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The rickety wheels shook heavily as the old wagon rumbled down the dirt road. Aside from the clopping of horse hooves, the thumps of the wheels across the uneven path, the gentle whistling of the driver, and the occasional broken breath of the gently snoring man in the back, it was quiet. Magna and Noelle sat in silence—their eyes fixed on Asta's sleeping form. His head was in the princess's lap while his chest rose heavy and slow as he breathed deeply in his slumber. Aside from the occasional twitch of his fingers he was still. The wounds that crossed Asta's ribs, despite being covered by makeshift bandages to the best of Noelle's ability, were still fresh in Magna's mind. The way the flesh tore; the way the dark crimson flowed from his pierced side; the way Noelle had screamed…
Asta groaned and shifted, attempting to roll onto his wounded side. Instantly Noelle's lithe hands pressed down on his chest and shoulder and held him in place. The anti-mage struggled against her hold for a moment or two before sighing and slumping back into her lap with a pained grimace. A flash of pain crossed Noelle's face and Magna saw her eyes significantly soften as she looked at him with sympathy.
"I know, Dorksta. Just…try to relax, okay? We'll be back at the base in a few hours and Nero can heal you then."
If Asta was awake at all to hear the royal's words, he made no movement nor gave any indication that he registered them. Instead, he turned his head to the side and pressed his face into Noelle's exposed thigh—a heavy blush crossed the Silva's face in response to his action. Magna felt the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile and allowed it to pull across his face. He ran a hand through his hair in a vain effort to push it out of his face. Pink eyes snapped to him as he let out a small laugh.
"What's so funny, delinquent?"
"Oh, nothing, princess," Magna replied nonchalantly. He wanted to jab at the intimate position between the two other Bulls in the wagon, but a sudden sharp intake of breath and a cry of pain from Asta pulled their attention down to him once more. The swordsman's corrupted arm flew to the bandages covering his wounds and Noelle followed immediately, covering his hand with hers and lacing their fingers together. The bout of pain and shallow breaths lasted no more than a few seconds, but as Magna gazed upon the shivering body wrapped tightly in protective arms, he felt the world grow still around their little wagon. He watched amethyst eyes filled with worry scan the bandages torn from the royal's dress and couldn't imagine a more eerily peaceful moment of tenderness, care, pain, and love.
By the time Magna came back to his senses, Asta had slipped back into unconsciousness—his hand was linked with Noelle's so tightly it looked like she couldn't untangle hers from his, even if she wanted to. The fire mage sighed once more and began to nervously chew on his nails. He continually cast glances in Noelle's direction to gauge her emotions, but the water mage kept her attention devoted to the injured man in her lap. Eventually though, the clacking of the wheels and the braying of the horses became too unsettling for Magna to continue enduring.
"How are you doing, Noelle?" he asked.
Her face lifted to meet his eyes and a look of pure annoyance resonated off her countenance.
"What do you mean?" she asked back.
"How are you doing with… this?" he asked once more with a gesture to Asta's form. "You seemed scared to hell whenever he got hit."
The royal's shoulders tensed and Magna worried he might've crossed a line with his question, but a moment or two passed in tense silence before she let out a heavy sigh and visibly deflated. Noelle cleared her throat before looking the fire mage in the eyes.
"It was a stupid thing for Dumbsta to do, Magna. There was no need for him to do that! I had plenty of time to react to the attack and was about to dodge it when he just…jumped in the way and took it for me. All because he's…"
The words failed in her throat and Magna could see her free hand visibly tighten into a fist and gently punch the small pile of hay she was resting against. A particularly large bump in the road caused the peasant's back to uncomfortably slam into the side of a wagon that he soon found himself sliding off the seat and into the floor like Noelle and Asta—he found rest against the hay at the back of their ride.
"I thought I lost him before," the Silva began quietly, pulling the taller man's attention to her once more, "when Lucius nearly killed him and he got sent away. I thought I'd lost him. I thought he was dead. I felt dead. Like a part of me was missing and everything was grey. It was like the light that let me see everything had been snuffed out and I was left alone in the dark. You guys were still there - the Bulls, Mimosa, and everyone else - but it was all so… bleak."
She turned her head away from Magna for a moment and he swore he saw the faintest glimmer of tears reflecting in her eyes.
"To feel that way for so long; to feel like a part of me had been violently torn away and discarded…I never wanted to feel that way again. I never did until today," she quietly added as her grip on Asta's hand tightened. "Until this idiot nearly got himself killed trying to protect me from a spell that I had plenty of time to dodge."
Magna nodded his head curtly. She was right—he knew how fast Noelle could move in her Valkyrie Armor, the attack had been far enough away that the royal would've been able to dodge the spell with time to spare. Yet Asta had thrown himself in front of it without hesitation and had nearly died as a result, despite the fact that he too could have easily taken the blow had he given off even the slightest bit of anti-magic. But he didn't for some reason, and Noelle's scream as he fell to the ground had rattled Magna to his core and spurred him on to act decisively, nailing the attacker with a fireball that knocked them out in an instant. The sound of sniffling pulled the fire-mage back to their small, rumbling cart. Tears were beginning to well in Noelle's eyes.
"I can't keep doing this, Magna," the princess began shakily. "I can't keep sitting here and watching him do this to himself."
Her free hand trembled as she gingerly ran her fingers along the scars on Asta's body—too many to count throughout the years. Mars' across his abdomen; Lucius' across his chest; a host of unknown's crisscrossing against his tanned skin; and now a new one from yet another featureless face. A nobody who nearly ripped Asta away from the world. A nobody who nearly snuffed out the last bit of hope so many people had.
Magna cleared his throat and looked away.
"It's too much," he heard Noelle continue quietly, more to herself than to him. "Loving him is too much."
Although it's the first time Magna's heard the royal admit it, he took no pleasure in her confession of love, because he understood what she meant. They all had felt it, the Bulls and everyone whose life was touched by their anti-magic friend, the way he inspired so much hope and goodness. Seeing him removed so easily had nearly brought them all to their knees, and despite how loud and vocal they all had been about their disdain and despair, Noelle had been deathly silent for the entire affair. She had hardly spoken, eaten, slept, or functioned in the slightest the last time everyone thought Asta had died. When he had made his miraculous return and everyone was celebrating and crying with relief, Noelle was furious with him—demanding to know what the hell happened and why he had waited so long to ease their minds. It was a bitter cherry on top of a sweet sundae but no one could blame her. They all knew how the royal felt about the peasant; they all had seen how affected by his "death" she had been.
All of them except for Asta, who was just as confused and flummoxed as usual when it came to Noelle.
Magna hardly blamed her for storming off that day and not speaking with him for nearly a week afterwards. They made up, to no one's surprise, when the ash-blond brought her a bouquet of flowers and a bag of her favorite candies from the Royal Capital (which was a surprise to everyone, including, it seemed, to Asta himself), and it felt like things would return to some semblance of much needed normalcy… until Asta nearly died on them. Again. This time, saving Noelle from someone she didn't need saving from.
Magna knew he should be more upset with Asta than he was, the little rat could hardly seem to keep himself away from danger, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't more relieved than perturbed at the anti-mage's successful brush with death. Noelle, however, wasn't, and she did little to hide it. The fire mage felt awful for her, for what she must feel everytime something like this happened to her love. It wasn't a surprise to the dark-haired man when he looked up then and found tears streaming down the Silva's pale, elegant face.
"I'm just so sick of it, you know? He's such a dumbass who cares too much. He cares too much for everyone else around him and not enough for himself. Gods, for once I want him to be selfish; I want him to think about what he's doing and wonder, 'What will everyone else think if something happens to me?'. I want him to care about himself enough to know that his life isn't worth throwing away just to play the hero. I want him to think of himself enough to know how much it hurts us when he does shit like this!"
A sob broke Noelle out of her dialogue—her shoulders shook and wracked with heaving breaths as she slammed her free hand into the sleeping man's chest. Asta hardly moved. The fire-mage's face fell sympathetically and he wished he had more mana so he could pile them all on Crazy Cyclone and fly back to the base. Get away from this awful wagon and this awful forest where Asta had nearly died again on them. The older man sighed, his shoulders falling a number of inches as he rolled his stiff neck. Magna knew he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he also knew when someone simply wanted to vent—he kept his mouth shut.
"Is it bad that I want to stop loving him?"
The question caught Magna by surprise. He looked her way and found her eyes reddened with tears cast down to the man unconscious in her lap—one hand still linked tightly with his, the other gently played with his blood-soaked hair. She shifted to make herself more comfortable for him and the dark-haired Bull couldn't stop the smile that pressed itself to his face. Even now, in the panic of sorting through her emotions, she was trying to be the best she could be for Asta. Magna could see the brokenness in her eyes—Noelle couldn't hide it. Not any longer.
Asta was killing her, Magna realized, and he didn't even know it. Asta's recklessness was bringing Noelle to her knees. For the kid who made his name off throwing other people's magic back in their face or nullifying it completely, Asta had taken Noelle's love and turned it into the perfect weapon against her—unknowingly twisting the knife a little deeper each time he tangoed with forces far beyond his scope or prowess. No matter how much Magna believed in love (which he would never admit aloud), he couldn't deny it would be easier for Noelle to detach—to let go and move on if only to distance herself from the one person who seemed hell-bent on annihilating every obstacle in his path or letting himself be annihilated while trying. The royal was too stubborn to let go, however, too prideful to admit defeat and give up on him. Asta had found a way to take that love, that conviction, that ferocity for him, and turn it against her.
And the idiot literally didn't even know it.
Magna sighed again, his head pounding with the distant memory of conflict. He loved these two, Asta and Noelle, but sometimes he wondered when he had been thrown into the role of "big brother" for the two of them. Or why Noelle had decided he was the one to voice all of these feelings to. He cared about his royal companion enough to listen and help, of course, but Vanessa or Finral would've been a much better option. Still, the water mage was looking at him expectantly and he realized she was waiting for his answer. Magna cleared his throat for the millionth time.
"When I was younger, back before I was a Magic Knight," he began, unsure of where the words were coming from, "there was this girl back home. She was… cute. And sweet."
Magna's eyes shined with mirth at the memories of her laughing and playing stupid, made-up games with him. Even though he wasn't looking, he could feel the royal's eyes curiously locked onto him as he spoke.
"Tess was her name—hair like honey and eyes like a lake. She was… well, she was a lot of things," Magna commented, shifting awkwardly in the pile of hay he called his seat. "But I didn't realize that at the time, you know? I was so focused on becoming a Magic Knight that I always assumed she was just some girl and nothing more than that. I never knew that she liked me, how could I have?" he asked rhetorically. "Tess never talked about it and I never thought about her long enough to piece the puzzle together so for years we just sort of… I don't know, danced around each other? Sometimes we were distant, sometimes we were closer than I ever thought imaginable."
His eyes fell down to the hay between his legs as he paused, unsure of where to go next. It was nearly a minute of hooves clopping along dirt before he found his voice again.
"Tess believed in me more than anyone—she was my biggest cheerleader. It sometimes felt like she wanted me to succeed more than I did. I didn't realize at the time how fortunate that made me, or how rare that kind of love was. I was so focused on doing the impossible that I never stopped to appreciate the small impossibles she had been doing for me along the way. When I broke the news to her that I got in the Black Bulls her face lit up like the sun."
Magna's chest grew tight then, so much so he had to close his eyes and clench his thigh with a free hand to keep himself from faltering.
"I came back a year or so after I got in. To visit and stuff, ya know? Tess was never a strong mage, everyone knew that, so she never went to the Entrance Exam like me. When I got back, I couldn't find her. She was nowhere to be found. I asked around and…"
A hot tear threatened to spill from his eye. The fire-mage sniffled once or twice. He could feel Noelle's gaze still on him but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. His teammate needed him to be strong right now.
"She… she had been killed in a bandit raid. A hostage situation or some shit."
The Bull looked off to the golden sunset rapidly falling from the sky.
"I didn't know what I had until it was gone, and I wish I would've done something. Anything. I wouldn't have abandoned my dream for her but I sure as hell would've found a way to make her a part of it if I only knew how…"
He stopped there, the emotions roiling too hot for him to feel alright about continuing. Magna swiped his hand through his hair a few times before he let his head fall backwards against the back of the cart.
"Asta has a dream, Noelle. All his life that's been the only thing that's kept him going. That goal, that destination, is him. It'd be wrong of you to ask him to abandon that, but it'd be equally wrong of him to drag everyone else down into the depths with him just to get there."
The dark-haired man looked Noelle dead in the eyes.
"Tell him how you feel; let him know what he means to you. Guys like Asta, guys like me, we sometimes get too locked in on what we want that we can't see what's around us until someone points it out. I know it's not fair, but I guarantee you that if you ask the runt to stop throwing himself at every deadly situation we find ourselves in, he'll listen to you. Because he loves you."
Noelle scoffed, her amethyst eyes flashed with something cold and dark.
"He loves us all, Magna. I'm not special to him."
The older boy nodded his head.
"You're right, but only because you haven't given him a reason to be."
The royal looked offended.
"What the hell does that mean? I shouldn't have to prove to him that I'm worth something. If he loves me he - "
"He doesn't know any better, Noelle," Magna interrupted. "The guy grew up thinking he was going to marry a nun. He doesn't know what romance is! He never had anyone to teach him in a healthy way what it means to love romantically! He grew up with a priest, a nun, and foster siblings—there's no room for romance like 'oh mommy and daddy are kissing because they like each other!' that most people grow up around to learn healthily what that looks like! To Asta, romance is what he felt for that nun he - "
"Sister Lily," Noelle interrupted. "Her name was Sister Lily."
Magna stopped and grimaced. Some of the long-term effects of their struggle with Lucius were still new to him.
"I'm sorry. I know how much she meant to him."
Noelle nodded, the harshness in her eyes dissipating with the movement. After a few seconds, Magna continued.
"What I'm trying to say is this: maybe in Asta's mind he does view you romantically, but he just doesn't know what that actually looks like. Maybe he does know what it looks like but he doesn't see you in that light at all. No one knows because no one talks to him about it. The only person I know of that is into him in that way is you, princess. I'm not saying it's easy, and I'm sure as hell not saying it's fair, but love like that is a two way street that requires someone to be vulnerable first. I think this -" Magna pointed at Asta's unconscious form in Noelle's lap, "is his way of being vulnerable with you. All he knows how to do is protect people, even at the cost of his own health and wellbeing.
"If you want to know how he really feels about you, like, really feels about you, I think you have to let him in first; let him see how much he means to you. Only then do I think you will see just how much you really mean to him. Show him what it means to love gently and less… extravagantly."
Noelle looked away from the fire mage with a flush of embarrassment and frustration. Magna didn't mean to lay it on so thick, but he couldn't help himself once the ball got rolling. He half expected her to shoot back with some snide remark, but she didn't. The royal sat quietly after that, her eyes flicking between the setting sun and the sleeping boy in her lap. The conversation died there and Magna felt it, so he leaned his head back and let his heavy eyes shut. The bumping of the cart kept him from falling asleep, but he was too tired to make an effort at talking or looking at anything. He'd had his share for the day; now he wanted rest.
But he wouldn't get it. Not yet, at least.
Magna didn't know how long had passed before he heard Noelle speak again, but when she did, it wasn't to him.
"Let you in, huh? I'll admit that's not really my style."
The royal's voice was barely above a whisper and for a moment Magna nearly opened his eyes and looked at the water mage, but he held himself back. Part of him wanted to hear what she said; another part of him simply didn't want to interrupt her. Regardless, he kept quiet.
"I don't know if it's a me thing or if all the Silva's are like this, but sharing our emotions so openly isn't something we're good at."
Magna realized then that the princess was talking to Asta—she seemingly thought the fire mage was asleep.
"I just… don't know what to do here, dork. There's too much for me to say and it frankly scares me. I think the delinquent is right: giving up on you without giving it my all isn't really an option for me. You'd be so disappointed in me if I threw in the towel without a good fight…
"But I really want to throw it in and call it, Asta. I want to give up on you. I… I don't know how much longer I can pretend that I'm okay with this. This recklessness. This willingness to die. I want you to be the Wizard King so badly but if that means losing you then… fuck I don't even know. I love you, you know? But I'm just so tired of this—of always watching you die and then not. It's draining, so ungodly draining, to watch you get dragged through hell and back just to prove that you can take it. We know that you can so just… stop. Please."
Noelle paused for a minute.
"I want to believe him. I want to believe that I'm special to you in your own way; that I'm not just some girl who you fight alongside. I want to be that person, you know? That person you can rely on for anything—big or small, once or everyday I don't care I'll be there for you if you let me. Is there room for me in your dream, Asta? Not in the crowd cheering you on but on the stage by your side, silently pushing you in ways no one else can? Is there room for me on your grand quest to prove everyone wrong and get them to admit that you belong here? Is there room for me to be someone irreplaceable? I sure hope there is, because I made plenty of room for you."
Magna cracked an eye open and cautiously peered out to the seated royal. Covered in dirt and blood, hands threaded into a peasant's hair while she tenderly rubbed the back of his hand, she looks nothing like the person she was all those years ago. No nose held high, no snide remarks about class or wealth, and no coldness to her eyes that made people squirm. She was bright and alive and… sad. Her love for the manaless orphan brought her out of the darkness of her upbringing and into the light of his heart. He seemed content on leaving her there alone.
"There isn't any room for corpses though," she continued. "Every time oblivion calls out to you, you run towards her like she's your home. You take things too far and are content with leaving nothing behind but memories of you and what you've accomplished. They say the brightest candles burn out the fastest—is that what you're trying to do, idiot? Burn out gloriously just so you can brag about how bright you were right before the end? At what point does your bravery become vanity? When are your good deeds outweighed by sins others commit trying to pick up the pieces of your actions?
"When oblivion calls your name you always answer; what will you do when I call?"
Magna shut his eyes then as Noelle's word fell from her lips with spare tears. He felt like he was intruding on something somewhere between holy and heartbreaking, and felt startlingly foreign to the affair before him. The fire mage shifted dramatically in his hay bale and hoped to sell the act that he'd been asleep this whole time. Noelle snapped to attention at his sudden movement but made no indication that she knew he was awake.
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By the time they reached the Bulls' hideout, it was night. The waning moon hung low in the sky as a number of Magic Knights came out to the cart—to collect Asta's sleeping body, to thank the quiet, patient farmer for bringing them back, to help Noelle and Magna out of the cart while their stuff muscles betrayed them. When all was said and done and the wagon rumbled back down the road it came (loaded with plenty of cash, wine, and desserts), Magna stumbled into his room exhausted. The fire mage tossed his glasses onto his bedside table and fell heavily onto the bed—his muscles welcomed the softer resting place.
When oblivion calls your name, you always answer.
Magna sighed and rolled over. He grabbed the picture off his nightstand and thumbed the dust off the textured glass. Honey blonde hair blew in the wind and brushed past the glasses set on his nose. Blue eyes shone with a light that few stars in the sky could match. Arms around waists, smiles reflecting the happiness they felt, and blushing faces that told the world everything they were too young to say. Everything they were too scared to do. Everything he hoped Asta and Noelle were brave enough to conquer.
What will you do when I call?
A single tear escaped his eyes, but this time he let it fall.
"Next time, I'll answer. I promise."