Chapter Text
A quaint, humble house in the woods hadn’t been the home Frieren had expected Heiter to build for himself. A grand cathedral decked out with towering pillars and golden arches, sure. It would make sense for the corrupt priest to overindulge in the creation of his personal quarters.
Yet, that was what she found at the end of her journey with Himmel and their daughter, Flamme. It was a simple cottage nestled away from the Empire’s busier cities, built near a massive ravine and a mountainous road leading around the gap. The trappings it had were basic necessities: a weathervane on the roof, a well near the front door, and chimney jutting from the center of its roof. Ivy ran along one of its walls, as if to help it blend in with the surrounding nature.
Perhaps she had exaggerated her own ideas of Heiter’s corruption, and the jovial drinker had less grandiose aspirations than what she had told herself.
“We’re here, we’re here!” Flamme jumped excitedly between the married couple, barreling into the priest’s yard as if staking a land claim. Orangish-red hair rose and fell beneath the flatcap that hid her horns. “Uncle Heiter, it’s us! We came by to visit you!”
The front door gradually creaked open. Emerging from the dim light of the house, Heiter adjusted his glasses to glance at the strange family before him. Wrinkles, laugh lines, and grey hair all acted as telltale signs of his advanced age – though his warm smile hadn’t changed since Frieren had first met him.
“I hadn’t expected you so soon! When I sent that letter, I had figured it would take an additional month or two before you would arrive. You two were always fond of sidequests, after all.”
Himmel chuckled softly at the comment. “Some sacrifices have to be made when friends are involved. You said you had a job for us, Heiter?”
“More so for Frieren, but your help will still be a boon, Himmel. But, before I forget…how’s my favorite niece doing?”
He knelt with some considerable effort, allowing Flamme to tackle him into an excited hug. Frieren could hear the noisy shifting of his bones from the impact, though the priest didn’t seem phased by the hit. He laughed with Flamme, trying to keep up as she speedily recapped the journey to his residence. Some embellishments about Himmel’s daily heroics ensued, earning a delighted blush from the hero and a look of amused exasperation from Frieren.
As cozy as the moment was between her daughter and her friend, Frieren’s gaze was drawn to a glimmer by Heiter’s door. In the shadows of his home’s interior, she could make out two purple eyes just barely staring from behind the doorframe. A small head of long purple hair slightly dropped from the angle of the young girl’s head.
The child couldn’t have been more than four years of age. Frieren didn’t recognize her, and judging by Himmel’s surprised reaction, neither did he. When had Heiter taken in a little girl? Did he have a daughter of his own in his twilight years?
Eventually, Heiter caught on to the reactions of his former party members. He brushed himself off and laboriously rose to his feet. Groaning from the effort, he shook out his robes before addressing the girl hiding in his home.
“It’s alright, Fern, you can come out. These are the people I told you about – good friends of mine. You can trust them. I promise they won’t hurt you.”
The child, Fern, quietly stepped onto the front porch from the encouragement. She was a small thing, a few years younger than Flamme, and dressed conservatively in black robes and a white dress. Her eyes looked hollow, worryingly so for someone so young.
Getting up from the grass, Flamme eyed the girl uncertainly. Frieren’s daughter was good at schooling her emotions, so she couldn’t get a good read on what she was thinking. Some part of Frieren hoped that she could finally make a new friend from their travels, even if their ages didn’t line up perfectly.
“I’ve been preparing dinner for you all,” Heiter explained, “so I’ll explain everything over tonight’s meal. For now…everyone, this is Fern. Her parents are gone, so I’ve been looking after her. I’m sure you’ll show her the same respect that you’d give me.”
Years of absence were consolidated into a mealtime conversation that barely lasted an hour. Himmel and Heiter laughed and swapped stories like no time had passed since their last encounter. Frieren simply sat back and soaked in the banter between her husband and her friend, occasionally interjecting when Himmel would exaggerate some obstacle he had overcome. Even without Eisen, the easygoing atmosphere among the Hero’s Party hadn’t changed.
Frieren’s attention occasionally turned to the two youngest people at the table. Fern sat close to Heiter, sometimes glancing up to stare at Frieren’s ears or the staff she had set aside, only to avert her eyes when spotted. The girl was quiet, withdrawn – almost like Frieren had been when her old master had first found her.
Speaking of Flamme, the half-demon girl never let Fern out of her sight. Though she voraciously tore into dinner, praising the hamburger steak and rolls as if to earn seconds, she didn’t carry that same enthusiasm into her voice when addressing Heiter’s ward.
“Is Heiter your real father?” Flamme abruptly asked her between bites of meat.
Briefly surprised by the acknowledgement, Fern shook her head. “He’s not…I mean, I don’t know. He looks after me, but we’re not related.”
“Oh. Okay.”
With that brief exchange, the two went back to their quiet and uneasy silence. Frieren didn’t want to push Flamme too hard about making new friends, but her daughter didn’t seem too comfortable handling the stranger at the table. She could deal with long bouts of quiet, but Flamme appeared to progressively wilt as it lingered.
Fortunately, she was married to a legendary hero and a notorious braggart. Upon noticing his daughter’s tense state, and the similar unease from Fern, Himmel wasted no time in sparking up a lively conversation. His eyes glimmered in delight at the opportunity to spin another yarn.
“You know, this reminds me of the time we came across Voll, an old but powerful dwarf warrior. Not as old as Frieren, mind you, but he had seen plenty in his years!” Brushing his hair back without exposing his filed horns, Himmel proudly smirked and rested a hand under his chin. “Of course, nothing had matched the day he had come face-to-face with Himmel the Hero!”
Fern perked up at once, with Flamme gaining a wide smile as his story unfolded. Frieren rolled her eyes in a good-natured jab, while Heiter laughed at his friend’s antics.
“And off he goes…” Frieren said aloud.
Heiter’s final laugh was cut short by a cough. Waving off a concerned glance from Fern, his tired face resumed its amused grinning. He downed the rest of his pint, wiping foam from his lips.
“When so much in life changes,” Heiter quietly commented, “it’s refreshing to see a few things stay the same.”
Himmel found Heiter by his desk when Flamme had been put to bed. Nothing but a candle, some ancient-looking books, and the faint moonlight kept the old priest company. Some mementos of his time as a bishop littered the study, like a miniature statue of the Goddess and an ornate rod meant for throwing holy water on worshippers.
Naturally, a sizeable collection of aged liquor had been stashed among the academic and religious pursuits, but it rested in a top cabinet above his desk. Himmel couldn’t help but smile at the implication of it. He might have only been a father for less than a decade, but he could recognize the care taken to prevent a child from getting her hands on booze.
“I’ve heard you’ve been telling stories about me, Heiter.”
The priest was unphased by Himmel’s quiet arrival. Turning away from his journal, Heiter pivoted around in his chair to face his old friend. His cheeks had their usual rosiness, but it was muted compared to his debaucherous antics in the Hero’s Party. Whether it was for his health or for Fern, the intensity of his drinking had diminished.
“All of them good, don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to besmirch the great name of Himmel the Blessed Hero.”
The two smiled knowingly at the title and the implications it carried. Part of Himmel was delighted to see the priest again, but another part lamented the sight of his advanced age. The years had been kind to Heiter, but a human could only last so long before life caught up with him. The thin skin, wrinkles, and grey hair all pointed to Heiter being in the last stage of his life.
The thought of one day losing him for good made the scars on his palms ache. He had lost some wonderful confidants to age in his adoptive village, people who had taken their chances by trusting a demon boy. Each passing had torn through his defenses until he had been left raw and exposed, at times openly weeping at the loss of his friends.
“So, we grew up in an orphanage together?” Himmel asked him. “And I regaled you with tales of becoming a hero, much to your annoyance?”
Heiter chuckled at the questions. “It’s more believable and palatable than the truth. More importantly, it keeps you and your family safe. No one will ever suspect that you’re a demon.”
“Always so considerate! No wonder you got into the priesthood. I can’t imagine how many people you inspired in your time as a bishop.”
Himmel leaned back against the desk, lowering his tone as he continued speaking.
“At the risk of sounding paranoid…I don’t think this was a regular social call, was it?”
The priest quietly laughed once again, shaking his head as he removed his glasses. Himmel had been right after all, then.
“Sharp as ever. No, this isn’t meant to be a simple reunion, even if I’m happy we finally got to see each other again. I think you can guess why I asked for you and Frieren to visit, can’t you?”
The blue-haired demon’s heart lurched at the question. He clenched his hands, digging his fingernails into his palms as the discomfort surging through them intensified.
“…How long do you have, then?”
“A few years, if I had to guess. Maybe five or six if I’m lucky. My confidence comes and goes.”
Stretching his back against the chair, Heiter winced at every creak and pop that came out of his body. Himmel shared the sentiment, worried for his closest friend.
“Can Frieren and I do anything to help you? I know Flamme wouldn’t be opposed to sticking around and spending time with her favorite uncle, anyway.”
Heiter’s gaze flickered to the collection of unmarked books collecting dust on his shelf. A low, contemplative hum left his lips as he scratched his chin. Sighing, he looked back at Himmel, the fatalistic acceptance clear in his eyes.
“I doubt anything could be done for my health. If the Goddess wants to take me, I see no reason to stop her. I mean…there’s a small chance that those journals could help, but I won’t get my hopes up. Having you and your family around would be enough. Fern’s a helpful girl, but I feel guilty asking so much of someone so young. As much as I’d love to, I won’t be able to raise her to adulthood. She needs to be able to fend for herself.”
Himmel nodded, understanding the priest’s goals from the answers he gave. He doubted he could stave off the inevitable for Heiter, but he could be there in his final years. Frieren had been notorious for fixating on singular tasks for years, so he had no worries about her objecting to their stay.
As for Flamme…he had meant it when he had said she would’ve loved to spend more time with Heiter. The only uncertainties were how she’d feel about sticking around until he passed on – and what she thought of the young girl he had taken in. Flamme’s interactions with other children her age were limited due to their time exploring and traveling. She had turned out well so far, but there had been moments when her demonic instincts would pop up, as diluted as they were from Frieren’s heritage.
He would have to ease her into the idea gently. One day at a time, he would help her get used to their role in Heiter and Fern’s lives. She deserved the peace of mind it would provide.
Besides, Heiter would have helped him in his time of need. Himmel believed that without a shadow of a doubt. He had covered for the demon hero for decades, and the gratitude Himmel felt was unimaginable. If the priest needed his friends to look out for he and Fern in his handful of remaining years, then Himmel would step in.
That was the sort of thing heroes did, as his long-gone human confidants had taught him.