Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A dance floor was hardly what Laura expected to find in the Nord Highlands, but the woven grass mats of the nomad settlement provided just that. The stars sparkled brightly, and the wind — so tempestuous earlier that day — had settled for gently stirring Laura’s ponytail as she swayed back and forth. Her arms were draped around Gaius’ shoulders, and his hands rested lightly on her hips, guiding them in endless, slow circles, as a dented orbal gramophone whispered tinny accompaniment.

“The others have all gone to bed by now,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “And we do have an early morning tomorrow…”

Laura shook her head, holding his eyes in hers. “Don’t —“ She paused, pulling him down to her, pressing their lips together for a moment, an eternity, a moment. “I know that, of course.”

Laura couldn’t bring herself to ask, no, to assert that they stay out here, together and alone under the night sky, for just a few more minutes, an hour. It was selfish to want such a thing, to deny him as much rest as he’d need for a day of long, thankless work. And she wouldn’t be doing herself any favors, either — just because she wasn’t a Dominion didn’t mean she could sleep in without a care in the world.

“Just a bit longer, then.” His smile grew to full bloom as he seemingly read her mind, planting a kiss of his own on in her hair. “Perhaps just…until the stars fade.”

Chapter Text

“Alright recruits!” Noel jumped as Anelace shouted suddenly, directly into her face. Long years of CGF training kicked in, though, and she felt herself snapping to attention just as though she was back on the drill field.

Anelace took to the role with barely-disguised glee, marching slowly in front of her, looking her up and down. “Well, I haven’t seen a worse group of trainee Junior Bracers in all my years,” she drawled exaggeratedly, planting her hands on her hips. “Looks like someone’s gonna have to whip you into shape if you want to learn the ways of Zemuria’s finest!”

As the surprise wore off, Noel couldn’t help but smile. “‘Zemuria’s finest,’ huh? Seems a bit… grandiose.”

“Ohhh ho ho ho, looks like we got a reeeeal smarty pants here, huh?” Anelace drew up right in front of her face, close enough to bring a flush to Noel’s cheeks. They’d been together for months, now, but Anelace still managed to set her heart racing. Even when she was being silly, which was most of the time. “Well, let’s see how much of a smart mouth you’ve got after you… drop and give me thirty sit-ups!”

The noonday sun beat down on them as they stood still for a moment, the silence only broken by a local bird’s incessant cries. Finally, Noel had to ask: “Seriously?”

“You asked me to show you what Bracer training was like…” Anelace grinned. “Well, this is what it’s like! When I do it, at least.”

Noel giggled. “I get it, I get it. Alright— thirty sit-ups it is.”

Anelace looked astonished for a moment as her girlfriend actually lay down on the ground, but she recovered in an instant, squatting down next to her. “That’s what I thought. And remember, this is just a punishment for talking back to me — after this the *real* training begins!”

Chapter Text

As a new member of Ouroboros — and until recently, the Ironbloods — Cedric thought he had gotten used to meeting some of the most dangerous people on the continent. But as Sigmund Orlando prowled around the room, snarling in silence, he knew a new type of fear.

Cedric couldn’t help but fidget nervously on the worn sofa, picking away at one of countless loose threads. A part of him fully expected to die at any moment — he kept imagining the War Ogre leaping at him like a jungle cat, tearing his throat out with his bare hands, rending him limb from limb.

Finally, however, Sigmund stalked over to the armchair opposite him, kicking up a small cloud of dust as he dropped his entire weight into its aged cushions with a grunt. “Shirley, get outta here. I’ve gotta talk to this… boy.”

The other occupant of Cedric’s couch had her arm draped idly over his shoulder, her feet propped up on an end table she had dragged over just for this purpose. “Nah, I don’t think I will.” Shirley picked a piece of grit from her fingernail, flicking it across the room.

Cedric coughed, as much to clear his throat of the dust as to draw attention to himself. “Ah… d-don’t worry, Shirley. I can… I should handle this myself.” He attempted to smile bravely at her, and hated that he couldn’t bring himself to speak without hesitating.

“Thats’s right, let him speak for himself, without you here to hold his hand.” Sigmund grinned, his mouth seeming overfull of too-sharp teeth.

Shirley glared back at him. “I’m not here to comfort him,” she spat, and Cedric couldn’t help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. “I’m here to comfort *you,* father. I’m not just your little girl, okay? I can make these kind of decisions on my own. I trust Cedric, and you’ve gotta trust me.”

Cedric’s eyes widened, and the War Ogre leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. But after a few tense moments, he roared with laughter so suddenly that Cedric nearly jumped out of his skin.

“All right, all right, Shirley.” Sigmund hauled himself up out of the chair, which groaned under his weight. “I get the picture. You can keep the pup.” He grinned at the two of them, his eye still sparkling with laughter in stark contrast with his predatory smile. “He doesn’t look strong enough to hurt you anyway, eh?” And with that, the War Ogre strode out of the room, only pausing to ruffle Shirley’s hair as he passed.

Shirley turned to Cedric, a grin that echoed her father’s plastered across her face. “See? That wasn’t so bad!”

Chapter Text

“I wondered…” Jusis hesitated, and his cheeks grew red, more than Laura had ever seen. Or perhaps it was the firelight? He shook his head slightly before continuing. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Laura’s eyebrows shot up. Some of her classmates had asked her to dance already, but Jusis’ language evoked a more formal invitation. While her schooling in etiquette had been… perhaps ‘ill-received’ would be the right term, she had retained enough. A request to dance, from one noble to another, wasn’t something that was to be given or received lightly.

“It… would be my pleasure,” she replied, stiffly. Her thoughts raced as she took his offered hand, allowing herself to be lead to the dance floor. In the past, she had been brought into such things as a joke —some high-ranking noble boy pretending to be interested in the backwoods viscounts daughter. Laura could remember all too vividly the sneering eyes of the other girls as she stumbled about the ballroom. It was with stone-faced determination that she had resolved that night to never be like them, never go back to such galas, to run away and become a warrior maiden just like Lianne Sandlot herself.

But Jusis… Jusis was different, wasn’t he?

He took her hand and waist, a simple style, used for practice more than anything, and for a few minutes they merely swayed, turning about the fire as the crackle of laughter and conversation washed over them. Laura’s fears began to churn within her, even more improbable scenarios flashing through her mind, when Jusis finally broke the ice.

“Laura, I… would like to court you.” It definitely wasn’t the firelight that was darkening his cheeks now. Or hers, for that matter.

“I… I beg your pardon?” There was no way she had heard him correctly. Jusis Albarea, one of the most eligible — and attractive — bachelors at all of Thors’? After that terrible night at the ball, she had practically resigned herself to a marriage of convenience; something to be postponed as long as possible, with a spouse at best avoided, most likely endured.

It was Jusis’ turn to stumble. “My… my apologies, if I am too forward or if my advance is unwanted, that’s… that’s totally fine, I completely understand-“ his stuff mode of speech began to crumble, revealing glimpses of the vulnerable young man beneath.

“No!” Her sudden shout caused a few of her classmates heads to turn. “I mean to say,” she continued, more quietly. “I simply… I was taken off-guard, I would never expected… I mean, you’re an Albarea, I’m just a viscount’s daughter —“

“Oh, the hells with all of that.” Jusis deflated a little bit, allowing the last pretenses of formality to fall away. “I don’t care for any of the protocols, or hierarchy, or any of it. Laura, over the past sixth months you’ve shown me what a noble should be, and I… I would like to…”

Laura smiled as he trailed away, unable to find the words. “I would like that too, Jusis. Very much.”

Chapter Text

“Heh, I guess I’ve never really been in the Art Club room before.” Elliot slowly spun in place, taking in all of the pieces that had been left behind by Thors’ alumni.

“Quiet,” barked Clara, not looking up from her sculpture. Gaius tensed up — he had worried this might happen, worried that Elliot might be scared away. He was so delicate, sometimes, like a bird, ready to flutter away at a moments notice. And such sweet music he sang…

But to his surprise, Elliot merely turned to him, a guilty smile on his face. “Oops,” he whispered, covering a chuckle with his hand.

The anxiety drained from Gaius at Elliot’s reaction. Most of it, at least. But at least he managed to return the grin, and lead him toward his workstation. “Sorry about her,” he whispered, “she’s not that bad, once you get to know her.”

“Oh, it’s fine— I know a few like her from music lessons. Is this one yours?”

Gaius’ piece stood on a simple easel, covered by a dingy, off-white tarp. The morning sun cast dim shadows around it from the window, but the painting itself stood where the light would be unobstructed. Setting his work in such a place been one of the first things Gaius had done upon joining the Art Club.

“Yes,” Gaius replied, taking the tarp in one hand. He paused for a moment, turning to Elliot. “Now, it’s my first piece since arriving at Thors’, and I’m… very out of practice, so…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that — come on, I want to see!”

With a deep breath, Gaius pulled the tarp away, stepping away from the easel to stand next to Elliot. Suddenly he could see every mistake, every drop of too-wet paint, everywhere the color was just slightly off.

“Gaius,” Elliott whispered, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the blow. It wasn’t good enough, it couldn’t be good enough — “It’s beautiful.”

And then Elliott was slipping his hand into his (like it was nothing! How many times had Gaius wanted to do the same thing, but held back for fear of scaring him away), leaning his head on his shoulder. “This is amazing, Gaius. Thank you for showing me this, truly.”

Gaius remained silent, for how could he receive thanks when Elliott had given him the greatest gift he had?

Chapter Text

As soon as they left the party, Rean deflated. It had been a long… day? Month? Two and a half years? But it was over, now. And they’d come through mostly unscathed — the loss of Valimar would hit him so, he was sure, but it was difficult to stay mournful while Millium bounced around a room.

He flopped down onto the couch, throwing his arms back and giving Sara a tired smile, hoping to have her lounge with him and decompress. But her returning smile was thin-lipped, and she crossed instead to the balcony. “I just need some fresh air, I think.”

Rean blinked, staring at her as she closed the doors behind her. His mind raced, running back through the events of the night, searching for anything he might have said, or done, but no — this wasn’t like her, she was so strong, laughing even as the world fell apart around them. He heaved himself to his feet, and began walking across the lush carpet of the hotel suite. Was it because this was their last night together for the foreseeable future? They had known when they’d first admitted their feelings for each other that it wouldn’t be easy — a bracer’s life wasn’t steady at the best of times, and an Erebonian bracer, at a time where the entire guild needed to be reassembled…

Pulling the door open let in a gust of the cool night air. Below them, in the distance, the lights of Mishelam still burned brightly, the distant screams and peals of laughter telling of an entire continent breathing a sigh of relief. Sara herself leaned on the railing, her hair loosed from its usual ponytail, drifting gently with the wind. Rean joined her, resting his arms on the cool metalwork, trying to read her expression out of the corner of his eye.

She half-turned her head to him, a half-smile flickering across her face. “Sorry.”

He reached out, pushing her hair out of her face. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is — I love you.” Catching his hand in her own, she pulled him into a deep kiss. Rean brought get up his other hand, caressing her cheek — and found them wet with tears.

Sara pulled away, holding his gaze in her golden eyes. “If this is about the whole teacher thing,” he began, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

“It’s about what you did, up there in the… the floating castle. Or, what you almost did.” Her voice shook, clearly fighting back sobs. “I know you tried to take it all into yourself, tried to throw yourself into it, to sacrifice… I can’t. I can’t just be a survivor again, Rean!” By the end, she was shouting at him, and he took a half step back, dumbfounded. How did she know? How could she have known?

“I love you, you… idiot. And maybe, maybe it’s selfish of me, to not want you to *die* to, to save the world, but…” Sara grabbed him arms, pulling him back to her, burying her face in his shoulder. For a moment he stood there, at a loss for words, on the verge of tears himself. He had known that to sacrifice himself would hurt his friends, his family, but to see it like this…

“Promise me.” Sara tilted her head up, whispering in his ear, holding him tightly. “Promise me you’ll… promise me you’ll stay.”

Rean pressed his lips to her temple, stroking her hair. “I promise.”

Chapter Text

Sheriff Noel Seeker was suspicious of the SSS stagecoach as soon as it rolled into town. Well, perhaps suspicious wasn’t the right word. But it was more than curiosity, that was for sure.

Most of the little gang she could suss out just by looking at them. The detective, with his ‘aw shucks’ folksy charm not-quite-hiding his piercing, inquisitive stare. The red-haired brute, the muscle, overlarge rifle strapped to his back and a leering grin, following his boss around like a lost puppy. The diminutive prodigy, the young problem-solver, with her nose in a book and a stare so flat you could see any attempts at humor bounce clean off.

Noel understood them, she wasn’t confused by them, a bunch of first-time Guilders fresh out of the City. Got their hands on a CPD rubber stamp somehow, family connections, probably, looking to make a name for themselves on the plains.

No, what got Noel’s mind whirling was the fourth member of the group, a most elegant woman who stepped out of the coach as though onto a velvet carpet, light purple parasol to fend off the worst of the unrelenting sun. Such folks didn’t leave the City much, so seeing them in all their finery was enough to keep the town buzzing for days. But they certainly didn’t come on Guild business.

But Sheriff Noel wasn’t aggressive like that, she told herself. Not one to get up in some strangers face first thing. She had a bit of subtlety, a bit of class herself — she grew up in the City herself. It was for this reason that she waited to approach the strange woman at the saloon, definitely not because she was heart-stoppingly beautiful.

She was at the bar when Noel finally mustered up the courage to push her way through the swinging doors of the Ash Tree. Alone, all lavender and lace, idly stirring sugar into a battered tea set the bartender had pulled out of goddess-knows-where. The rest of the clientele huddled around the tables, some of them two to a chair, determinedly not looking at the vision of silver-haired beauty as though to even lay eyes upon her would blind them.

Noel couldn’t blame them. But she set her jaw, spurs clanking noisily as she strode straight up to the barstool next to the newcomer, heaving herself up into it with a gesture to the proprietor borne of years of familiarity. “So. What brings a lady like you to Armorica Springs?”

The question passed by the woman like a freight train on the wrong tracks. She merely smiled — a frisson shot through Noel — and nodded gently at the Sheriff. “Must be a lot of trouble in town, for a Sheriff to be carrying two pistols.”

Her voice was like a chorus of bells, clear and pure. “Oh these? Reinford-made, top of the line model. Automatic, takes all kinds of ammunition.” Almost against her will, Noel found herself babbling, rambling — who cared about her guns? Why was she telling her this? Back in the saddle, Seeker.

“As to your point, yes, ma’am there is. Nothing I can’t handle, but the critters out here run larger than most, and I like to have a quality instrument at my disposal.”
Noel turned to the woman, the barstool squealing like a horrible, brass pig. “Which makes it all the stranger that we’d see a lady like yourself out here, miss…?”

By way of response, the woman hiked up her dress — Noel turned away with a deep blush — and withdrew an elegant, silver-inlaid pistol, placing it atop the bar. Nothing grand, not a hand cannon, but definitely not one of those toy guns either. A solid piece of kit, to Noel’s experienced eye, for someone who knows what she’s doings. The words ‘Elie MacDowell’ were picked out in silver down the wooden grip.

“You’ll find I’m not unaccustomed to danger, Sheriff Seeker,” Elie said with a sparkle in her eye. “In fact, by now it just excites me.”

Chapter Text

Rean treasured holding Laura’s hand in his as they meandered about the department store, their eyes sliding off of the products on offer, just enjoying each others company. Normally, Principal Le Guin would have just ordered a new washing machine for the branch campus dormitory — but it was their anniversary, so a Thors-funded trip to Crossbell was her way of giving them a present. The two of them had woken up this morning determined, dead-set on buying the new appliance first thing, so that they could better enjoy the rest of their weekend without the threat of Work Unfinished hanging over their heads. Now that they’d arrived at the store, though… well, it couldn’t hurt to just relax for a little, could it?

Rean couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at seeing the sparkling chrome display pieces. “It’s a good thing we got sent here instead of Roer, huh?”

Her cheeks flushed, Laura shook her head. “Ugh, that was… humiliating. Honestly, I was hoping you had forgotten.”

“Does it still bother you?” His teasing tone turned to concern — it wasn’t often that he saw her react in this way.

“I… suppose it does.” Rean waited for her to continue, but she fell silent. They kept wandering the store, avoiding the sales representatives where they could — he knew that Laura needed some quiet, sometimes, to work things through. It had been worrying for him when they had first gotten together, but Rean was used to it by now.

“Sometimes I feel…” She furrowed her brow in concentration. “I feel as though technology is advancing too fast for me. And I know that it can be such a boon to so many, so I don’t resent it…”

Rean stayed silent. Clearly this had been stewing for quite some time, and he wanted to give her the space to unburden herself uninterrupted.

“But I see our friends like Alisa, or Fie, or… even Gaius, spending so much time with his tribe — they all pick it up so much faster than me. It makes me feel foolish.”

Squeezing her hand in his, Rean smiled sadly at her. “Oh, Laura… I had no idea you felt this way.”

Her cheeks flushed once more, and she looked away from his eyes. “I’ve been trying to keep it to myself, in the hopes that it would just… go away.”

“Now that’s foolish,” Rean chuckled lightly. “Laura, we love you — I love you for your kindness, your strength of character, your absolute, unconditional edication to everything you care about. You’re loved for who you are, not what you can do.”

If her cheeks were red before, now they were truly spectacular. “Rean…”

There was a few more minutes of silence between them. Laura rested her head on his shoulder.

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

While nobody at Thors had a forgiving schedule, the workload put upon Class VII after the Civil War was unprecedented. Their field studies may have been scrapped entirely, but the collective decision of most of the class members to attempt graduation a year early meant that they were working harder than ever before.

Elliot felt he had the worst of it, though. The learning material didn’t come as easily to him as it did to many of his friends. Emma had tried to teach him a few tricks, but what it all came down to was him having to put in even more work — so free days may as well not have existed, and the Wind Orchestra had gone with them.

And it wasn’t just exhaustion that was getting to him. Elliot looked up from his notes, squinting as the rays of the setting sun poured through the Library windows. Across from him sat the most beautiful man on campus, if not the entire world, somehow, miraculously, his boyfriend: Gaius Worzel. And the only thing they had done together for weeks was study.

Elliot slumped forward in his seat, resting his chin in his hand. All the other students at Thors were off having fun with their clubs, even going out on dates, despite the extremely limited privacy in such a small town as Trista. Not just the other classes, either — somehow Machias managed to keep up with chess club, *and* maintain active love life. And Gaius was stuck in here with boring old Elliott.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. The sudden noise made him jump, despite the fact that he had produced it.

Gaius looked up from his notebook, his eyebrows raised. Just that simple motion made Elliot smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I mean, not nothing,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I just… I dunno, I’m worried that with all this studying… I guess I’m just not a very interesting boyfriend.” The last few words came out in a rush, and he smiled guiltily at Gaius as his face reddened.

Visibly relaxing, Gaius returned his smile. “Oh, is that all?” He placed his pen in his textbook, marking his place. “Elliot, we’ve been studying together since our first months at Thors.” Now it was his turn to look bashful. “I mean, it was while we were studying when I… well. When I realized I had feelings for you.”

Elliot melted. He’d heard this story before, but Gaius saying it so sweetly… with a wistful laugh, he cocked his head. “You know, when you put it like that, I suppose things haven’t changed much, have they?” An impish smile began to spread across his face. “Though maybe we could spice it up if we… sat closer together.”

He couldn't help but laugh — apparently it was Gaius’ turn to grow red in the face. “Er… I think perhaps that would be… too distracting.”

Chapter Text

The gardens of Valflame palace were enormous, to the extent where you could be forgiven for thinking you had stepped outside. Entire trees had grown from a sapling within these walls, generations of Arnors ensuring that even nature itself lay securely within their domain. The only thing that was missing was the wind, to toss branches and leaves to and fro, to add an element of chaos to a landscape, the chaos that lets living things grow untended by human hands. To find the wind, one must go beyond the walls.

The gardens are quiet, too — silent, in fact, save for a few captive birds whistling from the canopy. These days the Erebonian elite tended to avoid such scenery, preferring the hustle and bustle of industry, of Action, or at least the appearance thereof.

Of course, this was precisely the reason that Prince Cedric sought out the gardens — nearly every day, in fact. For years now, he and Kurt had made their silent pilgrimage, to sit on a bench together, sit and consider the flora and minute fauna of the sheltered ecosystem, to let the rough seas settle to stillness.

Today, however, Kurt’s brows were furrowed, and he sat up straight on the bench — straighter than usual, at least. This morning, his Prince had requested, in his shy, querulous voice, that they make conversation in the garden. And when an Arnor made a request of a Vander, it held the strength of a command.

It was an unusual request, Kurt thought to himself. And one he felt uniquely unqualified to obey — he was a bodyguard, a companion, but more than that he was a quiet child himself, more accustomed to observing and responding than initiation. But he was a Vander, and Cedric was… Cedric. There was no question.

“Are you looking forward to attending Thors next year, your Highness?” Perfect. Something innocuous, but could be expanded upon. A small wave of relief rushed through Kurt at his successful initiation of small talk, and he allowed himself a tiny smile.

“Yes.”

The word hung in the air precariously, barely keeping itself aloft. He cursed his misfortune. After a few moments, hoping in vain for Cedric to save him from this disgrace, he continued. “Forgive me, but I… think I sense some hesitation in your reply.”

“Perceptive as always.” Cedric smiled at him, but his eyes looked almost on the edge of tears. “I merely… worry that my marks on the entrance exam will be insufficient.”

Kurt returned the smile, in an attempt to comfort his charge. “Your Highness, you are the Crown Prince — I believe you will be accepted regardless.”

“But I wish to have earned my place, and be able to acquit myself as one of my station should.”

He laughed gently — not to tease, but to try to draw his Prince out. “Your Highness has been educated by the finest tutors in all of Erebonia, and all agree upon your academic excellence!”

What was left of the Prince’s smile grew thin-lipped, and his voice fell flat. “Yes, well. Thank you.”

The silence returned. Kurt never knew how to rescue Cedric from these shadows that set about him. He wanted to say the perfect thing, to be eloquent and heartfelt, to show his admiration, his love, in such a pure and true way that it could pierce the gloom. But there was nothing.

“Will you come to Thors with me?”

Cedric only dropped the overly-formal speech patterns around Kurt. It was a secret he held close to his heart — that the Crown Prince of Erebonia was just a boy, and trusted Kurt most of all.

Kurt reached out, taking his Prince’s hand — lightly, delicately. Perhaps all he could do was be there with him. Perhaps that would be enough.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Chapter Text

“Mornin’, Vally!”

The lights slam on in the Soldat Hangar, and a few of his non-combat subroutines quietly hum with activity. Valimar doesn’t sleep, exactly, not as the humans do. He remains aware of his surroundings, in spectra visible and invisible to the human eye. But largely his energy is conserved — for when it is most needed. And now that Mint has arrived, some of that energy is needed. Interacting with her requires a level of complex thought that he rarely engages in with anyone save his Awakener.

“Good morning, Mint.” His voice echoes through the hangar, a voice that carries even in a whisper. It is a voice intended to be heard, even over the dim of battle, to direct troops or intimidate foes. “Was your sleep restful?”

“Meh,” Mint tosses her bag onto her workbench, the tools within clattering. “You ever get an idea so good it keeps you up all night?”

If a Divine Knight is ‘up all night,’ it usually means a battle has turned to one of brutal attrition. Whether this was ‘a good idea’ depended entirely upon one's point of view.

“I have not.”

“All right, so I got back to the dorm last night, and I find this schematic I drew up, like, WEEKS ago —“

It is a pattern he recognized, welcomed. Valimar, the Ashen Knight, ancient weapon and chariot of kings, took a great deal of pleasure in listening to Mint recount the minor antics of her day as she returned the workshop to a vague resemblance of organization every morning. That strange warmth suffused him, so unlike anything he had ever felt in Awakenings past. When he had first noticed it, first connected the events with Mint’s presence, as she spent increasing amounts of time in the hangar, not working, just talking, just existing in a space, together, it had been such a time of wonder, of discovery. Over the months their relationship had grown deeper, closer, and the warmth, the comfort it brought, was something he cherished above all else.

But today a faint background noise underscored his affection. Valimar had no context for this feeling — the closest equivalent would be the moments directly before a contest with another Knight. But he knew why he was feeling it.

He would never interrupt her, never. But he needed to speak, needed to ask so urgently, that he could only wait for the minuscule gap between Mint’s sentences.

“Mint, I would like to meet your family.”

Her mouth hung open, her breakfast (a sausage roll swiped from the cafeteria) slipping from her hands. “Whuh?”

Valimar continued in a rush. “I believe it is customary in current Erebonian society that, when a more-than-platonic relationship remains stable for an extended period of time, the participants are introduced to each others’ families. My family-equivalent is generally unavailable, but I believe I most of yours is a few hours’ flight from here.”

Mint closed her mouth, her brows coming together in concentration. Each second of her silence felt like an eternity to Valimar, his logic-centers whirling more and more rapidly, cycling through ever-more-unlikely permutations of events that were somehow seeming more probable by the moment. Finally, he could take it no longer.

“My apologies. If you would prefer our relationship to be kept secret, I understand. I merely-“

“What? Sorry, I got distracted — you’re wayyyy too big to fit in mom’s house, let alone the streets of Roer, so we could just bring them outside of the city — wait! What if we just took your head, technically the dimensions are smaller than the volume of the living room…”

The warmth returned, his thought patterns slowing as energy returned to his capacitors. “Thank you, Mint.”

She looked up at him, grinning from ear to ear. “Awww, were ya nervous, Vally? Of course you can meet my parents! What girl wouldn’t be excited to bring home her giant metal boyfriend?!”

Chapter Text

There was something familiar about all of this.

The wind whipped across the deck of the Pantagruel, setting his flames to a frantic dance as he cast another torrent towards his foe. Patches of the metal hull caught fire, so great was the heat of his attacks, but any pleasure he could have derived from it was muted by confusion.

McBurn — for that was his name, here and now — advanced towards the lithe bracer, tongues of flame licking up his arms. Somewhere, a voice was calling out for his foe; he couldn’t make out the words, but undoubtedly urging her to retreat, to fall back in the face of an unstoppable foe. But she wouldn’t. He could taste her defiance, in a way he hadn’t since… well, since his arrival.

And soon enough, he was proven right, as she rotated into a lethal kick, the wickedly curved blade on her heels arcing towards his neck. She was fast, effective with such an unorthodox weapon… but he was the Conflagration. The sword, Angbar, was a part of him, no different than his arms or legs, and it manifested at the merest thought to parry her strike off target.

Her short hair whipped around as she spun in the air, recovering from his deflection with the skill of a dancer. She landed on one hand, springing up and over his riposte to bring another blow down towards him. McBurn eyes lit up with a smile as he stepped out of the way, bringing a crackling ball of flame to bear as she shot past. The torrent of fire kept her back for a moment, and he allowed Angbar to fall to his side, idly carving another scorch in the plating of the airship.

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere,” McBurn called out to the young woman. “Are you former Ouroboros?”

Her only response was to dash towards him yet again, swaying and cartwheeling out of the way of his barrage of fireballs. Before long she was in range again, and Angbar came up to guard against a flurry of slashing kicks. The blade wasn’t a close range weapon — it’s cumbersome length leant itself to sweeping attacks, dominating a battlefield, but she kept infuriatingly close, completely ignoring his fever-aura making the air around him ripple.

He almost couldn’t believe it when it happened, but in the blink of an eye the bracer’s heel blade hooked around it, yanking Angbar from his grasp. The otherworldly weapon was sent skidding across the Pantagruel, and McBurn couldn’t help himself — he laughed.

The girl was taken aback. “What’s so funny?”

He withheld his flames for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. “Your face, your voice… I don’t recognize you at all, but there’s… something in there, something about the way you fight…”

Her expression softened, and she began to reach towards him “Mera-“

Angbar flashed into his hand, and he leapt forward in a vicious thrust. While he again failed to strike true, it sent her dancing back from his flurry of sudden blows. “I’m sorry about this,” he called out again over the howling of the wind. “But I really don’t have the time.” A portal opened to the side, and he glanced back over his shoulder as he reached its threshold. “Let’s do this again sometime, huh? Maybe without holding back.”

Chapter Text

The first blizzard of the season had blanketed the mountain town of Ymir under a thick layer of snow. It weighed down the branches of trees, sparkled in the sun, and had the children of the townspeople rushing about making snowpoms, having snowball fights… it was as though a tourism poster had come to life.

Lloyd Bannings had long stopped appreciating the picturesque surroundings, however. Hoisting himself up on his elbows, he shook the powder from his hair, glaring down at the piece of wood that he had so trustingly strapped his feet to. Snowboarding was not as easy as Rean made it look.

The villain in question was tromping over too him, holding his own board in one hand and wearing a cheeky grin on his face. Lloyd heaved himself to his feet to spare himself the shame of asking for a hand up. “Well, Lloyd, I hate to break it to you, but you might not be a natural talent at this.”

“Well, we can’t all grow up in resort towns, can we?” He wobbled a bit, throwing his hands out to the sides to keep from falling over. “But I’ll get better at this, okay? I just gotta…”

In the moment before he fell on his face (again), Rean was there in front of him, holding his shoulders steady, mere rege from his face. Lloyd’s cheeks flushed — it wasn’t as though they were never intimate, but… it still set his heart racing. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe that the man he loved, had loved him too.

“Here — your knees are locked. You need to balance with your waist, not just your arms.”

“I know, I know. I just… the board starts moving, and..”

Rean smiled, looking deeply into Lloyd’s eyes. “Yeah, I know how it is. It just takes practice, okay?” He leaned in for a quick kiss (setting Lloyd’s face alight all over again), then stepped away gingerly, releasing his grip on his shoulders. “You got this!”

All pretense at being a dutiful instructor fell away as Lloyd toppled over on his back within five seconds of being let go. When Rean finally stopped laughing, he stomped through the snow back over to Lloyd, extending a hand to help him up again. “Looks like your sense of balance is just another Barrier -“

Rean yelped as Lloyd grasped his hand and yanked him down on top of him, but his surprise was smothered by a deep kiss with only a hint of frustration behind it.

Chapter Text

The Cayenne mansion was undoubtedly beautiful — but a beautiful prison was still a prison. For all Towa was allowed the run of the place, the RMP officers shadowing her every move were a constant reminder of her predicament. At first she passed the time by wandering the halls, trying to admire the magnificent frescoes and exquisite tapestries that lined the walls. When she grew frustrated, she tried to map out the labyrinthine halls and stairways that made up the mansions layout, in the hope that maybe, is she managed to escape, she could provide some valuable intel to whatever resistance force remained in Osborne’s Erebonia.

But in the end, she was just a helpless young woman, a captive so ineffectual that they could keep her in a gilded cage. They hadn’t even bothered interrogating her — not that she had any information to keep secret. She was alone.

Well. Not entirely alone.

Empress Priscilla Reise Arnor, her ‘cellmate.’ She spent her days in silence, sitting out on one of the balconies, staring out over the sea.

Despite their shared circumstances, Towa still held a bit of nervousness at addressing her. She was still the Empress, someone she had grown up believing was as far above her as a cloud to a fish.

But a week into their confinement, Towa’s restlessness was at its peak. As she walked by the towering glass doors to the balcony, she glanced outside and saw the Empress reading a book — a book that she recognized. Some fantasy schlock that she picked up in a train station once, and vowed never to read again.

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back — she was going mad on her own, with nobody to talk to but her stone-faced wardens. Towa pushed the doors open with no small effort, and strode out onto the balcony. As she approached, however, she was struck once again by apprehension.

The golden light of the setting sun played through the Empress’ hair, her jewelry gleaming as she turned from one page to the next. Her soft features silhouetted against the afternoon sky made Towa’s breath catch in her throat, her heart beating so loud and fast that she was sure it could be heard from arge away. It was more than the difference in status that held Towa back — the Empress was beautiful.

But the world was ending. They were trapped in a gilded cage, possibly even forgotten by their captors. And if she could get even one book of her own… What was there to lose?

“Excuse me, um. Your Majesty?”

The Empress blinked, turned ng her head toward Towa as though just having woken up from a dream.

“I was wondering if… you were enjoying that story?”

With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, the Empress glanced down at the book in her lap. “I’m afraid I haven’t truly been reading it. I requested it to take my mind off of things, but…”

From somewhere — perhaps the absurdity of the situation, Towa managed to grin. “Well, I can’t blame you for that. That particular book made me want to swear off of reading for life.”

Such a regal laugh, tinkling like crystal chimes. “Well, when next I visit the mansion’s library, I shall have to ask that you accompany me, Miss Herschel.”

Towa hoped fervently that the vermillion light cast by the sun would hide how red her face had become. “P-please, Your Majesty. Call me Towa.”

“Ha, I suppose formalities have long since passed. You may call me Priscilla.”

Chapter Text

Stark heaved himself to his feet, one hand resting on a tree, panting for breath. He turned back the way he came, looking for the frantic beams of flashlights that would tell him to keep running, though the air sawed at his lungs, though the roots littering the forest floor seemed to want to pull him down. After a few moments without any indication of pursuit, he slumped back down against the tree. Had he lured them far enough away? Had they realized that he was a distraction, and turned to capture Louise?

It had all gone wrong on their third night. The city was too hot for the Branch Campus students to stay undercover, the RMP sweeping for 'dissidents and foreign agents' after they had helped Class VII in the wetlands.

The Imperial Army troopers had swept upon them in armored cars, just as they had settled down for the night by the side of the road. Just like they’d practiced, Freddy and Val had gone one way, he and Louise another — but there were too many of them.

He would have done it all over again, of course. But he cursed himself as he saw his ARCUS blinking green. Should he have stayed and fought? No, no. Just the two of them against twenty-odd armed soldiers? He was no hero, not like Instructor Rean, or Crow. They had known this, they’d made contingencies — head west, away from the front, avoid major cities. It still felt like cowardice.

He sat there, for hours, before convincing himself to continue, trusting to Aidios to keep Louise safe, though his stomach churned with dread.

********

Louise huddled in a small ravine, hidden by a shroud of undergrowth, and listened for the sound of stomping and shouting. She had kept running, just like Stark said, just like they had agreed, but she couldn’t anymore, she just couldn’t keep going.

Was Stark still out there? He had lead the soldiers away, crashing through the greenery, and all she did was… it wasn’t fair. Just a few months ago, they had been in Leeves, holding hands for the first time as they walked to the bakery. She never thought someone as handsome as him would ask her out, when there were so many other beautiful girls on campus. But he had, and despite all the darkness in the world, they were going to be okay.

But now the world was ending — and they had still been able to be together, for a little while, but because of her weakness… she just wanted to go back.

She prayed, prayed harder than she ever had in her life, for Aidios to keep him safe. It was all she could do.

Chapter Text

The unforgiving summer sun was hammering Crossbell State, but that didn’t stop crowds of tourists from filling Mishelam Wonderland to the brim. Children laughed and screamed and ran, their parents shouting after them in vain.

Amidst the chaos, a young couple sat down on a bench with the exhaustion of runners after a marathon. Rean, in a cap and sunglasses, took a celebratory slurp of his double-scoop ice cream cone. Next to him, Rosine attacked her Cotton Candy (shaped like Mishy’s head), the brim of her matching cap flicking away scraps of spun sugar.

It had been a draining week for the two lovebirds, and they were being treated by their respective employers to a weekend vacation. It had been a few years since they had last visited the theme park — and Rean had been excited to see it without a world-ending threat looming over his head.

After a few hours, though, all Rean wanted to do was head back to their hotel room for a nap. They had waited for over an hour to get on a single ride, and then another thirty minutes to play top mira for ice cream that was melting faster than he could eat it.

But this was their first vacation together in… years? It had been a while, anyway, and Rean wanted to show willing. “So, after we’re done, do you want to go on the Horror Coaster?”

Rosine craned her neck, looking over at the gaudy mansion. “Hmm… it looks like the line is pretty long. Maybe something with a shorter wait?”

“Well, we could go to the Castle of Mirrors?”

She leaned forward, massaging her legs. “Mmm, I was kind of hoping for something we wouldn’t have to walk through…?”

Rean nodded. Far from being put out by having his suggestions shot down, he was relieved — he hadn’t wanted to wait in that line either, and climbing a spiral staircase made his feet cry out pre-emptively in pain. Scanning the horizon, his eyes lit upon a ride that fit both criteria. “All right then — how about the Ferris Wheel?”

Rosine brightened up at this. “That sounds great! I’ll just finish this cotton candy and then we can head over!”

Sighing in satisfaction, Rean leaned back against the bench, throwing an arm around his girlfriend as she tore sugary rents in Mishy’s head. The Ferris Wheel would still be hot, but at least they would be sitting down.

“Um… is it bad that I kind of want to… just go back to the hotel and lay down?” Rosines expression was so guilty that Rean had to burst out laughing.

“Oh, thank Aidios — I’ve been thinking the same thing. But don’t you want to go on any more rides?”

“… Not really!” She grinned bashfully at him with a shrug. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re all fun, but… I kinda want air conditioning…”

“And room service?”

“Now that sounds like a real vacation to me!” The couple grinned at each other, and there was a spring in their step that hadn’t been there before as they wended their way through the crowds, back to the entrance of the park.

Chapter Text

Elliot had planned a simple night in the entertainment district for the two of them. He would take Mint to a nice restaurant (nothing with a dress code — she hates dressing “all fancy”), they’d see a show, and then swing by a little coffee shop on the walk back to their hotel.

But Mint… was Mint. From the way her eyes lit up at the neon signs and bustling crowds, you would have thought it was her first time here. She lead him by the hand to every window display and poster, chatted with every street promoter, wanted one of everything from the vendors… and to be honest, he should have seen it coming.

So it was that instead of a quiet dinner for two, Elliot was standing behind Mint at a poker table, smiling nervously at a series of increasingly furious men, who invariably approached the table with stacks of chips and left empty-handed.

Mint had seemingly changed entirely — in sharp contrast to her earlier excitement, she was cool as a cucumber, wearing a pair of sunglasses that she had won off of an earlier opponent. A candy cigarette hung from her lips as she laid her cards on the table. “Read ‘em and weep, boys.”

But one such opponent was unfazed. Sharply dressed, elegant and serene, the woman flipped her cards over one by one, revealing the one hand that could beat Mint’s straight flush.

“I’m afraid,” she drawled, each word shot through with smoke, “that your little hot streak has come to an end.”

“What?!” Now the Mint that Elliot knew and loved came to the fore, standing up and clutching her head, knocking her sunglasses askew. “That’s preposterous!”

The woman chuckled. “Truth is stranger than fiction, little girl. But I’ll give you another chance. Say… double or nothing?”

“But… but I went all-in on that hand… I don’t have anything left!”

A slender finger extended, pointing directly at Elliot’s heart. “How about him?”

Mint blew a raspberry at her, all pretense of self-assured maturity completely abandoned. “He’s a starving artist, he doesn’t have any money!”

Elliot frowned. “You know I’m… not starving, right..?”

With a throaty laugh, the woman picked up a chip, letting it click down, over and over, on to the rest of the stack. “I mean him. One more hand, and if you win, you get your chips back, doubled. But if I win… I get your little pretty boy.”

The silence at the poker table was deafening. Even the bass-heavy music seemed to soften, as all eyes drew to Mint.

She tossed her candy cigarette to the floor, grinding the sugar under her heel into the plush red carpet. “This poverty-stricken —“

“I mean, I do all right —“

“— pretty boy is the thing I value most in this goddess-damned world, capisce?” Mint grabbed Elliot’s arm and turned to leave, looking over her shoulder for a parting shot. “There aren’t enough poker chips in the whole casino to match that bet.”

Elliot kept quiet until they were outside the casino. “W-well… that sure was something! … Are you okay?

Stretching her arms over her head, Mint grinned up at him. “That was amazing!! I loved it!” Her brows drew downward in a sudden frown. “Well, I would say we should get some dinner next, but… I did just lose all my money on gambling, and we both know you certainly can’t afford to pay for me —“

“Mint, it’s important to me that you know I’m not broke.”

Chapter Text

“Wow,I knew being in a relationship with you would be glamorous, but I didn’t think it would be Moving-Crates-For-Two-Hours-glamorous!”

“Shaddap, you! You volunteered for this!” Josette peered over the railing of the Bobcat II, her face scrunched up into a scowl. “Aren’t you Bracers supposed to be all about ‘helping the needy,’ and ‘for the greater good’ and all that?”

Arge below, amongst a truly spectacular pile of wooden crates, Estelle grinned back up at her girlfriend. “Wasn’t it in the contract that you’d be helping me move these crates?”

“Ugghh, I’m heading down right now! Just hold your dang horses!” Estelle laughed as the BANG-BANG-BANG of Josette stomping down into the cargo bay echoed out across the clearing.

With the two of them working, the cargo was loaded much more quickly — though Josette grumbled the entire way. “Y’know, it’s a good thing we don’t live together,” grunted Estelle, as the two of them heaved another crate onto the racks.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Despite her tone, Josette looked more confused than angry.

Estelle shook her gloves in a vain attempt to clean off the excess wood shavings. “Well, if I gotta struggle this hard to get you to do your actual job, I don’t even want to think about trying you to help around the house.”

“What!?” Planting her hands on her hips, Josette glared at the young woman so casually insulting her maturity. “I’ll have you know that I did all the cooking and cleaning for the Sky Pirates!”

“Ohh, sure. And that’s why the Bobcat was always so sparkly clean when we ran into you guys?”

Now Josette’s face was turning red, and Estelle could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. “That’s…! You know what?! Let’s do it! Let’s move in together, and then I’ll show you how good of a roommate I can be!”

“For what, a month? Face it, Josie, you don’t have the stamina for a commitment like this!” Estelle got right up in her girlfriend’s face, matching her volume and intensity, just like always. But she could barely keep from smiling.

“A month?!” Josette screamed in indignation. “I’d be the best roommate for the rest of your life!!”

Instead of screaming back at her, though, Estelle finally let a grin spread across her face as she pulled a small velvet box out of her pocket. “Promise?”

Josette’s face had been red before, but when she saw the ring she nearly outshone the sun.

Chapter Text

After sunset, Leeves was even quieter than usual. The Branch Campus hadn’t received its influx of students for the upcoming year, and the students who stayed in town for the summer months had either gone to bed, or sought out their late night entertainment elsewhere.

But Rean liked the quiet streets of the small town. Usually, at least. Tonight he was in his own head a bit too much — a little background noise would have been welcome.

He turned to his walking companion, Fie Claussell. Former Jaeger, current bracer… his girlfriend.

She looked up at him, holding his arm, a small smile on her face. When he smiled back down at her she pulls him closer, with a gentle squeeze. Warmth flickered through him, chased by the stomach turning dread. By this time tomorrow…

Rean shook his head lightly. That wasn’t important. What was important was making sure Fie had as good of a time as possible, to make good memories before she left for Calvard in the morning. They had a nice dinner, went to visit friends in Heimdallr, taken a nap out in the school garden… why taint all of that with his own insecurities?

“So, uh… the weather’s been nice today.” Reans awkward attempt at conversation echoed quietly from the closed-up shops that lined the street.

Fie cocked her head, confused. “I guess?”

His cheeks flushing, Rean scratched the back of his head. “Well, it has! Not a… not a cloud in the sky?”

“I mean, sure, but…” She let go of his arm, turning to face him with a stiff poke in the chest. “Hey. You’re getting all sad and mopey about tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Wh- I was just commenting on the weather!”

Her eyes narrowed. “Nooo, you’re deflecting — this is the same thing you do every time you ‘don’t want to be a burden,’ or something. Well, come here.” Fie plopped herself down on the curb, patting the cobblestone next to her.

Rean lowered himself to the ground, with no small amount of embarrassment. He should have known he couldn’t slip anything past her.

“Now,” she began, holding a finger in the air. “First of all, it’s not forever — I’ll be back before you know it. Second —“

Who would have guessed I’d be the one getting lectured, Rean thought to himself, but Fie snapped her fingers in front of his face to draw his attention back to her. For all her brusqueness, she had a self-satisfied smile — she was enjoying this. “Second, you have vacation time saved up; what better use of it than to come visit your girlfriend in another country?”

She was right about that. Rean hadn’t used a single vacation day since he started at the Branch Campus — though his first year teaching hadn’t really allowed him to.

“Thirdly, you’re crazy if you think I’m not gonna call you every night.”

Her voice wobbled a bit, and when Rean looked down at her, and saw the tears in her eyes. Pulling her into his arms, he planted a kiss atop her head, holding her as tightly as he could.

“I’ll miss you, Rean,” she murmured into his chest. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Pulling back slightly, he lifted her chin to press his lips to hers. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Chapter Text

The Thors’ gym was quieter in the evening than Rean remembered… in fact, the entire campus was quieter. Maybe it was the time he had spent deployed in Crossbell — or maybe it was because the student body was smaller this year. But regardless, it was a perfect opportunity to have Patrick tutor him in Court Fencing, without anyone around to see the Ashen Chevalier fumbling around like a day-old faun. He had an image to maintain, as Lechter was so keen to remind him.

“Stand up straight, heel just — so, very good, blade up, right along the nasal line, off hand behind your back. Now. Your back heel is like a springboard…”

Last year, before the war, before Valimar, he had thought very little of Patrick Hyarms’ tendency to chatter. Just another way for the young noble to cover for his insecurities and attempt to dominate a conversation. Now, though, having spent months with him in the Student Council — and eventually, outside of the Council, just the two of them — he saw the whole of it. Patrick did have his insecurities, yes, but he was quick-witted, bright, and his mouth was merely trying to keep pace with his mind.

And what’s more, it was comforting, at times. On slow, melancholy days like today, when memories of the annexation of Crossbell kept creeping in… he had just stood there, a gigantic symbol of Erebonian conquest, behind the Chancellor giving his speech, seeing every pair of Crossbellans eyes so full of terror and grief and fury. Patrick helped anchor him to the present, his voice a comforting blanket keeping the monsters away.

“Pay attention, Schwarzer,” he snapped, shocking Rean out of his reverie. A half-smile took the sting out of his words, but it wasn’t necessary — Rean knew that whenever he called him ‘Schwarzer’ he was mostly poking fun at himself, how he used to be. A lot had changed since the war.

Patrick cleared his throat, mirroring Reans guard stance across from him. “Now, the posture and position are important for multiple reasons. First, they provide you with a slim profile, and strong acceleration. But more importantly is the effect they have here,” he said, tapping the side of his head with his rapier.

“It’s psychological, you see,” he continued, not waiting for Rean’s response. “Standing tall, looking down on your opponent, flourishing the blade after a touch — this can have a profound effect on your skill as a fencer. In truth, it is the heart, the very essence of Court Fencing.”

“To maintain your composure, to stay proud and defiant and sure against your foes, even when you are surrounded and all hope seems lost… this is the spirit of Erebonian nobility that echoes through the school of Court Fencing.” Patrick stalked around Rean in a circle, gesturing lightly with his practice blade as he pontificated. “It can be an inspiration to those who follow you, as well as intimidating to those who stand against you. And most important of all, it keeps you believing in yourself.”

Rean began to smile, seeing Patrick’s lesson for what it truly was. They had never openly talked about his work as the Ashen Chevalier — Rean didn’t want to be reminded of it, and Patrick didn’t press him. But his boyfriend could see it, tearing away at him from the inside, returning from each deployment a little more tired, a little more quiet, a little more hollow. And so he did what he could.

“This does sound like you’re trying to justify the nobles’ arrogance, but sure,” Rean murmured, smiling. “I’ll allow it.”

Rather than snapping back, as he might have done over a year ago, Patrick merely grinned right back and continued the lesson. Who knows, Rean thought to himself, pulling up his shoulders and tilting his head back, staring down his knows at an imaginary foe. Maybe he’s right.

Chapter Text

Emma stumbled as the ring of magic faded away, leaning against the wall of the apartment. She took a moment to breathe — a teleportation spell on low mana was more draining than usual — before heaving her boot atop a wooden stool to begin the laborious process of undoing the laces. It had been raining in Lamare, and while a simple charm could keep it from falling on her, wading through ankle-deep mud had been less avoidable.

A knock at the door presaged Machias’ entrance — a habit they had picked up on the Courageous, and never quite put away. She slumped into his chest before he was able to get out anything more than “Hi,” and draped her arms over his shoulders. He returned the embrace just as quickly, pressing a kiss atop her head.

“So, we have a reservation at The Crown Jewel in half an hour —“ Machias began, hesitantly, and a jolt of panic ran through Emma’s spine.

“Wait, that’s tonight?!” Adrenaline banished her exhaustion for a moment — they had planned this date months ago, and she had forgotten?! “Right, let me just… change out of this dress, and put my hair up, I can put on some makeup on the tram ride to Dreichels Plaza —“

“I’m… thinking we cancel it, actually.” Machias tilted his head away from her, not meeting her eyes in the particular way he did when he knew she was going to push back against what he was saying.

“What?! Dear, you called in a favor from Princess Alfin to get that table-“ Releasing him, Emma reached up to undo her braid, or what was left of it. She shook out her hair, wincing as no less than half a dozen twigs and leaves scattered to the floor.

“And you spent all day untangling a ley line half a continent away, chilled to the bone, and likely burning up your own energy in place of mana to do it.”

Now it was her turn to look away — he was right, of course, though how he was able to tell without any magic sense of his own was frustrating.

“Here,” Machias wrapped his arms around her again, and she rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh. “How about I just heat up a couple mugs of soup, and we spend the evening on the sofa. I can read to you, if you like.”

Oh, that did sound very nice. “Wait — isn’t the soup supposed to be your lunch for tomorrow?” As much as she wanted to just sink into the cushions, a part of her still rebelled against giving up their date night — it wasn’t fair to him, she could rally, it would be fine —

“I can just go pick something up from the stalls outside — I can use the mira we’ll be saving by not going out tonight.” Even without looking, she could picture the wry little smile on his face as he said that.

“Well make sure you do — I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” Emma said, finally allowing herself to be lead into the living room.

“Sure, of course.” Machias’ eyes sparkled in amusement as he lowered her to the couch. “You think you can stay awake until I get back from the kitchen?”

“Yes,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at her husband as he straightened back up, loosening his tie. Another flash of guilt shot through her — he was already dressed up! — but the soft embrace of the cushions soon smothered such lingering regrets. “… thank you, dear.”

Chapter Text

“Excuse me, Mister Craig,” Elise murmured, sending Elliot’s eyebrows shooting up to the stratosphere. “May I have this dance?”

He was unsure of what he had been invited to this ball in the first place. The room was full of the uppermost crust of the nobility — and then there was him. It had been several years since the Twilight, and he hadn’t been asked to play anything… so what was it?

“Um, of course! I-I’d be honored!”

Elise lead him by the hand to the dance floor, amidst the muttering nobility and the tuning thrums of a frankly exquisite string quartet.

It took all of Elliot’s self-control to keep himself from turning a bright red as Elise guided one hand to her waist, taking the other in her own. “I’m afraid I’m… not much of a dancer.”

Her laugh was the ringing of small silver bells. “Oh, no need to worry. For all the hay made of it at St. Astraia’s, it’s quite simple — just follow me.” And then the music began.

Before he could truly process what was happening, they were swaying about the dance floor, weaving between and around the other couples. Elliot’s feet moved instinctively, his hesitation having vanished entire. All he could see was the waves of her hair, the sparkle in her eyes — the room was a blur behind her, incoherent, irrelevant.

“You were quite the topic of conversation, back in my schooldays, you know,” said Elise. Elliot shook himself. The music had slowed from its crashing swells to a shallow ripples, just enough to keep them moving, not enough to interrupt. “Practically everyone had a crush on the cute music teacher.”

“R-really?” He was taken off-guard — both by the revelation, and the bizarre context in which it was given. His office hours had been strangely popular... “I figured you all just liked to make fun of me.”

The chimes of her laughter tinkled again. “Well, I can’t say that the others didn’t have fun teasing you — but I had seen you in the wars. You’re brave, and kind, and considerate… you’re a hero, really.”

Elliot’s instinctive rejection of flattery warred with his confusion for control of his thought processes — and with every word Elise threw him further off-kilter. “But I was just a girl, and you were soon to leave on your tour of the continent, and…oh!” The ballroom burst into applause as the music came to its conclusion, and he bowed to her as she curtsied to him, mirroring the multitude of nobles around them. Wait a second… is she implying…?

As the floor dissolved into mingling and politicking once more, Elise took his arm. “Perhaps we could take a walk through the gardens?” All he could do for the moment was nod, a goofy grin spreading across his face as he strode from the room with the most beautiful girl at the ball.

Chapter Text

Mishelam was packed — it was pretty much wall-to-wall tourists, families, and Mishy fanatics. But even with all the screaming kids and sweat-drenched adults, Amelia never lost the stars in her eyes.

“Look! There’s the Horror Coaster!”

Crow couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. It was so rare that he got to see her like this, so… unguarded. Well, it had gotten less rare, since the Twilight, but there was still a novelty to it. Honestly there was a part of him that didn’t want to say anything, just to let her shine in this moment — but it was a small part of him, one which he almost never listened to anyway.

“You know we’ve been here before, right? I distinctly remember riding the Horror Coaster with you, multiple times, trying to find all the Hidden Mishy pictures.” It hadn’t been a bad time, honestly. Sure, they had disagreed over whether the last one actually counted as a Mishy, but that had been half the fun!

“Well, sure, but… it was dark, and there weren’t nearly as many people there, so…” She turned to look up at him, drawing her brows together in a pout upon seeing his teasing grin. Goddess, she was cute. This was why he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s not the same, and you know it!”

“I think it… is pretty much the same!”

Rather than snap back at him, however, Amelia just slipped her arm through his and kept walking. Shit. He’d touched a nerve. The last time they were here, it had been the eve of Jormungandr — and he’d been more than half-certain he wasn’t going to make it out the other side.

“Ah, well, you know, since we don’t have the threat of imminent apocalypse hanging over our heads, maybe it is different this time —“

Even amongst the din of the crowds, Crow could hear her voice, no matter how quietly Amelia spoke. He hadn’t been able to hear her for so long - he would be making up for lost time for the rest of his life.

“I remember seeing posters for Mishelam, when I was young. They reminded me of mom.” Amelia looked wistfully at the various attractions they walked past, seeming to see through the dozens of people swarming past. “It became kind of a mythical place. Like, if I came here, I’d be able to see mom again.”

Crow nodded, his grin having faded to a bittersweet smirk. He could certainly empathize with that.

“And I guess I do. See her, I mean.” Looking up at him once more, she shared his half-smile. And he felt himself grin as the urge to tease her sprang up in his mind.

“Wow. Sounds like we’re pretty serious, if you’re bringing me to meet your mom, huh?”

Once again, though, Amelia didn’t rise to his bait, as she had so often before. Instead, she squeezed his hand in hers, and began to lead him more purposefully towards the Horror Coaster. “That's right — so you better be on your best behavior. Now come on — today I’m gonna prove we found all of those Mishy pictures!”

Chapter Text

Rashid fell behind slightly as they wound their way through the crowds of Central Station. It wasn’t as though he could delay the inevitable — the train would leave at the same time as always, and it would take his heart with it when it did.

No, he fell behind so that they could more efficiently move through the throng, swarms of people boarding and departing trains for holiday travel, late commutes, or out-of-towners hoping for a slice of Edith’s nightlife. Thats what he told himself, anyway, and what he would tell Risette if she turned to ask. Definitely not that if he saw her face, even just from the corner of his eye, he might do something… well, something drastic.

Who could say what the consequences would be if he were to slip his hand into hers, entwining their fingers together. To pull her to the side, reach up to her face, look into her eyes, inching closer, closer…

Better not to take the chance. Even his ‘unshakeable will,’ as Risette had called it — how many times had he replayed that in his mind? — was trembling, shivering at the thought of her leaving.

It was silly, really. She might not even be gone for very long. Rashid had brought up the question as casually as he could, but she was absent her usual precision. It seemed there were still things Risette was uncomfortable disclosing about her… situation.

And why would she feel any other way with him? He was nothing, really, compared to everyone else they’d met through their adventures. ‘Unshakeable will’ was nothing without some actual skills to —

“Here we are.”

They had arrived.

She turned to look at him, perfectly framed by the carriage doors. His heart crumbled at the sight, with her quiet smile and soft gaze even here, even now.

“I’ll miss you, Risette.”

She laughed softly. “I’ll miss you too, Rashid.”

So Rashid didn’t say anything. He simply rushed forwards, threading his arms around her in an embrace tight enough to knock the wind out of himself.

She jumped a bit, startled, but after a harrowing second — another eternity — she wrapped her arms around him, returning his embrace as tightly as she could… without damaging him, at least.

But far too soon he was giving her a final squeeze, and she was taking the final steps on to the carriage, and his heart was roiling in his chest —
Risette looked over her shoulder, turning to wave at him before the doors closed —

“I’ll wait for you,” he called out before he could stop himself. So stupid. Why am I like this?!

Risette laughed again, thank the Goddess, and called back to him. “I think we can do better than that.” She held up her Xipha, wiggling it lightly at him as the doors began to close. “I’ll call you.”

Rashid could only grin back at her, a rush of warmth, of hope, flooding through him. He had been so sure that today would be the end, that all this would be revealed to be a beautiful dream, and nothing more. But no — Risette was real, he wasn’t imagining what they had together, and she was going to call him…

Later, Rashid would look back on his worry and laugh at his foolishness, but in this moment all he could do was grin, staring as the train began to roll out of Central Station. This wasn’t the ending he had feared — it was a beginning.

Chapter Text

Jusis sighed. The vanity mirror showed his reflection, framed by the empty room behind him. Oh, there was ornate furniture, the shimmering light of dawn, the bewitching aroma of fresh-baked bread wafting up from the kitchen. But it was empty, nonetheless.

Lifting the black silk ribbon from the small hanger, he reached behind his head to begin tying back his hair. He hadn’t yet grown accustomed to tying the ribbon himself — he had only grown his hair to this length while living with his husband, who took no small amount of pleasure in tying it for him.

“So what’s on the agenda today,” Rean would have asked, if he were here.

“Some idiotic border dispute,” Jusis replied aloud. He wasn’t worried about being overheard — there weren’t any servants allowed in the room when he and Rean dressed themselves for the day. It was a longstanding ritual of theirs, a reliable moment of intimacy in their otherwise inconsistent schedules.

He could picture precisely the small laugh Rean would have released at Jusis’ scornful dismissal of his official duties. “Remember to be patient,” he would say, or, “Don’t try to force a resolution in a day.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll do my best to stay civil. This time.” His mouth quirked up in a half-smirk. As though he had ever lost his composure while performing his duties.

“And don’t forget,” Rean would continue, smiling, as though Jusis hadn’t replied. “We have dinner with the Hyarms tonight, so we need you in a good mood, all right?”

Jusis rolled his eyes at the entirely imaginary appointment. “Dear, there’s no need to worry — I’m always in a good mood when I’m with you.” Such an extravagant line would undoubtedly set Rean’s face aflame. A fitting turnabout for teasing Jusis over his temper.

And even with his cheeks bright red, Rean would set the bow flawlessly, finishing the job with a kiss on his neck.

But Rean wasn’t here — off shepherding a batch of bright-eyes students on their very first field study. Jusis swore under his breath as he fumbled the ribbon, the ponytail coming apart in his hands.

Perhaps he would have to do without a bow, for today. Jusis pursed his lips, pushing his chair back from the vanity. Rean couldn’t get home soon enough.

Chapter Text

There was very little in life, Emma thought, that was better than settling in on a big cushy couch for the evening with a good book. Well, there were nine things that were better. But that wasn’t very many, in the large scheme of things, anyway. So her smile was natural and her eyelids had begun to droop towards a very pleasant nap when the door to the Atelier slammed open, and one of the Better Things barged in.

Fie looked terrible. Not ugly, of course — Emma loved her silver-white hair so much — but her clothes were torn, she had scorch marks up and down her left side, and what looked like a massive bruise forming on the right side of her face. Without a word, she started towards Emma.

“Fie!” Emma clapped the book shut, beginning to pry herself from the admittedly overstuffed cushions. “What happened to you?”

“Bracer stuff,” Fie grunted. Before Emma could summon up a healing charm, however, Fie had pressed her back down into the couch, curling up next to her to rest her head in Emma’s lap. “‘M fine. Looks worse than it is.”

“I really think you should let me —“

“Who left the front door open?” Jusis never could stand untidiness — open cabinets, discarded food wrappers, unwashed plates, nothing was safe from his wrath. But as he entered the living room with Elliot in tow, his eyes softened — as they always did — upon seeing the two women seated there.

“I’m sorry, Fie just got home, and I —“

“Mind if I join in?” Elliot didn’t wait for an answer, plopping himself down on the carpet, his back against the couch, leaning against Emma’s leg. Jusis, despite his earlier superciliousness, took position next to her on the couch, peering at her book.

“‘Oh God, Who’s Gonna Die Next?’ Emma, I had no idea you were into such pulp.”

Before she could defend her taste in literature, she was interrupted yet again. “Who says that’s pulp?” Machias hung his coat on one of the hangars by the door, undoing his tie with his other hand. “It might have pulpy moments, but…” Without explanation, given or needed, he added himself to the pile, sitting himself next to Jusis to begin their argument in earnest -- though Emma couldn’t help but note their fingers entwining together.

One by one or in pairs, the rest of their not-so-little family trickled home after long days at their various occupations, and instinctively folded themselves into the tangle of limbs and bodies taking up the couch and much of the floor. Alisa tucked herself between Elliot’s legs, leaning her head back against his shoulder. Laura established herself as Fie’s Big Spoon, and Crow lay himself across Jusis and Machias’ laps, adding an element of chaos to their squabble. Finally, Gaius and Rean hunched together under a blanket next to Elliot, whereupon Rean promptly fell asleep in Gaius’ arms.

If Emma wanted to leave the jumble of lovers, she would have to convince no less than six other people to get out of the way. Fortunately, there was nowhere in the world she would rather be.

Chapter Text

The sunset gleamed from the rippling waters in Ordis harbor. It wasn’t quite tourist season, but it was close — the docks were getting quieter as the porters and haulers left their stations, and only a few wandering residents made their way here. Most of the people who lived here had become inured to the dazzling tableau that manifested every evening, but to Rean Schwarzer and Towa Herschel, it was truly magical.

“Mmmm… being here again is so relaxing.” Towa sat on the end of the pier, her feet dangling over the gentle waves. She snuggled into Rean’s shoulder, and he draped an arm around her.

“I know what you mean,” he replied. His head rested atop hers as they sat side-by-side, and he turned to press a kiss into her hair. Normally, such public displays of affection would earn him a chorus of teasing ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ from his students, not that they would stop him, of course.

For once, however, the two of them weren’t here for a field study — It was a free day, the last one before the summer break, and Rean had surprised Towa with a spur-of-the-moment day trip. Principal Le Guin had cocked an eyebrow when Towa had insisted on asking for permission — though the day was technically free for teachers as well.

“Like, it puts it all in perspective. No matter how many reports we file, or essays we grade, all this —“ Rean gestured with his free hand. “All this will still be here.”

“The sun will still set,” Towa murmured. Her eyelids were heavy, but she fought off her exhaustion with the willpower of the perpetually overworked.

“The wind will still blow.”

“And it will still be beautiful.” She squeezed his waist, tilting her head up to smile at him.

“But not half as beautiful as you,” he replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. Towa giggled at his overdramatic line, but stretched up to kiss him all the same.

The pair fell into an easy silence, letting the sound of the waves slapping against the pilings and the occasional seabird’s cry be the background music to their contentedness. Resting his head atop Towa’s once more, Rean smiled as he felt his girlfriend sigh.

“We should do this more often,” Towa said, idly playing with the buttons on his jacket.

Rean could only laugh ruefully. “With our workloads?”

He stared out at the see, watching the sun creep below the horizon. “But, you’re right. Let’s come back soon.”

Chapter Text

FROM: AReinford
TO: KVander
Subject: Laura text messages

Hey Kurt,
I’m going to cut to the chase here — Laura swung by the Reinford offices, saying that her ARCUS was “broken.” She wasn’t wrong, exactly, but it seems like she only noticed it after about a week. When I got rid of the Renneware, I found a message in her drafts… looks like it was supposed to be multiple messages, among other things, but it never got sent. So I’m including it in this message, to make sure it gets to you. I didn’t edit any of it, even though I wanted to. This is all Laura.

DEAR KURT,
I AM WRITING TO YOU TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I HAD A VERY GOOD TIME ON OUR DATE. THE RESTAURANT WAS PERFECT AND I NEVER EXPECTED TO ENJOY ROCK CLIMBING AS MUCH AS I DID. IF YOU ALSO HAD A GOOD TIME THEN I WOULD LOVE TO GO OUT WITH YOU AGAIN. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF THIS IS TOO FORWARD, I HAVE HEARD THAT I SHOULD WAIT A DAY OR TWO BEFORE TEXT MESSAGING YOU BUT I AM TOO EXCITED TO WAIT.

SINCERELY,
LAURA

POM! POM! PARTY!
PLAY POM! POM! PARTY!
POM! POM! PARTY! START GAME
PLAY POM! POM! PARTY! PLEASE

DEAR KURT,
I HAVEN’T HEARD BACK FROM YOU YET AND I AM WORRIED THAT SENDING YOU A MESSAGE SO SOON AFTER OUT DATE WAS TOO FORWARD. ALTHOUGH IT IS POSSIBLE THAT MY MESSAGE WAS NOT TRANSMITTED — I ADMIT THAT I HAVE BEEN HAVING SOME DIFFICULTY WITH MY ARCUS RECENTLY.

SINCERELY,
LAURA

TEAR
CAST TEAR
HEALING ART TEAR
THELAS

DEAR KURT,
IF YOU HAVE BEEN REPLYING TO MY MESSAGES I APOLOGIZE BUT I HAVE NOT RECEIVED THEM. FIE SAYS MY ARCUS IS ‘SUPER BUSTED’ SO I AM TAKING IT TO ALISA TO HAVE IT FIXED. I WILL MESSAGE YOU AGAIN ONCE IT IS REPAIRED. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND I HOPE WE CAN STILL GO ON ANOTHER DATE.

SINCERELY,
LAURA

——

This is Alisa again. So that's what she’s been trying to send you — apparently she’s sure that she did send them, but whatever. Seems like you should text her back though 👀

—Alisa

Chapter Text

The wind ruffled his hair as Rean leaned on the railing of the airship’s deck. Resting against his shoulder was Princess Klaudia of Liberl, who had threaded her am through his, lightly entwining their fingers. The small but luxurious cruiser drifted slowly above the clouds, allowing the pair a moment of tranquility together.

It was everything Rean could have asked for. While he had been pleasantly surprised to be attached to Klaudia’s diplomatic entourage for the duration of her tour of Erebonia, it had meant that he was in his role as Ashen Chevalier, and therefore something of a celebrity in the major cities of his home country. While spending time with his clandestine girlfriend more than made up for it, he had had enough hero-worship for a lifetime.

So he relished their time together, so far above it all. Up here he could just be Rean Schwarzer, lover of Klaudia Von Auslese. He knew that she savored it too — the stressors of being royalty in a kingdom so recently rocked by war were no small thing. It was an unspoken bond between them, their need to get away from it all, even if just for a moment. Rean squeezed Klaudia’s shoulder slightly as a warmth filled him, reminded of just one of the reasons he loved her so much.

“You should move to Liberl,” she murmured, gently squeezing his hand in response. “Live in the Palace with me.”

Rean chuckled ruefully. “I can think of a dozen reasons why that would be a bad idea.” It was true — ever since the end of the Twilight, he had mulled it over again and again. Even just the idea of leaving his students, his teaching behind filled him with grief. He would still see his friends and family, but the physical distance… things would never be the same.

And Liberl — would the people accept an Erebonian war hero, a living symbol of the former regime, staying in their Princesses apartments? Would he be reviled wherever he went? He wanted to avoid the constant reminders of his complicity, not wallow in them —

“Well, I’ve got a good reason you should —“ Klaudia turned her head to look up at him. “Marry me.”

Rean blinked, laughing slightly in sheer surprise. “Would that make me the Prince of Liberl?” He kept his tone and response lighthearted — not really letting himself believe that she was serious.

She smiled back at him, a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Mmm… First Consort, maybe.”

“Oh? Is there a Second Consort, then?”

“If you take too long to live with me, maybe.”

They giggled quietly, returning their gaze to the patchwork sea of clouds below them. A silence hung in the air between them for a moment, as the gravity of their conversation sank in.

“Will you, though? Marry me, I mean,” Klaudia fumbled her words, and she blushed lightly.

“Y-yes,” Rean replied, just as awkwardly. “Of course I will.” The two turned towards each other, the Princess reaching up to pull his lips down to hers.

“It’ll be different, and… I know you’ll be leaving some things behind.” Klaudia’s eyes were so kind that Rean could have melted right then and there. “But—“

“But we’ll have each other,” he finished for her. A feeling of supreme contentment spread through him as he looked at her — his girlfriend, his lover… his fiancée.

Chapter Text

The last thing Juna did before sinking into the couch was turn on the radio. With the volume low, it provided little more than a tinny ambiance to the room — already sweltering, their Air Conditioner broken again. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. It had been a long day at the Branch Campus. How Rean managed to keep those kids in line, she never knew. Though maybe we were never really ‘kept in line,’ she thought to herself with a weak smile.

Before she could sink into a well-deserved nap, the lock on the front door rattled, followed by the faint sound of cursing. After a moment, the door shook as though it had been kicked, and then opened, smooth as silk. Ash slouched into their living room.

He tossed his keys to the counter, and shedded his ratty fleece jacket into a crumpled mess by the door. “Lock sticking again, huh,” Juna muttered, but he didn’t even grace her with a reply before he collapsed lengthways onto the couch with her. His head ended up resting on her thigh, which was about as affectionate as Ash Carbide could be. “Yeah,” he mumbled, moving his mouth as little as possible.

Bracer work hadn’t gotten any easier, with the Guilds re-establishment in Erebonia. Most days Ash came home in a similar state, with the occasional bruise or scorch mark. Juna had no idea how he could stand to wear his old jacket in the summer sun, but he insisted.

“We need a vacation.” The words were out of Juna’s mouth before she was truly conscious of them. In this moment, it was something she felt in the core of her being.

“Mm.” Ash rotated so that he could see her face in his periphery. “Where y’wanna go? Raquel?”

Juna was so surprised by his instant acceptance that she laughed aloud. “Veto that. I was thinking of a place we could actually relax.”

“Nnn.” He glared at her, or at least, he tried to. Well, at least he didn’t push back… or he’s too tired to.

“What about… Liberl? Get a nice hotel room, balcony with a sea view…”

“You don’t wanna do that.” Finally, Ash shifted more vigorously, turning onto his back. Juna smiled down at him, pleased to see his face, even if her hackles were rising up for an argument. Quieting her combative instincts, she waited for him to continue.

It took a few seconds for him to gather his thoughts. “There’s nothing to do. We’ll get all irritable and just spend the whole time arguing.” He didn’t seem mad about this, more… resigned?

There was something very charming about an exhausted Ash Carbide. When his guard was down, he wouldn't snap back as quickly… while it was sad to see him so tired, Juna was very endeared to him. She grinned down at him. “I think we’ll be okay.”

Chapter Text

The Ouroboros airship was certainly high-tech, but very few allowances had been made for the comfort of its passengers. Cedric’s cabin was uncomfortably warm, due to the lack of insulation, its proximity to the generator, and the complete lack of ventilation. This would have made for an unpleasant sleeping arrangement if he had been able to get any sleep at all, but the bass thrum of the engines wasn’t muffled at all — in fact it seemed amplified somehow by the airships echoing interior, so that everyone was forced to speak obnoxiously loudly just to be heard. Cedric tried to spend as much time as possible on the deck: the temperature was bitingly cold, but at least it was fresh air.

Tonight, however, Cedric sat on the bare iron floor or his room, his back against the wall. He wallowed in the impersonal, unfeeling construction of the cabin. This is what I always wanted. To stand on my own strength, not reliant on the pity and charity of well-meaning but secretly resentful friends. He looked around at the unadorned walls, the ragged cot, his bruised and bloodstained hands, and smiled wryly. And look at me now.

The door slammed open, sending him a full ten rege off the ground in shock. But as Shirley’s unmistakeable silhouette filled the doorframe, he leaned his head against the wall behind him with a sigh.

“Looks like we’re landing soon — you excited?”

Cedric grunted noncommittally as she threw herself onto his cot, propping her head up on one hand to peer down at him. “Y’know, the floor is great and all, but I really think you’d prefer to sit… anywhere else, really.”

Cedric had no response to this. He wasn’t quick or witty, so why even try? Instead he just glanced at Shirley, taking in her mischievous grin, and closed his eyes.

Unfortunately, Shirley Orlando wasn’t so easily ignored. Not even five seconds had passed before he was being prodded in the side of the head. “Hey. Princey boy. What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing, nothing at all,” Cedric lied, poorly. Her skeptical expression demanded he continue. “It’s just different, I suppose. I’m still getting used to,” he gestured at their surroundings, “all this.”

Shirley pursed her lips, but she nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Red Constellation transport wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury, but it was still comfier than this.”

“Do you… regret it? Leaving the Constellation — your family?” Cedric felt an immense weight on his chest as he struggled to keep his voice from wavering, and he forced himself to stare into the middle distance rather than meet her eyes.

“Nope!” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her cock her head slightly, and he just managed to shift out of the way of another forceful prod.

“You gotta keep looking forward, Princey. Can’t get too caught up in the what-might-have-beens, all right?” Cedric mustered the courage to look back to Shirley, and was surprised to find a sympathetic smile on her face. “You made a mistake, maybe? All right. Time to make the best of the situation. Sometimes that means stickin’ things out, sometimes it means abandoning a sinkin’ ship.”

Shirley pried herself from the cot, stretching her arms over her head. Evidently she had had enough heart-to-hearts for one day. “But we are landing soon, so get yourself cleaned up, aright?”

She didn’t wait for him to respond as she slammed his door behind her. Cedric smiled. It hadn’t been the most comforting pep talk he’d ever heard, but he couldn’t help but feel a little better.

**********

In the corridor outside, Shirley stopped, frowning to herself. If he stays, great, and if he leaves, he leaves. But why did that second thought bother her so much?

Chapter Text

Anelace loved kissing her girlfriend. It was something she had daydreamed about for so long — before she had ever met Estelle, really. She just… Anelace had so much love inside of her, and she wanted to express it! So it was always a little sad when Estelle broke off a kiss. But the consolation prize of seeing her slightly flushed girlfriend whelped make up for it.

“I hate to say it, but we should really get back to work.” Estelle grinned ruefully at her.

“Awww, c’monnnn…” Anelace stuck her tongue out in a moue of disappointment, but took Estelle’s proffered hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. “Fine…”

The day’s work had just begun, after all.

**********

“I just wanna… just wanna kiss more.”

“Annie…” Estelle snorted. The sun was hammering down on them as they trudged up the road, her quarterstaff serving as a walking stick.

“Jus’ wanna smooch.”

She kept her eyes on the horizon, looking for the tell-tale shape of the road-marker. The monster had been seen near the crossroads, but that had been two days ago — so it might not be so simple.

“Sloppy makeouts.”

Finally, Estelle rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t keep the smile from quirking the corners of her mouth. “Tell ya what, Annie: once we finish this request, that’s it for the day. Then we can have all the… sloppy makeouts, you want.”

“All right!” Suddenly rejuvenated, Anelace pumped her fist in the air. “C’mon, ‘Stelle! We’ve got a monster to take down!”

**********

Panting heavily, Anelace rested on her haunches. “I don’t… I don’t think it’s still here.”

They had combed the area for over two hours, tromping through the undergrowth in an ever-widening spiral from the location listed in the request. Not only had they not found the monster, but they had found packs of smaller ones — implying that the apex predator had moved on to other hunting grounds.

“Well,” said Estelle, flopping down against a tree. “I guess we can’t really call this request complete, then.”

Anelace turned to her, crestfallen. “But… kisses?”

Estelle shrugged. “Sorry — I said no sloppy makeouts until we finished the request, so…”

But she couldn’t keep from grinning as Anelace’s eyes widened, her lower lip jutting out. “Oh goodness — I’m joking!” She sat back against a tree, outstretching her arms. “C’mere. Can’t have this whole thing have been a waste of time, huh?”

Her exhaustion banished once more, Anelace’s face lit up as she sprang at her girlfriend, bowling her over completely. Twigs and leaves went completely unheeded as they rolled about on the forest floor, their lips only separating to breathe, and laugh, and smile adoringly into each others eyes.

Chapter Text

Arcane energy swirled and sparked as the portal opened, and Vita Clotilde beheld a ghost.

No matter what outlandish getup they had put him in, his mop of dirty-gray hair was a dead giveaway. Even without it, his stance — not the slouch of a carefree student, the lope of the wolf that life had made him. She had had her own hand in his creation, of course. And now look at him. Look at me, for that matter.

With the arrival of Azure Siegfried, the meeting could begin. Not that the masked man truly needed to hear the methods behind the madness, but the Alberich liked to pretend. Or perhaps merely to mock that concept, life, by his perversion.

Her fellow conspirators words washed past Vita, as she feigned engagement, nodding at appropriate times, hiding her face behind her fan. In truth, her mind was arge away, years away.

She had toyed with him emotions for so long — goading him, enticing him, the carrot and the stick. For she was the Azure Diva, and he wasn’t really a person, he was the Azure Awakener, a blunt instrument to batter away at the structure of prophecy until Armageddon itself broke. But she was young then — young now, she thought to herself, a wry smile creeping across her face. Young enough not to realize that to wear a mask for so long was to become the mask, that the most convincing lies are wrapped around a core of truth.

She hadn’t realized she loved him until he died. Not his physical death, for she had known he’d be back — seeing the mask on his face, his unthinking compliance that was at once a terrible betrayal and a wish cruelly granted, that was his true death. Not a ghost, then, but a ghoul, greeting her and the rest of the rogues’ gallery with his toneless voice, but not his words. It tore at her, rent another jagged scar through her soul every time he opened his mouth.

How fitting that he wore a mask as hers was torn away. Was he, too, inhabiting his role? If that horrible device was ripped from his face, would he come back whole, or were the effects permanent? Was he conscious, a prisoner in his own mind, or merely asleep?

It had to be done, she reasoned to herself, as the enforcers and Anguis were dispersed throughout the Empire, setting various schemes into motion. Crow had to be extracted from the cabal of ghouls she had inveigled herself into, regardless of whether he could be saved or not. Whether he was even still alive, or not.

Freedom, or death, or freedom in death. It was what they had both fought for, what had truly tied them together whether they realized it or not. Freedom from tyranny, or from grief, or the nothingness lurking in Erebonia’s future.

Vita bowed to her erstwhile companions, the image of the mysterious yet dutiful servant, but she knew she would never return to this benighted place. Their goals no longer aligned. Perhaps they never had. With a flick of her wrist, her fan closed, and her portal opened.

She allowed herself one parting glance at the thing wearing Crow’s skin, to sear him in her memory as a new North Star to guide herself by. For all her good intentions, Vita had done wrong by him, done wrong by the world, and rescuing him would be a first step on a penitent road.

Chapter Text

Juna still blushed slightly when she allowed herself be dressed by the Albarea house servants. It was bad enough that she was going to wear such an expensive gown — it was beautiful, she had to admit, but the price — but to have people help her into it? She didn’t deserve this! Who does she think she is, the Empress?

No, just a Duchess. Or, soon to be one. She looked at her fiancé, who was being attended in a similar fashion, though he seemed far more comfortable with the state of affairs. Jusis would be wearing a rich green suit, accented in gold, naturally, with an ornamental blade at his hip. It wasn’t fair — he always dressed like this, why couldn’t she just wear her skirt and jacket like she always did!

But no, tonight it was vitally important for her to not only look like, but truly become the member of nobility she would soon officially be.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep such a monumental level of pressure from manifesting in her expression.

“Are you nervous?” Jusis cocked an eyebrow, not unkindly, as his manservant buttoned his cufflinks.

“Of course I’m nervous!” The maid tightening her corset jumped at Juna’s sudden shout, completely losing the thread and having to start from the beginning. “We’re hosting a ball, and I don’t know how to dance!”

Jusis smiled in bemusement. “Dear, if you needed to learn any complex maneuvers, I’d have taught you already. We’ll just be spinning around, I’ll be —“

“A-and… I don’t know how to address any of the other nobles! When to use ‘my Lord,’ or ‘Your Grace,’ or… or anything!”

“Juna,” he said, in a tone of voice that was meant to be comforting but only served to drive her face even redder. “You’re soon to be a Duchess of one of the Great Houses — it doesn’t matter what you call the lesser nobility.”

“Well,” Juna retorted, “then I don’t know what, um… utensils to use, with dinner! Which one is the salad fork?!”

Somehow, the servants had managed to finish dressing the both of them, even as Juna gesticulated ever more wildly in her distressed state. They bowed silently, and withdrew from the room, leaving the two of them alone. Not that it mattered very much — for all she was as common as a street vendor’s mystery meat, she had gotten used to speaking with Jusis as though the servants weren’t even there.

“I didn’t know you cared this much about the… finer points of etiquette,” he murmured, drawing closer to her, taking her hands in his.

“I don’t!” Now Juna really was shouting, but to Jusis‘ credit, he took it in stride.

“Wonderful. Neither do I.”

“But if I’m not… all those nobles, they won’t accept me, if I come in there like…”

Jusis took a final step forward, drawing Juna into his arms, running his fingers gently across her hair. “Dear…” He furrowed his brow, trying to find the words.

“The sad truth is that you will never be ‘noble enough,’ for these people.” She turned up to him, tears welling in her eyes. “So if you want acceptance… I’m afraid you’ll have to charm them the same way you charmed me.”

“By being yourself.”

He hadn’t quite managed to stop a few tears from rolling down her cheeks, but she was smiling now, a smile that illuminated his heart like the rising sun.

She sniffed. “I guess I can do that.”

Chapter Text

“And that about wraps it up — Ymir, my hometown.”

Rean and Duvalie had removed their boots, letting their feet dangle in the warm bath in the center of town. Snowflakes drifted idly by, melting before even reaching the surface of the water. Winter was just giving way to spring, so paths had been carved through the knee-deep snow that covered the town, and there wasn’t much danger of a blizzard — in short, the perfect time for Rean to bring his new girlfriend for a visit.

“Hmph. Very quaint. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, given how much of a crude peasant you can be sometimes.” Duvalie’s sneer completely failed to take the edge from her words.

Rean was used to Duvalie’s abrasiveness by now, of course. But… this seemed a bit harsh, for this point in her relationship. Maybe… am I overthinking this?

“Ha, you’re probably right — Ymir is technically a barony, but we’ve never had much in the way of luxuries… and I suppose the people here aren’t much for courtly etiquette either.”

Duvalie snorted. “Luxuries? I’m honestly surprised you managed to get running water in this backwoods village.”

Ouch. Rean definitely wasn’t overthinking things — this was more than just her usual pointed remarks. He fell silent, furrowing his brows in consternation. But why? Does Duvalie really think so little of towns like Ymir?

A few moments passed in strained silence, the faint howling of the wind through the mountain passes their only accompaniment.

“…I’m sorry.”

It certainly wasn’t what Rean had expected to hear, but he was relieved all the same. “Is… everything okay, Duvalie?”

She leaned forward, her hands on her knees, glaring into the faintly rippling footbath. “No. Yes, I mean. Ymir is beautiful, it just…” She screwed her eyes shut, blocking out even a glimpse of her surroundings. “It reminds me of my hometown.”

Rean shifted closer to her, resting an arm around her shoulders. “I see.” Duvalie had been reticent about her upbringing, even as they had become as close as this. But eventually, the truth had come out — her own village had been burned to the ground when she was very young, and the Steel Maiden had rescued her from the ruins.

“It’s been so long,” Duvalie continued, shaking her head. “I can barely remember what it was like. I don’t even know its name.” With a deep sigh, she finally turned to look up at Rean, and he could see the tears in her eyes. “I was jealous, of you, and Ymir.”

“Well… Ymir can be your hometown, too.” He smiled softly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Rean Schwarzer! If you’re going to say things like that you’d better have an engagement ring on hand!”

“Wait, what?”

Chapter Text

Clutching the small bag in both hands, Altina furrowed her brow, squeezing her eyes shut. Had she forgotten anything?

**********

“Musse, would you be able to assist me?”

Altina stood in the doorway of her classmate’s dorm room, resisting the urge to flee with all her might.

Musse turned from the mirror with a smile. “Of course, Altina — what can I do for you?”

“What is…” Her words began to fail her, the sentences refusing to coalesce in her mind. “What would be an appropriate gift to… to express feelings of… strong affection? For Valentine’s Day?”

Musse cocked her head, thoughtful. Altina felt a rush of gratitude in that moment, having dreaded a patronizing response. “Hmm… I would say such a gift would be dependent on the recipient. Something personal, that displays your attention and understanding of them, perhaps?”

**********

Personalized present, check. Altina nodded to herself, safely cloaked by Claiomh Solais’ stealth field. Next, how to approach, and handle rejection.

**********

“Well,” Kurt had said, resting his twin swords gently on the arming rack, “I would say a private moment would be preferred, so that neither of you feels pressured by any onlookers. That, and it’s easier to express yourself that way.”

“Nerd.” Juna stuck out her tongue at him, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a crisp, white, towel. “But he’s right — and you don’t want to pressure them either! In fact, maybe outside, so they don’t feel trapped.”

Kurt nodded gravely. Altina hadn’t been worried about him taking her seriously — he took everything seriously, and she had always appreciated that about him. “In the same vein,” he said, shooting a glare at Juna as she rolled her eyes, “don’t force it to be a binary, yes-or-no decision on the spot. Such feelings are complicated, and sometimes people need time to process.”

**********

Feelings. That was the part Altina was most uncertain about, even now. She understood what Kurt meant — she was still processing such feelings herself. Maybe. Hopefully. Altina shook her head, calling to mind her final intelligence-gathering session.

**********

“Everyone feels love differently, Altina.” Instructor Rean’s eyes were kind, and he half-smiled as he hoisted himself up onto his desk. “We can’t compare experiences one-to-one, because we’re all different.”

Altina cast her eyes downward. “That isn’t very reassuring, Instructor. I was hoping for some advice on how to… feel… normally?”

He sighed lightly. “I don’t think anyone can teach you that, unfortunately.” Crossing his legs, he rose his hand to his chin in thought. “Maybe, try looking at it this way — whatever you feel, whatever relationship you build, it’ll be unique, something wholly of yourself and your partner. Or partners,” he added hastily, “if that’s what’s happening, which is fine, of course —“

**********

Altina breathed in deep, banishing the memory from her mind. It was time to act, not to relive the more embarrassing moments of her life.

Taking a few steps and rounding the corner of the school building, she found Ash Carbide with his back to the wall, fiddling with his ARCUS.

“Hello, Ash. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Her arms jerked up mechanically, and she cringed inwardly at her own awkwardness. No. Push through it.

“I got you this present. Please… open it now.”

Taken completely by surprise, Ash took the bag from her in a daze, his eyes as wide as saucers, his abrasive wit nowhere to be found. Tearing through the packaging, he lifted out a small locket, all dull silver filigree, and he opened it to find two miniature picture frames inside.

“I thought you might want to keep your picture of your mother in this. So that it wouldn’t get as wrinkled.” Altina began to breathe more quickly in anticipation of what came next. “I purchased it for you because… I care about you, and it is Valentine’s Day, and…” She trailed off, realizing she was rambling.

Ash had turned a distinct shade of red, “I, ah… wow. This means a lot, ‘Tina… I don’t really know what to say.”

Altina smiled. “That’s all right. I do not know what to say either.”

Chapter Text

Part of the ‘Mishelam Magic’ was in making one feel as though they were special, even amidst the crowds of other visitors that swarmed the park on a given day. And, though Rean had started the day with a touch of cynicism at the too-bright smiles of the employees, he couldn’t help but feel a touch of that magic as he sat next to Lloyd on the bench.

There weren’t many of these benches, on the bluffs overlooking the lake, but the two of them had brought their dinner here early in order to guarantee a good seat. The nightly fireworks show was visible from the docks of Crossbell, but there was something special about seeing it from the theme park itself — and so the hills were packed with couples and families.

And yet, even with the muted murmurings of the other guests, when he looked out on the moonlit water it really did feel like it was just the two of them. Rean craned his neck, peering around at the couples with a smile playing about his face. Undoubtedly they all felt the same as he did — like they were the only ones here.

“Hey,” Lloyd hissed, “stop staring! Let them have their privacy!” There was no heat behind his words, but Rean flushed a little anyway.

Rean sighed, leaning on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. I just… it’s nice, to see so many people here. Last time we were here was before the Twilight, but now… I don’t know, it feels like we really accomplished something.”

“Well, well, well.” Lloyd turned to press a kiss into Rean’s hair. “Not too long ago you would have just been blaming yourself for everyone who *wasn’t* here.” He squeezed his boyfriend’s shoulder — for all his gentle teasing, it pained him to see Rean punish himself in that way.

Rean smiled, snuggling further into Lloyd’s embrace. “You know that I still do, sometimes.” Even now, the shadows of guilt lurked in the corners of his mind. “But being with you helps.”

With that, the firework show began: a single bright streak soaring into the night sky. It was a simple rocket, but it was just the beginning of the show — something so relatively small, lighting the path for a lifetime of wonder.

Chapter Text

“This all seems rather unnecessary.”

Rufus Albarea had propped himself up with his back to a sandstone boulder in a futile attempt to block the wind howling through the canyon. Less than an arge away, Duvalie the Swift shook her combat orbment in frustration as a feeble pile of scavenged kindling failed to light.

“It’s entirely necessary. It gets cold at night,” she grumbled, not even bothering to glance at him.

“Duvalie,” he began with a sigh, before choosing how to finish his thought. “Why do you care?”

This spurred a bigger reaction from his companion, as she sat up straighter, leveling a powerful glare at him even as she wrapped her arms around herself against the chill.

“I can’t say it hasn’t been amusing, these past few days,” Rufus continued, calculating his pause precisely to interrupt her retort. “But… in case it’s slipped your mind, I killed the Steel Maiden, your lord. Arianrhod.”

Duvalie flinched back at his words, her expression hovering on the edge of a snarl. A shock of guilt ran through him, but Rufus merely leaned forward. “I ran her through, in cold blood, after she had surrendered. Only because she had something I wanted.”

The look in her eyes could have melted zemurian ore. But instead of rising to the bait, she merely flicked open her orbment, trying once again to light the pitiful attempt at a campfire.

“I’m not an idiot, Rufus Albarea.”

Now it was his turn to respond with silence — He leaned back against the rock face, cocking an eyebrow that she didn’t see.

“I served my lord faithfully for years,” she continued, gathering a few more desiccated twigs that had scattered nearby. “Never questioning her orders. Advancing the causes of the Society, because I loved her, and if I loved her it could really be wrong, could it?”

Miraculously, at this attempt a small fire did spring forth, flickering hesitantly in the wind, but not extinguished.

“Eventually, I was shown another path.” Duvalie sat back on her haunches again, staring into the flames without seeing them. “There are people who will never forgive me for what I’ve done, and I cannot blame them. But as long as I still live, I can…” she gesticulated vaguely, searching for the right words. “I can make the world better.”

“Good deeds can’t erase what we’ve done, Stahlritter,” Rufus said, his voice quiet but still loud enough to be heard over the winds.

Duvalie looked him dead in the eyes. The inferno he had seen before was mere embers, now, but her gaze was steel-strong, as though tempered by her fury.

“I know.” She held eye contact with him for a moment, before turning aside abruptly. Had she been blushing? “But we do them anyway.”

Chapter Text

Rean stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, huddling inward from the bitter Ymir night. The windows of the village were dark, with only the occasional glimmer of a guttering hearthfire. Everyone was asleep. Well, almost everyone.

Fie Claussell was perched atop the low stone wall surrounding the town, peering down at the winding road below. She had volunteered to take a shift among the townsfolk’s night watch rotation, despite having just been rescued from Celdic that same day. Shuffling through the snow, Rean leaned up against the wall next to her, following her gaze — an empty road, of course. Any general would be insane to assault Ymir conventionally. But they couldn’t take chances.

“Can’t sleep?” Fie’s words were muffled by the scarf she had wrapped around her face, but her voice had a way of carrying.

“Nope.”

Rean was grateful to her for not pressing him on this — he didn’t feel like unpacking the nightmares he’d been having since, well… as long as he could remember. It wasn’t the first time he had wandered Ymir in the moonlight, but it was the first time he’d sought out company. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, either. He let his feet guide him in these insomniac spells of his — and tonight, they had led him to Fie.

Despite his own want for quiet, however, he couldn’t help but fill the silence. “You know, we’re lucky to have you here,” Rean began, inwardly cringing at how forced he was sure he sounded. “Your experiences with Zephyr really helped us tighten Ymir’s security.”

“Gotta be useful somehow, I guess.” She didn’t even turn to look at him, keeping her eyes affixed to the town approaches. Was it vigilance, though? Or was there something else?

Shifting closer to her perch, he rested his elbows atop the wall. “What’s wrong?”

Fie shrugged. “While we were in that windmill, Elliot and Machias got to talking about what they’d do after the war was over. Y’know, to keep their spirits up.”

Rean remained silent, waiting for her to finish. She wouldn’t often try to outright avoid her own vulnerability, not anymore — but you had to give her space.

“And they’ve got their music, and their careers, and that’s great. I’m happy for them.” Another pause, as Fie moved for the first time since he had left the manor, shifting her weight so that she could stretch her legs. “But the only thing I’m good at is… being a jaeger. And after the war, there might not be much call for that… not that I particularly want to go back to it anyway.”

Her words rang painfully true to Rean. It wasn’t long ago that he had thought his own talent for violence was his only redeeming quality. Thinking for a moment, he looked at her, just able to make out her eyes under the scarf. She was incredibly competent — she shouldn’t have to go back to bloodstained mercenary work.

“Well, look at Instructor Sara — she was a bracer before coming to Thors. Maybe she can get you an in?”

Finally, she looked at him, and Rean put on his best encouraging smile. He couldn’t really make out her expression, but it’s was probably her classic deadpan stare.

“You really think they’d let a killer like me become some kind of local hero?” Her tone was snarky, but Rean could hear the truth behind her words.

“More than that,” he said, warming to the idea. “I think you’d be a natural.”

**********

After a few more minutes in the snow, Rean was forced to beat a retreat to the warmth of the manor house. Toval tried to recruit me, too — maybe I should give it some thought? He looked over his shoulder at the silhouette of his classmate, still perched upon the wall like a hunting bird. After all, at least this way we wouldn’t have to be alone…

Chapter Text

Throwing open the doors to the penthouse, Alisa stretched her arms wide, rolling her neck — the tension of the day had crept up on her once again. Beside her, Sharon had already extricated her slim purse from her shoulder without Alisa’s knowledge, hanging it gently from a coatrack.

“How was your day, my lady?” Opening the refrigerator door, she retrieved a glass of iced tea that she had brewed this morning.

“First of all,” Alisa began, walking over to her favorite sofa, “Since we’ve become… romantically entangled…“ Sharon smiled at the slight flush in Alisa’s cheeks as she searched for the right word. “I think it’s high time you started calling me by my name, rather than ‘my lady.’”

“Of course, my lady.” Sharon bowed deeply.

Alisa shot her a glare, but kept her momentum up. It had been getting harder and harder to derail her in recent weeks. Sharon was proud, in a way. “Secondly, you were with me for most of the day — you know how it was!”

“Very true,” Sharon murmured, setting down a tray with the iced tea and scones (freshly baked, but cool enough to eat — rappelling up to the kitchen between meetings had been slightly exciting). “But I still like to hear your interpretation of the day’s events.”

Alisa sank back into the cushions, taking a bite of pastry without questioning its provenance. “Long — today was long. I’m just glad to finally not be around anyone other people.”

Her smile faltered for a moment — just a fraction of a second, but enough for Sharon to berate herself. I must keep it together, it is only by sheer luck that she didn’t see.

In an instinctive attempt to cover for her miniscule — catastrophic — slip-up, Sharon bowed again. “I see. I will take my leave, then.”

“Where are you going?” Sharon froze as she turned, but Alisa’s expression was one of concern, not rebuke.

“Apologies, my lady, I merely desired to grant your wish for solitude —“

Alisa laughed — laughed? How strange it is to be taken by surprise, for a change. “Sharon, there might be times where I want to be truly alone. But please,” she patted the sofa next to her, “trust me to tell you when that is. In this instance, I would love nothing more than to spend the evening with you.”

“… Thank you, my Alisa.”

Chapter Text

Even the foyer of the sprawling manor was crowded, the crème of society swarming like ants at a picnic.

“Just act natural,” muttered Shizuya, pulling Duvalie’s arm through his to better emulate those around him. She let out an irritated huff. Just because she had stumbled on the hem of her gown — one time! — didn’t mean she was an idiot child.

Ignoring or unaware of her exasperation, he continued, “it’s about looking like you’re supposed to be here — always look like you know where you’re going, and —“

“I’ve performed an infiltration before, Kuga,” she hissed, just loud enough to draw a glance from a passerby. “I was part of the Society for years. It wasn’t all fighting off childish Bracers.”

He grinned, driving her irritation even higher. “Like you, you mean. You’re the childish Bracer now, remember?” It wasn’t as though Duvalie could forget the past few months — and she was about to tell him just that when he derailed her train of thought with another jab. “And I can’t help but wonder how many of your Society infiltrations ended in drawn blades and explosions.”

“Only — only a reasonable number of them! And, anyway,” she said hastily, trying to regain control of the conversation. “For someone telling me to ‘act natural,’ you seem incredibly uncomfortable in that third-rate suit jacket. Get your hand out of your pocket!”

“That’s because I am uncomfortable,” Shizuya replied, his somber tone taking the wind completely out of her sails. “But while I’m not a Bracer anymore, i still follow parts of the code… and attending this gala incognito is the best way to gather intel about our request without putting innocent lives in danger. If that means I have to dress like this, so be it.” He turned to her with a mischievous smile. “But that also means no swords, got it?”

Duvalie merely grumbled. He was right, of course, but if he thought she was going to give him the satisfaction, he didn’t know her at all.

Chapter Text

The wind outside the ancient, floating castle didn’t merely howl: it veritably screamed. It was as though the dark forces keeping Tuatha Dé Danann aloft were shrieking in pain, as the meeting they had tried to prevent for so long came to pass.

But it was inevitable.

Before Kurt had met Cedric, he was anxious — what if the prince didn’t like him? What if he never became strong enough to protect him? But as soon as he had seen that seen that nervous smile…

Flickering at first, but a quickly steadying warmth. With Cedric he had found a kindred spirit, someone who also felt he might never live up to the example set by his family. And as they grew older, the feeling became a frisson, a jolt that ran through him whenever they saw each other. Kurt now knew it to be the tether of fate itself.

The forces of apocalypse could exert sufficient force to separate them for a time, certainly. But it was impossible to do so forever. Slowly at first, but faster and faster their orbits decayed until this moment, reunion.

Kurt felt relieved, even as he drew his foreblade before him, saluting his foe even as his classmates engaged the Sanguine Ogre. Soon, by the will of the goddess, the guiding hand of fate, whatever — it would be over.

**********

The pressure in Cedric’s head was reaching a fever pitch. Even the winds of the Tuatha faded into the background — all he could hear was his own heartbeat. Just like he had before Testa-Rossa.

Somehow he still had the strength to return Kurt’s salute, keeping his hand from shaking through force of will. Things had been so much clearer since Kurt had been sent away.

He craved that simplicity — the certainty, the affirmation that he was on the right path, a path of strength. But whether it was the manipulations of the Chancellor, yet another one of his tests, or merely the cruel hand of fate — this was the breaking point. One of them would be forced from this place, one way or another, and they would never see each other again.

Chapter Text

Rean wasn’t making very much progress on grading his Class’ homework. The writing desk in the small, single-story home in Leeves had a beautiful view out the window, with the sweeping fields of the Heimdallr outskirts swaying gently with the wind. It was a scene enough to distract an idling student, but someone as diligent as he shouldn’t have any trouble ignoring it. He stared out the window regardless, hardly even seeing the idyllic vista. It wasn’t the view that was distracting him.

From the other room, he heard the front door open. “I’m hooooome~”

Plastering a smile onto his face, Rean pushed back from the desk, rising to greet Juna as she dashed into the room, wrapping her arms around him. “Oooh, it’s good to see you, she murmured into his chest. He squeezed her as tightly as she did him, pressing a gentle kiss atop her head.

“How was the train ride?”

“Ah, it was as boring as it ever was!” Rean felt a pang of guilt shoot through him — he had set himself up for this. “But enough about that — how was your week? How’s your new class?”

Juna looked up at him, beaming — but her expression quickly turned to one of concern after seeing the serious look in Rean’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I just… feel guilty, I guess. Every week you have to take these long, boring trips across half the country.” Rean swallowed the lump in his throat. “I feel like I’m holding you back. Like you aren’t able to live your fullest life in Crossbell—“

“Rean, you doofus.” Juna reached a hand up, batting him lightly on the back of the head. “I don’t have to come here every weekend, I get to. This is my home — just as much as the apartment in Crossbell!”

“But it’s just, so far away —“

“Rean!” This was her method of breaking through his doldrums, he knew. But knowing about it didn’t make it less effective. “I’d make this trip every day to be with you. I’d go to the moon! Because you’re happy here, and I’m happy in Crossbell, and that’s more important to me than whatever inconvenient travel we gotta do. You hear me?”

Rean could only nod, still on the verge of tears. “You’ll let me know if it all gets to be too much, right?”

“Trust me, I’m not hiding anything like that. You know I’m not great at hiding my feelings!” Juna grinned, stretching up to give him a quick peck. “Now let’s go eat, huh? I’m starving!”

Chapter Text

Elie stepped gingerly into the rough-hewn cottage. The roof was made up of fallen branches, the walls were an erratic mix of stone, wood, and dirt, and the floor was… well, essentially just the ground. But her favorite riding dress had already taken so much weathering since her flight from the castle, what was a little more?

“Sorry,” said Lloyd, lighting a rusted lantern. Combined with his torch, it banished the shadows of the night from the entirety of the hut — but only just. “I don’t have much in the way of amenities. You can take the bed for tonight, and I’ll kip on some of the furs.”

Now that she looked around, he did seem to have a very fine collection of pelts. “So you’re a hunter, then?”

“You could say that.” The way he said it — it was like the man was trying to brush her off. Was he a poacher? Elie’s father had always raged at such criminals…

“Well, regardless, this is all very generous of you, Mister Lloyd.” She dipped into a curtsy, or at least as much of one as she could approximate given the circumstances.

“Oh, it’s nothing — I couldn’t let someone stay out in these woods alone.” Lloyd flashed a grin at her, for a moment, and it was like seeing an entirely different person. But then it was gone, and the quiet melancholy returned. “I’ll be gone before dawn, so. Feel free to take anything you need before you head out.”

“Ah, well!” Now was her chance — Elie had fled the castle in such a rush, that she hadn’t had much of an opportunity to figure out a destination… and if she had, she wouldn’t have the faintest idea of how to get there. “I was rather hoping I could… retain your services. As a guide, perhaps?”

“No.” Her stomach dropped at his immediate dismissal, and the hopelessness she had felt before he found her began to well up in her throat. “Davenford’s half a days walk due east from here, so follow the sun when you get up — can’t miss it.”

“I’m… I can’t be seen in the villages. They’ll be looking for me there.”

At this, Lloyd turned to look at her. Elie could see his eyes taking in her newly-ragged dress, her tangling hair, the makeup smudged with tears. After a moment, his expression softened. “You’re on the run, then?”

Not by choice, she thought, but nodded.

He sighed to himself, as though resigned to his fate. “All right then. Give me a day to… figure out some stuff, and we’ll leave tomorrow night. I can take you as far as the Freeport, at least.”

It was as though the sun had peeked out from behind the clouds. Elie’s knees shook with relief, and she sank into the ramshackle bed before she fell. “Th-thank you…” It wasn’t perfect, not a permanent solution, but it was something.

Lloyd ran his hand through his hair, that bright smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “It’s no problem. I’ll keep you safe…”

“Somehow.”

Chapter Text

The Entertainment district shone brightly against the dark of the night, as it always had. Neon lights blinked on and off in crude animation, and laughing crowds of people stumbled from one seedy establishment to the next.

The doors of one such establishment swung open, and Randy Orlando stepped out, stretching his arms up over his head. Mireille stumbled slightly after him, bracing herself for a moment on his shoulder.

Randy seemed to take no notice of her state as he grinned, surveying the sordid streets with an air of nostalgia. “Ah, that hit the spot. Erebonia’s got its charms, but there’s nothing like a sleazy Crossbell bar.”

“That’s… that’s right!” Planting her feet to steady herself, Mireille stood as tall as she could manage beside him. “Crossbell bars… are the best!”

Chuckling, Randy looked down at her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, thanks for takin’ me out tonight. This has been really nice.”

“Whaddaya mean, ‘has been?’” Mireille glared up at Randy. “We’re just getting started!”

“Oh are we, now?”

“That’s right! Next stop is the Gutter Pom, and then the Sharkodile’s Tear!”

Randy’s eyebrows rose a little despite himself. He had a feeling Mireille only knew the names of these places because she’d had to break up brawls in them. “Sounds like we’ve got an old-fashioned bar crawl ahead of us.” He strengthened his grip on her shoulder as she swayed slightly on the spot. “Forgive me, Mir’, but that doesn’t really seem… your style.”

“Of course it’s not!” Even as he steadied her, she maintained her stern look up at him. “But it’s your first night back in Crossbell, and I gotta help you see all your favorite parts of the city! And… and keep you safe!” Despite their best efforts, she managed to lose her balance for a moment before Randy caught her again.

“Aw, Mir’… you don’t gotta do all that. Here, lemme walk you home, huh? I gotta keep you safe too, right?” Mireille grumbled vaguely, but for once she admitted defeat without much of a fight — and so with one arm around her shoulder, the two of them walked away from the bustle of the Entertainment District.

“And besides, Mireille… the best part of coming home, is you.”

Chapter Text

“Machias,” Rean called out, still scribbling on his student’s paper. “When did you know you liked me?”

The two of them shared an apartment in Heimdallr, overlooking the streets of the Ost district. It wasn’t huge; two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath, a functioning elevator so they didn’t have to haul their furniture up three flights of stairs. But it was theirs, and it was the first thing that was just theirs — not given to them by their parents or employers or connections. No, it was paid for with their hard-earned mira… and while they may have gotten the jobs that paid them said mira partly due to their connections, there wasn’t much they could do about that. So they loved it, and it hadn’t taken long before it felt like home.

“The day we met,” Machias replied. He didn’t look up from his work either — he may not be a teacher, but his job didn’t end when he left his office either. “Our first day at Thors.”

His response gave Rean pause. Looking up from his desk, he craned around in his chair, smiling across the room at his boyfriend. “No, I mean… y’know. When did you know you like-liked me?”

“Oh, I got it the first time.” Blowing on his paper to dry the ink, Machias set his pen in a rosewood holder, carved to resemble a book laying open on its spine. “Like I said, first day.”

“Really?”

Finally turning to look at Rean, Machias wore a bemused smile of his own. “Oh yeah. Remember, under the schoolhouse, when I went off on my own? That little stunt was an attempt to impress the hot guy with dark hair, kind eyes, and a cool sword who I’d found myself lumped into a dungeon with.”

Rean couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “No… really? I was sure that was about your big Reformist, Anti-Noble pride!”

A slight dusting of pink crept into Machias’ expression, but he nodded with a sigh. “Oh, sure, that was in there, too. Remember how angry I got when it turned out you were a Baron’s son? Just another terrible crime by the ‘hated enemy.’”

“Wow.” Rean shook his head in disbelief. “But you didn’t make a move until so much later!”

“Yeah, I kinda… well, I was a dumb teenager, Rean. I tried to put it all aside — it can never be, we’re too different, all that stuff. But then you came knocking on that windmill door, during the civil war…” Machias smiled, staring at nothing, clearly lost in the memory. Rean wanted to tease him so badly, but… he so rarely got to see him all sentimental like this, it would be a crime to bring him out of his reverie.

But it couldn’t last, and the business-like young man shook his head slightly, giving Rean a shrug before turning back to his work. “Sorry, Rean — your boyfriend was a huge dork back in school.”

“That’s not exactly news to me, babe. And, ‘was’?”

“Hush.”

Chapter Text

Juna held the envelope in both hands, but couldn’t keep it from shaking. It was crisp and white and professional, and she had never been more nervous in all her life. Well — maybe the Twilight. In fact, multiple times during that year. But still.

“Would you like me to open it?” Altina looked up from beside her. The rest of their class were busy with their clubs and other activities, and she was the only other student who happened to be in the dorm today. Which was fine. More than fine, really — Juna knew Altina wouldn’t tease her for her anxiousness. And it was a comfort, to have her there.

Without replying, she took a deep breath, and tore the envelope open, slowly unfolding the letter within.

The Crossbell Police Department letterhead stood proud across the top, with the city’s seal embossed alongside it.
“‘Juna Crawford,’” she read aloud. “‘The Crossbell Police Department is proud to inform you that…”

Her breathing quickened, her eyes skimming across the page. Exemplary skills… passed our assessments… probationary position…

…Assignment: Special Support Section.

“YEAHHH!!” Tossing the letter in the air, Juna jumped and danced around the room in sheer joy.

“Congratulations.” Altina’s quiet smile couldn’t match the grin on Juna’s face for expressiveness, but anyone to anyone who knew her, she might as well have been grinning from ear to ear.

“Ohmygosh thank you!” Rushing over to her classmate, Juna swept her up off the ground into a crushing bear hug. “Thank you for helping me study for the exam, sparring with me, for everything — aaaah I can’t believe it’s real!”

And then, without thinking, she planted a kiss on Altina’s cheek.

The color drained from Juna’s face, and she released Altina from the hug as quickly as she could without dropping her on the floor. “Oh! Um, whoops! I’m sorry, I didn’t - that was an accident!” She didn’t know why she was rambling about it, but she couldn’t help herself. Why was this weird? The two of them had slept in the same bed, but —

“That’s okay.” Altina’s eyes were fractionally wider than normal, but otherwise she seemed nonplussed.

“Well! I guess I’d better go start packing — I mean, I guess I’m not leaving until graduation and that’s in three weeks! So maybe it can wait, but, uhhh,” Juna’s eyes darted around the room, before landing back on Altina’s in a panic. She merely tilted her head slightly in apparent confusion at Juna’s antics. “Better start early!” Juna was never more glad in all her life that nobody else was in the dormitory to see how red her face had become as she sprinted up to her room.

**********

“So,” Rean said, interlacing his fingers. “What do you think all this means?”

“I don’t know.” Altina sat very still in her chair, staring down at her hands as they rested on the desk. She hadn’t known who else to turn to, but now that she was here… she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes. Why not? She had never had that issue before.

Without thinking, she gently touched her cheek where Juna had kissed her. Why did it feel so warm?

Chapter Text

The world was all caliginous horror — writhing tentacles, gnashing teeth, unseeing eyes rolling madly. Rean clutched his head, hunching over inside what had once been one of his closest friends, in a futile attempt to escape the fractal madness unfolding all around him. But just before the generous mass could engulf him — light, white light, piercing and brilliant and all-encompassing and —

Rean sat up with a shout, throwing the roughspun blanket off of him in a panic. Breathing heavily, he looked around the tent in confusion, before he remembered where he was. Rather, when he was. It was the same disorientation every morning, nightmare or no. He was in Erebonia, alive, but somehow… two hundred years in the past.

The War of the Lions raged across an Erebonia without railroads, without airships, without… anyone he had ever known and loved. And seemingly, without Divine Knights. It was though he died, and arisen in a twisted version of his history lessons at the Branch Campus.

“Are you all right?” The tent flap pulled back, a young woman crouching to peer in at him. A ghost. Lianne Sandlot, not yet the Lance Maiden, much less the Steel Maiden. And apparently, somehow not an inheritor of a Divine Knight.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Rean smiled shakily. “Yeah, just… just the nightmare, again.”

“I see.” She bit her lip in concern. “The apothecaries say it should pass, with time.”

“Mm.” Now that his eyes had better adjusted, Rean could see that she was only in her sleeping shift. Had she run straight here from her own tent? He averted his eyes, unsure where to look.

Lianne blushed, seemingly aware of her own lack of dress, but pushed onward. “It’s just as well you’re awake, though. The sun will rise soon, and we’ve a long march ahead if we’re to link up with Prince Dreichel’s army by nightfall.”

Somehow Rean had become part of Lianne’s forces. Though his tachi had been lost in… whatever had happened, and the Eight Leaves hadn’t yet been seen by Erebonian eyes, he could still swing a straightsword with more skill than the average levy. The one thing I’m good for, even here.

“Perhaps…” Now it was her turn to blush, though she did so with far more dignity than he, even in her undergarments. Even without two hundred years younger, she already had that stoic grace. “Perhaps you would care to… spar with me, as part of my morning exercises? To take your mind off of the dreams,” she finished in a rush.

“Oh — of course! Let me get my, uh, clothes,” Rean muttered, pulling his breeches on under the blanket.

The spar, however, was not to be. As the two warriors squared off against each other, a messenger ran up to the pair, red-faced and breathless. “Lady Sandlot,” he wheezed, resting his hands on his knees. “We’ve just received word… Prince Dreichels… is dead.”

Chapter Text

Estelle sat back on her haunches, looking proudly at the campfire blazing away in front of her. “All right! Ready for cookin’!”

The night sky was a velvet cloak, speckled with points of light. They had set up camp just off the road, so the tree cover was still a bit sparse — but the orbal lamplight couldn’t quite reach them, either. It was as though Estelle and Princess Klaudia, no, Kloe, were alone in the wilderness.

Which was good, because that was the point. A lone Bracer as an escort for the Crown Princess of Liberl was almost unheard of, and Captain Schwarz had objected vociferously. But a secret diplomatic mission took a lighter touch than a full honor guard could provide.

Normally, Estelle would have been ecstatic about some alone time with a beautiful girl, and Kloe was one of them — but now she was the Princess, it just wasn’t the same. She’d spent quite a bit of time busying herself, in the name of making a more comfortable campsite for her royal client. But truly, she couldn’t quite trust herself not to say anything… inappropriate. It had been so long since they had trekked across Liberl together, as junior bracer and student. Who knew what she would be comfortable with now that she’d spent more time in the palace?

The meat was sizzling merrily on the skillet when the Princess came sidling up to Estelle. The Bracer tried to keep her expression one of amicable neutrality, but all such hopes were dashed when Kloe sat so close to her. Too close for comfort, in a very literal sense. Hopefully the firelight would help cover her blush.

“I’m happy to be with you, Estelle.” Her voice still held those beautiful tones Estelle remembered from years ago, but there was a… huskiness to it now that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Heh,” Estelle chuckled awkwardly. She could see Kloe — the Princess, her Client — gazing at her in her peripheral vision. “Well, a Bracer’s good to have around when you gotta sleep rough, y’know… survival skills, an’ all…”

Kloe laughed lightly. “True. But I’m especially glad to be with you tonight.”

“Buh?” Estelle couldn’t help herself, she turned to look at her companion — and before she knew what was happening, Kloe’s hand was drawing along her jaw, and they were very close indeed —

And their lips were pressed together and she was so warm and —

Estelle breathed heavily as they broke from each other. The stars still shone in the sky, surely, but she couldn’t see them. Her vision was focused on something far closer. “Im happy to… be with you too, Princess...”

“It’s Kloe,” she whispered, pulling Estelle down onto the grass. “With you, it’s always Kloe.”

Chapter Text

Queen Klaudia Von Auslese sighed as the door to her bedchambers closed with a satisfying clack. It had been an exhausting day. Coronations generally were.

She had known she would be busy when her grandmother first announced her imminent abdication, but it was one thing to anticipate it, and quite another to go through it. Even the act of changing into her silken pajamas was a production, with new servants guiding her through tiny rituals she didn’t even know existed. But now she was alone, in her room, the only reminder of the day being the weariness in her bones and the circlet on her head.

This last remnant she could set aside, at least temporarily. It sat incongruously on the off-white vanity — the symbol of rule of an ancient and storied kingdom, placed next to a jewelry box and hairbrush. Kloe’s hairbrush. A relic from her days at Jenis. Was she Kloe still? Only when she was alone?

“Congrats.” The sardonic voice from a shadowed curtain nearly made her jump out of her skin. Even as she spun in fury, though, she knew who she would find.

Lechter Arundel, with his mess of red hair, standing in what was supposed to be the most secure room in Liberl. She should have known.

“Too cowardly to show your face at the reception, I see,” Klaudia spat, her hackles still up from the shock of his sudden appearance.

He smiled, spreading his hands. “It was for your benefit, I promise — think, a former Ironblood at the coronation of Liberl’s queen? Better not to taint your rule with my association.”

“You could have made it work,” she rejoined. It was an echo of a conversation they’d had many times before, without ever reaching a satisfying conclusion. “You’re a smartass, you could figure something out if you wanted to.”

“Maybe,” Lechter’s smile became a grin. “I just like sneaking in.”

Klaudia rolled her eyes. “Maybe you just like annoying me.”

“Maybe a little.” She could feel her anger draining away as they talked, as it always had. Taking a step towards him, she rested a hand on a bedpost. Not reaching for him, not yet.

“I also thought to bring a gift, though.” Lechter proffered a simple envelope, unmarked.

Klaudia cocked an eyebrow as she retrieved the letter within. It wasn’t addressed to her. “To Whom It May Concern…?”

“It’s my resignation, from Imperial Intelligence,” he said with an odd lilt to his voice. “My last gift before I take my leave of your life forever.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “What… are you talking about?”

Lechter took a deep breath, clearly steadying himself. She had never seen him look so apprehensive. “I know too much about you, Kloe, and sooner or later my bosses would have tried to use that leverage against you. And you will most likely marry for political advantage, to secure your rule. With my resignation, and new life in… I don’t know, Elsaim or somewhere, I can take a few worries from what is undoubtedly an enormous pile.”

He had clearly prepared this little speech before hand, but she couldn’t let him sit in it for long. Klaudia took the steps needed to close the difference, taking one of his hands in hers, and bringing the other to lightly caress his cheek. He flinched — almost imperceptible, but she could always tell — at her touch, but didn’t pull away.

“You are indeed… very annoying.” She pulled their lips together, lingering in a kiss she had wanted for years.

“But if you think you’re going anywhere, you are sadly mistaken.”

Chapter Text

It was a still night, at the top of the SSS headquarters. The lights of the city still shine, but the raucous nightlife were far below and away. Lloyd was often grateful for the distance they had between themselves and the Entertainment District.

Earlier in the day, the SSS had launched a joint operation with Sara Valestein and Fie Claussel against a local branch of a criminal group expanding out from Calvard. Rumors had flown of the group’s powerful executive members — but either the rumors were unfounded, or they were elsewhere, as the coalition had found no trace of them.

Sara had insisted that there be an afterparty, and so an afterparty had been thrown.

It was still in progress, technically, though the atmosphere could scarcely be called “party-like.” Tio and Elie had called it a night early, and while Randy was more than able to keep the night going, the drinks had soured the mood. With three former jaegers in one place, it was understandable that talk would turn to old wounds. The conversation drifted away to silence, with Randy hunched over, staring a hole through the floor, and Fie with her arms crossed, gazing out at the night sky.

It broke Lloyd’s heart to see his friends like this. But he wasn’t a jaeger, and they’re had brought up the sensitive topics of their own accord… maybe this was some kind of tradition? To let it all out like this? He sipped his drink — it was disgusting, but what else could he do?

Sara sat up straight, shaking off her own doldrums. “All right, enough of this navel-gazing, huh? This was supposed to be a party, dammit!”

“Yeah!” Lloyd cheered, but Randy and Fie remained noncommittal. Looking at the two of them, Sara frowned.

“I know — let’s play a game. Two Truths and a Lie! Eh? Ehh?” Reaching over, she clapped Randy on the shoulder, and shook Fie’s arm, drawing their attention, if not raising their spirits. “Lloyd! Why don’t you start us off?”

Lloyd started, nearly spitting out his drink. “Uh, me? O-okay, I suppose…” His mind raced. What could he choose? He knew he had to act fast, though — if they were going to rouse Randy and Fie from their despondency they needed momentum. “All right, how’s this: I’ve never been to Calvard, I’ve never fired my CPD sidearm, and… I’ve never kissed anyone.”

At that final one, everyone’s attention snapped to him. There was a heavy pause, in which Lloyd could only force a smile. Did I do it right?

“Okay.” Randy cleared his throat. “Now, with that pause before the kiss one, I’d say that’s gotta be the lie.”

“Nah,” Fie replied, a hint of her impish grin coming back. “I believe that one. I’d say he’s never fired his gun.” She winked at him, letting the obvious double entendre batter away at his ego.

“All right, all right!” Sara grinned, clearly more happy that the energy was coming back up. “I’ll say the Calvard one is the lie, then!”

“Sara’s got it — I must have been one or two years old, but I have been to Calvard on a family trip! Guy has some photos of…” But Randy and Fie had already begun to laugh uproariously. Mission accomplished… I guess.

**********

Hours later, after dropping Randy off in his bed, Lloyd and Sara tidied up the place, gathered up the empties and putting away the chairs.

“Hey,” called Sara from the kitchen, walking over to Lloyd. “I just wanted to say thanks for helping get the vibes back.”

He laughed, blushing slightly. “No problem— though I wish I hadn’t embarrassed myself quite so much.”

“Well, here. Let me make it up to you.” And before Lloyd could make sense of her words, her lips were on his: warm and soft, her fingers threading through his hair. He stood stock-still in surprise, but after a moment he found himself leaning back into her, all thoughts draining away as —

It was over as suddenly as it had begun. He opened his eyes, greeted by Sara’s wicked half-smile. “There. Now it’s been a real party.”

Chapter Text

The bakery was adorable, of course. With pastries frosted in pick and yellow (matching the decor), the entire experience felt straight out of a dream.

Nadia expected no less. The small café had been designated ‘neutral ground’ during their courtship, a time period known to the residents of Heimdallr as The ‘Goblin’s Month.’ Property damage had been low, but the sheer amount of inconveniences had been imprinted on the public psyche.

But it had finally become official: Nadia and Musse Egret were the cutest couple in all of Erebonia.

The two of them sipped tea, taking demure bites of their pastries amid the murmur of the brunch rush. There was always a bit of lead-up, when they got together — a time to spend enjoying the delicious treats that inevitably accompanied their dates. But as Musse placed her scone delicately upon the tiny porcelain plate, Nadia smiled. This was her favorite part.

“Well, my dear — it’s been a few months since your term began at Aramis. Let’s have a report, shall we?”

“Oh, gladly!” Nadia clapped her hands together, grinning from ear to ear. “I would say my greatest work, was with a group of older students. Brutes, every one.” It had been hard to find a suitable group of victims, with Council President Bright cutting down the worst offenders. But there were always those who would resist her rule.

“With a few whispered words — nothing serious, just a few… ideas… not a one is on speaking terms with the other! Instead, I am delivered a small basket of treats every weekend, though I couldn’t say why.” Pleased with herself, Nadia took another nibble of pastry. “Perhaps one of them fears I’ll reveal the secrets I may have implied I knew about him. Silly boy.”

“Oh, what a delight!” Musse favored her with a small round of applause. “I’m afraid my own contribution is rather more tedious.” Nadia rolled her eyes affectionately. Her girlfriend always loved to downplay her achievements.

“A rather high-ranking noble — a distant cousin, as a matter of fact — had recently begun to claim his own claim to the Duchy! The utter gall.” Musse took a sip of her tea, allowing Nadia to make the appropriate murmurs of feigned outrage. Nothing could truly threaten her reign over the western province, but it was fun to pretend. “Somehow, he got it in his mind that a new series of aqueducts would do wonders to secure his play, an appeal to the common folk. Unfortunately, he seems to have bitten a touch more than he could chew, and he ran out of funds before they could be completed! Naturally, I was happy to help… and take the credit, of course.”

“Oooh, very nice!” Shaking her head, Nadia smiled ruefully to herself. “I do admit that I feel a bit insecure… my schemes seem so small and selfish compared to yours!”

Musse couldn’t keep a flash of self-satisfaction from her face — something Nadia took a bit of pride in, as it was devilishly hard to get her girlfriend to receive a compliment. “Ah, but I admire the way you benefit from yours! You deserve to be rewarded for what you do!”

Right where I want her. “Then perhaps you should be a bit more selfish, then!” Nadia grinned in victory — she worried that Musse had become a bit too self-sacrificing to be a truly diabolical mischief-maker. “It shouldn’t be an obligation, but a pleasure.”

Musse nodded her head, conceding the point. “Very well. If only to make sure you can’t rest on your laurels.” The pair grinned at each other. As much as this was neutral ground, the two of them couldn’t help but trade a few gentle barbs.

Nadia wouldn’t have it any other way. Who else could keep up with her like this?

Chapter Text

“I’m… terribly sorry.”

Wayne Brighton made sure to train multiple times a week. He wasn’t some otherworldly talent, or the heir to an ancient martial lineage — but he was a student at Thors Military Academy, and he was determined not to let his military family down. Recently he had been shown the benefits of a training partner — and so he had teamed up with Jessica. Jessica Schleiden, who was the heir to a storied fighting style, with everything to prove. And, if Wayne was being honest with himself, the girl he was currently harboring a massive crush on.

And also, unfortunately, the girl he had landed atop of, after overextending a swing of his saber.

The awkwardness of the situation was both helped and hindered by the fact that they were both in their Panzer Soldats. Helped, because he wasn’t actually, physically on top of her, crushing her under his bulk, and didn’t have to look her directly in the face. Hindered, because they couldn’t actually stand back up without assistance, and were forced to stay there while Instructor Randy tried to stop laughing and get in his own Soldat to help them up.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Jessica’s voice crackled over the private comm line — he must have damaged the antenna in the fall.

“Only my pride,” Wayne grimaced, squirming in a futile attempt to get comfortable in a cockpit turned on its face. The safety harness kept him from slamming through the windshield, but it did chafe.

The line crackled some more. Was she laughing? “So what made you try that little, uh… ‘maneuver?’”

Wayne flushed a bit, thankful again that she couldn’t see his face. “Well… basic tactics, I thought. You’ve got the reach advantage with your spear, so I was trying to close the gap.”

Silence from the other end. He could see Instructor Randy finally making his way over to the Soldat Hangar, but now Wayne was more concerned with how much of an idiot he had been.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He jumped, startled by her voice’s sudden return.

“Really?” As soon as he blurted out his response, he winced. Too eager!

That odd crackling noise came over the comm line again — Wayne was sure it was her laughter. “Yeah. I mean I think you went a bit overboard, but… the logic is sound, at least.”

Wayne fell slack in the restraints. Well, at least I’m just an oaf, and not a fool AND an oaf. “Jessica… I’m sorry. I guess I bit off more than I could chew with this.”

“Eh, that’s all right. Maybe warn me next time you’re going to try something like that, okay?”

Suddenly, his Soldat began to shake — the Instructor had gotten a grip on the dorsal plates, and was hauling him to his feet. But Wayne couldn’t hear Randy’s good-natured teasing — despite all of his clumsiness, he hadn’t wrecked everything. Jessica had said “next time,” after all.

Chapter Text

Alisa set the teacup down with a gentle clink, making sure to put it back on the tray as close as possible to where she picked it up. She wasn’t required to by any means — she merely liked the dainty elegance of the act. It fit so well with the ambience of the café, looking out over Crossbell Harbor through wide bay windows. But it fit even better with her graceful partner.

She had been romantically involved with Elie MacDowell for over a year now, since Crossbell’s independence. The distance was an obstacle, but one they overcame with characteristic equity — alternating their visits in Crossbell and Roer. Alisa smiled across the table at Elie, who was gazing out over the twinkling waters. How did I end up with someone so perfect?

The two of them had sat in silence for almost half of an hour. It wasn’t awkward — they reveled in it. Being together was one of the few times they could just… exist, without some emergency breathing down their neck. It made Alisa almost regret to disturb the peace with conversation, but talking with Elie was even better.

“So, apparently Rean’s thinking of heading to Calvard.”

Elie turned, raising an eyebrow as she took a sip from her own teacup. “Calvard? What for?”

“Oh, I’m sure you can guess — saving people who are undoubtedly more than capable of saving themselves, throwing himself in front of catastrophes… the usual.” Alisa waved a hand dismissively, but smiled as she did so. “I just figured you should know — I’m sure Lloyd will want to go along with him.”

Elie rolled her eyes. “I wish they would just bite the bullet and get together already. How long have they been dancing around each other, now?”

“I know! Finding all these excuses to go on some adventure, just so they can ‘call in a good friend for backup’ — I mean, really! You can just settle down together! The world doesn’t have to be ending in order to see each other!” It was a well-worn tirade between the two of them; intervening directly had long been established as a mistake. But it was so frustrating, at times, having such a wonderful relationship of her own and seeing her best friend put up so many hurdles between himself and happiness.

And, to be honest… there was a part of her that longed to run out with him, to take up her bow and destroy the evils of the world face-to-face. But even just thinking about it…

No. Reaching out, she took Elie’s hand in her own. Her girlfriend smiled back at her, squeezing her fingers lightly. Everything she needed was right here.

Chapter Text

The sky was a perfect blue, spotted only with the bright, multicolored banners Parm was famous for. The Spinning Town was an odd choice for a day date, Rean thought. It wasn’t a choice he was opposed to, but he was a touch worried. Aurelia usually preferred more excitement in their outings, whether it was some exhibition of skill, or a contest that she could herself partake in. But she had been a bit out of sorts since their return from Longlai.

So had he, really. It wasn’t that he cared much about losing a fight — to him, defeat was just another part of martial arts. But to find someone so dangerous, after the Twilight and all that had followed…

Well, it wasn’t something to focus on today. Today was for walking the streets, popping in at the Vander hall, browsing the storefronts… if Aurelia wanted a relaxing day in Parm, then by the Goddess she’d get it.

It was a touch amusing to see the shell-shocked proprietors and baffled trainees she left in her wake, he had to admit. Aurelia le Guin was a known quantity across the western and southern provinces of Erebonia, since the civil war. But seeing her act so… domestic… it was as though a thundercloud had casually walked in and asked for tea. Rean had seen her this way before, of course — their relationship wasn’t new, and they’re had been through their ups and downs. Aurelia just needed some time.

The moment finally came as they settled down for a meal at the local inn. Humble yet delicious local delicacies piled upon the plates before them, Aurelia’s insistence on paying for the meal only serving to throw them further off-guard.

“I’m not good at this,” she said, out of the blue. They had been idly discussing the weather, but it was clear to Rean that the moment had arrived. “Comforting you, I mean.”

Rean’s eyes widened, a smile spreading across his face. “Is that what you’ve been trying to do all day? I was worried I’d upset you!”

Aurelia didn’t blush, not really. But she did purse her lips in a clear sign of her embarrassment. “As I said, I’m not very good at it.” She took a bit of her salad, considering her next move. Always a warrior.

“Ever since we got back from Longlai, you’ve been distracted,” she continued. Rean stifled another amused reply, but he was genuinely surprised she had noticed. He thought he was better at hiding these things.

Smirking slightly, Aurelia reached under the table. “You show it the most when we spar.” She retrieved a small, thin box, and pushed it across the table.

“I bought this for you, today.” Lifting the lid, Rean saw that a simple, yet beautiful purple ribbon lay inside. “It’s for the hilt of your tachi.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, holding it to the light. Tiny threads of gold danced like illusions as he turned it in his hands.

“When next you meet someone who is… like that,” Aurelia said, her hesitancy overshadowed by the heat in her eyes. “This will remind them that you are mine — and I am quite protective of those I love.”

Chapter Text

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Edith's Old Town might be sleepy after dark, but that just meant Aaron had to range further afield. He wandered the backstreets of Tyrell, Seiden — even dipping into the Blacklight when nothing aboveground caught his interest. Van probably thought he was out living it up. Shows what he knew.

Well, to be fair, he would have been enjoying the nightlife, if he could bring himself to. But tonight Aaron slouched under the streetlamps, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His path took him near and around his usual haunts, but never quite within eyesight. Always just on the brink of throwing himself to distraction, but not allowing himself to.

"So what's the plan tonight?" Aaron leaned against the wall, the bricks reducing the bass-heavy music to a murmur. He was taller than Wazy, and liked to rub it in as much as he could. "Don't tell me you're busy."

"It's true, I'm afraid." Wazy smiled, looking at the back of his hand. It was infuriating, how he brushed off Aaron's moves so effortlessly. "Duty calls — our playtime is over."

Aarons still got a shiver, thinking about it. The way Wazy could lead him by the nose one moment, and shut him down the next. He'd never been toyed with by anyone like he was by Wazy Hemisphere.

It had been days since the Dominion had vanished from Edith. Days of Aaron going through the motions, pretending as though he hadn’t found something, someone, that made everything else feel so… flat.

“Maybe I’ll tag along, then.” He tossed his hair with a grin, covering his… was this neediness? What was he doing?

“Oh — no. Darling, this is far above your paygrade. You’ll be staying here with your little… detective agency.”

Aaron snorted, cracking his neck. Without his swords on him, he couldn’t show off as much as he wanted, but… “Fuck that. I’ve fought my way outta hell before — ain’t that what you people do anyway?”

Wazy was completely unmoved, merely reaching a hand out to lightly run his fingers down Aaron’s sleeve. “I’m afraid I must insist, my little firework. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your delicate features, after all.”

It still stung. Aaron couldn’t keep the snarl from his face as he loped down the streets, taking turns at random. Little shit. Probably be telling me what to do all the time anyway. He needed to forget him. Not like he wanted to join the church anyway. Aidios or Arusha or whatever could fuck right off, as far as he was —

And yet, no matter how far he walked that night… everywhere he went reminded him of Wazy.

Chapter Text

Sara stood in front of the pantry, her hands on her hips. There had to be something to drink somewhere in this mess. With the cabinet doors closed, the kitchen was a picture-perfect representation of Zack's aesthetic. Traditional, sturdy, polished but not ostentatious. The deep brown wooden furniture combined with the pastoral views from the windows gave the whole house a cozy feel that Sara truly loved.

Unfortunately the lack of organization also matched Zack's personality. The house felt as though everything that didn't relate to his interest du jour was thrown in a drawer or cupboard without a second thought. And while she was certainly no paragon of virtue in that regard, it did make it a touch difficult to find alcohol...

"Dear, I can't help but think you could do with a weapon with more heft." Sara smiled and rolled her eyes, hooking a finger through the handle of a jug she'd spotted at the back of the pantry. More of his obsessive tinkering. At least it wasn't the plumbing, this time...

Walking out to the living room, Sara found that Zack had placed her shortsword on the coffee table, and was inspecting it closely with a device of his own invention. "Sorry, Instructor Strasburg," she teased. "I really don't think a big-ass sword like yours would really suit my fighting style." She hopped over the back of the couch to plop down next to him, taking a quick swig of her drink.

His monocular retracting with a series of gentle clicks, Zack Strasburg turned to look at her, brushing his shaggy gray hair from his eyes. He was largely unmoved by her teasing - with the length of time they had been together, Sara would have been more surprised if he hadn't developed a thick skin. "Mmm, perhaps. What if you replaced your pistol with a rifle, or some other firearm with more stopping power?"

"Hey." Sara dropped her joking tone, looking him dead in the eyes. "Where's all this coming from, huh? You've seen me fight — Am I doing something wrong?" She had a feeling she knew where this was coming from, but it was important not to make assumptions with him. Sometimes she had no idea how his mind worked.

To her surprise, he blushed. "W-well... as we fought in the new Einhel Keep system yesterday, I couldn't help but notice... A few of the monster's claws came within a few rege of striking you as you darted around them." Zack's eyes darted away, unable to meet her gaze.

“Soooo… you think if I had stronger weapons, then I’d be… less likely to get hurt?”

Zack nodded. “It… sounds a bit silly, when you put it like that —“

“Hon,” Sara said, draping her arm over his shoulder. “No matter how good I am, or you are… we’re gonna get hurt sometimes.” She planted a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s why we have each other.”

Chapter Text

The Branch Campus grounds hummed with activity. The first-years had put their all into the festival, and the upperclassmen were just glad to have a bit of respite after a grueling semester. They were the first graduating class for the Branch Campus, after all - and of course Principal Le Guin hadn’t given any leeway for ‘having endured an apocalypse.’

Class VII was the exception to the rule, as always. As Council President, Ash kind of had to be involved, and he wasn’t about to let Musse off the hook either. Altina didn’t have to be convinced — following in her Instructor’s footsteps as the Council’s ‘gofer’ (Ash’s term), she had volunteered to help every class in one way or another.

The other two, however, were nowhere to be found. Nobody thought to check on the roof of Einhel Keep, because nobody knew about the surprisingly climbable tree that had grown behind it. But despite the Branch Campus’ large grounds, there were shockingly few places where young couples could sneak away to for a little alone time — so they had gotten creative.

Kurt and Juna had built a little nest atop the keep over the past few months, complete with blankets (tattered, about to be thrown away, not stolen) and pillows (bought from a thrift store, not stolen) and a heating orbment (stolen) for colder nights. It was becoming a little home away from home, where they would only be interrupted by the occasional rumble of Einhel being reconfigured.

“I feel a little guilty,” murmured Juna, resting her head on Kurt’s shoulder. “I was so excited to see the attractions the first-years put together, but now…”

“I know.” Kurt pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. “It’s been forever since Mueller and my parents visited, and here I am, hidden away.”

She grumbled, shifting around to nestle in the crook of his arm. “Yeah, that’s been eating at me too. Ken and Nana came all the way from Crossbell…”

“But I can’t quite bring myself to head out there yet.” Kurt sighed.

“We should, though.” Juna made no effort to stand up.

“Yeah.”

After a few minutes, she was dozing, and Kurt felt his eyelids drooping too. The rudimentary shade they had put up blocked the worst of the suns rays, but the warm weather was just right, and the distant clamor of the festival made for an oddly relaxing ambience. Kurt smiled. The festival lasted all day, after all, and their own underclassmen, the new faces of Class VII, wouldn’t be putting their performance on until the evening, so…

“Just a little longer, then,” he said, letting his eyes drift shut, holding Juna a little tighter.

Chapter Text

The woods to the north of Leeves were something of an anomaly in this part of Erebonia. The leaves and branches grew thick and fast, letting only a few errant beams of sunlight through. As such, it had an ethereal, dreamlike quality that belied the sheer quantity of monsters that called it home.

The latter aspect was the reason Shizuna used it as a training ground when she stayed in Leeves. This close to the capitol, there simply weren’t that many monster nests — the Imperial Army ran a pretty tight ship — but these woods were oddly untouched.

So every morning, she dashed around the woods, slashing through the local wildlife, gone before the sepith hit the ground.

Most of the time Shizuna reveled in the slaughter. Sometimes she had to set little tests for herself to keep her interest— how many in 10 seconds, how many with her eyes closed, how many before the echoes of their death-cries faded. And some days she just couldn’t find the motivation.

It was days like this where she needed a human opponent (or human enough, if the Conflagration was in town). She sighed to herself, sheathing her blade. It was a long walk back to Leeves. Time to bother Rean again.

There were people who didn’t approve of her relationship with Rean Schwarzer. Kurogane was particularly vocal — he always had something to say about her ‘consort.’ Always perfectly respectful, of course, but the fact that he would say it at all spoke volumes. And the other faculty at Rean’s workplace didn’t have the highest opinion of her either.

Most of the time she didn’t really care what anyone had to say about them. But on days like today, their words would pop up in her mind unbidden. So ridiculous. A waste of time to even think about such things. But still they came, no matter how many times she cut them down like so many bundles of straw.

It was something she found endearing in Rean, though. To him, such thoughts were often all-consuming, and she knew it held him back from his potential as a warrior. In a way, this made him her greatest challenge — to find her ultimate opponent, she would have to defeat a foe that existed entirely within someone else’s mind. It was thrilling.

By the time she arrived at the Branch Campus, Shizuna was excited again, practically bouncing on her heels. She banged her fist on the window of Rean’s classroom, grinning as he jumped in surprise. It wasn’t just her desire for a true opponent that kept her with him. Rean was charming, and really fun to tease.

His class tittered behind their hands while he gathered his notes, giving her a rueful smile. She would only have him for an hour or so this morning. But that was enough. It was good to break him out of his routine every once in a while. It made him happy — a step on the path towards her goal.

And it was nice, to see him happy.

Chapter Text

The dining room was noisy, raucous with miners recovering from a long shift in the depths. It was as though the darkened confines of their daily lives merely compressed their joy, and returning to the surface let it loose with even greater exuberance. Estelle had taken a table as far from the crowd as she could, but it wasn't a large room — while she could avoid intruding on them, she couldn't escape them.

Kevin Graham sat beside her in uncharacteristic silence, his meal lying half-eaten next to Estelle's barely-touched plate. He scanned the room idly, giving a slight shake of the head to anyone who seemed about to approach their table. She should have been thankful.

She wasn’t. It was one of Estelle's bad days. She didn't feel much of anything. Kevin didn't really know how to navigate these moods, and neither did she. He would smile at her sometimes — not the smug grin of once upon a time that had made her want to plant a fist in his face, but a small, sympathetic, token of encouragement. It would have broken her heart to stay unmoved, if one remained to break.

But what could be done? Estelle had been the sun, shining bright and relentless in the sky — while the sun might disappear, it would always return. But Joshua… her moon, her family, her other half… was gone. Not like before, when he had left. He was gone.

And so the sun had gone with him.

Poor Kevin had fallen in love with the sun, bright and shining and unattainable. But why did he stay? His soft sad smiles could not bring it back. No amount of silent companionship could raise the dead, nor replace them in her heart. Estelle resented the wasted effort, sometimes. Resentment came easier than happiness, but not as easily as despair.

But remain he did. This was not the first night he had guided her from the too-empty home to a place of people, a place of life. Did he sleep in that over-stuffed armchair in the living room? He was always there, cooking, cleaning. When the storm came, he had replaced the windows, swept the water out the door.

There were no idiotic jokes or playful jabs — had they been lost? Had a part of Kevin died, too? Or had he been reforged? Or had this been there all along, this patient, quiet caretaker?

He had loved the sun from afar, and then the sun died. But it had left something behind, ash, dust in the shape of a person, barely able to pretend at life, let alone light. And every day he attempted to breathe a little more life into her remains, never expecting, always simply trying. It was futile, impossible. Wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

The woods echoed with the whistle and clatter of wooden training weapons. At first the nearby wildlife had fled, but as the two combatants showed no signs of hunting them down, birds had returned to spectate the sparring match. They chimed in with snatches of song as their perches swayed gently in the wind.

Unfortunately, Estelle didn't have time to take in the splendor of nature. Rais held his baton out in front of him, as though to ward her off — but it was a feint. Her staff had a clear reach advantage, so he was trying to draw her in so that he could pounce. She didn't need to be a tactical genius to see it — it was the same ploy he had used last time. Estelle just had to wait-

And here he comes. Losing patience, Rais rushed forward, swinging his baton in a flurry of blows at her shoulders and arms. She gave ground, whirling her staff in blurred circles to batter away his assault. As the force of her parries knocked him off balance, Estelle pressed her advantage — giving him a series of sharp taps about his torso before pushing him back with the tip of her quarterstaff.

Rais pulled himself to his feet, panting, and they were back to square one -- just a few arge apart, slowly circling each other, weapons at the ready.

“So tell me,” Estelle called out with a smirk. “Are you gonna actually try to hit me today or what?”

Sputtering, Rais dropped his stance. “What— I been trying to hit you this whole time, ‘Stelle! Sorry I didn’t grow up being taught by my famous A-Rank Bracer dad or something!”

“Oh, come on.” Estelle leaned on her staff. “You grew up with the Ravens! What happened to the ‘rough streets of Ruan,’ or whatever?”

“Well, maybe-“ He snapped his mouth shut, cutting himself off midsentence. A fierce blush bloomed across his face.

Estelle cocked her head to the side. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“No!” Rais broke his eye contact with her, looking away and to the side. Estelle smiled to see him react in this way — his hair fell across his eyes in such a charming way, and he only did it when he had something particularly mushy to say.

He stewed in his embarrassment for a moment, before muttering something that Estelle couldn’t quite make out. “What was that, honey? I can’t heeeeear you!”

“I don’t want to hurt you by accident, okay?!” Rais shrugged helplessly, dropping his baton. “I just keep thinkin’, like… ‘what if I go too hard?’ And then I see your face, and… I don’t want to bust it up or anything!”

Estelle paused for a moment, before tilting her head back in laughter. “Oh, really?” Walking towards him, she reached out and pulled Rais into a brief kiss. “That’s very sweet of you… but if you’re gonna be a better Bracer, you’re gonna have to try a little bit harder, okay?”

She patted him on the cheek, and made her way back across the sparring field. “Plus — the only way you could get past my staff is if I had one hand tied by my back!”

Estelle was pleased to see Rais snarl as he scooped up his baton. He always took a little nudging, but he could be taught.

Chapter Text

It was a rare occasion that saw Jona Sacred willing to meet up in person — or ‘meatspace,’ as he called it. And it was rarer still that he was the one to suggest doing so in the first place. If Tio was being honest, she also preferred to spend time with others virtually, but Jona had piqued her curiosity.

He sat silently on her bed, as she booted up her custom terminal. Silent, but not still — he kept fidgeting, picking at his nails, shifting his position. It was annoying, but Tio didn’t say anything. Jona was often annoying, but so was everyone else. It had taken her some time to come to terms with that.

She held her breath as she gingerly set the memory quartz next to the interface port. With one last glance at Jona over her shoulder, she lay a finger upon it… and plugged it in.

Immediately, Tio’s monitor went dark. It was a classic virus move, a gatekeeping trick to shut out amateur cybersecurity personnel. But Tio was certainly no amateur. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, and soon enough her screen lit anew — though that was far from the end of her labors. She opened console after console, firing up her ablative ICE programs. They weren’t going to be enough to defeat a handmade, Jona Sacred original virus, but they could slow it down. The killing blow, however, would need a personal touch.

It was a little game they played, the two of them. Spooling together malicious executables for each other to fight, competing to see who could kill the other’s viruses faster. Tio was the better counter-hacker, but Jona was quite creative.

Well, most of the time he was. Over the past few months, his code had gotten quite sloppy. Frustratingly so, to be honest. She had planned on talking to him about it, seeing if there was anything wrong — but the chance had never come up, and then he’d started bragging about this new virus that would ‘change everything.’

So far, though, it seemed about on the same level as his other recent subpar works.

Tio almost felt bad for him as she burned the heads of his digital hydra. She could feel him staring at her screen, watching as she effortlessly eviscerated his magnum opus. It hadn’t even broken into a single database by the time she had unraveled it completely, the damage limited to creating a single text file, that seemed to do nothing.

Leaning back from her keyboard, she spun her chair slowly to look at Jona. “That was very easy.” His face was red — undoubtedly embarrassed. It was a phenomenon she had seen many times before. “Is everything all right? Your viruses have —“

“Are you gonna read it?”

Tio stopped midsentence. It wasn’t the reactions she had expected at all. “Read what?”

“The file. The text file it made.”

Pursuing her lips, she turned back to her terminal, opening the file with a series of apprehensive clicks. It was short, just two lines.

TIO PLATO, MY ARCH-NEMESIS!!!!!!!!!!
I like you. Do you want to go out with me?

What slight expression there was drained from her face. This was a new paradigm. It would require much thought.

“…Well,” stuttered Jona after a few seconds had passed, his cheeks still bright red. “What do you think?”

“… Can we still make viruses for each other?”

Chapter Text

Musse Egret’s dorm room was, blessedly, empty. Even though she ostensibly lived here, there was still felt a pang of uncertainty as she slipped inside, drawing the curtains mostly closed. It didn’t feel right to use this space as she did. But then, much of what she did don’t feel right on some level.

It was a free day for the students of the branch campus, so her roommate was unlikely to return for several hours. Musse had given contradictory reports on plans for the day, and prepared an alibi should her lies be uncovered. But her secret lair was still just a dorm room, the only security measure a locked door. What a joke — she was supposed to be weaving an empires downfall, and she might as well be hiding under a blanket.

She shook her head, sweeping her hair out of her face as she fanned out her papers on the desk. Far from the papers and homework assignments that filled every other students bag, Musse carried around reports both economic and political, hastily written notes from informants, and secretly copied communiques between government officials. Everything a student-turned-mastermind — or rather, mastermind-turned-student — would need for such an audacious plan.

In the past Musse had been able to shut out her precarious surroundings, focusing entirely on her documents, the web of connections that existed entirely within her head. But today, she stared through them, seeing nothing but her own inadequacy, how very, very small she was.

It wasn’t just that Musse couldn’t focus, but why. It was just so… it shouldn’t be so all-encompassing, but it was. Enough to take her out of her head, to see her room as a shameful reminder of her youth, to see her attempts at maturity and mystery as the pretensions of a child, to let the levers of control slip from her hands.

Control. It was something she couldn’t control, and it had unraveled her very being.

It was Vita Clotilde. Her voice, her airy laugh, her sparkling wit that she could only hope to aspire to — Musse was supposed to be some great architect of fate, and yet she felt so thrillingly weak before one of her supposed subordinates.

They hadn’t even seen each other in months, communicating exclusively by magical communion — the same method Vita used for her radio broadcasts, but at much smaller scale. Musse looked up from her desk to stare at the blue flower, potted prettily near the window. A focus, that would glow as they spoke through it, flickering and pulsing with their voices as they laughed and connived. But the distance had only made Musse’s heart grow fonder.

So stupid. A crush? Genuine romantic feelings? An outlet for the incredible stress of trying desperately to puppeteer a nation away from apocalypse? It should have been shoved away like all the other childish things a normal girl could have. A real girl.

But she couldn’t. It kept crawling back, seeping gently and relentlessly under the locked doors and shuttered windows of her mind. It was something she could never act on, never let herself exult in , not even when the Work was done — because once it was done, then she would have to pay for her crimes, and there would be no —

The flower chimed, beautiful, a miniature bell. Musse’s spiral of self-hatred spilled away from her in moments, replaced with sheer panic. She didn’t have anything prepared, what was she going to say?

But she reached out for the flower with a frisson shooting up and down her spine, and her heart pounding away in her chest. For all her shame — she couldn’t resist the chance just to talk to Vita. Just for a minute, an hour. Anything.

It was so stupid. But Musse wouldn’t give that feeling up for anything.

Chapter Text

Their footsteps echoing faintly from the brick buildings, Rean and Aurelia strolled slowly back to Heimdallr Station. The orbal lampposts bathed them in a warm, golden glow, not quite blurring the stars in the sky above. Upon leaving the Opera House, they had been surrounded by the crush of the other audience members -- but the two of them had left the crowds far behind, taking a scenic route, an unspoken wish that the night wouldn't have to end.

"I think I've figured out why you like the opera," said Rean, his matter-of-fact tone belying the growing smile on his face. Aurelia furrowed her brow, trying to discern the purpose behind the seeming non sequitur.

"Oh really?" She kept walking by his side, their fingers entwined, arms swaying gently with every step. "Well lay it on me, mister Unclouded Eye."

That got a laugh out of him, but he pressed onward. "It's so... focused. So much of the form comes from the vocal skills of the performers themselves -- sure, there's sets and props and scripts, but all of it is in service to the singing itself." Aurelia cocked an eyebrow in surprise. She had expected some gentle sarcasm, but it seemed that he had been putting real thought into this... even if she couldn't quite see where he was going with it yet.

"That's a fair assessment, from someone who has only recently been educated on the finer points of the medium," Aurelia teased. While the two of them had been going to see the opera on occasion since they had started dating, it was only after the resolution of the Twilight that she had found enough time to attend performances consistently. To his credit, Rean had taken to the artform as well, and they made good use of their season tickets. "But I'm afraid I fail to see the connection."

By now the smile that had been creeping across his face had become a full-grown grin. "Well, Aurie," -- Rean was one of a vanishingly small number of people who could call her that and get away with it, -- "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but... sometimes you can be a bit, just a touch monomaniacal about swordcraft."

"Oh, hush," Aurelia said, giving him a gentle shove that got him to laugh again. She had known he couldn't help but tease her a bit... though perhaps she had brought it upon herself by priming him to do so. Hm. Something to analyze another time, perhaps.

"Sometimes I just likestuff, okay? It's not as though I'm one-hundred-percent devoted to swords!"

"Oh, of course, my deepest apologies." Rean drew his free hand to his chin, stroking an imaginary beard. "Though, I do have to wonder... how would our relationship be different if I wasn't a Divine Blade?"

Aurelia waved off the rhetorical question. "Well, I'd say the only difference would be that our duels would look more like... remedial training sessions. More so than they already do, I mean."

"Oh, you are so dead when we spar tomorrow."

She grinned. "I look forward to it."

Chapter Text

The world around Gaius Worzel was illuminated primarily by an incessant barrage of violet lightning. He plunged his cross-spear into the heart of the roaring devil, sending a fountain of ectoplasm spraying arge into the air. Before the slain monster even had time to crash to the ground, however, he had already whirled away, sending the spear on a sharp zephyr to punch through a series of ravening, amorphous monstrosities.

Pandemonium. A perversion of the Goddess' realm. Unhallowed abominations tore their way into reality, with an insatiable appetite for destruction, blood, and fear. More and more, the Gralsritter were called to push back the tide of darkness. The Geneses, the Twilight, Phantasma — the fabric of reality seemed to be coming apart at the seams, and the devils beyond were all too eager to strike.

Gaius fought them in silence. All around him were the screams of the damned, the clash of weapons, the cries of pain from his squires, but he hadn't said a word since they'd leapt from the Merkabah. His eyes pierced as truly as his weapon, and his teeth were bared in a snarl — but his was a cold fury.

It hadn't always been this way. Once he had charged into the fray with a cry of courage on his lips, as much for his own benefit as for his companions'. But he had seen too many of squires fall, and his coat was soaked through with the semi-viscous entrails of fallen demons. It had lost its novelty.

With the quiet behind his eyes, however, came questions. Would his task ever be complete? No. To be a guardian is to be forever vigilant. Does that matter to him? Would he put down his spear, wearied by the fight?

No. It has never been a question before, and isn't really one now, just a rhetorical device. Gaius had always had this need, this burning compulsion, to protect his home. The precise definition had changed over time — his family, the Highlands, Erebonia, Zemuria — but the compulsion had never diminished. Gaius would die defending what he loved.

A hell-forged blade squealed discordantly against the blessed steel of his spear as he forced the gigantic weapon aside. Stepping in under the grasping claws, his hand flashed with his stigma's light -- and a moment later, the beast had been launched high into the air, doomed to an abrupt death on impact. Gaius had known that he would fall in the line of duty, but it was a distant knowledge. Today, though... for some reason, today he could see the end. It was certain, inevitable.

But if that was the case, then... it was the journey that mattered, wasn’t it?

**********

Wallace Bardias walked among his fellow squires, hiding his own exhaustion. He was the oldest of the Phoenix' retinue by far, and the longest-serving at that, so he felt responsible for the greenhorns. Despite their terrible casualties, Wallace made sure to learn all their names, etching them into a roll of honor in his mind. Someone had to.

They felt almost like a jaeger company, sometimes. A sort of gallows camaraderie blossomed at mealtimes, but too many of the squires spent their free time in a sort of daze, laying in their bunks, or staring deeply into a drink. Was it a symbol of the times? Or a product of their fatalistic Dominion?

Speak of the devil... He cocked an eyebrow at his Knight, striding towards him with thunder in his eyes. Goddess, but he was beautiful, even in the terror of his Divine Rage. It was good to see Gaius feel anything, especially after the past-

His train of thought was brought to a screeching halt as Gaius came in close, too close, slipping a hand to the back of Wallace's head and pulling him into a deep kiss. It was rough, with a desperate need barely held in check.

After a moment, a lifetime, Gaius pulled back without a word, looking deep into his eyes. Wallace could only stare back, his mouth open slightly with shock. How many times had he dreamt of such a thing? Was he dreaming now? Lines of inquiry sputtered and shorted in his mind, as he tried to reconcile this reality with the one of mere seconds ago.

"I've been wanting to do that for years," Gaius said, his voice hoarse from disuse. "But if we're running out of time, then we'd better make it count."

Wallace's heart soared to hear Gaius' words mirror his thoughts, even the implications of his admission caused it to break. The Dominions of the Gralsritter were supposed to be Her mightiest weapons, channeling her power unfiltered against the enemies of reality. If one was admitting to despair... what did that mean for Zemuria?