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Sometimes it was amusing that so many saw Louis’ pastime with such negativity, not that he begrudged anyone for it. To see only its surface was to regard only the potential discomfort of its object, to dismiss the inherent beauty of the way the world worked, of the effect a single person could have upon it and upon others. Such connections were more valuable than gold, and Louis thought himself fortunate enough to be their witness.
Perhaps just as significantly, though, was the benefit that came upon diligent observation.
It allowed him to notice when sleep had been evading Princess Céline, when the surprise of an unexpected arrival of tea leaves was a necessity that simply must be enjoyed in their prime. It made it easy to tell when Pandreo had been stretching himself too thin, when he needed someone of an overly inquisitive disposition to claim his attention, if only long enough for him to sit down and rest. It readily informed him of when he needed to encourage Rosado’s effusive remarks upon things he found cute, and when to bite his tongue when a pencil and paper came into view, even as heat would readily rise to his cheeks.
Though, perhaps, he supposed practice was hardly needed when it came to Yunaka. No…that was inaccurate. Her penchant for evasiveness was hardly concealed, though it seemed very few people cared to press that matter (Louis among them). For a woman of her skill set, she lacked subtlety. And yet…
As they spoke (or Louis spoke, really) there was something different about the way she sat before him today, her fingers curled tightly around the teacup. The contents remained untouched, enough that he was sure they would go entirely to waste (which, from experience, he knew was not completely avoidable). Her gaze continually flitted between the plaza behind them and down to the cup itself, lashes low as if she was fully prepared to be scolded—though he was sure he was not the source of such a feeling. So…what then?
Her gaze flitted away once more, though this was different. Her eyes widened just a fraction, shoulders rising high before her gaze snapped down to the tea as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. She brought the cup to her lips, the corners twitching as she must have realized the inadequate temperature. And yet still as she looked at him, asking something that he was certain she asked at the start of their tea, there was no missing the dusting of pink across her cheeks—the color well-matched to her hair.
Louis answered, of course, just as pleasantly as he had the first time. Still, he could not help but let his gaze slide to the source of her shift in disposition—
To a familiar head of blond, eternally enthusiastic as he always was, especially when speaking to the Divine Dragon. The same man whose gaze flitted to their tea table—to Yunaka’s presence in particular, entirely ignorant of Louis’ attention. A similar coloration decorated his cheeks, far more noticeable than hers against his features, even as he addressed the Divine Dragon and spoke of training with even more fervor than usual.
Louis smiled against the rim of his cup as he took another sip. True, it would not be appropriate to get involved, but…
Well, it certainly would be fascinating to watch, wouldn’t it?
It was perhaps unsettling that, even as a knight and a retainer, he was still unaccustomed to the constant vigilance required for battle—even as the last of his targets fell before him. Even now, there was no space to let one’s mind wander, lest they lose their life or be unable to protect someone invaluable. His observations could be kept only to the movement of his opponents, or the openings that might end each conflict a little sooner. That something he enjoyed for leisure could be used to end one’s life (or to return others to death, he supposed) was…something he preferred not to think upon.
His gaze slid to Yunaka, to the effortless way her blade had danced as she moved, her skill belying that there was far more than the expected skill of one thrust into a battle, who could train against skilled representatives of their countries, and heroes of other worlds alike. No, there was a comfort there that offered a truth she would never say—that she refused to—and that he would respect enough to not approach. Her blade was as natural to her as the teatime setting might be to him, or a training ground to Prince Alfred.
It made her a remarkable asset to this effort in truth, a fact reiterated by the praise and commendation that the Divine One expressed to her after every battle. It was something that certainly could be a boon were she to be embraced fully by Firene, but…advantages in war did not always translate to a peaceful world. And, possibly, even less in a Kingdom that prided itself on peace.
Yunaka was certainly adaptable, but—
“Alfred!”
Louis’ head snapped around, the tight, sharp fear in Céline’s voice bringing the spear to his fingers, ready to do anything to alleviate his princess’ fear, even if it could do so little against an ambushing Corrupted so heavily armored, one already swinging down a massive axe down upon a prince who realized much too late to move—
Only for a blade to fly by Louis’ head, so close he could hear it cut through the air, finding home between the large plates of the Corrupted’s armor and directly into the hollow of its throat—the sheer force sending the creature stumbling back as it faded entirely into pure fell energy.
With the last Corrupted fallen, the sound of battle dissolved entirely into the silence of heavy breaths and a gentle breeze that spread across a once-pleasant field. Dirt crunched loudly beneath Alfred’s shoes as he dismounted his horse, picking up the fallen blade from the ashen remnant of the Corrupted.
“Oh, oops!” Yunaka exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly. There was no missing the way a sharp gaze slid over Alfred’s form, likely looking for the evidence of a failure, of something unprevented, even as overeager hands waved wildly in an impressive display of panic. “Clumsy me! I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”
Alfred turned, his grin wide. “Great shot, Yunaka!” His voice was as bright and full of life as ever, impressively so for one who was no doubt moments from having his head parted from his shoulders. “You’ve got to show me how to do that!”
“Aha, it was just dumb luck, honest.” Yunaka’s smile wobbled only slightly as she took the blade from him. “One in a million. Couldn’t do it again if I tried.”
For most of the group, that appeared to be plenty. The prince was unharmed, the battle was won, they all had their own duties to tend to before the return to the Somniel. Some would speak to the villagers, others would compare tactics in the battle, a couple would work to repair their gear, and one or two would enjoy the pleasure of a place without combat for just a little while.
Louis could certainly feign the last one, if only because the pleasant river vista had no interference on the currently more interesting display.
“Aw,” Alfred sighed, “sure would be cool to manage, though. Oh! I’ve got an idea.” Ah, the idea. The one word that Céline dreaded horribly every time it came from his lips. For Yunaka, though, it seemed only to pique her interest, to spark a wry smile even as she toyed with the dagger in her hands. “We could practice! I bet you, with the both of us working at it, we could figure out how to be masters in no time.”
That wry smile turned fond, her voice soft in a way that Louis only heard when exhaustion was pulling at her everything during tea. “You think so?”
“Oh, I know it. Listen, I’ve got a plan.”
Louis let his attention slide away as Alfred began to chatter about his new training strategy, sparked on even more as Yunaka asked simple questions or offered ideas that the prince never would have considered. It would lead to some strange exercise, Louis was sure, but at least it was a marked improvement to well-digging.
Still, it was interesting; Alfred was no fool. True, he was brash and reckless, and often did things before he considered them, but there was a purpose to everything, a mindfulness even in chaos. Additionally, for such an open and friendly man, he was not one blind to people’s intentions…or to their capabilities. As such, he was as likely to have fallen for Yunaka’s ‘accident’ as anyone else, and yet…and yet he now had a whole new training regimen and plan with the woman who had saved his life.
It was entirely possible he had guessed as much about Yunaka as Louis had, that he chose to enable her deflections. Or, perhaps, he was a greater person than Louis was…and this was not a feigned ignorance of the truth, but a refusal outright to so much as consider any part of it. Because he trusted her, and he cared for her. And, in return, she risked exposure to save his life.
How endearingly romantic.
“And what might you be so enraptured by, Louis?” It was good to hear playfulness in Princess Céline’s voice again, returning more to its former splendor since the day Corrupted had invaded their home. For a while, Louis had feared he might never have heard it again; for just as long, he wondered if he would not live long enough to even humor the thought.
And, while their journey these days did not allow for carelessness, he was at least able to enjoy things that might otherwise be deemed… ‘frivolous’ seemed the most appropriate choice of word.
“An idle amusement, Princess Céline,” he replied simply. “Nothing of note.”
“Is that so?” With ever-graceful steps, she came to sit beside him, making the most of the small bench he’d hidden so near to the records hall, where he’d often enjoyed watching the younger of their collective pose and play around as Rosado sketched their likenesses. “Surely I thought it must be something, for you to miss the Divine One’s…attempts…at fishing.”
Louis cleared his throat. Céline was hardly the first one to mention such a thing to him—the Divine Dragon’s attempts at fishing left much to be desired, even with the help of his little guardian, and it was a sight that oft brought the comfort of a god being so much nearer to all of them. Even Chloe had mentioned the event, though he was hardly certain if she did so for his sake, or for the opportunity to feast upon some strange fish or eel, should the Divine One actually catch something.
“In fact,” Céline continued, “one might think you had found something especially interesting to observe today.”
Her gaze flitted not far, and Louis’ could not help but follow. After all, he was not ignorant of her meaning; he had been occupied with something of note, but…
But he knew his princess very well. She was far keener than she let on, certainly when it came to those they could only trust according to the Divine One’s judgment. Hiding her skill and sense behind her preference of tea and blossoms was a wise choice indeed, but it would be effective only upon one who had not been serving her for as long as he did.
Céline loved her people and she loved her kingdom, enough that she would do anything to sustain its longevity. And such protectiveness no doubt extended toward her brother—no, the man stood at its center, from which all her inclinations and decisions rooted from. He was the future of their homeland, which would spark her more thorny traits alone, but he was also a great source of her fear and worry, enough that Louis knew him often the cause of her sleepless nights.
And, unfortunately, Louis was not wholly positive his princess did not see Yunaka as a valid cause for concern. Even if the woman looked positively meek as Prince Alfred introduced her to his horse—a creature that seemed as wary of her as she was of it—he knew Céline would not be so readily fooled. In the worst of cases, she would find Yunaka’s secrecy a cause for concern, and she would turn that potential threat to ash.
And, if it came to that…Louis would undoubtedly have to turn his blade against a friend he had come to hold quite fondly in his consideration.
“It’s strange to see him so still when the sun is still so high above us,” Céline mused, amusement in her tone.
Oh. Rare as it was, it was interesting to find even his estimations wrong. “It would appear the Divine One inquired if Yunaka would consider a change in profession. In her consideration, it arose that a questionable affinity with animals was the greatest concern. Of those available, Prince Alfred appeared to have the most…amenable of potential mounts.”
“I see. It does not seem to be going well.”
“I do fear riding may be an entirely lost cause, yes.”
Céline considered that for a long moment, a thoughtful hum on her lips. “Alfred’s steed takes after him considerably. You certainly could have offered your aid, could you not?”
Louis’ lips twitched in his amusement. “Oh dear. It would appear that fact failed my notice entirely.”
“So I see.” Céline’s fingers danced over the embroidery of her skirt, her head tilted as she watched her brother talk to his horse like it was a person just in need for a simple talking to for any semblance of cooperation. She chuckled as it seemed clear he would have more luck talking to a rock. “Was your inattention for his sake, or hers?”
“Hm, both, I suppose. Matchmaking does require at least two parties, after all.”
“It’s not like you to be a part of the display.”
“I would hardly consider such an avoidance involvement.” He chuckled softly, offering his princess a smile. “But I would not deny some…tactful choice in where I might draw the line.”
“Indeed.” Céline smiled, warmth in her voice. It was upsetting for it to quickly become so distant. “You know, I endeavored to thank her. For protecting him in that last battle. Do you know what she did?”
“Hm. I cannot imagine.”
“She insisted that it was an error. The result of stumbling over one’s feet. Of not being mindful in unfamiliar terrain.”
Louis frowned. “I suppose it was upsetting for the prince’s rescue to be considered an error.”
“Louis. I admit…it was…comforting to hear those words.”
“Oh?”
“Even though I am not the heir to the throne, I am no stranger to presumptive ambitions trying to claim my favor. Do you know how easy it would be to use my brother’s rescue to gain my favor? To even use it for a debt? And yet…it was not as if she was ignorant of such an opportunity, but that she rejected it. She would prefer her skills forgotten, even if it deny her an advantage.”
“Well,” Louis tapped his fingers against his knee, “of all that Yunaka is, I would not consider her particularly ambitious.”
“So I see.” She tilted her head. “And yet ambition’s aim may find her its benefactor anyway.”
Louis blinked. “To what do you refer?”
A wry smile played upon the princess’ lips. “Alfred asked me for one of our family’s heirlooms.”
“Oh? Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.” She laughed, a soft, melodic thing that Louis wished would grace the world more often, if only because it meant the princess had more tastes of joy. “I was uncertain if she deserved such an honor. It would seem, however, that even her protectiveness exceeds my own.”
“That may be a minor exaggeration, Princess Céline.”
“Even so…” her gaze slid back to the two at the stable, to Yunaka taking Alfred’s hand and urging him toward the Cafe Terrace, “if anyone is capable of taking care of him, of protecting him, I think it may be her.”
“This may be presumptuous,” Louis mused, “but I do not believe that the source of his affection.” No, it was certainly derived from many things. The boundless energy between the two of them. The blatant and open informality that allowed a closeness that manners did not. A skill that was unrivaled, impossible to overcome when they stood together. And much more, Louis was sure, that had occurred long before he had considered his amusing pastime.
Céline shook her head. “Of that I have little doubt.”
When Louis had stepped into the gardens by the gazebo, he had not expected to find Yunaka. Even less had he expected to find the telltale shake of her shoulders, or the way she seemed curled in on herself as if it might make her any less noticeable (not that her hair offered her many favors there).
A part of him wondered if he should step by, if he should allow her privacy in her distress. She had come here to be isolated by design, and to impede upon it would mark him as an inconsiderate fool.
And yet what friend would he be if he allowed her to dwell in distress?
“Yunaka?” Louis was slow, gentle, as he set his hand upon her shoulder. Offering her enough time to dart away and escape, if she needed it. Perfectly willing to leave if she asked. “Is everything alright?”
Yunaka’s gaze snapped up to him, eyes wide but not particularly startled (perhaps she had known he was here all along; perhaps she had hoped that someone would come). Large tears settled at the corners of her eyes, but it did not yet seem like they had become red or puffy, even if her face had taken on a rather remarkable flush from the effort. The crying had started recently, then. “Oh. Louis…”
“I do not know what has caused such distress,” Louis continued, “but if I can offer any comfort, I would gladly do so.”
Yunaka sniffled, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s the problem, actually.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“All you Firenese are too nice!” And there were her enthusiastically waving hands again. “I don’t get it! How can you all be so nice!”
“I assure you,” Louis mused, “it is not a universal feature.”
“No? Then explain to me how I can just wake up—nothing special about this day, haven’t done anything particularly splendiferous—and find a big old plate of pancakes just outside my door! Accompanied by a prince! Well, the pancakes were on a plate. In his hands. And he just—just—” Her eyes scrunched as she sniffled again, clearly annoyed by the lack of control. “And then you! Just! Showing up like some—some—!” At least the hand-waving here was particularly easy to understand.
Louis blinked. “I apologize, but I do not yet understand how this is so distressing.”
“I don’t get it,” Yunaka muttered, her gaze darting away. Slowly, Louis could see something unfurl from her clenched fingers, wrinkled with the force of her hold. “I haven’t done anything for you all to be so nice to me. If anything—”
Ah, so that was the issue. “So you were distressed because Prince Alfred brought you breakfast.”
“Well…yeah! Who gets a breakfast delivered to them all special by a prince? Definitely not Yunaka!”
“It would seem today begged to differ.” Louis could not help but smile at her wobbly huff. “If it would bring you comfort, you are not the only person the prince has provided such an offering to.”
That seemed to offer some comfort, at least. “Really truly?”
“Of course. I have heard that the Divine One had been a frequent recipient early in our journey.”
And any helpfulness his comment provided evaporated immediately. “Oh of course, how could I not notice. Of course breakfast would be delivered to a godliferic good person…and someone else no one knows anything about.” She sighed, her normal pitch dipping low, lacking the energy that Louis had grown especially familiar with. “I don’t get him.”
Louis’ gaze slid to the handkerchief in her hands, to old and familiar embroidery that spoke of centuries of history. “Might I ask you something, Yunaka?”
Her gaze slid to him, lips in a pressed line. Clearly this kindness—even if offered in a simple batter—had been too much for her. That was good to know. “Sure.”
“That handkerchief. Where did you get it?”
Yunaka pulled it up, her fingers running over the embroidery. “Alfred gave it to me, when we finished breakfast” she said simply. “He wouldn’t tell me why he gave it to me. And he wouldn’t take it back.”
“Why would you give it back?”
“I know quality when I see it.”
“Well, I suppose you are not wrong there.” Was it right for him to say, to approach? It seemed strange that Alfred would not extend more of an answer to her, but if she had cried at such a simple gesture as breakfast, it was not hard to imagine the man’s resolve shattered rapidly. He was not one to interfere, but a little push wouldn’t be a bad thing. “It would appear that Prince Alfred gave you a royal heirloom.”
“What? Why would he do that?”
“I would not be so bold as to speak for him, but in Firenese tradition, one offers such a family heirloom to a person they wish to be a part of that legacy.”
Yunaka’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. She seemed to forfeit it entirely by staring down at the small cloth, one that she had already seemed to make her mark upon. “Um.”
“You are not of Firene, but it is wholly possible he thought you might know. That the breakfast offering was no random kindness, but a way to put a foot in the door, so to speak.”
Her cheeks blossomed into a remarkable color. “Then why would he just—”
“Yunaka?” It was impressive to hear Alfred’s voice so soft, so meek. It was the sort of thing that Louis was sure the princess would have liked to have seen instead, if only for the sheer novelty of it all. Even Yunaka seemed particularly surprised by it, her fingers wrapping tightly around the handkerchief once more. “Could we talk?”
“Um,” Yunaka’s gaze darted to Louis, panic and plea all in one, “well.”
It was amusing that two people so normally affable, so enthusiastic, could be like this. Louis could not have fathomed a better sight. “I’m afraid I have some prior obligations,” he said, offering a small bow toward Prince Alfred. “I would be grateful if you kept Yunaka company in my stead.”
Alfred’s spine straightened, an impressive determination sparked by something so simple. “Not a problem!”
“My thanks.” Louis offered a smile, and then hoped it was just as encouraging as he offered it to Yunaka, too. “I hope you have a very pleasant afternoon, Yunaka.”
She nodded numbly, though there was no missing the way her gaze fixed entirely on Alfred. Enough that Louis had no guilt at all as he left the two to their discussion and (hopefully) something more.
He just hoped it wouldn’t be quite so immediate, as he very much hoped to get a perfect place to watch it all happen. Perhaps on the battlements.