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Hilda paced in no particular direction, waving her arms as she rambled. Concerns poured out of her freely in the privacy of Marianne’s room, where she knew her insecurities would be safe. Aside from herself and her girlfriend, the only other audience member to her rant is the Sobble that napped in its position latched atop Marianne’s blue braid.
“Um. Hilda?” Marianne interrupted, eyes wide at seeing her typically relaxed girlfriend more frantic than a startled squirrel. She sat on the side of the bed with her hands in her lap, following Hilda’s movements helplessly.
Pink hair whirled around as Hilda spun to face her directly; Marianne flinched at the abruptness and averted her eyes. “You just, um… you didn’t tell me what’s wrong,” Marianne mumbled.
Hilda threw herself on the bed behind her, laying on her stomach so all her words came muffled. Marianne reached a hand over and ran her fingers through Hilda’s hair, hoping to calm her.
Hilda shifted to her side so she could be heard. “You know how my house is known for its Bewear?”
Marianne nodded. She’d accompanied Margrave Edmund to Goneril territory once and seen the Bewear wandering the grounds, tending to the baby Stufful, or training alongside Hilda’s brother and their soldiers. There were several of them—at least one per Goneril—and yet, Hilda didn’t have one herself. This was years ago, before the two had become close, but she recalled how even then Hilda had been bubbly and outgoing. She had whisked the younger, somehow even shyer Marianne away from the adults and brought her to her room, where she proceeded to pull out her treasure trove of clothes and accessories and share them with the withdrawn blue-haired girl that could barely find the words to speak back. Between the exuberance of the younger Hilda, who was thrilled to have another girl around, and the sight of the Bewear that towered over her at nearly 7 feet, the entire experience had been too overwhelming to forget.
“My father said it’s time I picked a Stufful for myself!” Hilda exclaimed, as if that were the most outrageous idea ever. “He wants me to bring one back to Garreg Mach with me, the way my brother’s Bewear goes everywhere with him. Can you believe that?”
“Um… y-yes?” Marianne answered, her intonation coming across like a hesitant question.
Hilda sat up and gave her girlfriend an exasperated look. “Taking care of myself is enough work, I can’t handle taking care of someone else, too!”
“You take care of me,” Marianne said with a blush.
“Hardly,” laughed Hilda. “You’re the healer. When I get scratched up training, it’s you putting me back together.”
Marianne shook her head and the motion woke Sobble, who squeaked as he nearly lost his grip. “That’s not really what I meant.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“You’re always looking out for me,” Marianne quietly explained, her cheeks reddening as she elaborated. “Trying to include me in conversations, making sure I’m safe. You, um… you even help me tidy up my room sometimes.”
“Oh, well that doesn’t count,” Hilda replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Talking to you isn’t work, and if I didn’t help with your room, I’d lose my girlfriend to an avalanche of stray books or something.”
Marianne pursed her lips, a thought held captive behind those warm brown eyes.
Hilda sighed. “Spill. I know you want to say something.”
“I think you can do it, and are just, um...” Trailing off, Marianne began to nervously pick at her nails.
“Hey now.” Hilda’s reprimand is gentle as she places her hand over Marianne’s to still the anxious behavior.
“You’re afraid of being depended on. Of, um… of letting people down,” Marianne finished, stealing quick glances into Hilda’s pink eyes to ensure she hadn’t offended her.
“Wow,” Hilda replied emphatically. “You don’t hold punches, do you?”
“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s fine,” Hilda said, shaking her head and squeezing Marianne’s hand reassuringly. “I just wasn’t expecting that. Most people think I’m lazy.”
The smile on Marianne’s face could be heard in her voice, despite her gaze being firmly fixed on the ground. “You’re so good at everything you do. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Hilda forced a laugh at the irony of the comment. “There are plenty of people who’d argue I’m given too much credit, unless you’re referring to how effectively I can talk people into doing things for me.”
“Oh, Hilda…” sighed Marianne.
“What if you came with me?” Hilda suddenly said, straightening up with the excitement of a new idea.
“Um… me?”
“Yeah! You’re so good with Sobble, you could help me out sooooo much.” Hilda’s voice came out in a near-whine, and she scooted closer to Marianne as she waited for the latter’s response.
Marianne’s eyebrow raised and she gave Hilda a sidelong glance. At the sound of his name, Sobble had shuffled forward until his navy eyes were in Marianne’s view, upside down and filled with curiosity. She giggled and he slid off of her head; catching him in her hands, a small smile decorates her lips and she nods.
“Okay,” agreed Marianne softly.
“Yes!” Hilda stood abruptly. “I’ll write back that you’re coming with me. See, you’re taking care of me again!”
“I… don’t think that’s what this is,” Marianne muttered, but her girlfriend was no longer listening as she took her leave, presumably to her own room where she’d left her father’s letter.
~
Hilda led Marianne through the estate by the hand, her spirits high as she re-introduced her girlfriend as such to her brother. Sobble rode on the taller girl’s shoulder; his blue hide blended in with her blue robes and hair, and he buried himself in her loose locks as they passed the Bewear by the outer gates.
“It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Lady Edmund,” declared the future head of house Goneril as he stretched out a hand. His own Bewear stood behind him, one paw to its muzzle as it tilted its head and watched over the guests’ arrival.
“Holst,” Hilda chastised. “Just call her Marianne, she’s practically family.”
He laughed, the sound reverberating through the room with the volume of it. “Getting a little ahead of yourself there, little sister. I still have to test her and see if she’s good enough for you.”
The color drained from Marianne’s face. “Wh-what?”
“He’s kidding,” Hilda flatly replied to her girlfriend before turning a stern face towards her brother. “Tell her you’re kidding.”
Holst and his Bewear exchanged looks of amusement. “Why would I? Surely it is my responsibility as your brother to evaluate any suitors you bring home!”
Hilda felt Marianne step back beside her, and knew the girl was one comment away from fleeing the premises. “She’s here to help me pick out my Stufful, not to be interrogated by my overprotective big brother.”
“Um…” Marianne managed, closing her eyes and donning a pained expression. Hilda glanced at the blue-haired girl and came to a decision.
“Yup, we’re done here,” Hilda announced. “We’re going to go put our bags away. See you later, Holst!”
Once they’d reached her bedroom and shut the door, Marianne helped Sobble step off and onto the bed before seating herself at the edge of it and picking more fervently at one of her fingernails. Hilda gave her girlfriend a concerned once-over.
“He’s just teasing, Mari,” said Hilda with a reassuring smile as she sat beside Marianne. “He’s not going to quiz you or anything like that.”
“I hope not,” whimpered Marianne softly. She briefly met Hilda’s attentive pink eyes before dropping her own and rubbing away the wetness pooling in them. “Maybe I s-shouldn’t have come… your brother will just be disappointed with me.”
“Nonsense!” objected Hilda without hesitation. “I still need you to help me pick a Stufful. Not to mention teaching me how to care for it.”
The sullenness in Marianne’s face indicated she did not believe herself capable of any part of that; as far as Hilda’s concerned, she could kill two birds with one stone by getting Marianne to handle everything and then pointing out how very competent and helpful she was. Having to do less herself was no more than a side effect—certainly not the goal.
Sobble waddled between them, pushing his head under Marianne’s arm and staring at her with large, needy eyes. “Oh,” Marianne said as she scratched his chin. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
Marianne dug through her bag until she found what looked to Hilda like animal feed, or kibble. She produced a bowl afterwards and carefully lowered Sobble from her lap to the floor where he could eat.
Hilda pointed an accusatory finger at Marianne, but her face broke into a grin. “See? You’re the animal whisperer. I won’t need to worry with you around.”
“I’m sure you won’t need me to tell you when your Stufful’s hungry, Hilda,” Marianne replied. The distraction had quelled her anxieties for the time being, and Hilda felt confident she was ready to leave the room again.
After stopping by her father’s study for a quick chat, in which Marianne quietly hovered behind Hilda praying to be overlooked, the duo made for the outdoor playpen that housed the rambunctious Stufful.
“Oh, they’re so cute!” Marianne’s soft voice sounded the most excited since they’d arrived. Hilda stood quiet, drinking in the sight of the taller girl in her element; she wished she could just pick Marianne and leave, but knew her father wouldn’t let her sneak back to the academy without doing what she came for.
The tumbling baby bears squeaked and play-growled as they pounced on each other, chasing and rolling about through the grass. Marianne set her hands on the fencing of the pen, her brown eyes wide with affection for the small animals.
“See one you like?” Hilda asked.
Marianne hummed, a genuine smile on her face. “All of them.”
“You’re adorable,” Hilda said as she shifted onto her tip-toes and gave Marianne a quick kiss on the cheek. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Hilda led them down the fence line to a small double gate where they were able to slip into the pen without any of the Stufful darting out. As soon as they’d stepped inside, both girls had fluffy brown paws attempting to climb up their legs; Marianne crouched and the two nearest her clambered onto her lap, paws now on her chest as they stretched to nuzzle her face. Sobble had hustled his way onto the top of her head before any of the little bears could reach him, and was watching them through narrowed, suspicious eyes.
“Sit with us?” Marianne asked, looking up at Hilda.
Hilda shifted her weight from side to side uncomfortably. She liked playing observer to her girlfriend’s easy manner of bonding with animals, but didn’t feel confident she would be able to replicate it. The fear that she’d crouch down only for the Stufful to ignore her gnawed at her. She didn’t want to risk it.
“Nah, this is more your thing,” Hilda said evasively. “Maybe you can pick one out for me?”
“I don’t, um, really think I can,” Marianne shyly protested. “It’ll be your partner, after all.”
“I trust your judgment,” countered Hilda, not entirely certain she could weasel her way out of this one. Fortunately for her, Marianne has a hard time denying her anything.
“Okay, um…” she trailed off as her brown eyes bounced from fluffy face to fluffy face. One of the female Stufful used her brother as a stepstool and leapt up towards Sobble, who squealed and fell backwards off of Marianne’s head in his attempt to avoid her. The Stufful then wiggled out of Marianne’s lap and ran behind her, play-bowing at Sobble; he bore an apprehensive look as he held a foot up in preparation to flee.
Hilda giggled at the sight of the Stufful cornering Sobble only to play-bow each time, stubbornly demanding he play with her while he trembled in anticipation of an attack. “Mari, it’s like when you and I became friends.”
Surprise filled her features as Marianne glanced back at Hilda. Pointing to where her Sobble was trying in vain to avoid the Stufful’s advances, she objected, “I didn’t look like that!”
“Oh, honey, you absolutely did,” Hilda replied, reaching a hand down to her girlfriend’s shoulder. “The first time we met, you hid behind your adoptive father’s leg. I think escaping the Bewear was the only reason you actually agreed to follow me. That, and how cute I am,” she winked, and a blush crept into Marianne’s cheeks.
“I didn’t not want to be friends,” Marianne shyly added. “I was just, um… scared.”
“Sobble is too, he looks just like you,” Hilda said as the little lizard managed to climb onto the lower bar of the fence post, swatting at Stufful as she jumped up playfully.
“I guess that means that Stufful’s like you.”
Her quiet voice was airy and reminiscent as she commented on the two animals’ interaction. Hilda couldn’t help but feel a kinship with the little bear as she plopped down and stared upwards, clearly devising a plan to convince Sobble he wanted to be her friend. The other Stufful continued to play amongst themselves, with one or two still milking the scratches Marianne gave them if they crawled into her lap.
“If I have to pick one, I may as well go with her,” Hilda laughed. “We’re already a lot alike. Unless you think Sobble wouldn’t like that.”
Marianne’s brown eyes flicked to the little lizard; he had lowered himself onto his belly, and his swats had slowed, now appearing more experimental than fearful. She smiled knowingly to herself. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Hilda!” called a voice, drawing both girls’ attention to outside of the pen. Holst was walking towards them, closing the distance quickly. “How is my dear sister? Have you picked one?”
“I sure have!” Hilda sang in return.
Holst peered into the pen, his eyes roaming over the many Stufful. Marianne bowed her head before he could see her face clearly and remained silent—Hilda frowned, realizing her girlfriend was still uncomfortable around her brother. He noticed the Stufful and Sobble together, glanced at the girls, and then back at the animals.
“Oh, it’s that one, isn’t it?” he chuckled. “That Sobble’s barely containing his nervousness and the Stufful’s wearing her desire to be friends all over her happy little face. They remind me of the two of you.”
Marianne pulled the collar of her dress up as if to turtle-shell her way out of the conversation and Hilda rolled her eyes.
“Did you need something, Holst?” she asked in an effort to speed this along for Marianne’s sake.
“Ah, yes. Father asked that I inform the two of you that he had to answer a summons by house Reigan, and wouldn’t be present for dinner. It’ll just be the three of us, an opportune time to get to know Lady Edmund!”
A sharp intake of breath out of the blue-haired girl was her only response to this new development. Hilda made a note to praise her again later for agreeing to come; every interaction with a person seemed like a massive endeavor she surely wouldn’t have volunteered for had Hilda not insisted.
“We’ll be in soon,” Hilda assured him. “Oh, and Holst?”
He paused as he had begun returning to the estate. “Yes, dear sister?”
“If you interrogate Marianne at dinner, I will not hesitate to throw my food in your face.”
A soft gasp escaped Marianne. Holst had a far different reaction—loud, boisterous laughing. He turned and headed back indoors.
“If he makes you cry, I will punch him,” Hilda muttered.
“I d-don’t want to cause a problem…” Marianne mumbled, her eyes wide and her hands anxiously scrunching up the length of her dress.
“Come on, let’s take the munchkins inside,” Hilda said, gesturing towards Sobble and Stufful.
Marianne rose to her feet and reached a hand out so Sobble could clamber his way up her sleeve and onto her shoulder. Stufful gazed up at Marianne with a contented smile, and the blue-haired girl crouched to scoop up the little bear as well; Hilda spun on her heel and exited the pen before any ideas regarding her carrying Stufful could be suggested. With her girlfriend in tow, the two re-entered the estate and made their way to Hilda’s room.
“Um… Hilda? You know you’ll need actual supplies for her too, right?” Marianne prompted from where she sat watching Hilda pack. She’d tossed in ribbons, fabrics, some gemstones and other superficial items, nearly filling the bag without so much as a single bit of food, bowls, toys or animal medicine.
“I don’t know what she needs,” Hilda pouted, looking at Marianne with her pink puppy-dog eyes on full display. “You can handle that, can’t you?”
Frowning, Marianne studied the contents of the bag thus far and then shook her head. “I couldn’t fit it all… I’m no good at that, you’ve seen my room,” she replied with a blush.
“Yeah,” agreed Hilda as she tapped her chin in thought. “I guess I’ll have to organize it.”
“Sorry I’m not more useful…” Marianne’s voice was quiet, more to herself than to Hilda, but she still managed to catch it and walked over to look at Marianne directly. As expected, her brown eyes fell to the floor—Hilda took the opportunity to plant a kiss on her forehead, earning a subtle smile and a blush in return.
“I don’t mind putting in a little effort for you,” Hilda cooed.
She ignored the fact that it was actually not for her girlfriend—if Marianne thinks she’s putting herself out on her behalf, well, that can only benefit Hilda, as far as she’s concerned.
After some additional encouragement, Hilda succeeded in drawing a list of what she needed out of Marianne and rearranged her bag to accommodate it. If only we could just leave now, she thought as she studied the way Marianne’s eyebrows and lips both turned downward, her apprehension about Holst’s questions as clear as day. Hilda would intervene in a moment if Marianne were being attacked on the field of battle, but there was little she could do to protect her girlfriend from her own insecurities. A smaller part of her she refused to acknowledge also feared that Holst wouldn’t approve of Marianne, and she felt even more helpless to prevent that.
With Sobble and Stufful in tow—Sobble in Marianne’s hair and Stufful walking between them—the girls wandered into the dining room of the estate. A few servants finished preparing the meal as they approached.
“Sister!” called Holst from the head of the table. He greeted them with a wave and held out Hilda’s chair for her, much to her chagrin. Marianne moved to sit on Hilda’s other side before Holst held a hand up to stop her. “I’ve asked them to prepare your seat across from her, so we can converse without interruption.”
“… O-oh, um…” Marianne stuttered, shooting a quick, desperate glance at Hilda. The last thing she wanted was to be separated from her girlfriend.
“I want her next to me,” Hilda cut in, addressing her brother. “Why don’t you sit across from us instead?”
He shrugged. “If that is what you desire, I am happy to rearrange!”
Marianne’s sigh of relief was so noticeable it looked as if she had deflated. As soon as the two were seated, Hilda took ahold of Marianne’s chair and pulled her close enough that their thighs could touch, knowing this tangible support would benefit her timid girlfriend. In exchange, Marianne gently nudged Hilda and pointed to where Stufful sat, patiently waiting to be tended to. Her large, open-eyed expression was both endearing and discomforting to Hilda, who didn’t instinctively know what the little bear wanted from her.
Angling her head towards Marianne, she asked, “What do I do?”
“Pick her up,” whispered Marianne, motioning with her hands for Hilda to place the little one on her lap.
“Okay,” replied Hilda tentatively. She reached down and Stufful immediately lifted her front paws, allowing Hilda to bring her up with ease. Once the little bear was in her lap, she gave her a scratch behind the ear and Stufful affectionately licked her fingers to reciprocate. A warm glow spread within Hilda as she noted how soft Stufful’s fur felt, and how well she fit into her lap, suspended in the groove of her skirt.
“So, I am told you two became acquainted at Garreg Mach?” Holst asked as he began serving himself from the large dishes between the trio.
“Yes, I told you that,” Hilda answered impatiently.
“Why did Margrave Edmund send you to the Academy?”
This question was directed at Marianne, and she flicked her eyes towards Holst for a second before dropping them to her lap. “He wants me to, um, be his heir.”
“I see. I don’t recall if he’s spoken of your crest status, but I imagine if you are without one, he would seek to gain much by tying House Goneril’s only daughter—and only child with a crest—to him, would he not?”
Hilda glared. “What are you implying, Holst?”
“I am simply wanting to know if this was borne of honest desires or if the Margrave has more nefarious, self-interested goals in mind. You and I both know you don’t need a crest to be a competent leader, but that does not exempt you from the hungry eyes of those outside our house.”
“No, I, um. I do. Have a-a crest.”
Marianne had managed to speak up. However, Hilda could see how nervous it made her by the sight of the napkin folded more times than could be counted, still being turned over in Marianne’s hands beneath the table.
“Oh? Which one?”
“Does it matter?” Hilda laughed, attempting to divert the conversation.
“Well, sure! I’d like to know which bloodline we are speaking of. I was not aware the Margrave even had a crest running through his lineage.”
“He’s her adoptive father,” Hilda told him, seeing where Holst had incorrectly made the inference from.
He made a noise in understanding, briefly lost in thought before his characteristic smile found Marianne’s sullen face again. “What a mystery you must be! What do you know of your birth parents?”
Marianne graduated from folding the napkin to squeezing it, her fingers turning white from the pressure.
“Hey, Holst?” interrupted Hilda sweetly.
He shifted to return his younger sister’s gaze. “What is it, my dear sister?”
“You are fired from being allowed to speak to my girlfriends.”
“Girlfriends? Plural?”
He was teasing, but after being wound-up so tightly, Marianne could no longer take it. She pushed her chair out and rushed out of the room, her head bowed so her hair fell over her eyes.
Hilda stood as well, carrying Stufful in one arm and using the other to fix both hers and Marianne’s chairs. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re just trying to make sure I don’t ever leave your side!”
He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.
“Don’t. I have to go make sure she’s okay.”
He watched her leave, then leaned back and crossed his arms thoughtfully.
~
Hilda knocked softly before pushing the door the rest of the way open. She found Marianne on the floor at the end of the bed with her back propped up against it and her knees to her chest. Sobble had curled up on the bed’s edge so he was directly behind the blue-haired girl’s neck; once Hilda and Stufful entered, he hopped off of the bed to greet them.
“Not afraid of Stufful anymore, huh?” teased Hilda warmly. She noticed a slight movement of her girlfriend’s head and figured she was watching out of her periphery. Sobble and Stufful were now tumbling over the rug in play. Stufful seemed to be holding back, as if afraid she could too easily overwhelm the timid lizard; she had learned to go at his pace, and he seemed much more open now that she had.
“I’m sorry,” mumbled Marianne.
“What for?”
“I shouldn’t have made a, um. I-I made a scene, didn’t I?”
“I make scenes all the time.”
Crossing over to the bed, Hilda laid on her stomach with her feet by the pillows and her head towards Marianne. She wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and Marianne raised a hand to rest over Hilda’s arm, which was now beneath her chin.
“Your brother hates me.”
Hilda scoffed. “He does not. I know he’s a lot sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. He wanted to make sure we aren’t together just because Margrave Edmund wants to gain status with my crest. Actually, I’m surprised you even admitted to Holst that you have a crest. Why’d you do that?”
Marianne shrugged, lifting Hilda’s arms with her. “I guess… I didn’t want him to think that was the reason. I c-can’t actually talk about my crest though,” she added with a whimper.
“You don’t have to. He doesn’t need to know, no one does, unless you choose to tell them. Okay?” Hilda gave her a quick peck on the cheek and felt a smile emerge in response.
“I don’t deserve you,” sighed Marianne.
“You can make it up to me by helping me get Stufful situated back at Garreg Mach.”
Hilda knew the proper answer would’ve been something along the lines of “yes you do, you didn't do anything wrong,” but wouldn’t this both assure Marianne she’d done right by Hilda while also ensuring Hilda had the help she needed? After all, these were special circumstances, and Marianne is the most competent animal tender she knows.
~
The girls had scarcely entered the monastery grounds before the tension around them caught their attention.
“What’s going on?” Hilda wondered aloud.
A church soldier passing by paused and looked directly at Marianne. The man pointed at her with his index finger and she took a step back, her eyes crossing over the finger in her face. “You are needed in the clinic, now!”
“I-I—” sputtered Marianne as she searched for a protest. “I’m no help!”
“Aren’t you a white mage?” he asked impatiently.
“Well, um, yes, but—”
“Manuela asked me to find more white mages to help in the clinic. One of the Houses ran into trouble in their last mission, and lots of students were injured,” he explained, gesturing for her to head towards the clinic.
“Oh no,” the blue-haired girl whispered, concern etched into her features as she undoubtedly pictured all manner of horror that could’ve befallen the students. She faced Hilda and gave her a pleading look. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can decline. Please, d-don’t be mad.”
Frowning, Hilda reached for Marianne’s bag and slung it over her other shoulder from her own. “You have to go?”
Two sets of eyes turned to the soldier, who nodded.
“Fiiiiine,” Hilda conceded with an air of frustration that was not missed by her girlfriend. Marianne glanced over her shoulder as she was led away, but Hilda had already pivoted towards the dorms.
Hilda knew she was being bratty. If the clinic needs Marianne, they need Marianne. What’s it to them if Hilda also needs Marianne, to keep herself from being solely responsible for her new partner? It’s not like anyone died, so it’s perfectly reasonable for her to be a little annoyed that her girlfriend had left just to deal with some scrapes and bruises… right?
She sighed audibly as she opened the door to her room and slid the bags off of her back and onto the ground. Stufful hopped over the blue bag and into the open space, sniffing curiously at the scents in her new home.
Hilda watched as the little bear explored. Stufful would poke her head in-between furniture, roll in the soft rug, knock over the odd boot here and there as she clambered over Hilda’s belongings, all to widen her range of investigation.
After she’d unpacked, she searched the floor for Stufful and found her staring back, her mouth open and tongue hanging out. She emitted a soft whine. Hilda grimaced, able to tell Stufful needed or wanted something, but unsure what.
“Oh! Are you hungry?” she guessed.
The little bear licked her lips and took a few steps closer, her front paws now on Hilda’s foot. Hilda rifled through her bag and found the kibble, pouring it out into a bowl she’d packed and standing back to confirm Stufful had actually been requesting food—to Hilda’s relief, the little one enthusiastically ate up her kibble, even licking the bowl clean after.
Satisfied, Hilda left the bear to her own devices and sidled into her desk chair, rummaging through her supplies in search of something she could use to make Stufful an outfit out of. She quickly became enamored with this process, selecting a fabric, gemstones, and going so far as measuring it out before noticing that her door was slightly ajar.
“I thought I closed that,” she grumbled as she walked over to shut it. As an afterthought, her pink eyes scanned the room and a certain inquisitive, fluffy critter was nowhere to be seen. Her heart sank. “Oh, shit.”
The grounds are huge, how is she to find Stufful before something bad happens to her? She could be jumped by one of the other students’ partners, like that Blue Lions’ boy’s outrageously large Arcanine, or the prince’s werewolf. She could wander into the bathhouse and drown, or into the greenhouse, eating a toxic plant and dying. So many ways for one tiny bear to endanger herself.
Careless, Hilda accused of herself for not double checking the door. Marianne wouldn’t have let that happen.
Tossing her boots back on, she left the dorms and found a green-haired boy standing just outside.
“Hey!” she called.
He spun and gave her a polite, albeit tired smile. “Hello.”
“Linhardt, right? You wouldn’t happen to have seen a Stufful run past here?”
“I’m afraid all I’ve seen are the insides of my eyelids.”
She groaned in frustration. “How am I supposed to find one little bear in such a large monastery?”
“By yourself? You can’t,” he replied flatly. “And no, I’m not offering to help.”
“Thanks,” she shot back sarcastically.
“Don’t you have classmates that can help you? Friends? I’ve been told that one of the benefits of having those is that you can ask them for help.”
Several of the students have partners that fly or possess some level of psychic power, all she needed to do was track one of them down and convince them to assist. It would be easier to locate one of the many qualifying students than it would be to find Stufful herself.
Her eyes widened at the thought. “That’s a great idea!”
She hugged Linhardt in thanks. He raised an eyebrow and patted her awkwardly on the head, unsure how else to react. “You’re welcome,” he muttered. “Now please release me.”
She bid him goodbye and set off at a brisk pace; not entirely relaxed, but not enough to tire herself out or, Goddess forbid, start sweating. Hilda gave the sauna a quick glance as she passed it, guessing that it was more likely she would find someone in the training area at this time of day. The gates were already open and several students practicing could be heard from the outside. She stuck her head in and peered around.
A few of the Blue Lions were inside, swinging swords and lances at dummies. Felix’s grunts of angered exertion only increased as Sylvain teased him for it. Both boys had partners, but Felix’s wasn’t present and Arcanine can’t fly. She nearly kept going, until it occurred to her that she could still ask if they’d seen Stufful.
“Hellooo!” she sang, feigning a better mood than she was actually in.
With a louder, more aggressive yell, Felix threw his sword into the dummy and buried it in an impressive show of accuracy and strength. The technique was more lance-like than sword. He whirled around and narrowed his eyes when he recognized her. “What do you want?”
Who spit in his tea? she thought to herself, seeing his clear distaste for her. Or was he this charming for everyone? That was unclear.
“That’s no way to speak to a lady!” Sylvain chided him, sliding off of the ledge where he sat. His Arcanine had been laying at his feet and rose when he did, following in his shadow loyally. Hilda had to look up to meet the dog’s eyes, being as it was over a foot taller than her, standing slightly taller than even Sylvain.
“She’s here to ask for something,” Felix accused.
“I would be remiss if I did not attend to the needs of such a lovely lady,” Sylvain said as he winked at Hilda.
Felix made a clicking sound with his mouth and turned back around towards the dummy, muttering under his breath. “Fool.”
“People offer to help me, I’m not going around begging for favors,” Hilda corrected, an offended frown on her face.
“Don’t mind him,” Sylvain said dismissively, running a hand through his red hair and standing just a little too close for Hilda’s liking. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for a Stufful. Has one run in here? Or have you seen Stufful anywhere else?”
“I haven’t.” Now Sylvain frowned as well, before addressing his partner. “You haven’t seen one either, right Arc?”
Arcanine shook, starting at his head and eventually ending at the tail before sounding off a short but deep bark.
“That’s a no,” explained Sylvain. “Fe?”
Felix kept his back to them. “No.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She sighed in defeat and left the training area.
The academy section of the monastery was the next closest, with the nearest door belonging to the Black Eagles. Posted outside the door like a sentry stood a black and red Bisharp, its arms crossed and eyes vigilant.
Hilda approached cautiously, as uncomfortable around Bisharp as she is around the silent guard’s partner. It watched her as she moved, but made no moves to intercept; despite this, she didn’t relax fully until she was able to step inside.
“Hildy!” cheered Hilda’s favorite Eagle.
Hilda grinned and made her way over to where the songstress sat. “Dorothea! I’m so glad you’re here.”
The two hugged briefly before Hilda’s face turned serious. “I just got a partner, like, yesterday, and I might’ve lost her already.”
“Wait, what?” Dorothea leaned back, her expression shocked and concerned. “What species?”
“She’s a Stufful, so she’s still pretty small and I don’t know what to do,” admitted Hilda, crossing her fingers the songstress would offer to help.
“Have you asked Petra or Edelgard to help you?”
Hilda glanced towards the front of the room where the Imperial princess and her retainer sat. True, the princess has a flying partner, but… she cringed at the thought of asking Edelgard for anything. She’d never really given the princess a chance, but in her defense, the princess was the definition of unapproachable. Petra, however, was a more promising possibility.
“Where is Petra?”
“Oh, she’s most likely in the gardens,” Dorothea replied, her face brightening. She took Hilda’s wrist and led her out of the classroom.
Sure enough, Petra stood with a large bat-dragon, feeding it berries out of her hand and whispering affectionately in her native tongue. Dorothea’s eyes seemed to sparkle when she saw Petra. With senses as sharp as one of its kind, the Noivern’s head angled toward them and it emitted a sound that resembled a screech-pitched laugh, reverberating and somewhat unsettling to the bone. Hilda hadn’t met Petra’s partner since the Noivern was too large to accompany Petra into many of the locales the other students and their partners went to. Noivern spent most of its time in the skies, but would never fail to respond if Petra whistled; hearing the sounds of the bat-dragon now, she found herself grateful that it wasn’t present more often.
“Good guessing,” praised Hilda as the two walked up.
Petra gave Hilda a respectful nod, and smiled fondly at Dorothea. Seeing the worried looks on their faces, she tilted her head quizzically and asked, “Is something wrong?”
“We have a missing baby bear,” Dorothea explained, “and no real way of tracking her down ourselves.”
“Oh.” Petra visibly relaxed. “That is a matter of no difficulty for Noivern.”
Hilda wanted to argue that not only is it “of difficulty”, but it is also of very-time-sensitive; she was halted by Dorothea speaking before her.
“I had a feeling you’d be just the girl to ask!” Dorothea beamed, then turned to Hilda and nudged her with her elbow. “See? We’ll find your Stufful in no time.”
I hope so, she thought. Petra touched her bat-dragon’s cheek softly and rattled off instructions in the language of Brigid, where both she and the Noivern had come from. Moments later, strong wingbeats and a powerful vertical leap carried it into the sky.
Dorothea’s attention was on Petra, while both Hilda and Petra were studying Noivern. It flew high enough to scour the full span of the monastery, angled downward so its radar-like ears would have the most range, and out pulsed a screech intended to map out the surroundings below. The two girls to whom the dragon did not belong to both winced, unaccustomed to the abrasive noise. Petra remained impassive.
“That’s sharp,” muttered Hilda, holding a hand to her ear. Noivern hesitated only a second before darting off in the direction of the stables. Confused, Hilda asked, “Should we follow?”
Petra held a finger up as if listening for something—surely enough, another screech rang out, and then two quick pulses of sound afterwards. Now she dropped her finger to address Hilda, her lips tight. “Your bear is found.”
Good news, but the Brigid princess lacked any positive affect in her response; Hilda knew something was wrong.
“Is she okay?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“He will be bringing her,” Petra replied after hearing a third pulse, delayed relative to the first two, and effectively side-stepping the question. “He is swift, like wind.”
Hilda opened her mouth to argue that Petra clearly knew more and could tell her now, but the girl averted her gaze, fixing her eyes back on the sky where her partner soon returned from. Noivern dove, pulling into a hover directly above them so rapidly that Hilda’s pink hair whipped her in the face, and Dorothea would’ve lost her hat had she not reflexively snatched it as it was lifted by the gust.
Reopening her eyes once her hair had settled, Hilda sees a small, fluffy bear locked in the dragon’s claws. The other foot was tightly latched around a serpent with purple scales and a yellow ringed neck. It appeared limp and lifeless.
“Stufful!” shouted Hilda, holding her arms out to catch her as Noivern’s claws unclenched.
Dorothea scowled and pointed at the serpent. “What’s that?”
“A predator seeking to make prey of the bear,” answered Petra bluntly.
Horrified, Hilda held Stufful and noticed she was covered in bites. There was little blood and no gaping wounds, but she was not awake and had clearly been attacked by a fanged animal—this snake, as large as she is, and far more aggressive.
“Why did Noivern bring it back too?”
Petra smiled proudly. “He is a predator of predators.”
Dorothea wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought before placing a hand on Hilda’s shoulder and looking over at the unconscious bear. “Is she poisoned?”
“I don’t know,” Hilda answered, fear setting in. “She’s not opening her eyes, Dorothea…”
Petra spoke again to her Noivern; facing Hilda, she instructed her to take Stufful to the infirmary, riding Noivern to cut the time in half. Her earlier discomfort around the bat-dragon was entirely forgotten as her thoughts were clouded by guilt and concern.
She’d had Stufful for one, two days tops, and couldn’t keep her safe. The moment Marianne left, Hilda lost her. She didn’t even want the responsibility of a partner in the first place, why did everyone insist she should do it anyway? Her father, her brother, they will all know she can’t be trusted with the simplest of tasks, let alone anything significant, like another living being.
True, she normally strives to take on as little as possible; however, the thought that Holst might actually stop encouraging her hurt the worst. He spoke the world of her, and she’d gone so long without disappointing him.
That was over now.
They made it to the infirmary and Hilda climbed off carefully, cradling Stufful in her arm like a baby. Her heart threatened to erupt from her chest with panic, and she hurried inside to find anyone who could help. The wounded had cleared out since the soldier had recruited more healers, and only a handful of students remained. Two healers continued to work under Manuela's direction while the teacher’s Lopunny hopped about replenishing supplies.
The other healer present is Mercedes, speaking in soothing tones as she called upon her magic to nurse her fellow students back to health. Her fairy partner, a purple-flower Florges, floated close to the center of the room and periodically held her hands in an imitation of prayer; each time she did this, the flowers would glow, and an aroma would fill the room that calmed nerves and relaxed those that were still in pain.
Mercedes noticed Hilda first, her mouth widening into an “o” shape at the sight of the pink-haired girl and the Stufful in her arms. Crossing the room in an instant, Hilda allowed the blonde to scoop up Stufful and looked on helplessly as the other girl evaluated the bear’s condition. Sobble leapt up onto the surface nearest the girls, straining to see what had happened to his buddy.
“Oh, Hilda, what happened?”
Don’t cry. No crying. Hilda cleared her throat and squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to shake off the nerves. “She was bitten by a snake, probably a poisonous one, she—”
“Her breathing is really weak,” commented Mercedes. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Hilda?”
Pink eyes snapped open and met Marianne’s anxious brown ones as she emerged from the other side of the infirmary. Her hands were clasped nervously against her chest and she glanced from her girlfriend to Stufful and back. Mercedes laid Stufful down on a vacant bed and Sobble hopped onto it, lowering himself onto his belly and gently nudging her in an attempt to draw a reaction.
Marianne, now having joined the group circling Stufful, was somewhat of a balm to Hilda. She’s someone that Hilda couldn’t seem to do wrong by, that never judged her, and believed the best in her even when no one else did. Arguably also the only person Hilda would voluntarily do work for, knowing that Marianne always—always—appreciated it.
If she had been present, Stufful wouldn’t have gotten hurt. She would’ve known what to do. Hilda was consumed by this thought, by Marianne’s absence.
“You-you left!” stammered Hilda. “You left and I didn’t know what to do and she was gone and—”
“What??” Marianne blinked back, not understanding while still absorbing every bit of negative energy in the room as if she had caused all of it. She was growing increasingly upset, and Hilda couldn’t seem to stop herself from making it worse.
“You should’ve been there! You were supposed to help me, supposed to make sure nothing bad happened! You—”
“Hilda,” interrupted Mercedes with a frown. “It’s not Marianne’s fault. She was needed here.”
“N-no, I did promise, um,” Marianne forced out, eyes trained on Hilda but dropping every few seconds when she became too much to look at. “I was supposed to, to help…”
“If you had stayed none of this would’ve happened!”
Mercedes gestured for her Florges to use aromatherapy, and the purple wreath began to glow; unfortunately, the effect was not immediate.
“I-I,” Marianne stuttered, her pitch rising with her emotions. “I’m sorry! I messed everything up!”
Hearing Marianne’s voice break as she began to cry prodded the part of Hilda’s brain that felt compelled to calm her, and the two warred within her. She covered her face with her palms and wordlessly shook her head as she fought to settle down. She was rarely this upset and unaccustomed to coping with it.
Mercedes shot Marianne a stern look. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Hilda is just upset.”
“No!” objected Marianne as she took a step back from the group. “It’s my fault! Bad things happen when I’m around, it’s m-me, it’s my fault, it’s—”
Mercedes paused her magic to straighten up and directly face Marianne, brows furrowed over her anguished fellow healer. “It’s okay,” she stressed as she reached for her, compassion filling her features. The outstretched hand pushed a distraught Marianne over the edge.
“I’m sorry!” she cried before running off in tears. Sobble had made an effort to follow, but having been beside the little bear, was unable to latch onto Marianne in time. He gazed after her with a sorrowful expression, not keen on having been left behind.
Florges’ peaceful scent wafted through fully now, and Hilda dropped her hands from her face, her breathing back in order.
“What have I done,” mumbled Hilda to herself in disbelief. To Florges, she added, “Thanks for that.”
“Fleur!” trilled the floral fairy before she floated away.
Marianne had run off, convinced that it was truly her fault that Stufful was hurt. Hilda knows better, she’s so good at keeping her girlfriend out of the darkest corners of her mind, so adept at countering the depressed girl’s faulty reasoning and making her feel valued. Usually.
“Did you have to yell at her like that?” scolded Mercedes as she resumed tending to Stufful. Sobble clambered back up to his buddy, shooting a narrowed-eye look at Hilda in the process that gave her the impression he blamed her. She understood—she blamed herself too.
“I shouldn’t have,” confessed Hilda, now wracked with guilt. “I got so used to… well…”
Mercedes hummed, encouraging Hilda to continue.
Sighing, she resigned to truthfulness. “I haven’t been the best girlfriend.”
“How so?”
“I let her think she owed me when she didn’t so she would do things for me.”
It sounds even worse out loud. Wow.
“You don’t think she would have helped you if you just asked? Is she really the kind of person who needs to owe someone to help them?”
No, but I am. “No,” echoed Hilda. “You’re right. I blamed her for not being there, but Stufful isn’t even hers.”
“She still felt responsible, after what you said to her.”
“I know,” murmured Hilda. “I have to talk to her before she does something drastic.”
Mercedes raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask for clarification. Instead, she said, “Stufful is stable now. I can stay with her if you need to find Marianne.”
“Are you sure?” asked Hilda, drawn out of her thoughts to the little one before her.
Mercedes had injected an antivenom before using her white magic to close the bite wounds. Stufful looked as if she were sleeping rather than injured, and Mercedes’ kind smile was supportive. Sobble sprang from the bed onto Hilda’s shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp.
“Hey!” she protested as he made his way atop her head, using her lengthy pink hair as a ladder. He whined and pointed towards the door, tugging slightly at one of her pigtails. “I am not a chair!”
Even as she complained, she knew she didn’t intend to force the little lizard off. The least she could do is bring him along in search of Marianne.
“Of course. Go,” Mercedes reiterated, waving Hilda off.
As she left the infirmary and made for the stables, she recalled all the interactions they’d had recently. Roping Marianne into going back to Goneril territory, essentially forcing Marianne to choose which Stufful to take and subsequently carry her. Leaving it on Marianne’s shoulders to determine how to care for her and when to hold her. Subjecting her highly insecure girlfriend to Holst’s scrutiny and triggering a breakdown, driving the nail in the coffin of her poor behavior when she manipulated her offer of emotional comfort to stretch the responsibility she’d placed on Marianne back to Garreg Mach.
Ugh, I wouldn’t even date me after all that, Hilda lamented, considering how she’d feel if their roles were reversed.
To her dismay, Dorte was not in the stables. She searched every stall, called his and Marianne’s names—no response came. Her girlfriend wasn’t satisfied with just being in her favorite horse’s presence this time; she took Dorte and left.
Hilda cursed and headed out the back way leading to the trails. The last thing she wanted was to end up with muddy boots or leaves in her hair, but if Marianne left the grounds, well she would just have to do the same.
She couldn’t have gone far, considering how she walked Dorte in the most literal sense. Hilda couldn’t fathom why Marianne would choose to walk beside Dorte rather than ride him, but in this instance, it was to her favor.
“Marianne!” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth for added volume. No response.
Hilda cut through a field into a trail she knew Marianne preferred and found hoofprints on the ground in a spot that was particularly muddy. Perfect, she thought to herself, having found a sign she was going the right way, and with enough warning to hop over it and avoid the mud.
A few birds landed on nearby trees to squawk at her, moving to the next tree as she progressed. They started off cute but Hilda could only tolerate so much of their squawking; she felt as if they were announcing her presence, and mocking her for having screwed up so badly. Logically, they couldn’t be mocking her, since there’s no way they could know what she did… right?
Marianne could’ve told them, a small voice in her mind reminded her. Her cheeks grew red and she narrowed her eyes the next time they sounded off.
“What?!” she huffed, and they promptly flew off. Judgmental birds. She felt a light tapping on the side of her head, as if Sobble wanted to comfort her.
“They were, um, calling to me,” a shy voice answered from Hilda’s right.
“Ah!” she yelped in surprise, having been convinced she was the only human for miles after hearing only birds. To her relief, the voice belonged to her morose, tired-looking girlfriend. She held Dorte’s reins in one hand and her arm in the other, attempting to self-soothe.
“Soh!” squealed the lizard happily. He shifted onto his back and raised his arms, his little fingers opening and closing in her direction, hoping she would take him.
“Hello…” she mumbled in response.
“Oh goddess, Marianne!” Hilda gasped, closing the space between them. The moment he could reach, Sobble returned to his typical spot in Marianne’s braid. “You scared me.”
The taller girl shut her eyes tightly and winced. “I’m sorry, Hilda, I’m sorry for—”
“Stop, please stop,” Hilda interjected, taking Marianne’s face in her hands, her skin warm under Hilda’s touch. “I was wrong to yell at you. I’m the one that should be sorry. And I am. Sorry, I mean.”
A stray tear left Marianne’s eye and collected on Hilda’s thumb before sliding down towards her wrist. “I was supposed t-to be there, to, um, to… Well, Stufful’s hurt, because I-I…” Marianne stumbled through her words, not much calmer than she had been when she fled, and struggling to complete a sentence.
“I wasn’t treating you as well as I should have,” Hilda admitted on a strained exhale. “I put you in a situation I knew would be difficult for you, and took advantage of it after. I should have just asked you, rather than letting you believe you had anything to make up for.”
Marianne stared at her feet, her expression unreadable. Her own hands came up to rest over Hilda’s wrists, and she sniffled quietly.
“I-I do though,” she whispered, barely audible. “You, you’re here, reassuring me again, wasting your time dealing with me when you should be with Stufful. You should just l-leave me. You’d be happier, safer…”
To be fair, it does take time and energy to combat her girlfriend’s depression. Hilda isn’t naive enough to argue otherwise. What she does suspect is that in using these lows to indebt Marianne to her, she had aggravated her girlfriend’s feelings of being a burden. Of course she’s having more lows as a result, if her life consists of constantly chasing away the guilt she feels over the time Hilda spends on her. This hadn’t even occurred to Hilda as she was doing it. Her goal wasn’t to hurt Marianne, and yet she had, all to avoid taking responsibility herself.
She dropped her hands from Marianne’s face and pulled her into a hug instead, leaning her head on the taller girl’s chest and squeezing just enough for her girlfriend to feel secured.
“I would not be happier without you, and it doesn’t make sense for someone to be safer without a healer than with one. That’s just your brain lying to you again, Mari. I know I’m partly to blame for that and I am sorry. Taking care of you is something I do out of love, it’s not a chore to be repaid. Okay?”
“But um… helping you makes me feel useful…”
A small smile emerged on Hilda’s face. It’s just like Marianne to feel as if serving others gives her purpose. In that way, they could not be more dissimilar. Until they met, Hilda didn’t think there was a person alive that she enjoyed putting herself out for; Marianne, so compassionate and so gentle, turned Hilda’s expectations upside down. It hardly felt like work when it was for her.
“That’s fine, Mari, as long as you’re doing it because you want to, and not because you think you have to,” Hilda replied as she took one finger and poked Marianne on the nose.
As she had hoped, Marianne blushed and giggled at the juvenile behavior. Her smile promptly disappeared as her mind cleared and she remembered what had happened prior to her running out.
“Oh,” gasped Marianne suddenly. “Is Stufful okay? Here I am taking all this time, and—”
“Hey, hey, she’s fine,” Hilda chimed in before her girlfriend could fall off the rails again. “Although I would like to head back and see her.”
Holding a hand out in invitation, Hilda felt her heart somersault as Marianne’s fingers intertwined with hers. She raised the back of her girlfriend’s hand to her lips and gave her a quick kiss, smiling at her warmly as they made their way to the infirmary once more.
“Welcome back,” greeted Mercedes, her expression cheery. “Stufful’s been trying to sneak out ever since she woke back up.”
Hilda laughed. “I suppose she did get interrupted mid-adventure, huh?”
Brown eyes flicked from Hilda to the little bear and back, an unspoken curiosity hanging between them. Noticing this, Hilda was reminded of the last time they were in this situation, and intended not to repeat it. She promptly approached the pen in which Stufful had been confined and plucked her out of it, scratching the little bear behind the ears affectionately. She could easily carry her in one arm, unlike the less muscular Marianne who had needed to use both.
Facing her girlfriend again, Hilda could see weariness plastered onto her. After healing countless students, the physical exertion of running and the emotional burnout, the mage was clearly at the end of her limits that day.
“Come on,” Hilda declared, her hand ghosting over Marianne’s arm as she passed by, indicating for her to follow.
“Where are we going?”
“You, my dear, need a nap.”
To Hilda’s surprise, Marianne actually laughed. “Really? You don’t need help with, well, um…” Her brows furrowed, her fatigue catching up with her.
“Nope,” Hilda answered without waiting. “We’re going to lay you down and then Stufful and I will go get to know each other. I will learn to care for her, and you will look after yourself for once.” As an afterthought, she added, “Well, I will take care of you, and you just have to focus on resting.”
“But… are you sure?”
“I swear to Seiros, I’m serious.” Hilda held a hand over her chest for emphasis.
Marianne blinked at her, seemingly unconvinced she wasn’t going to be dragged to Hilda’s room anyway and asked tons of questions about animal care. Even as they came up on her door, she still peered at Hilda with an uncertainty about her.
Hilda had set Stufful down and ushered Marianne inside, helped her fetch a change of clothes, and then blew out the light once her girlfriend had wrapped herself up in bed. Sobble tucked himself under the covers in front of her, his head against her chest.
Hilda bent over to kiss Marianne goodbye, and the latter once more mumbled out, “Are you sure?”
Running her fingers through her girlfriend’s long blue hair, Hilda admired the peaceful look she only seemed to have when she was either sleeping or falling asleep.
In a monumental step for her that she intended to praise herself for later, she gave a definitive nod and said, “Stufful is my responsibility—it’s time I act like it.”