“Just having some fun.”
“At my expense!”
“Yes.”
Catherine heaved a huge sigh, psyching herself up. Then she brandished a box, a flower, and a card from behind her back.
Shamir’s brows raised. “How should I be reading this?
“However you want. I know how I mean it, though.”
Narrowing her eyes, Shamir hesitated before taking the three gifts. Catherine went and closed the door, then her eyes went wide and yelled ‘fuck’, making Shamir crack up.
“You’re so weird, it’s fine, I unlocked it. Remember?” Shamir said, then went to inspect the gifts as she sat on her bed.
Catherine stood in front of Shamir, hands behind her back, still bashful.
Shamir held up the lily, first. “First off, I don’t recall you saying ‘no’ to my proposal…?” she raised an eyebrow and smirked, giving Catherine a look that said ‘well?”
That flustered Catherine. That flustered her a lot.
“I-! Well! Um! I accept?!”
Shamir frowned. "If you don't want to, you could say no. It's fine."
Catherine's eyes widened. Face red, she waved her hands back and forth. "That's not it! I..." she said with a sigh, drooping her head. "I've... been in love with you for years. There's no way I'd let you leave alone, especially without my ring on your finger."
It was Shamir's turn to look down, red-faced. She wasn't good at being vulnerable, but... with Catherine, she could be. "Cass, I'm... really? You want to be with me?"
Catherine nodded, sniffling, then laughed. "Goddess, you always do this to me! You always make me feel things no one else in a million years could make me feel..."
Shaking her head, Shamir laughed once. "Cass, I'm... so glad. I thought I was going to leave alone, and that'd be that - we'd move our separate ways." She looked up at a teary-eyed Catherine. "I'm so happy I was wrong. I'm... sorry I almost left without telling you. I'm so glad you're my partner. For life."
"For life," Catherine repeated. It functioned as a promise of an engagement, as both had different customs. They were content to figure out the details later - as long as it was together.
"What's in the box?" Shamir asked, happy to move on from the emotional moment they had just had. "Is it a ring?" she teased, while tearing the wrapping paper off.
This time, the teasing didn't get under Catherine's skin, who merely smiled and said, "It's a collection of your favourite fruits, some from Dagda."
Shamir's eyes went wide. "Thank you..." she said, voice soft. How in the hell did she pull that one off? Catherine must be really serious about this, Shamir thought.
"Okay, okay, now read the card!"
Shamir did so, and read it aloud:
“Dear Shamir, did you know that rhymed? Anyway, I heard from Alois of all people that you were leaving. Were you planning on leaving silently in the night, without even telling me? I thought we were partners.
Sometimes I think we really hit it off, and then you do something so totally stupid and selfish like this, it really ticks me off! Partners don’t abandon each other! So… I’m coming with.”
Of all the reactions Catherine expected, it was not laughter.
“Oh no," Shamir said between laughs, "I'm getting chewed out from Catherine, but from the past! What should I do?" she said, continuing to laugh so hard she fell sideways on her bed.
Catherine looked pensive. She asked, "What were you going to leave to search for? I imagine representing a religion you never bonded with wasn't going to be your final resting place."
Shamir had stopped laughing and exhaled, shifting so her legs were on Catherine's lap and Shamir stared at the ceiling. "I don't know," she said. As she thought, Catherine's face got red again, too flustered to speak. "I guess a... home? A place to call home?" Shamir finally looked at Catherine's face and smirked. "You are easy to fluster..." she said, pondering.
"I'm sure that won't be used against me, or anything..." Catherine muttered, narrowing her eyes. Shamir just grinned.
"You just wait and see what I have planned."
Catherine's eyes widened and she had to hide her face. "Shamir!" It came out muffled, her head in her arms, on Shamir's legs.
"You dope," Shamir said with another laugh. "Do you think I haven't been attracted to you since the day we met?"
Catherine just stared at Shamir, their eyes communicating something intimate.
"Why did it... take so long?" Catherine asked, partially in awe, partially with a frown.
Shamir shrugged. "I've never been much of a romantic-type. I wouldn't have approached you first, unless it was for sex."
Immediately, Catherine hid her face again. "C'mon, be serious, Shamir! I really wanna know!"
"I am being serious," Shamir said, brows raised. "Dagdans and Brigidians aren't as... prudish about sex as you Fódlaners are."
Catherine stared long and hard at Shamir, trying to read if she was honest or not -- unfortunately for Catherine, Shamir was an excellent poker player. "So if I just..."
They shifted at Catherine's lead, who leaned over Shamir, both arms around her head, and slowly lowered into a chaste kiss.
Shamir cleared her throat. "Do that again."
Catherine did, and Shamir deepened the kiss, slowly draping her arms over Catherine's neck, pulling her down.
Coming up for air, Catherine said, a bit dazed and more than a little mad at herself: "You mean I could've just... done that? At any point? And I wouldn't have been so damn frustrated all these years?"
Shamir nodded, catching her breath and wiping her mouth. They didn't get too far, but the promise of continuing excited her. "Yes."
"Why didn't you initiate, then?"
Shamir had to think about that one. "I think I was... afraid I'd scared you off. Nothing about you told me you were into women..."
Hunger flaring in her eyes, Catherine responded, "Shamir motherfucking Nevrand, I'm into YOU."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah."
Shamir grabbed Catherine's collar. "Show me."
Both panting after the best sex in both of their lives, Catherine's strong arms wrapped around Shamir's smaller frame. Shamir backed into Catherine as far as she could, lifting her chin to plant a kiss anywhere she could reach.
"I... love you, Cass."
Shamir laughed pitifully, wiping away a tear.
"Oh, hun, what's wrong?"
"Nothing! Just the opposite... why did we have to wait so damn long to be so damn happy?!"
Catherine shakily raked her fingers through Shamir's hair, body still on high. "I know what you mean, partner," she said, planting a kiss in her hair. "But now, we get to do this as many times as we want, and there's no one, and no wars, to stop us."
"We can finally search for a home that suits us," Shamir said, stroking Catherine's arm.
Catherine paused, then offered, “You know, my grandpap used to tell me... ‘Home isn’t a place, it’s a person.’”
Shamir reached back and looked at Catherine in the eyes - hope. That was something Shamir lost ten years ago, and she felt it; saw it staring back at her. Wouldn’t Laverne want her to live her best life?
Maybe Catherine can do that? Maybe she can do it and be what Shamir needs?
Shamir, almost ashamed, looked down. “I’m… looking for my purpose. I almost thought I found it in you way back, but I wouldn’t dare tear you from the Knights. You’re devout. I’m not. I thought that Garreg Mach was the best for you; your place being here, my place being somewhere else.”
Catherine laid her chin on Shamir's head. “Don’t you think I can and should decide that for myself?”
Closing her eyes, wishing she wasn’t visualizing Laverne and feel the pinpricks of tears again, Shamir only said one word: “Yes.”
"Listen, I already sent my resignation to Emperor Edelgard; a few days before you, actually."
"Why?"
"I know the feeling to just... want to go. Want to be somewhere else. Explore, find a place... I can't do that here."
It wasn’t fair to Catherine if thoughts of Laverne kept popping up, was it?
“You remind me of my first partner,” Shamir said as though the words weighed 500lbs.
Catherine sat down on the bed. “The one you lost? Do you think you’re going to lose me?”
Shamir winced. She was planning on doing just that. Without even a good-bye. Then, Shamir wouldn't have to see Catherine die the same way.
“Catherine, you should find a different partner. I don’t think I’m a good one.”
“You sure seem awfully keen to try to get rid of me. Does this have anything to do with that first partner you lost?”
Shamir looked away, jaw clenched. “No.”
“Hah! Now you wanna do that again but, this time, lie to my face?”
The look Shamir gave Catherine was… akin to a tearful lost puppy trying to act fierce.
“Her name was Laverne,” Shamir said, sounding broken, words shaky. She looked away, at anywhere that wasn’t Catherine. “We were together three years, but she was killed in the war; we both made it to the Empire and set all sorts of buildings on fire... when we came back, guess who invaded and torched the entire village?” Her chin trembled. “Fucking would still be alive today if they didn’t go back in for their cats.
Catherine snorted, earning a deathglare.
“Is something about this funny?” Venom in Shamir’s voice didn’t scare Catherine. Shamir leaving forever did. Especially if it was without a good-bye; Catherine was such a good-bye and small talk kind of person.
“No, I’m sorry you lost her,” Catherine said, rubbing Shamir’s back. “The funny part is that you pretend that you don't still love him.”
Shamir looked like she was going to jump Catherine, and not in the way either of them wanted. “As I said,” she started, clipping each word to have more bite, “you should find another partner.”
“Read the rest of the note,” Catherine said, gesturing to the already-worn card. She got another deathglare, so Catherine asked, softly, “Please?”
Shamir down, through the floor, not really seeing anything. Then, she nodded. “I owe you that much, at least.”
She flipped open the card and continued reading:
“I’m coming with, and you better not try any of your loner crap with me. I see right through it. You need me. I need you. And I think there’s a lot we need to talk about. If you’re leaving because of the Seiros religion, I understand. I won’t force you to change, just like how I hope you won’t force me to change.
No matter what happened in your past, or my past, I think we can make the future look bright. I hope you get to see this before you leave.
I love you. I’ll follow you anywhere, Shamir Nevrand.
~Cass”
Shamir gulped. “You will, huh?” she asked in a higher voice than usual. Two tears fell. “You would, huh?” A few more fell.
Catherine nodded, despite knowing Shamir couldn’t see it. Slowly, she used a finger and traced a heart on Shamir’s back.
“I love you, too, Cass. I’ve been so… afraid of telling you, afraid of what you’d say, afraid of being alone unintentionally, so why not make it intentional so you can’t hurt me--”
Catherine engulfed Shamir in a tight hug and let her sob into her shoulder.
“I’m afraid of going back. Of seeing the tombstone. I don’t know if I could do it.”
“We don’t have to,” Catherine whispered.
“I’m afraid of letting you get killed, I’m afraid of you leaving me.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“I’m just…”
“‘Mir, it’s okay.” Catherine pulled back and cupped Shamir’s tear-streaked face. “It’s natural to feel scared when you’re attached to someone. That’s a good sign.”
Shamir sighed, then nodded. Catherine did her best to clean off the tears, then kissed Shamir on both cheeks.
“My bag’s packed, what about yours?”
“You’re sure you want to come with me?”
“Shamir!” Catherine looked up with the roof and said a tiny prayer. “Were you even listening?! Or reading?! Do you think I just say this to anyone who walks by?!”
Shamir snorted. “I don’t know.”
“Well, rest assured,” Catherine said, cupping Shamir’s face. “I’m yours.”
Shamir rested her forehead against Catherine’s and closed her eyes. “Say it again?”
“Shamir, I’m yours.”
“I’m yours, too, Cass.”
Catherine hugged Shamir again. “Let’s make a beautiful future together, just you and me.”
“I’d like that.”