Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fern woke to the sun, warming her back, her shoulders, and her arms, as rays of sunlight seeped from the thin curtains of their shared room. Feeling overly warm in bed meant that it was time to start the day, in which she peeled the covers as gently as possible, making sure to give the still sleeping elf mage next to her some extra time to sleep. The human girl almost laughed, despite her efforts to stay silent. Her master had fallen asleep in her thin nightgown, a grimoire for a spell she recently attained just on their way to this village opened near the end, face down on her chest. Fern figured that Frieren must have fallen asleep reading.

Picking up the book, she peeked into the contents, finding out that it was a spell for turning rocks into pickled onions. She sighed, inserting the unused grocery list she took for her shopping trip yesterday between the pages, not wanting her elf master to forget how far into the grimoire she was.

Walking towards the coat hanger, Fern pulled on her coat, quickly wearing it around her shoulder and slipping her hands through the sleeves. She was new to this village after all, and breakfast was always her job–considering that her now still asleep master couldn’t wake earlier than noon, and she was not the biggest admirer of starving for half a day. She figured she could stroll around the village while looking for stalls that sold breakfast, perhaps at the market or around the plaza.

Winter had somewhat passed, and they were just entering the earlier days of spring—warm sunny days and the entire world looking like it had just been brought to life, reminding Fern of the spell her master had used to grow the flowers on The Hero Himmel’s statue from the days when it was just the two of them.

Fern made her way down the stairs, her steps almost hurried, with skips in them, excited to meet the morning air and find out just what this village had in store for her. Part of the perks of adventuring for such an extended period of time to her—aside from learning directly from if not one of the greatest mages in the nation today, was getting to visit many places in her journey and see what culture and beliefs were like in different towns and villages, something not many girls her age had the chance to do.

Fern stepped out of the inn, breathing in the spring air, the air still a little cold, the sun still peaking from beneath the mountains, and that was when she heard it.

“Oh—Fern! Good morning!”

Hearing her name, out of sheer reflex alone, Fern turned to where the sound came from, and even before she met the boy waving at her from afar, she could already tell she had ruined her day.

There he was, a scarlet-haired boy in his sleeveless black shirt, the red jacket he usually wears for the outdoors seemed to have been missing from their usual place around his shoulders, as if he had forgotten that he was a human being who could very much catch a cold, this early in the morning, on an empty stomach. His arms and forehead glistened with sweat upon the morning sun, which also made the tips of his damp red hair turn a shade of brown, as if he has been doing hard labor for a while now, almost making Fern full take offense for realizing that she was not being the first person awake this morning.

But that was when she saw another person standing next to him. She had blonde hair, and a tiny face, as if to make matters worse. Her sky blue dress was a little worn and the color was a little faded, somewhere closer to gray than its original color, but very clean, as if she washed the dress everyday since the day she had it. She was prim and small, the kind of girl who’d ask for help when she’s facing a monster or a demon instead of trying to fight the beasts head on—the kind who would definitely need the help of a hero.

Fern’s mood turned sour, and then absolutely foul when she saw the stranger seemingly catch the redhead’s attention, and he started talking to her with a smile plastered on his face. He didn’t even give her a chance to greet him back or make the slightest bit of acknowledgement of his existence before turning away and returning to whatever he was doing.

Her chest burned with hatred, at just about everything. The sun warming her now felt hot against her back, the dirt under her feet too dusty, the breeze against her face and uncovered hands too cold despite the sun now showing itself.

Fern’s day was officially, absolutely ruined.

Chapter Text

Frieren woke to the sound of bickering, and the only reason her ears picked up on the sound at all, considering that she was still asleep, was because she had lost the comfortable warmth of someone next to her, as well as the familiar weight of a book on her stomach. She rubbed her eyes and eyed the ceiling for a bit, before hearing another shout—the voice of a young girl muffled against the walls of the inn, a little harder than the sound that woke her this time.

Despite knowing someone was having an argument somewhere close, Frieren took her time getting dressed. She tidied her hair a little bit, since she didn't have Fern around to brush the tangles and tie them with the two bands on the nightstand like she usually would. On the same small wooden furniture, she found the missing grimoire she had been reading the night before, rushing over to it, finding a piece of paper wedged between the pages she must’ve left off last night, a little surprised that she remembered to mark her page before falling unconscious to fatigue.

She heard sounds of more argument, and she suddenly remembered the reason she woke up in the first place.

She opened the door to her room, the commotion now loud and clear, her ears identifying the arguing people to be Fern and Stark.

Frieren made her way to the room next door, the room Stark was sharing with Sein, the source all the noise was coming from. The door was slightly ajar, and Frieren could just see the situation inside.

Fern was grumbling about something, seemingly to have cornered a very scared Stark, who was trying his best to defend himself. Sein was sitting between the two, his fingers fidgeting with something on the table, either having no interest to break the two apart or having tried, but failed, succumbing to his fate.

“Well if you had been awake for a while, why didn’t Stark-sama take initiative and look for breakfast for today?” Fern yelled, “Why do I have to do everything myself for everyone all the time?”

“Fern, I already told you, I was just on my way out to do that exact thing, when the innkeeper’s daughter asked me for help with her wagon,” Stark said exasperatedly.

“So helping the innkeeper’s daughter is so much more important than the wellbeing of Stark-sama’s own party? Is that it?”

“It’s not like that, I just thought—”

“Fern.”

All three heads turned towards the door, where a small, elf mage made her way into the room. Her eyes were sleepy and her hair was askew, a white jacket around her shoulders, shielding her from the cold so much better than her thin nightgown ever could. She tugged quietly on the chair nearest to the window, across from the priest. All the while, the indigo-haired girl who was shouting just minutes before grumbled as she finally pulled out the package she had left the inn to purchase this morning, filled with a meal that served as their breakfast.

“I simply looked for the village’s breakfast options,” she said with a huff, “I won’t be hearing anyone’s complaint.”

The bread were stacked on a small bowl, the fruit in another. The most bizarre object there was probably the three whole yams just sitting on the table, steam coming off of them as if they had been cooked.

Fern folded the brown paper bag that had carried the objects now laid on the table neatly, saying “I’ll be in the other room,” as she stomped her way out, and slammed the door shut in the process.

Frieren made an exhale through her nose and reached for one of the yams, “Someone get me a knife.”

Chapter Text

“Did you actually leave this morning to get breakfast?”

Midday, it was calmer. No more screaming girls and stomping feet or slamming doors.

After breakfast, Sein had decided to take Stark away from the inn and get some fresh air, like he often does when he argues with Fern over the most trivial things. This time, his destination was the river not too far from the inn they were staying in.

Stark nodded gloomily. “I did,” he sighed exasperatedly, “Then I saw a lady crouching next to her wagon, and when I asked her what’s wrong, she showed me how the wheel had come loose and she was worried that it might fall off on her way to the market. I offered to take a look and fix whatever was wrong, but it took some time, and by the time I was finished, Fern was all dressed and saw me.”

Sein took a second to peek at the young warrior’s expression, seeing disappointment, guilt, and fatigue shown on his face all at once. He was dragging his steps on the path and his shoulders were sagged, as if the weight of the entire universe was suddenly placed between his shoulders in a single morning.

He continued walking ahead, “Did Fern seem angry before she noticed you?”

“She didn’t notice me, I greeted her,” he replied, correcting the older priest, “I said good morning and was about to ask if she wanted to come with me to the market for some breakfast.”

Sein frowned a little, “You didn’t get to ask her, though?”

He shook her head, “She was gone before I could.”

“She saw you and just left?”

He shook her head again, harder this time, “The innkeeper’s daughter insisted that she pay me for the service, and I was trying really hard to refuse,” Stark answered, “But she was so persistent, since before Fern even came out of the inn even. I’ve been trying to say no, but in the middle of trying to convince her, I greeted Fern, and after the matter was settled, Fern was already gone.”

Sein was quiet for a while, his boots making their way against the dirt path towards the river.

“Did you end up getting the money, though?”

He sulked, “Yeah.”

“Nice.”

“That’s not the point, though!”

The priest cleared his throat, “Yeah, sorry, my bad,” he said, “So then Fern saw you two talking and left?”

The pout on the redheaded boy seemed more prominent now, “Yeah.”

The bridge was just up ahead, made of wood and a few fastenings using rope, which was not to be taken lightly considering the current and the width of said river. Wagons and carriages and people crossed the bridge, creating two lanes for opposite directions to not cause traffic. Instead of taking the lane with the travelers and merchants, Sein turned towards the river before they reached the bridge, jumping over a wooden fence and urging Stark to do the same. The younger boy followed without question, before finding Sein on the other side, already seated on the sloping ground, covered with grass and blooming wildflowers, sitting next to him and leaning against the fence behind him.

“Did you think of any other reason she might’ve had such a sour mood?”

Stark shrugged, “Didn’t you hear over breakfast? She said she was disappointed that I had been awake but prioritized on helping the innkeeper’s daughter instead of looking for breakfast.”

Sein recalled the argument over breakfast, and seemed to have remembered a certain line Fern said out loud—probably for the first time.

“Did you notice how Fern is always taking care of all of us?”

Stark nodded, picking a small, white, wildflower from near his feet, “That’s why I went and woke up early to get us breakfast.”

“Yeah, but imagine her fatigue,” Sein said, “She’s always awake so early to keep everyone’s tended to and healthy, but the moment someone has the ability to do so, she sees that person doing something else.”

Stark pouted, “It’s not fair.”

“It isn’t,” Sein sighed, “But this is just a misunderstanding, it can be cleared nicely if you talk to each other.”

The younger boy picked another flower—five stems in his hands now, forming a small bouquet, “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Oh come on, you haven’t even tried, Stark.”

“What’s the point? I already know it’s going to end.”

Sein pinched the bridge of his nose, “This is starting to feel like taking care of children.”

“We are children.”

“Sometimes I forget Frieren is a hag.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry,” Sein apologized quickly, “She’s mature for her appearance.”

Stark, chucked lightly, collecting more flowers.

“In any case,” Sein started, “You should ask what’s really on her mind. But you yourself need to keep in mind how much Fern is always looking out for us—looking out for you. Try to see things from her perspective. She cares about you, and Frieren.”

Stark eyed the small bouquet in his hands, adjusting some of the pink wildflowers so they stand out among the white and oranges.

“Maybe I will.”

Sein gave the agreement some thought, before asking Stark a question that’s been weighing on his mind for a while.

“You know, you two are members of the same party,” Sein started, “Your friendship can be defined as professional at this point.”

Stark didn’t see anything wrong with the point, nodding. “And?”

“Why are you so keen on not making her mad all the time?”

The younger boy frowned and looked at the priest sitting next to him, “Isn’t it natural to not attract problems and discourse?” he asked, as if the answer was obvious, “Besides, a good relationship equals good work quality, right?”

“Not always,” Sein replied, “Enduring is also an option. You can hate someone and still work well with them if you endure hard enough. Fern must hate me with her entire soul, but we work along just fine”

Stark looked like he was not satisfied with the answer, his eyes boring holes into the small bouquet still in his hand.

“It just doesn’t sit right with me, you know?” he replied with the first thought in his head, “I like it when we’re not arguing.”

Liking and not liking something, huh? That’s awfully mundane, not with reasoning. It was preference, the act of liking something, something simply done because you prefer it, and you may not even have a reason—or rather, you don’t know the reason yet.

“Besides, Fern must have brilliant endurance if she really hated you with her entire soul and still got you breakfast every morning at the break of dawn and fetched you from bars when you didn't return to the inn,” Stark said.

The priest smiled when he heard the young boy speak.

“She’s really something, isn’t she?”

Stark never gave Sein his answer, opting on finishing the bouquet in his hands.

Sein never asked for one.

Chapter Text

The sun was low in the sky when Sein announced that he had better leave, telling Stark that there was a bar he had seen when the party made their way into the village that he wanted to try out. Stark had offered companionship, but was quickly turned down when Sein reminded him that he needed to talk to a certain mage apprentice who definitely had her own talking to from her own master and was now sulking somewhere. With heavy steps, he and Sein parted at the bridge, and he made his way back to the inn, seemingly to have miraculously remembered the way.

Stark had sentences rolled out in his head, how he was going to smoothly talk the issue out with Fern, explain things from his perspective. If she ever gave him a chance to, that is, But he had some faith, to an extent. Fern was difficult, but not impossible.

And before he realized it, his feet had taken him back to the inn.

His steps halted when he could just make out the shape of a girl in a white dress, sitting on the steps to the building they were staying in. Her cheeks were puffed and she looked very much visibly distressed, as if she was trying not to cry, although her eyes were downcasted on the weeds growing between the cracks of the stone steps.

“Fern.”

She looked up, abandoning the weeds for a while, before huffing and looking away.

Stark took a step, carefully.

“Can we talk?” he asked, “I don’t want to be arguing with you anymore.”

The girl didn’t give the slightest hint that she would be responding.

“Can I sit next to you?”

She didn’t answer, her free hand clutching her dress.

“Do whatever Stark-sama likes.”

“Thank you.”

He carefully made his way to the end of the steps that Fern was not occupying, careful to keep some distance from her, despite the steps not providing so much. If anything, the girl seemed to be folding even further into herself, not wanting to be anywhere near him.

He didn’t force it.

Stark felt uncomfortable, if he was being honest. The dusk air was cold, and his jacket helped protect him, but the wind was not being too cooperative. Not to mention just sitting here with Fern who definitely wanted nothing more but to bolt from here.

“Um…if you don’t mind me asking, why are you sitting outside like this?”

She didn’t answer immediately, “Frieren-sama kicked me out of the room until we made up.”

“Oh.”

“She said it wouldn’t be efficient to be having travel companions who bickered with each other,” Fern added, now folding her arms on her propped knees.

Stark nodded in understanding.

“Well, I don’t want to sleep outside,” she sighed, “I apologize for overreacting this morning. I understand Stark-sama was just…trying to help a lady with some issues with her wagon.”

He nodded, “It’s no problem,” he replied, “It’s just a misunderstanding. I’m also sorry I yelled back at you when you were angry and tried to make my point. I should’ve listened to you first and calmed you down before trying to shove an explanation in your head.”

The girl before him smiled.

“We can go look for tomorrow’s breakfast together if you’d like,” he proposed.

Fern’s eyebrows were raised, “Oh? I thought Stark-sama would try his chance with that woman from this morning again.”

And in contrast, Stark’s eyebrows dipped, “Huh?”

“She looked like the kind of woman Stark-sama likes, doesn’t she?” Fern’s head was tilted to the side, “I thought Stark-sama was trying out for a chance to go out with her.”

“Fern, what are you talking about?” he asked her in disbelief, “I really was just helping out with her wagon!”

“Yes, but was it out of kindness—”

“Of course it was!”

Fern smiled, “Oh, relax, Stark-sama,” she sighed, her hands folded on her lap again, “I was only teasing, since you looked so comfortable with her earlier today.”

Did he? Stark didn’t know—he couldn’t tell. He was in such a light and airy mood this morning when he woke up, finding the sun still hiding and the air still chilly. He had put on his jacket and grabbed his axe habitually, not even thinking of the time or what he was doing but to look for breakfast since he was the first one awake. He himself was still asleep, rubbing his eyes, when the woman had called him over to check on the wheel of her wagon. He was simply treating her the same way any other person would like to be treated.

Fern was difficult, after all.

He didn’t press the issue further.

“Oh yeah,” he started, “I made this earlier, while Sein gave me some talking to.”

He pulled out the bouquet of wildflowers he had in his hands the entire time.

“It was absent minded at first, but I thought of giving it to you after a while,” he said, “As a token of our friendship…or something like that.”

Fern eyed the bouquet. In the dark, she probably couldn’t make out all the colors after all, he figured.

“I had wanted to make a crown out of them, because I thought you’d look nice in pinks and whites, but I obviously had no idea how to do it,” he chuckled, handing the bouquet over, “I hope this is good enough.”

And in the dark, he could just make out a smile on Fern’s lips, small, but noticeable nonetheless.

“It’s enough,” she said, taking the bouquet from him, “Thank you for thinking of me, I appreciate it.”

Stark shared a smile with her, before a thought crossed her mind.

“Oh, do you mind if I have one of the white ones?”

“Uh…of course.”

He picked one with a thicker stem, with blooming petals among the pile, and scooted closer. As he raised his hand, Fern shut her eyes—out of reflex, Stark noticed. He whispered a quiet “Excuse me,” as he slipped the stem of the flower he had picked behind Fern’s ear.

Fern was so close to him that he could faintly smell linen, and a little bit of something flowery from her dress.

He smiled when he pulled away and she opened her eyes again, “Told you whites looked good on you,” he sighed, “I should really ask Frieren-sama to teach me how to make a flower crown for next time, though.”

Next time. The words sound funny in his head, as if there will come another time where he has the chance to gather wildflowers and give them to Fern.

Their journey was long after all, and they had all the time in the world. Another time will definitely come, and if it doesn’t, Stark was determined to make it come.

“Oh, you two are here.”

The children looked up to find a silvery-haired elf, standing before them with three books in hand, seemingly new, although Stark couldn’t be sure since he wasn’t constantly cataloging the mage’s grimoire collection.

“Did you two make up?”

Fern was silent, so Stark took it as a cue to answer, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Frieren replied curtly, “Want some dinner? I found a pretty crowded diner on my way back. Looked pretty decent.”

“Sounds good to me,” Stark replied, turning to girl next to him, “How about you, Fern?”

She sounded quieter than before, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay, let’s grab our coats first. I also need to put these books inside as well,” Frieren said, “You must also want to put those flowers in some water, Fern.”

“Yeah,” she replied.

“I’ll wait outside,” Stark said.

“Where did Sein go?” Frieren asked, waiting for Fern to stand from her sitting position.

“Getting a drink.”

“Figures,” she sighed, “Okay, we’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Don’t take too long, I’m starving!” Stark called out as Frieren shut the inn’s door behind her.

A smile made its way to his lips. Another argument with Fern well-resolved!