Work Text:
It was a quiet night at the monastery; no one was around to bother Shamir. She was finishing up weapon maintenance in the Knights’ Hall - she’d need to get more whetstones in the morning.
Putting her lance away, she heard someone outside.
Knock-knock-knock
The sound was metallic. Shamir had planned on ignoring the other person, but the sound was enough of a confusing combo to pique her curiosity. Turning around, a familiar blade pointed at her face - too close for comfort.
“Spar with me, Shamir!”
A faceful of Thunderbrand was not Shamir’s idea of a proper greeting between colleagues, and she made that bias known.
“Get this out of my sight!” Shamir yelled, spin-kicking the sword out of Catherine’s hands.
“Hey! What gives?” Catherine frowned. She almost went to pick up Thunderbrand, but reconsidered. “Is this your way of saying you want to grapple?” Catherine flashed a grin and lowered her stance. “Come at me!”
Shamir rolled her eyes. “No.” She turned her back to Catherine.
Laughter. “Oh, bad move. Rookie mistake.”
Sighing, Shamir suppressed the urge to roll her eyes again. She opened her mouth to scold her partner, when she was slammed into the wall.
“Give up.”
Shamir squirmed, but couldn’t find purchase. Sometimes, she forgot just how strong Catherine really was.
“Cath--...” Shamir cut herself off with a gasp. Her gaze locked onto Catherine’s, who was looking at her with an intense expression. It wasn’t like the usual goofy grin; Shamir couldn’t place it. Being in such close proximity was -- oh, she smelled good. Something about the look Catherine gave her was mesmerizing enough to give her chills.
What the hell?
Catherine was out of breath, which was strange because she only performed one move. Shamir hadn’t even put up a fight - she didn’t want to fight. Might as well let Catherine tire herself out so Shamir could finish working and head to bed.
“You don’t know, Shamir,” Catherine muttered. She let go with one hand -- confident enough in her strength to hold Shamir without it --, softly tracing the outline of Shamir’s lips.
Shamir’s breath hitched.
“You don’t know how much I’ve dreamed about getting you like this…”
Rooted in place, Shamir felt her heart rate speed up. She was able to get out of Catherine’s hold quite easily, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to. The current development was too… interesting, she told herself. Interesting. That was it.
“Yeah?” Shamir responded, breathy. Lightly, she bit Catherine’s finger. “To do what?”
It was a challenge, enough to light the fire that sprung Catherine into action.
“Don’t be dense,” Catherine commanded, then captured Shamir’s lips with hers.
It didn’t last long enough, as far as Shamir was concerned. Those surprisingly soft lips… they had to be kissing her, again; Shamir wouldn’t be satisfied until they were. Reaching up, she pulled Catherine back into her, fingers entangled in blonde hair. It caught Catherine off-guard, but she quickly responded with enough fire to match the one in Shamir’s gut.
“Shamir…” Catherine whispered, breathing hard. “I think I love you.”
“Then I’ll just have to kiss you,” Shamir stated, as if it was the only truth between them. The only thing that made sense. “Try and stop me.”
“Cath…!”
Shamir woke up with a start, face on fire. She needed time to catch her breath and sort out her feelings; her stomach doing flips wasn’t going to help her parse what she had dreamt.
This wasn’t like her - she never remembered her dreams; if she did, they were usually nightmares of losing her family, or her first partner, or her homeland.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she allowed herself to be vulnerable. It would do no good to bottle up emotion; that’s when it became the most volatile, and she couldn’t bet on the unpredictability of the odds of it bubbling up in a fight.
Feel it now, so it wouldn’t compromise a fight. So it wouldn’t cause unnecessary death.
She supposed she was supposed to think about her past, like her dream, but her thoughts returned again and again to the present. The object of her interest was so… different from her. Of course, it was too early to know all of the ins and outs of that particular knight, but so far? It was almost as if they were opposites. Such a phenomenon was fascinating . How deep did that pattern go? Shamir couldn’t help but wonder.
Such neutral thoughts weren’t distressing. Learning about her assigned partner was going to be interesting , and she made sure to note everything when the time came.
But how to categorize how she spoke? Or her body language - was that different, too? Shamir couldn’t see herself, and asking someone else was out of the question. Maybe bringing Catherine to the pond, or maybe that lake in the, uh, ‘Sealed Forest,’ was it?
Shamir started to drift off. Thinking of mundane, neutral plans were her strategy for sleeping uninterrupted.
“Hey, partner,” Catherine greeted with a wave. She grinned and patted the seat next to her. They were in a tavern, but the noise from other patrons dulled as soon as Catherine smiled.
Shamir complied, sitting next to Catherine. She seemed more excitable than usual. Usually people with extra energy were grating, but something about Catherine’s energy made her smile. It was cute. Any excuse to see her happy-go-lucky grin.
“Barkeep! This is my beautiful partner, and I want everyone to know she deserves every round. Her pick!”
The dulled ambiance of the tavern suddenly turned way up; cheers erupted at Catherine’s words. Shamir looked up at Catherine, who hoisted up her own stein with one hand, and lifted Shamir up with the other.
She felt tired. “Catherine, put me down,” she complained - it came out as a mutter.
“Got your drink, miss,” the barkeep said, sliding a stein over to Shamir. Unfortunately, Catherine started to grow taller and taller; Shamir couldn’t reach the drink, but did see a frog leap out of it!
“Fin!” Shamir called out, and the frog turned to her.
Catherine bent down and picked up the frog, gently handling it the way Shamir used to. “Who’s this little guy?” Catherine asked, then handed the frog to her.
“An old friend. From back home,” Shamir responded. The frog was far too big to hold, now -- it was several times the size of her!
With a chuckle, Catherine got up from her seat. “Looks like the little guy grew!”
“Can’t argue with that.” Shamir nodded. She wasn’t surprised that Fin made it from Dagda all the way to Fódlan, he was always a crafty frog.
The overwhelming tiredness returned. Catherine noticed and looked at her with concern.
“You alright, soldier?”
Shamir nodded once, her head feeling like it weighed a ton. “Need sleep,” she stated, then closed her eyes. “Join me?”
Even though her eyes were closed, she knew Catherine grinned and got a twinkle in her eye. “You bet I will!”
But you’re not tired, Shamir thought. Catherine heard it and jumped on the defensive as she carried Shamir to her room.
“Am too. Don’t infiltrate my thoughts!”
“Sorry.”
Catherine’s grin came back. “Ahh, it’s alright. I’m just hyped for our special night.”
What was Shamir sorry for, again? Did she tell Catherine she was tired? She couldn’t remember.
“Mm,” Shamir mm’d. She smiled. “Our special night. How long has it been?”
“Two years, five months, three days.”
“Excellent. I’m…” Shamir shook her head, laughing giddily. “I’m so glad it’s you.”
So glad it’s you.
So glad it’s you.
So glad it’s you.
Cass…
“Me too, partner,” Catherine said, then leaned in. Her hands, soft to the touch, cupped Shamir’s cheeks as their lips touched. Shamir ached for more, wrapping her arms around Catherine and pulling her in…
“Cass!” Shamir shouted, bolting upright from her bed. Confused, she looked around, trying to parse where she was. Where was Catherine? Shamir patted the bed next to her -- empty. Did she leave to go on an early jog? Usually she waited until sunrise…
Shamir figured that was it and laid back down. Head hitting the pillow, Shamir smiled, warmth comforting her as she remembered all the ways Catherine showed her love for…
Wait.
Bolting upright again, Shamir got out of bed. She needed fresh air, so she padded through the knights’ quarters until she was outside.
It was quiet, and that helped to quell the pounding of all the thoughts that demanded they take residence in her mind. She heard birds starting to chirp, a strong breeze rustle the leaves on the trees, the sound of the pond…
...And someone getting louder, sounding out of breath. The padding that accompanied it told Shamir the person was jogging--
Cold fear lanced through her. She predicted this! It was Catherine on her early jog - that’s why she wasn’t in bed.
Shamir blinked, then watched Catherine jog up the path and past her. No acknowledgement. Shamir didn’t know if that was better or worse; she felt a mix of relief and disappointment. But she stared at the fit figure with airtight clothes head away from her.
“She wasn’t in bed because we’re not…”
She couldn’t bear to finish the thought; the reality was too sobering to be desirable. Why did Shamir feel like she had lost something special, now that they weren’t -- though they never were -- dating?
“Just a dream,” she muttered, heading back to bed. It didn’t mean anything. Why would it? She was interesting, that was all. ‘Predicting’ Catherine’s jog was just a lucky guess - it was logical to assume any of the knights would partake in endurance training.
Shamir didn’t sleep well that night.