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Chapter Text

It was just another regular day, where the prince of Roselia was lazing in the fields alone and away from everyone else. Himmel felt the blades of grass graze against his skin, his body stretched out beneath the heat of the blazing sun. The breeze was just right, and when he closed his eyes— he could hear the birds sing. 

Like a safe haven away from the rest of the world, he retreated here every time the voices around him got too loud, and pretended like he was amongst the clouds. Singing alongside the soaring birds.

Far, far away from the gravity that chained him down to the cold, unfeeling soil.

A sudden chill crept over him, and the pitch blackness seemed darker than usual. His eyes fluttered open to find a priest with slicked back light green hair and rectangular glasses standing over him, overshadowing the merciless sun. Himmel smiled. "My dearest brother, do you want to lie down with me?" he said in too extravagant a manner to be taken seriously.

They were in a meadow of grass closer to the cathedral than the castle, nestled between lush trees and shrubbery, vines and draping leaves. With so much green, Himmel wished that he could snap his fingers just to have flowers grow in. There was a specific kind of flower that he saw the one time he snuck out of the palace. They were blue, and bloomed so radiantly like it wanted to kiss every sunstreak in the sky. He never saw it again, and he never got to learn the name of that flower. 

Himmel wished that he was the king's mistress' son instead of Heiter at times, because then he'd be able to lie here without anyone looking for him. The clergy sounded more interesting than the lessons he was undergoing too, but at least the sword lessons weren't too bad.

Heiter crouched by his side, sighing as he poked his cheek. "I knew you'd be here, some things just never change. I'm surprised your dance instructor never found you after all these years." He chuckled and quickly cleared his throat, his tone of voice changing to something more strained and professional. "Anyway, your highness, his majesty is calling for you."

Himmel slowly sat up and swiped the sweat on his brow. "Dad is? Why?"

Heiter shrugged. "I don't know. He seems eerily happy though. Makes my skin tingle."

If dad was happy, then it definitely had nothing to do with the fact that he had been skipping his dance lessons. His parents never noticed, or maybe they really couldn't care less. Himmel flopped back onto the grass. "I'm dirty and sweaty, I'll go later..."

Heiter dragged his arm. "Nope, you're going now. It's urgent."

He groaned, sluggishly letting Heiter pull him up. "Fine..."

They reached the entrance of the throne room in a hurry, the towering mahogany double doors standing before them, intricate floral patterns weaving in and out of one another like a stunning web of colours. It was beautiful, but he found himself instead gazing beyond the windows that stretched from ceiling to floor to the voluminous clouds outside, which looked like it could've been formed of layers upon layers of soft sheep wool. Clacking open, the soldiers at the door announced their presence.

"Crown Prince Himmel and the First Prince Heiter has arrived, your majesty."

"I'm training to join the clergy, don't announce me as a prince..." Heiter jokingly muttered, soft enough only for Himmel's ears. "It's like they're trying to make mom angry." It was a joke, tinged with the slightest hint of desperation.

Anything he did would make her angry, to be honest. Himmel kept his laugh in, bowing before the royal leaders of their kingdom. "Father, mother, I hear you have news for me."

"Rise," their father said, the lord of the kingdom, in a low resonant voice few could command so powerfully.

The aged king ran his hand through his groomed light blue beard, an austere man to everyone including himself, yet so incredibly hands-off with his own son. And his mother was an extravagant beauty as always, yet her beguiling smile seemed to have faded these recent years in a different way. He wasn't sure why.

Watching them, it wasn't difficult to parse the queen's feelings at Heiter's presence. He wondered if killing Heiter's commoner mother wasn't enough for her to feel secure about her son's position. Despite being older, Heiter had a lesser claim to the throne simply by not having the queen for a mother. Wasn't that enough for her?

She didn't even seem to realise that her own son showed up in such tatters to an official summons. 

The king beamed, placing his hands together. "Himmel, we have finally found you a match. The kingdom of Historia offered their darling daughter as a symbol of peace between us. The tension between our two kingdoms have been strong, so this offer came at an incredibly great time."

Himmel's eyes widened, and he barely restrained himself from turning back to see Heiter's reaction. It was all too sudden.

"I... will be married?"

The king nodded. "As soon as your bride arrives."

As soon as she arrives? Himmel kept his reaction inside, realising that he didn't need to meet her to marry her. 

His mother laughed, the sweet kind that always reminded him of honey. "She's beautiful, I'm certain you'll be pleased! Of course, I'll be expecting heirs as soon as possible!"

Because if I have heirs, it would push Heiter's line of inheritance even further down.

It's true that there were tensions between their two kingdoms, so this marriage could stop even a war. In that case, accepting it was a no-brainer. For a prince that would one day inherit the throne, there existed no higher honour. 

The throne room was a lavish wonder, resplendent lights and golden statues lined with fountains that filled the otherwise utterly silent room with swooshing sounds of flowing water. Through the coloured paned glass, the sun streaks appeared in brilliant hues, painting the room like it came straight out of a fairytale. 

He shut his eyes for only a moment and recalled the birds, recalled the whimsical dance of the winds. He opened them once more, where they've all but vanished. In this room, the birds and the wind were nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be heard, to be felt.

He smiled, he smiled as he always did. "Yes, father. Yes, mother. Thank you, I am honoured to have been given this opportunity."

The king leaned back on his ornate throne, satisfied. "The marriage will be announced to our people. It'll be one to remember. You are excused."

All royal weddings will be remembered, but the one thing Himmel will remember more was the smile he saw for the first time from his parents when they told him about it. If they wanted it, then the best thing he could do was appease them. 

Just one more thing to remind him that he was chained to this earth.

Himmel and Heiter were led out, and Himmel began passively pacing down the empty sunlit halls. Heiter followed closely behind him, speaking in hushed whispers. "I wasn't expecting that to be the happy news. I guess you'd have to get married sooner or later."

Himmel sighed. "You're lucky, at least you got to choose to run away from this life."

Heiter scoffed. "Not much to choose if the alternative is to be assassinated. Being treated like a political threat every day starts being tiring after a while."

"Can't you just be king instead?"

There was a short silence. Heiter abruptly laughed, squeezing his arms around Himmel's shoulder. "Alright! This calls for a brotherly trip to my room."

Himmel rolled his eyes. "Day drinking?"

"What? You're getting married so you're above it now?"

Himmel brushed Heiter's hand off his shoulder, smirking. "I never said that."

I was supposed to go back to dance class anyway.

—

Heiter slammed his glass down on his desk. "I can't believe my little brother is getting married! My tiny boy is growing up so fast... It felt like it was just yesterday when you were crying because I toppled your rock pile!"

He's already wasted...

Himmel took a sip of the wine, watching it slosh about as he placed his glass down. He sat across from Heiter on the carpeted floor, all the cups and alcohol placed neatly onto the low table dividing them. "... Huh, I don't remember Historia having a princess."

Heiter sneered. "Look who paid attention in class. You had to be drunk to remember that?"

"Oh leave me alone, I was too shocked to think properly."

Heiter chuckled before explaining, gently swaying the glass in his hand. "Princess Frieren of Historia. Apparently they've been hiding her because she was sick and bedridden her entire life. They only announced her existence a couple days ago so it made sense that it didn't reach your ears yet. That said, I didn't think they'd instantly tie her up with you."

A princess that had been hidden away from the rest of the world because they weren't sure if she would live long enough to be of use. And when she did live long enough, they instantly used her. Himmel slumped onto the table, like a pathetic melting mass of flesh. "I wonder what kind of person she is. A sickly, sheltered princess, maybe?"

"You read too many fairytales if you think princesses can be categorised like that," Heiter smirked. "You're lucky if she doesn't end up spoiled."

"... Regardless, if she's been shoved into this marriage too, then maybe we're not so different after all."

Heiter perked up. "How so?"

"I just want to accommodate her, I suppose. At the very least, I want us to be nice to each other. And if she's sick, or just recovered, I'm sure all this stress with the sudden marriage announcement isn't going to help."

Heiter whistled. "What a saint, maybe you should be in the clergy instead of me."

Himmel hummed in contemplation. "Do I have to seduce her? Surely my face is enough..."

"Is it too late to take my compliment back?" Heiter asked, his words slurred as he stumbled back. "To think I was worried about you..." 

Himmel stood up and poured him a glass of water, swatting Heiter's hands away from encroaching upon the untouched wine bottles. "Alright, drink this instead. Let's get you to bed for now." 

He escorted his brother to his bed, pulling the blanket over him. Heiter grabbed onto his sleeve as he was about to leave, mumbling. "Himmel..."

Himmel chuckled, shaking him off. "That's enough! I'm going to snitch on you drinking if you don't sleep."

Heiter grinned. "I have a vision, the girl you're gonna meet will change your life."

"Marriage to a stranger is about as life-changing as you can get. That doesn't really mean anything now does it?" He didn't really know why he was entertaining the words of a drunk man.

His brother's words were always difficult to take seriously. But somehow, he still looked up to him, the same way he still does now. Both as a person and... physically. Don't younger brothers usually outgrow the older one? He pursed his lips, his mood suddenly soured for absolutely no reason. 

"Heh, you'll see. Everything will change," Heiter replied, drifting off to sleep.

... That wouldn't be so bad.

He turned to the rest of the bedroom, where the open window left the curtains billowing in the wind. Himmel could call for the maids to clean up the bottles here, but if he did, word of Heiter drinking might somehow reach the church. He sighed, picking up the glasses himself. The things I do for him.

—

In just weeks, the day of the marriage had arrived without issues, and this was the day Himmel was to meet his bride for the first time.

"The Princess of Historia has arrived, open the cathedral's gates!"

The cathedral was packed, the sweet scent of flowers that decorated every inch assaulting his senses. White flowers to signify the unification of the flowers of Roselia and the white doves of Historia. It had all gone completely silent, as everyone waited in anticipation for the princess shrouded in mystery to walk through the cathedral's entrance, with the king of Historia by her side. Himmel held his breath, stiffly adjusting the corsage on his chest's suit jacket before quickly placing his hand behind his back.

He turned towards Heiter, who was officiating the wedding, only to be greeted by a terrifying smile that warned him not to tear his eyes away from his bride. He quickly whipped his head back to the door. 

The gentle violin kicked in, followed closely by the lilting piano dancing with its own sound. Two shadows passed the doors, and it was as if everyone had held their breaths with him. The father-daughter pair was the perfect image of a warm, loving family, however true that may be. Himmel almost felt envious, but all those ugly thoughts went out the window when he saw her.

Strutting down the aisle, a young lady in white met his eyes beneath her veil. A teal that was the precise colour he always imagined emerald seas to look like. She had long white hair that draped down to her hips, that matched the noble white of the Historia royal family's lineage. 

She stopped in front of him, and he lifted the veil shrouding her face. Everything about her was new to him, and his eyes were drawn to the earrings on her ears. Rubies in the shape of a single teardrop. This was Frieren, his bride.

Frieren seemed to notice his fixation on her earrings as she discreetly spoke. Her eyes closed, which broke him out of his trance.

"Your highness, don't get distracted."

Her voice sounded disconnected from reality, soft yet distant. He was cruelly reminded that she was forced into this marriage as much as he was. Himmel smiled. "Don't worry, I won't mess anything up."

To exchange sacred marital vows before the eyes of the Goddess before they even exchanged greetings. Himmel could only muster a chuckle. 

— That night, Himmel found himself on the verge of panic.

From concern.

His bride was lounging on the railing of their balcony, several floors above the ground. Her legs hung in the air as she gazed upon the garden below. They had already changed out of their wedding clothes by then, but he wasn't expecting to return to their bedroom to see her straddling the edge of death when they hadn't even properly exchanged names yet. Well, they already knew each other's names, but it would be nice to hear it straight from the relevant person's lips.

She casually turned towards him, who was still trying to think of a way to get her to come down. "There's a lot of flowers in this kingdom, I wasn't expecting that," she told him, completely ignoring how he looked as if he had been frozen in time.

He snapped out of it, calming himself down and approaching the railing she sat on. "Welcome to the kingdom of flowers. It's everywhere you look." Except in the one place I like going to. 

Himmel rested his arms on the railing and leaned against it, watching the full moon look down upon them. The moon stood out so much, like pale lilies in an endless glade. A pale lily that shone gently for weary travellers beneath its gaze. 

The wind blew around them, and he felt her hair tickle him whenever it brushed against his skin. It was a cool night that smelled keenly of flowers.

Frieren followed his gaze to the sky. "Your highness, what will become of the both of us, you wonder?"

He chuckled. "That's an ominous first question to ask your newlywed partner."

"I know what I have to do, but I don't know if it'll align with yours."

"Now that just makes it sound worse."

Frieren blinked, seemingly taken aback. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. No harm will come to you... at least not from me."

What a strange way of speaking. He wished she'd apologise for dangling off the balcony instead, but she seemed so comfortable in her lack of stability that he couldn't say anything about it. 

He sighed, caving into his concern. He took off his jacket and draped it around her body, whose frame was unexpectedly delicate. His hand brushed against her skin, and he noticed her shiver ever so slightly. "... I'd rather you head to bed. It's cold outside, and I heard you were sick before."

"... There's no need to worry about my health, that's what my knight is for," she reassured him. "Eisen'll be there for any and all emergencies."

That knight of hers, Himmel recalled. It was a dwarf sporting a light brown beard that almost dragged to the floor. He remembered him clearly purely because it was rare to see dwarven knights. They usually prefer to be warriors than knights, as knights seemed to adhere under a stricter ethos. He was told that this Eisen dwarf was nothing to worry about, but Himmel was worried about him anyway. Because he hadn't seen him at all, despite supposedly existing. He was too good at obfuscating his position. Himmel pushed down the annoying thought that wanted to relate that to the average height of dwarves.

Frieren abruptly smiled, which made him freeze for just a second. Out of apprehension, for sure. What made his heart skip a beat even more was her standing on the railing, pulling him up with her. 

He held onto her hands like his life depended on it, and suddenly she didn't look so delicate anymore. She silently stood as his anchor as his shaky limbs desperately flailed about, searching for stability that the stone railings on their balcony barely provided. He clenched his eyes shut, his legs feeling like they'd fall apart at any second. 

She was a cold person, he knew it. There was a thunderstorm in his heart, and in the darkness of his sight he was like a young child screaming silently into the void.

"Take a deep breath," he heard her whisper.

Not a single word of encouragement.

He wanted to curse her out for pulling him up like this so nonchalantly, but he opened his eyes and the world seemed to open up far larger than ever. Grass, trees, rivers, and in the distance, villages and towns slightly obscured by mist and bathed in moonlight. Places he'd never been to before, imprisoned in this castle. This must've been what he felt when he snuck out that one time, but he couldn't recall most of that emotion, nor could he recall most of what happened.

His racing heartbeat was all he could hear, but the warmth of her hand and the coolness of the wind was all he paid attention to. She was here with him too, the warm presence by his side. He always looked up at the sky, wishing he could join it in its infinite expanse. But staring down at the world like this, he realised that there was so much more out there. Beneath the infinite sky was an ever expanding world.

"I always liked being up-high. I can't explain why, but it makes me feel at peace," Frieren said.

Himmel closed his eyes again. He felt the wind, the breeze all around his body. If he stepped off, it was as if he would fly. He opened them again, chuckling. "It makes me feel like a bird."

She tilted her head. "You're not a bird, though."

He laughed. "If only I was."

She scoffed. "Ha... I knew someone that said that before too. I really don't get it at all."

She did? He wondered what kind of people she was surrounded by despite presumably having little to no contact with others in her sickbed. "What kind of person were they?"

Frieren's eyes widened, softening only moments later. "... An annoying teacher, that's all."

She held a wistful gaze towards the view before them, and Himmel could say nothing in return.

That was all she said, and Frieren filled the following silence with a question. "Heiter tells me you're skipping your dance lessons. Why?"

"You don't need to bring up my dancing just because I stepped on your foot a few times..." He trailed off, a realisation hitting him over the head as he rethought her words. Wait, Heiter? "You're on first-name basis with him already?"

She nodded. "We talked during reception and he told me to be comfortable. That makes things easier for me too."

He didn't even notice that they talked... It must've been during the time he was pulled aside by Historia's king for greetings. Frieren did disappear at that point.

"Oh," Frieren abruptly said. "Do you want me to call you Himmel too?"

This girl casually threw his formal introduction plans out of the window. "Well, I don't mind, but..."

She cut into his words. "Or would honey be better? We're married now, right?"

He paused, giggling. Maybe she really was a sheltered princess. Her perception of human marriages seemed adorably rigid. "Should I call you that too? Honey?"

She hummed, contemplating how it sounded in her mind. "No, it sounds weird. Just call me by my name and I'll do the same."

He laughed, half-disappointed. It would've been funny if she agreed. "Alright, Frieren. Nice to meet you."

He stepped down from the balcony and held his hand out to her.

She chuckled, taking his hand. "Nice to meet you too, Himmel."

Her teal eyes curved up ever so slightly when she smiled, and his view of her from below was like staring at the moon itself.

—

Frieren woke up, stretching in the thick sheets of the bed. It was crazily soft, the softness she never noticed in beds she slept in before. It was like she could melt into it if she stayed still enough. She pulled up the sleeve of her nightgown, which had been sloppily worn while yawning. The sun had already risen in the very centre of the sky, the midday sun. She woke up late again. It was refreshing not to be woken up by nagging for once, and rarely enough, she wanted to leave the bed. 

The ceiling was insanely intricately decorated, and Frieren had no idea why anyone would do that when barely anyone ever looked up in general. It just seemed like a colossal waste of time and money, though it did look nice. She supposed royals enjoyed looking at extravagant things.

She sluggishly turned to her side, and saw that Himmel had already left the bed. Who knows where he went, but this meant this was her chance.

She was exhausted from the night before, and she'd go to sleep again if she could. But she slipped off of the bed, because there was something she needed to do— that Himmel interrupted her from doing the night before. 

She slipped the bedroom slippers on and pushed the balcony doors open, quietly scanning for any human in sight. There was no one.

"Eisen," she called out. 

Air blew past her, sending her hair fluttering in the wind. A dwarf stood by her side, as if he had always been there.

"Princess, why did you summon me?"

She narrowed her eyes, somewhat annoyed. She caressed the red teardrop earrings she was still wearing, bringing his attention to it. "You know why, Eisen."

He shook his head. "I will not remove your earrings, Frieren. I am in a difficult place as well."

"I know, that's why I want you to join me. If we work together, all of us can get out of here."

Eisen dipped his head down. "... There's no place for either of us, Frieren. Say we both succeed, where would we go? There's no chance they won't hunt us down."

She smiled. "We live hundreds of years, Eisen. Humans will forget."

Eisen scoffed. "That's assuming we successfully evade them for at least fifty, and even that is difficult. They have big plans, I doubt they will give up so quickly. Besides, Stark and Fern remain at Historia."

Frieren tapped her earrings. "I can get us out of trouble without hurting anyone, Eisen. Give me the key. I taught Fern well, she'll bring Stark with her, I know she will. I don't care about the threat, the real reason I went along with the king's agreement was because Roselia—"

"—Has the grimoire for masking your identity," Eisen interjected. He had listened to the conversation she had with Heiter, and finally connected the dots himself.

She nodded.

Eisen gawked at her in disbelief. "If your plan succeeds, Roselia will wage war to Historia for breaking the promise. Make a child with that prince before you leave."

She answered almost instantly, shaking her head. "That's what they want, Eisen. An immortal royal. I don't want to leave a child in this world that will be used forever. My decision is final, there will be no child, and..." She trailed off, as the next words were difficult to say, especially out loud. "It's easier to escape in the midst of a war's chaos."

Eisen fell silent. 

She knew how cruel she sounded, how utterly selfish her desire to leave was in the eyes of others. But what happened to her entire race was unjust as well, and no one waged wars for her sake. She gave up on her desire to eradicate the humans that hurt her, she only wanted to leave. Was it so wrong to desire that? She didn't think it was, but she knew Eisen thought differently. 

A pacifist plan was what she had thought of initially, where she could simply wait at this palace as the prince's bride until the day Fern and Stark naturally passed away from old age. But a deadline was imposed on her, and they'd kill them if she didn't birth at least a single half-human half-elf child within a couple years. She needed to get pregnant within the first year, and thus she made that her deadline as well. 

She needed to escape before the year ended.

"Eisen, please—"

The door clacked open and Eisen disappeared in a flash. Frieren turned towards the door, and in walked the poor prince unknowingly stuck between two political forces. Because her true identity had to be kept a secret from him, it was safe to assume that he had nothing to do with those humans, especially after their conversation the night before. He was innocent, so she vowed to leave him as quickly as possible, to make the betrayal hurt less.

She felt bad that his life would certainly be taken in the war that would ensue, but either way, she was sure the casualty numbers would still be less than the eradication of her entire race.

"Himmel, I thought you left."

Himmel had a tray in his hands, a water pitcher and a plate of cookies on top. He looked around, confused. "It sounded like someone else was here, but..."

"Oh, that was me talking to myself. My apologies. It's a habit from when I was sick in bed. It got lonely at times, so I often spoke to myself."

His eyes widened, and she could feel the pity oozing out of his gaze. Himmel smiled, gently placing the tray on their table in the centre of the room. "Then I'll talk to you from now on. You won't be alone anymore."

She was guilt-tripping him to escape being doubted, but now she was feeling guilty herself. "Don't you have a class to go to?"

He chuckled. "My teacher will understand once I tell them I want to care for my wife the morning after our first night together."

She raised her brows. She didn't need to be cared for, though? "You don't have to, I don't wish to get in your way."

"Hmm? I'm doing this because I wanted to."

"Oh," she said, averting her gaze. "I see."

Something within her felt warm, as if it would envelop her entire body in soft feathers. Was this what it meant to be married to someone? They barely knew each other, but he'd care for her nonetheless?

Frieren hid her hands behind her and balled her hands into fists, steeling her resolve. She needed to find that grimoire. That was all she needed to do. 

Chapter Text

Frieren dreamt of the past— not too distant, but it felt like eternity had passed since then. It was strange how far away it felt, when time had always been neither here nor there for her. She wondered briefly, if she'd rather still be in Historia, or if her time in Roselia thus far was preferable. 

There was someone waiting for her in Historia. Someone she selfishly wanted to whisk away to a place where she could enjoy the breeze. To a place where she could breathe with the magic in the air.

In order to do that, she needed to step on other kind people. She needed them to sacrifice themselves for her goal. But really, who was she to decide their deaths? 

She wasn't a god, she'd be a murderer, as simple as that. And she accepted it.

The Goddess had surely reserved her a place in hell. She wasn't religious, but it was a sentiment she wanted, if only to comfort herself. At the end of her long, cold life, the hottest pit of hell would open up to swallow her whole, and she'd be welcomed with open arms.

In Roselia she was a womb with legs, and in Historia...

—

Fern remembered the first day she was assigned to care for the princess. 

It was a booming cacophany of sounds, screaming, crying— the cicadas rang in her ears even after their season had ended, the clanging of metal pots and spatulas in the kitchen were akin to earthquakes to her senses. Fern pressed her hands to her ears, and suddenly she heard their beckoning when there should've been silence. And if she shut her eyes too, she saw her parent's smiles, and could sense the warmth behind them.

Fern, come back home.

Fern, join us.

Fern, 

why 

didn't 

you 

die 

with 

us?

She freed the grasp of her hands from her ears, and the gushing waterfalls from beyond the window filled the thundering silence. She let out a sharp breath, almost as if a pang had slashed across her chest. She clutched her shirt, pressing against her thumping heart like she was trying to stop it from tearing out of her chest. 

She hobbled to a wall, any wall, any pillar would've been enough. She ran her hands on the smooth surface of the marbled walls, her reflection staring back at her. It was a perfect imitation of her, as it should be, which meant the paleness of her face should be obvious to even casual on-lookers.

She looked ill.

Fern took a deep breath and leaned against the cold wall, her eyes wandering to the windows that resembled that of a gilded bird's cage. Historia was proud of their birds. Feathers remained one of the most popular iconographies of the kingdom, and she knew that if she turned even slightly to the left, she'd see some mural, painting, or even golden statues of birds and feathers. 

They were still there, as they should be. 

Her legs were still rooted on land, she was physically here.

She took another deep breath, realising that she was running late for her introduction to her first assignment. She was the only maid assigned for the princess post-recovery, allegedly because everyone who took care of the princess before was erased for failing to protect her. She didn't have time to waste, lest she wished to join them as well.

—

"Princess Emilia has just recovered from her illness, but the attack from the mages has caused her great despair. Be patient with her, and answer to her every need. That is how you repay your debts to this kingdom," said the strict voice of the head maid, towering over her despite having an elderly, motherly face. 

Fern nodded, interlacing and fiddling her fingers together as they stood before a great door. She'd never been to this wing of the palace before, and she now was to perform her duties in this very location. Her heart hadn't calmed yet, she was barely keeping herself together, and she could barely hear what anyone said.

"One more thing, Fern. There is a dwarven knight assigned to the princess, his name is Eisen. There is no need for you to be wary of him, he is to be trusted completely."

A dwarf? She'd never seen one before. She nodded again, if only to appear like she was paying full attention. She didn't hear anything else the head maid said. It was simply too loud, everything was crashing against each other in violent waves.

After she was supposedly briefed of the simple procedures, the head maid left her alone by the door. Fern knocked and waited, only to somewhat recall that her instructions from earlier was to simply enter due to the princess' selective lack of speech. She turned the knob and the door clacked open.

...

...

The room was white, filled with paintings of forests and glades. The billowing wind softly blew the curtains apart, light seeping in and out of the room as the curtains swayed. There were shelves in every corner, lined with books upon books. In the centre of the room was a table, suited for greeting guests.

Her eyes widened.

The room was...

... quiet.

Fern's hands shot to her ears, and even then, she heard only the soft sound of her hands rubbing against her ears. She heard the breeze again, and her eyes followed it to the sight of the princess leaning by the barred window.

She was pure white, and her teal eyes were as cold as snow. Not even acknowledging her presence, it seemed, as the princess had no reactions to her entrance, not even a shiver.

Her window was reinforced with more bars than usual, not even a rat could squeeze through the gaps. Even so, the princess gazed out the window to the land beyond through the little crevices of sun that she had. When Fern approached her, she could feel the princess' warmth from where she stood. 

The princess' hands moved ever so slightly and grazed Fern's, maybe it was accidental, or an unconscious decision, but Fern realised that her heartbeat had calmed. The ocean, the waves of her heart had all but subsided in a mere blink.

Fern quietly joined by her side, whispering her introduction. In this room, she knew she didn't need to be loud. This volume was enough just for the both of them.

"Your highness, you can call me Fern. I'll be serving you from now on."

—

Fern stood by the side, awaiting instructions as the king had tea with his daughter in her room. The king took the princess' hand, tears welling up in his eyes. "Emilia, you have no idea how grateful I am to be able to hold and see you like this."

The princess' eyes remained clouded, and she said nothing again today.

In this quiet afternoon, beyond the wind that flowed in and out through the open barred windows, the only thing that could be heard was the rustling of clothes and the king's weeping. 

Fern averted her eyes. It truly seemed like the picturesque image of a loving father. It felt like she was barging into a scene she shouldn't have access to. A scene she used to experience every day until it was one day ripped away from her in a blink.

The king pointed by the door, where stacks of boxes stood atop one another. "I've brought more gifts! Emilia, you loved birds, didn't you? The last one flew away, but I have a strong cage for it this time!" He turned to Fern, nodding towards her. "You make sure the bird doesn't escape this time, Fern."

Fern nodded, her gaze flickering to Frieren's continually unimpressed expression, the gaze of those teal eyes dragged down to the cake presented on her plate. It was a distant memory, but Fern distinctly remembered why the previous bird fled. Frieren simply never touched it at all. Once she was responsible for another life, she simply left the cage open and did nothing. The bird fluttered through the gilded cage past the iron bars that substituted as the princess' window, and Frieren wordlessly watched it fly away. Fern stood still, as her instructions were simply to watch over the princess. 

Just then, Fern saw the princess' lips move. The princess' lips fell open, and at that moment, mouthed something only Fern could see. Something the king was all too distracted by the gifts he's showering her with to notice.

"I'm... tired."

Fern's eyes widened. She moved between the two of them in an instant.

"Your majesty, the princess needs some rest. She will have more energy to greet you tomorrow, I am sure."

The king glowered. "Excuse me? I only just arrived—"

"Your majesty, this is for the sake of the princess' health. Please forgive me for speaking out of line. For her sake, please see her tomorrow. She will be happier and will be able to greet you better tomorrow, I'm sure of it. Your concern for the princess surely outweighs mine, that is plain for anyone to see, even someone as lowly as me."

The king turned to Frieren, caressing her hands. He caressed her cheek and his wronged expression faltered.

"... Indeed, she does seem unresponsive. I will excuse your insolence for today."

Fern hastily bowed. "I'm grateful for your graciousness, your majesty. There exists no one more benevolent than you."

The king stomped to the door, pausing to turn back before unlocking the door. 

"Emilia, I'll see you again tomorrow. I hope to find out what you named your bird tomorrow."

The door closed with a strong thud.

It was as if a hurricane had just passed.

Fern let out a loud breath of relief, her hand rushing to calm her racing heart. It was the first time she directly defied the king before— it would have cost her her life if he hadn't been in a good mood.

She'd never seen the princess express herself before. She thought that, just once, she wanted to honour her wishes. 

She turned to the princess, her hands still on the table from the same position the king held in it earlier. She was the epitome of a doll, only moving if others moved her, voiceless, dressed up by everyone but herself. Fern was the only human that knew that the princess preferred the name Frieren— because Sir Eisen told her about it. 

It would've been nice to be able to hear it from Frieren herself.

She spotted the cake on the table, the fork, spoon and steak knife still in the position Fern placed it in earlier while she was setting up the table. Frieren was staring at them wordlessly.

"... Mistress Frieren, do you dislike cake? The plate on your table is still untouched. The chef told me strawberry was your favourite, but I can get you something else that's more to your liking if you'd tell me what it is."

There was no reaction to her question. Fern bit her words back and smiled. "I will take my leave now. If you must need me, please call for me, or ring the bell by your bed." She bowed and left through the door, her body sliding down the wood engravings on its exterior side. She rubbed her face and took another deep breath.

She should let her rest.

The warmth of Frieren's body and her rising and falling chest suggested that Frieren still lived, but Fern felt like she was speaking to a corpse. Motionless, cold, dead. 

It reminded her of the cold of her parent's bodies— soulless, desolate, lifeless.

She still remembered the stench of that day, permeating every square inch of her body, violating her senses like roaches wriggling and slithering beneath her skin. It was a ridiculously sunny day, sweat rolled down her neck, back and arms as she watched the maggots squirm in and out of her parent's mouths, and all the other orifices they had that she didn't know existed. The voices speaking to her were drowned out by the sound of booming cicadas, both alive and dead as she waded through their corpses to get to her parents. 

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the coldness of her parent's skin despite the harsh summer, and tugging on their stiff arms to plead them to wake once more ever so slightly, in fear that tugging too much would pry the arms off completely. She didn't care how they looked like, she simply wanted to hear them praise her again. 

She shivered, shoving those thoughts away. The castle took her in and saved her from that war, she needed to repay their kindness. 

Could the princess even hear her? It had been like this every single day, ever since she began working under her. She hadn't even heard her voice yet. Whether it was soft or harsh, commanding or demure. The princess' soft features, her white hair and teal eyes suggested a voice sweeter than berries, a voice that Fern yearned to hear one day, if only for a second. Just for one second, she wanted the princess to ask her for help if she needed it, so even the act of mouthing filled Fern's heart with joy.

"She still hasn't said anything today?"

Fern almost jumped, her gaze shooting to the shadow standing by her side. It was a dwarf clad in a knight's armour. "Sir Eisen... No, she hasn't."

Eisen's the knight that had apparently saved the princess' life after a certain accident, after which they had some kind of rapport with each other. Fern once quietly wondered if they had a secret affair, but Eisen was quick to shoot that down before she could even ask.

He sighed. "I'm the reason she's like this. I know what would make her happier than anything, but I simply cannot let her have it."

Fern tilted her head. "What? Why—"

"Oh, old man! There you are!"

Eisen knocked the source of the boyish voice's knees. "Silence, Stark. We're outside the princess' chambers."

It was a young man around her age, short red hair with black roots. Stark grasped his knee and laughed, hopping on one foot. "You hit way too hard! I'm sorry, okay?"

He glanced at Fern, still wincing in pain. "Oh, hey. I didn't see you there. You're the maid in charge of the princess, right? I've seen you around before."

She slowly nodded, shifting in her seat. "So have I. Sir Eisen has told me a lot about you."

Stark shivered, whispering close to her. "What did he say about me? I'll tell you stories about him in exchange."

"I'm still here, the both of you," the dwarf warned.

Stark anxiously giggled, stretching his arms as he turned to Eisen. "I wanted you to teach me how to use the axe. I'm getting better at it!"

Eisen sighed. "Go ahead. I'll be right there."

Stark turned to Fern and smiled, mouthing "I'll talk to you later," before dashing off just as quickly as he appeared.

He was an orphan of war, just like her, and was taken in by the royal knights. Eisen allegedly arrived at around the same time, quickly rising in the ranks and they were grouped together quite often as a result. Stark seemed to be a generally cheerful boy, the rising star amongst the knights purely due to his people-skills. She could never be someone like that.

Eisen held a hand towards her and pulled her up. Fern dusted the maid's uniform she wore and thanked Eisen.

Eisen shook his head, turning to the door. "Fern, do you want your master to be happy?"

Her eyes darted around them, as if making sure that that boy had already left.

"Yes, I... want to hear her voice," she softly mumbled. 

She anxiously giggled, realising how honest she was being. "Is that too much for someone of my position to yearn for?"

He nodded, running his hand through his long beard. "Alright, then follow me, and keep this a secret. It's a fact only the two of us should know."

"Like the fact that the princess prefers to be called Frieren?"

"I suppose so," Eisen replied, beginning to walk down the hall, her trailing right behind him.

Fern had never once questioned why Eisen knew more about the princess than the king did, and at this point, she knew that asking would yield no answers. 

She silently trailed behind the knight, all the way to his personal chambers. It was unexpectedly close to the princess'.

It was a dark room, covered in gray stone and lit up only by candles. Fern wouldn't have been surprised if she was told that this was a remodelled underground prison, or even a cave. Eisen began rummaging in the corner of the room as Fern's eyes wandered, and saw an axe displayed on the wall, proud and true. She wondered if that belonged to him or not.

Eisen came up to her and handed her a book of some kind. Scanning the cover, Fern's eyes widened, and her hands began to tremble. "Sir Eisen, this is a..." 

A grimoire.

It's forbidden. Ever since the princess was attacked by mages, it was forbidden. Mages killed her family, that was what she was told. She could barely stomach holding what was essentially a device that kills.

He nodded. "She loves magic more than the world itself. She wouldn't appreciate finding out it's from me, so keep its origins a secret for me, will you? The king wouldn't spare anyone with a grimoire, not even me."

This didn't make sense. It didn't make sense at all. "Why would a grimoire be in your..."

"Fern, you want to hear her voice, don't you?" 

It was in a resolute voice she couldn't refuse.

Mages were evil. They were all demons, even if they weren't.

But... the master she served loved magic?

Even though she was attacked by the ones that wielded them?

... Fern nodded. She bowed and dashed out into the hallway.

She held the grimoire close to her chest and hid it beneath her apron, her steps never having been faster.

It didn't matter why he had it. If she showed this to her, then the princess would finally speak, right? 

She arrived to the same door she left earlier, and gently opened the door.

Sweat dripped down her neck as both heat and cool wind flowed in from the outside, billowing the curtains apart as dust began to fill the room. It was completely silent as always, save for the ringing sound of cicadas. Once again, it was all she could hear.

The princess wasn't at her table anymore.

The book beneath her apron hit the floor with a thud, tossed aside like rubbish by the side of the road.

"—Princess!"

There she was, the voiceless princess of Historia, her body sprawled out on the floor in a small pool of crimson liquid, the chair she sat on brought down with her.

Fern ran to her side, holding her cold body in her arms. "Princess, your highness, it's past noon. If you're sleepy, please rest in your bed."

She gently shook her, her voice weak and soft. "Your highness, I can't carry you on my own. Wake up, please?"

She turned her body to the side, and realised that blood trickled down her mistress' neck. Her eyes darted to her surroundings, and inches away from the princess' fingers was the steak knife she put aside earlier, bloodied.

Fern searched for the source of the blood, and it was a cut on her ear. Who did this? She left for only a short while, and Eisen should've been able to sense someone attacking her. Who could've done it? Who?

She slapped her own cheeks and took a deep breath. With a huff, she cradled Frieren in her arms. She didn't need to yell for Eisen, he'd hear her nonetheless. "Eisen, help me, please," she said, keeping her voice as composed as possible. 

He showed up as soon as his name was spoken aloud, taking Frieren into his arms towards the bed. His eyes widened at the steak knife that had been pushed onto the floor. "Who brought that in? I told you no sharp objects are allowed in here."

"The king wanted to eat meat, I advised against it, but I didn't instantly put away the steak knife that the chefs prepared. I'm sorry, it was my mistake," she admitted. "But how do we find out who did this? We have to inform the king, yes? This is extremely important. Have the mages returned for her life?"

Eisen shook his head, silencing her. "If you want both of our heads to be lopped off, go ahead. There's no need for you to do such a thing." 

What?

He sighed, gently cleaning the princess' wound. 

Fern couldn't believe how utterly calm he was as she assisted in bandaging the princess' ear. She raised her brows. "Why aren't we removing her earrings? It's in the way. An infection might occur."

"The princess is forbidden from removing her earrings no matter what."

Eisen didn't answer her question directly, almost as if he wanted her to figure it out herself. 

Her mouth fell open wordlessly, and she turned to Frieren's unconscious body. She took Frieren's hand and squeezed it in hers, crouching by the bed. She rested her head by Frieren's chest, listening to her rhythmic heartbeat. It was still beating.

She closed her eyes, her voice trembling as she muttered words she hoped would somehow reach her.

"Mistress Frieren, please don't leave me."

—

Frieren stood before a road.

It forked to countless other roads and stretched to the horizon, a web of interconnected dirt that led nowhere and everywhere all at once. An entangled web, a rope that if tugged, would only pull you in further and further into an abyssal hole.

Gazing upon the road with infinite possibilities, Frieren stood in stasis, unmoving. She turned around, where there was nothing at all. It was a white space, and when she reached towards it, her hands passed through. She could step towards it, into the emptiness, but when she did, she ended up before that fork again. 

She couldn't touch the white space, like it was a space she didn't belong to, couldn't belong to. In that white space, she could hear their voices, their laughter, their screams, and smell the sweet scent of white lilies. 

But before she knew it, that disappeared too, as the white space pushed her towards the roads.

Elves had all the time in the world, and could postpone their decisions for decades at a time. She looked upon that road again, and stayed still, unmoving. If she stood still long enough, would that white space eventually catch up to her? 

No matter how long it would take, she'd wait. There was nothing waiting for her on the roads beyond anyway.

— "You should sleep, Sir Eisen. I can take care of her."

A sigh came as a reply. "If you insist. I'll return as soon as I wake."

A soft, cold voice ripped Frieren out of her dreams, her sheets flying off her bed. Frieren rubbed her eyes, the first sight of her day being a young girl with violet hair dressed in a quaint maid outfit standing by the door. It was that girl again, the poor girl assigned to her. Fern, she recalled.

Frieren winced, her fingers shooting to the lobe of her ears. She gently caressed it, realising that she couldn't, or perhaps, didn't go through with it. Those things were still attached to her. Her fingers wrapped around her red earrings and she resisted the urge to rip them through her bloody lobe. She wouldn't be able to, she had already tried once before. It's stuck to her unless that dwarf took it off himself.

She fell back onto the bed, her eyes wandering to the barred window once more. Outside, emerald waterfalls flowed from the skies down rolling sunlit hills that occasionally pierced the clouds. Occasionally, if she blinked, the shadows would shift, and she'd see her village again, surrounded by fields of flowers.

If she gazed out there long enough, perhaps there would exist a world where she was out there, frolicking in the plains; searching for nothing in particular. She'd smell the breeze and see just how much was out there. In reality, she probably wouldn't actually travel that enthusiastically, but she was willing to accept the false visualisation of herself. 

Because those visualisations were mere dreams, and dreams were meant to be woken from, before being long, long forgotten. Forever, like it's never been thought of before.

If she blinked again, she hoped that it would've been her final one. A single blink, and then there wouldn't be any more.

"Your highness, are you feeling alright? Please don't push yourself, you're injured."

She was only lying in bed. Nothing about herself was pushed. Nothing about herself had been pushed for a while now. Even if she had "pushed herself", it wasn't as if her ear would fall off because she decided to go for a jog. Such foolish sentiments were so human to have.

Fern proceeded. "As per my request yesterday, his majesty will be visiting today as well. This creates a slight problem, since we don't quite have a way of hiding your bandaged ear... will you be comfortable with me styling your hair to cover your ear today?"

The girl often asked her questions. Despite never receiving an answer, she kept speaking as if they were having a conversation. The only other person Frieren knew who was this insistent was dead, killed for caring too much about humanity. Killed for wanting to make a distinction between mages and demons. Demons were capable mages, but not all mages were demons. 

No one wanted to hear a nuanced argument like that. It was far simpler to see the world in binary. Magic became seen as a cult, and anyone practising it was seen as the Goddess' enemy. Maybe not everyone was that extreme in their thinking, but the extreme were the ones in power, so it didn't really matter that much in the end.

Frieren didn't want to say anything in return, didn't want to wake up in the first place. 

Fern smiled. "I'll braid your hair today so it'll stay in place better. Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

Every time Fern brushed against the scalp of her head, she could feel how rough Fern's hands were from the workload she handled every day all by herself. If she had been anywhere else, she would've been a happier human child with a normal childhood. 

What a shame to be a young child stuck with a false princess, surrounded by liars who successfully trick even themselves. 

Once again, today, she'd rot away in Princess Emilia's bedroom. 

Sleeping in the bedroom that didn't belong to her, eating food that were someone else's favourites, being called by a name she had never heard of before. 

She was one of the only beings that were told about what happened to the real Emilia, a fact the kingdom seemed to plan to keep forever. The real Emilia's history would be buried beneath layers upon layers of lies, lies that no one would have any interest to uncover, because "Emilia" is still alive in their eyes. The eyes of the few people who knew Emilia even existed in the first place.

It was an enigma. They knew her so much to have known her favourite things, but knew her so little that a whole other species straight up replacing her went completely unnoticed. 

The bars that stood as her window to the outside world wasn't always there. Just by being here, this room that belonged to someone else had already been tarnished.

In this sterile white room, there was a bed as soft as feathers. A bed that resembled the clouds outside. Next to it were shelves lined with rows upon rows of fairytales, of heroes and knights, of witches and dragons. It told tales of journeys and plights, its pages yellowed and worn, as if the owner of those books had read them front to back over, and over, and over. 

Frieren didn't touch those books. Those books were someone's treasure, and no matter where that person is right now, it would never stop being that person's most precious belongings. She laid on this bed that didn't belong to her, whispering apologies every night for taking away what little the actual princess had in this space. This bed, this room was someone's treasure, but to Frieren, she could only wish to see it that way too.

A glint sparkled in the corner of Frieren's line of sight. She followed that glint and squinted at a book hastily thrown in the corner of the room. 

A grimoire.

Her eyes could never mistake it. She launched from her seat.

"Princess!?"

It was the first step she voluntarily took for months now. The carpeted floor felt soft against her feet. She grasped the grimoire in her arms and pressed it against her chest, holding it close to her heart. The weight of it rested against her, and she could flip through its hallowed, yellowed pages, worn and torn. It was real, it was a real grimoire. 

And it was so very familiar.

The spell to create flower fields.

She knew she couldn't do anything with it, but she held it close to herself.

"... Princess."

Frieren realised that she made a mistake. She wasn't alone in this room. Her eyes popped open and saw the maid staring at her in disbelief. But her eyes then softened, realising that she didn't care what that maid thought. If she complained to the king then it would be all the better. Maybe she'd finally be freed for being an inadequate replacement, if all that inactive-ness wasn't enough to convince him.

"... I love magic. That's who I am, Fern. Am I a demon for it? The same as the ones that attacked my village? Am I still worse than the humans that killed my master? I didn't do anything. I didn't even get to try. The demons are still alive, those humans are still alive, and so am I. But why am I the only one punished?"

Everyone she knew, and the world she knew was gone. The girl had no way of knowing what she was talking about. No one knew the truth, those that did were the ones that put her through this in the first place. Fern wouldn't care, and even if she did, there was nothing that a mere maid could do. 

Frieren closed her eyes and gripped the grimoire tighter to herself. Whatever the consequences, she didn't care. 

Maybe then, she'd finally join her brethrens in the earth. 

"Frieren; that's your name, right? The name you want to go by."

Fern's nonchalant voice sliced through her tiring self-pity. Frieren hesitantly met her eyes. Those violet eyes were staring straight at her, boring right into her soul.

Fern chuckled, slowly crouching by Frieren's side. "I never asked whether I could call you that. Please forgive me for my rudeness. It was something I learned from Sir Eisen to make you feel more comfortable around me."

Frieren blinked, her grip on the grimoire weakening. 

Fern traced her forefinger across the letters on the cover of the grimoire Frieren held so preciously, a soft smile appearing on her face.

"I didn't know there were spells that didn't hurt people. This magic thing that you love so much, can you teach it to me?"

Frieren's eyes widened.

Her voice trembled as she spoke. "... This spell isn't useful at all, not even a little."

"But I wish to know it. The spell that Mistress Frieren cherishes so much. Can I?"

Flamme wanted humanity to adopt magic as an everyday tool. 

Frieren could only scoff. 

"I haven't learned this spell yet either."

Fern smiled. "Then we'll learn it together."

It was like she touched something inside of her and pulled it out. Frieren gazed into those kind violet eyes, and her vision began to blur ever so slightly. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled.

She didn't know that she still remembered how to do it, but her lips curved upwards and it felt so natural to do so. 

If she taught at least one human magic, Frieren wondered if Flamme would be satisfied with that outcome. She always aimed high so she probably wouldn't, but Frieren thought that, just maybe, she could make her master proud. 

She couldn't use her own magic, but through another person, she'd live her fantasy.

She glanced at the bird she was gifted earlier, and it had already flown out the gilded window.

—

"Eisen," Frieren whispered.

It was the darkest of night, and she was alone in this bedroom. Fern had returned to her quarters for the night. She was so used to enduring icy nights alone that she wished the girl had stayed with her instead.

"Princess," he answered.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, discerning his appearance from the shadows in the almost pitch-black room. 

"How did you know that I wanted to learn that spell?"

He raised his brows, seemingly in shock. It took him a few moments to recollect himself.

He averted his gaze and sighed. "I didn't. You spent your days gazing at the flowers, so I thought that a spell for a field of one is something you'd like."

She chuckled. "What a simple way of thinking."

"There's simply no need to make life more difficult for yourself."

"That's true, I suppose," she remarked. She curled up her body and rested her head against her knees. "... Thank you."

Eisen didn't reply, only a mere nod of acknowledgement.

Her eyes wandered to the window again. She realised that she knew almost nothing about Eisen. He paid enough attention to her to know that she longed for the flowers beyond those golden bars, but she didn't know a thing about him. Not even what he liked eating.

"Why are you a knight, Eisen?"

"My life's path led me here, and that's the path I plan on following until oblivion."

She smiled. "I see."

There was a long silence between them in the pitch blackness of the bedroom. Frieren clutched the edges of the blanket that wrapped around her and surrounded herself with its warmth. 

There was something between them that needed to be said, but neither of them wanted to say it. 

Eisen took a deep breath. 

"... Frieren, do you want to go outside? I can convince them to allow me to accompany you."

It was so forced she could laugh. That wasn't what he really wanted to say, was it? But she didn't. "How kind of you. I could cry."

"You've felt like crying for a while, haven't you? Even if it's because of me, let it all out." His reply was soft to a whisper. His somewhat deep, growly voice made it all throughout her body. 

She stared at him blankly, partly in disbelief. She quickly cleared her throat. "I can't cry on command, this conversation isn't making me want to cry at all. It's getting on my nerves now if anything."

"Then get angry. Hit me if you have to."

... Gosh, she didn't know how to talk to this dwarf at all. Only a masochist, or perhaps even a sadist would continue the conversation at this point. She sighed.

"Let's go out tomorrow, then. I hope you can convince them fast enough, spring is on the brink of ending."

He snickered. "You underestimate me, Frieren. Pissing the king off but getting away with it anyway is my forte."

She grinned. "Go, then."

He was gone just like that. She slowly laid back down and pulled the blanket up around her. It was cold again, but the warmth she felt in her chest was all she needed to sleep with a smile. 

Perhaps that dwarf wasn't the mark of evil she thought he was.

But even the little vestiges of sunlight in her dark world were obscured by the clouds. Barely months later, she received news.

"You'll marry the prince of Roselia and have him sire a child. Do so before he gets sick of you. He must not know the truth regarding this matter. He wouldn't agree with this decision at all. I didn't want to let you go, but Roselia left me with no choice."

And mine didn't matter either.

Fail, and the humans dear to the both of you will be killed.

Chapter Text

Something was incredibly wrong with that girl.

That was what Heiter wanted to tell his brother as soon as he laid eyes on her, walking down that aisle. Next to her loving father, Heiter could feel intense lifelessness behind her calm teal eyes. He didn't know for what, but it sent an immediate chill down his spine.

Himmel was already nervous, so Heiter kept quiet. There was no need to pile even more stress onto him. Heiter wasn't as skilled at reading mana yet, but the girl's mana was bountiful. A lot more than the average person. He had a lot of mana himself, so he used his own as comparison. She had roughly half of his, it seemed. If she trained to be a priestess or a mage, she was sure to succeed. Alas, she was born a princess fated only to marry a prince. 

When he approached her at that wedding, he wanted to gauge her reactions. She sat on the bench on the balcony, massaging her feet.

He felt the chill breeze as he stepped towards her. "Your highness, I'd like to introduce myself," he said, drink in hand. "I am your husband's brother, Heiter. I was the one that officiated the wedding, if you didn't notice."

She turned towards him, standing up and backing away. He could notice her eyeing the door he was standing in front of, her only exit. It was clear that she thought he was suspicious for approaching her when she stood outside alone on the reception hall's balcony. It was a fair thought to have, especially if she had any self-preservation instincts. But for a princess allegedly raised so preciously, one that even brought a knight with her by her side, to have that distrust so naturally was...

"Oh." Her question interrupted his line of thought. She slipped back into her shoes as she spoke. "I remember you. Are you already drunk, your highness?"

"Why, I'm sure your beauty would be enough to make anyone drunk," he jokingly responded.

She raised her brows. "Is that so? How strange."

He laughed emptily in response. "It wouldn't be strange at all. Your dance with Himmel was the single most marvelous thing I've ever borne witness to."

She rolled her eyes. "There's no need to sugarcoat it. I'm outside because my feet hurt too much from being stepped on so often."

Oh dear, she may just be a normal girl after all.

Heiter chuckled. "That's what he gets for skipping most of his dance classes. It's his way of rebelling, except that's the only class he skips because he feels guilty about skipping the other ones."

"I see. How young," she said, releasing a breath. "I might have been like that as well."

Himmel, your wife is calling you emotionally immature. "Let's hope your bruised feet make him feel guilty enough to rejoin the dance classes as well, shall we?"

There was an unexpected brief silence before her answer. "... I wasn't very good at dancing, either. But all my mistakes, he turned it into his," she muttered. "I was bedridden, so I couldn't learn how to dance until I recently recovered."

"Oh, now that's a surprise," Heiter replied. "Maybe he's much older than you knock him as, then."

She chuckled, leaning on the balcony's railing. "That would be trouble."

Both of them were bathed in moonlight, and Heiter thought she looked far older than she appeared. 

Frieren turned to Heiter, this time without the animosity he sensed from earlier, but what he heard drip out of her lips made him all the more wary.

"So? Why did you want to talk to me?"

She could tell that it was all just pretense. He gulped, not letting his cordial smile slip from his face. "I was merely worried for my brother. Almost nothing is known about you, after all. I hope you will accept my apology for being deceitful."

She hummed, contemplating his words. "An apology might not be enough. I think compensation is necessary."

"Oh dear, the princess requires money? This priest isn't a very big spender, you see."

She waved him away. "No, not money."

He raised his brows.

She pointed at herself. "You're a priest. You've seen my mana, right? I want to learn to be a mage now that I'm away from my stuffy home. Do you know where I can start?"

A mage. He barely kept his composure.

He wasn't sure what to think of her at this point. She didn't try hiding her mana from him. Maybe she was just another troublemaker too. In that case, far better than a political spy or an enemy. "Well, I have some grimoires in my study..."

"Can I have them?!"

He froze, shocked. She was so incredibly soft-spoken that her sudden raised voice took him off guard. Her empty teal eyes suddenly seemed to light up like crackling flames bursting with life. He chuckled. "I'll give them to you, but I'll have to see what they are first. Can't have you learning anything dangerous now."

He knew the king of Historia despised mages. If Frieren wanted to be one, he could only imagine how stifled she must've felt. "I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me about this, despite us only having just met. You can tell Himmel about this too. He most definitely wouldn't mind."

She smiled. "Of course, your highness. I hope you'll keep this a secret from my family. They worry too much."

"I'm honoured to be your partner-in-crime! But on one condition."

"What is it?"

He snickered, pushing up his glasses. "Call me your big brother—"

"Heiter's fine, call me by my name too."

He clicked his tongue. He always wanted a younger sister. If only Himmel was a girl. "Fine, that works too. Why do you want to be a mage in the first place?"

Her blazing eyes softened, as she turned to face the crowd inside the hall, her back leaned against the railing. Distant sounds of laughter echoed out into the night. "... It's a passing interest, that's all."

A lie. As he thought, there was still something more to her that she wasn't showing him. "I see," he said. "I'll take my leave now, Frieren. You'll receive the grimoires tomorrow."

She nodded. "Thank you, Eisen will take them for me."

He left out the door and left her alone at the balcony, his gaze lingering on her soulless eyes in the corner of his sight. He turned away, sighing.

What an enigma of a person. He worried for Himmel. A person like that could both save... and ruin his brother. His premonition wasn't wrong. She'd change him— Heiter simply needed to know how.

—

Frieren took a sip of the tea she was served, plainly observing the queen's unchanging facial expression as she took a nibble of the cookies she served on the table. The uncomfortable silence was filled with the soft crunching inside her mouth.

The queen's sigh pierced through the silence. Her voice was unfeeling, cold, a stark contrast to her usual demeanour. "You aren't royal, so I assume you aren't fond of pleasantries. I'll cut straight to the point."

Frieren paused and met the queen's eyes, a sky blue the same shade as her long, flowy hair. It resembled Himmel's features almost perfectly. "Is this about the pact? I don't intend on breaking it, don't worry. You'll get your royal heir, so long as Fern and Stark remain unharmed."

The queen scoffed. "Just call me Charlotte. No need to lie to me, my dear. Your knight is here as well, correct? Wherever he is, he's welcome to speak as well," she said, scanning her surroundings. Eisen's shadow was difficult to spot between the flickering shadows of the leaves surrounding the gazebo.

Frieren raised her brows. "You believe I plan on breaking the pact?"

Charlotte laughed. "Goodness, I would have no way of knowing that. Though I do believe you know what is best for you. Whether that means following the pact or not is the king's business, not mine."

The queen continued speaking.

"Our spies heard wind of the king of Historia's insanity and paranoia upon losing his daughter to an assassin, who just happened to be a mage. His rampage upon your elven village was unjust, and I extend my condolences to you. You must have plenty of questions for me, so before I provide some answers— I must ask, why were you spared?"

Frieren wasn't really sure herself. "Eisen ambushed me and was going to kill me, but he was personally stopped by the king himself. He walked up to me, trembling, and called me "Emilia". It turned out that I resembled her to an uncanny degree. My insistence was the only reason I got to keep my name during my debut. They sealed my magic with these strange earrings, however, alongside hiding my ears."

Charlotte nodded. "I can see that. It's very convincing magic. I never would've guessed that you were an elf. People go so far for family. You poor girl, you must hate us all, don't you?"

Frieren narrowed her eyes. "That's a loaded question. Will I be imprisoned for lèse majesté if I tell the truth?"

The queen chuckled. "It must not be a positive answer, then. I understand. Losing your people, forced to act as a daughter to the person who killed your people, then being forced to marry a prince you know nothing of because we threatened the king with war. All because of our greed. You poor, poor girl."

The elf rested her face on her palm, averting her gaze. "You said you were skipping the pleasantries. Surely you didn't call me here just to say you pity me when you put me in this situation."

"You're smart. Perhaps you will be of help after all," Charlotte said. 

The queen's voice grew cold, and Frieren felt chills go down her spine. "Foster that hatred of yours, Frieren. Let it fester. Don't forget it, and when the time comes, let it all out."

Frieren raised her brows. 

"... Forgive me for my confusion, but I've never heard a royal encourage treason before."

Charlotte smiled. "I said no such thing. I simply want you to have the options I didn't. Marriage wasn't my choice, and neither were children. When Anton took a mistress, I was distraught. Not because I loved him, but because I realised that I was truly nothing more than a womb with legs, manufactured specially for others' pleasure, a farm animal meant to be gawked at, a doll. All these social structures designed to pit women against each other, it existed only to distract me from that truth— a glamorous mask. It's a shame that woman killed herself. I thought that we could've been friends."

Charlotte kept going after a resigned sigh, her smile from before now a face that expressed nothing at all. "That woman didn't have a choice either, but I learned that far too late. She was a maid, she didn't choose to bear the king's child before the queen had. She was pregnant with her child all alone, afraid that the ice coldness of her room would still be warmer than the people who will kill her for it. I learned that far, far too late."

Frieren didn't know what to say to that. Afraid and alone, what was the queen trying to tell her? She was already planning an escape that the queen knew nothing about. In a way, that was the decision Frieren had chosen to take. Eisen, Stark and Fern would come with her and she'd leave all of this behind. 

The queen abruptly cleared her throat, changing her tone to a lighter one. "I suppose what I want to say is, if Himmel takes a mistress as well, just know that I will be by your side."

A mistress. Frieren never really thought that far in the future, nor did she consider him having a secret lover in the first place. For some reason, that simply never came to mind. "... Seeing what happened to the both of you, I'm sure Himmel wouldn't do such a thing. He's a good kid. You should have more trust in him. He's your son, right?" 

Charlotte's eyes widened, before then softening to a smile. "I suppose he is. Him and Heiter both, even if they might despise me."

"Why is that?"

She laughed emptily in response. "Don't mind this old lady's melodramatic words too much. You may be older than me, but humans age faster. I'm simply proud of them. They've grown to be respectable men, my two sons that used to be so small, crying over the slightest little things." Charlotte dipped her head over the table, stirring her tea while watching her rippling reflection in the amber waters. Her muttering came out in a soft, somber tone.

"I wish we met in another world, my two dearest sons."

Frieren watched Charlotte's reflection distort into unrecognisable shapes. "I'm sure you'd be their mother in that world too."

Charlotte didn't answer, nor did her face emote any sort of emotion. "If you were in another world, what would you do?"

What would she do?

Perhaps it was because the queen had seemed so truthful, but Frieren felt like she could say anything in front of her at this moment. The truth was simple— the answer was simple.

If Frieren closed her eyes and imagined a life and future for herself, even in another world, all she saw was a gaping abyss, hollow wind howling from within. Beyond even the boundaries of her possibly boundless imagination, there was a hole where there should've been more.

She couldn't think of one at all.

She reached out to the deepest vestiges of her mind, and found nothing.

She wistfully smiled. For a mage to have lost her imagination, could she still be considered a mage? Or was she simply now a husk, waiting for the sands of time to whisk her away?

"... I don't know."

What's the point? She simply didn't want to think anymore.

—

Himmel was told by his brother to spend more quality time with his wife, so they decided to take a walk in the garden together. 

It was a rainy day, which probably made it a terrible time for going out, but Himmel forgot to take that into account until—

Frieren tugged onto his sleeve, pointing at something in front of them.

"Himmel, could there be treasure in those bushes?"

Why is Frieren... What is she doing?

She left his umbrella extremely often, running to rummage through thickets and leaves, flowers and vines. Tossing that umbrella aside would make it equally as useful in a situation where the people using it constantly ran outside of its protection radius. 

So he did, the umbrella was hastily left by the bushes.  

He chased after her into the thickets, huffing and puffing. For a sickened princess, she was really athletic! He shivered as he caught up to her, past the snapped twigs and dried leaves on the ground. Could there really be treasure here? He had been here before, obviously, but it wasn't like he searched the bushes before or anything. He didn't have a reason to.

He crouched by her side, as she ran her hands through unswept piles of leaves, letting the rain wind pick them up into the air. "Are you looking for something?" he asked.

She paused her rummaging, pursing her lip in disappointment. "I've searched indoors, and Heiter's grimoires were super cool, but they weren't what I was looking for..." she mumbled.

"You're looking for grimoires?" And Heiter was giving you some? 

Frieren nodded. "He's helping me learn magic. I'm not very good," she said, caressing her ears. "But I want to learn as many spells as possible."

"Can I ask why?"

"My teacher was a mage," she coolly answered. "I don't have much of an other reason."

"I see," he answered. The mention of that teacher again. She never delved further into their identity both times they were brought up, so Himmel decided not to dig further either. He didn't know if she'd ever open up about herself, or if she ever will. He could only pray for that day to come.

"That's admirable, Frieren. I've never seen someone stand in rain just to look for books before. Can I see it? Do a spell!"

She shook her head. "I can't do anything yet. Maybe I'll show you in the future, once I get enough practice."

Himmel pouted. "But you train with Heiter..."

She shivered in disgust. "What? I don't, he just gives me grimoires. He's never seen me use magic either."

"Then, Eisen must've seen it, huh..." In the back of his mind, Himmel wondered if Eisen had an umbrella of his own or if he's watching them while standing in the rain too. If only that knight would show himself more often, he'd be able to ask for details about magic there instead.

As if he was summoned, Eisen appeared out of nowhere, standing right behind them. He stood at the perfect height, considering the fact that they were crouching. His question was answered instantly, both of them. Eisen didn't have an umbrella. "The princess hasn't succeeded at any of the spells. She just stares at the grimoires lovingly and scowls at the fact that she cannot use them, like a child staring at a pretty toy on display."

Frieren scowled. "Eisen, you don't understand. One of the grimoires could turn sweet grapes sour. It'll benefit you if I could use it, you know."

Eisen stared at her blankly, but the drool coming out of his mouth was expressing otherwise. "Princess, you cannot persuade me."

Himmel laughed, wiping the tear squeezed out of his eye. "I didn't know magic could do that! It's so cool!"

Frieren turned to Eisen, somewhat upset. "Go inside and warm a bath for me. Maybe then you'd reconsider my offer."

"I understand, your wish is my command," Eisen said, instantly fading into the background once again. Is warming baths part of a knight's duty? Himmel never understood how seamlessly Eisen was able to perform his duties.

He began to dig with her, pushing his hands through powdery wet soil. "I want to see you do magic, so I'll help you look for one! Grimoires look like normal books, right?"

Frieren nodded, watching him dirty his own clothes just to sit next to her. "At least roll up your sleeves, Himmel," she said, pointing towards them utterly drenched in mud.

He giggled. "Oh, thanks."

She sneered. "I've been digging around more than you and yet I'm still cleaner."

Almost like a child acting purely on mischievous instinct, he took a handful of mud and flung it towards her.

Unable to react in time, she blinked in disbelief, looking down at her white skirt, now browned and soiled— literally.

Himmel laughed. "Now we're equally dirty. The rain'll wash it all away, right?"

Frieren sighed and pushed him, with so much force that he landed on his back, the rain now hammering onto his face, cold seeping through his clothes, little puddles splashing up the sides of his body. He quickly sat up, but saw Frieren lie next to him. 

"Hmm, this isn't as soft as a bed, is it?" Frieren asked.

"Much colder as well," Himmel added.

Frieren chuckled, turning towards him. "Now we're both muddy."

Her eyes were such a glittering teal. Beneath the gray gloomy rain, he felt warmer when she lied by his side. His eyes moved down to her lips, as they lied inches apart from each other. On the day of their wedding, they had kissed once before. They were soft, and he liked the way that he had to angle himself a little lower to reach her, and how she had to put her arms around his neck to reach upwards.

He threw those thoughts out of the window of his mind completely. It was going down a strangely dangerous path. 

"I'm lucky you can't use your magic yet. I would've been blasted with mud otherwise," he said, if only to move away from those thoughts. "That would've been worse."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't do that. I'm not a child."

Does this make the person that slung mud at her for no reason a child? 

... If so, it felt freeing to be a child for once.

The rain filled their silence for the short moment it took for Frieren to speak. "Can you keep my magic a secret for me? Most humans don't react positively to mages, they associate them with killers."

Himmel smiled, extending his pinky. "I promise."

She tilted her head, blankly staring at his outstretched hand. "Yes...? Thank you."

He giggled and took her finger, encircling his pinky around hers. "It's called a pinky promise, I'll lose the finger if I break it."

Her eyes widened. "Is that binding?" she asked, concern in her voice.

Himmel chuckled. Maybe it was the rain washing over both of them, or the chill he was feeling under his drenched clothes that stuck directly to his skin, or the ground beneath them that was essentially ice. He linked their fingers together and he forgot how it was like to be cold.

"Don't worry about it, I'll forever be by your side, after all. It wouldn't do me good to start a fight with you for no reason." 

She abruptly paused, her breaths hitching and quickening. She slipped her fingers through his and hugged her own figure, her own hands sluggishly slipping down her arm. 

She muttered something he couldn't understand, with a wistful smile that didn't denote a single emotion. 

"You're a really good person, aren't you?"

...

Himmel's lips fell open wordlessly. Did she say that because they still barely knew each other? He finally spoke. "You're a good person too—"

"What are the two of you doing out here?!"

The both of them jerked their heads towards the source of that shrill voice. It was a woman accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting, the queen, his mother. Her sky blue hair and eyes were ill-fitted for the gloomy downcast clouds, she rarely went outside on rainy days like this.

"I thought the two of you were intruders when I saw you from afar. Get inside, you're not children anymore. What are the heirs of this kingdom doing...?"

She looked disappointed, but the fear of disappointing her was overwhelmed by his childish excitement. Himmel giggled, scratching the back of his head. 

He turned to Frieren, who appeared sluggish all of a sudden, her face as pale and blue as the storm cast over them. In a flash, she collapsed into his arms, heavy and almost lifeless.

Eisen was meant to handle all her medical concerns, but he wasn't around.

The queen gasped, panicked. Her shrill scream echoed through the torrential downpour. "Oh dear, someone summon a priest! The princess has collapsed!" 

The servants surrounding her quickly rushed to Frieren's aid, but Himmel took her in his arms instead. 

"I'll take her inside!"

Chapter Text

"Frieren, what's the spell you like the most?"

It was a bright and sunny day, and a shadow cast over her as she practiced her mana concealment, sitting silently beneath a tree. A humanoid shadow and the tail of an apricot braid wavered in the corner of her eye. 

Flamme stood next to her, watching the elven village continue about their day, collecting herbs and rebuilding what was lost. The village was a wreck, but with time, of which they had an endless supply of, they could get everything back. They barely managed to push the demons out of their village, thanks to the help of this human that seemingly arrived out of nowhere. 

Frieren sighed, caressing the burnt grass by her side. "What do I care? Magic's to kill those demons, that's all that matters. If they come back before I'm ready, I won't have time to think of the answer for that question at all."

"Is that so? I understand."

Flamme said nothing after, so Frieren assumed the conversation ended. Her eyes flickered to Flamme's mana, and wondered when she'd master mana controlling as well as her. Not a single sign of instability, even though she was a mere human that practiced magic for a time far shorter than her. The human crouched by her side and ran her hand across the surface of the earth, over burnt grass and leaves with her fingers. "I have a favourite spell," she said.

Frieren didn't particularly care for her answer, but she asked anyway, if only to entertain her.

"What is it?"

The wind picked up around them, the brown leaves prancing in the wind. Flamme smiled, and the brown-black earth before her bursted in endless hues. Frieren blinked, and surrounding them were flowers, billowing lilies in an ever-expanding prairie. 

Frieren turned around, and everyone around her gasped. The younger ones began to laugh and chase each other in little games.

Frieren scoffed, plucking a white lily off the ground and bringing it to her face. It was a small, sweet, fragile flower that smelled keenly of honey. 

"... Even though it's just a change in scenery."

Out of all the spells in the world, as one of the most powerful mages in the world. It could've been any spell, any spell that could've saved so many people. 

"But it's beautiful, isn't it?" 

Flamme caressed the petal of a flower, careful in its transient fragility. 

Frieren looked out onto the prairie that had replaced the ashen field she was on prior, smiling. "... Teach me that spell too."

Flamme snickered. "Your mana got unstable just now. I'll teach you once you get better at concealing it."

Frieren rolled her eyes in response. She'd improve at it soon. She could conceal most of her mana already. One day, she'll learn that spell.

— Those somewhat peaceful days ended in a flash. Flamme wanted to bring magic to the rest of humanity, to turn magic into something that's a part of humanity's daily life. She brought her proposal to the king of Historia, to approve research into territory that's viewed as something belonging only to demons. 

But they betrayed her, they followed her to the elven village she wanted to show as proof of magic being beneficial and they slaughtered everyone. As it turns out, mages were extremely susceptible to warriors, and the kingdom of Historia had plenty of them.

Frieren's chest rose and fell, and it felt like it was taking everything she could to stay conscious. Her vision blurred, and the axe-wielding warrior held her body down to the ground. The earth was aflamed again, and that green was nowhere to be seen.

—

She rose from her dreams, a mixture of flickering flames and familiar voices filling her ears. Cold sweat dripped down her neck as her heartbeats rumbled through her entire body. She didn't need to be reminded of that again. She didn't want any sort of revenge anymore, she simply wanted to be free. She simply wanted to breathe.

She felt like she had just woken up from a long, long dream.

"Frieren, took you long enough."

That voice belonged to Heiter, she blinked and let the room fade into view, an extravagant living room tinged in the orange light of the flames. Beside her on the bed was Himmel, sleeping on her lap. She massaged her temple, a sudden pain coursing through her head.

"Heiter... What happened?"

He shrugged. "You spent too much time under the rain. Maybe don't do that next time."

"Not what I meant. What happened to him?" she asked, pointing to the snoring prince on her lap, his body curled up like that of a child's.

"He was waiting for you to wake up and fell asleep while doing so. He was in that rain too, remember? The two of you are quite fragile."

Frieren watched Himmel's back slowly rise and fall, and her hand remained afloat inches away from his hair. She pulled it back and turned to the shadow in the corner. "Your majesty, my apologies for not addressing you first."

The queen stepped out of it, smiling warmly. "I'm glad the two of you are alright. You gave me quite a fright when you lost consciousness."

She wouldn't normally lose consciousness in the rain like that. Something was strange about her passing out. "Thank you for worrying, but you don't need to—"

Frieren saw it.

The miniscule amount of mana around the queen's body, it was unstable.

Queen Charlotte tilted her head. "Don't need to what? Can't a mother care for her children? You're my child now just as much as Heiter and Himmel are. I told you I'm on your side."

"... Yes, of course. Thank you, your majesty."

Frieren couldn't believe that she didn't notice it earlier. It was masterful, the way she masked her mana to the point that it even escaped Frieren's eyes. 

She waved her hands. "Don't worry about it! Also, I told you to call me Charlotte! That title's far too rigid. But I'll let you be kids just for today, okay?"

The queen drifted to the door and winked. "We're a lot more alike than you think, Frieren."

The door slammed shut. 

Heiter cackled. "Kids? We're all adults here, and I'm still in the room, did she know that? I don't want to be present to see a married couple play."

"Himmel's asleep. If anything, we're the ones that are going to play."

"I'm not talking about actual games— Oh, whatever. I'm gonna go now too."

"Wait, Heiter," Frieren held onto his sleeve right as he was about to depart. 

He turned back, seemingly forcing himself to do so. Frieren decided to be quick.

"Is your mother a mage?"

There was an eerie silence. Was her question a mistake?

His eyes widened, as if it took him a while for that question to register, and his reply was in hushed whispers, quick and panicked, leaning in towards her.

"You made a good decision not bringing it up while she was still in the room. Why would you ask that? The queen despises mages. Why else do you think I'm helping you keep your secret?"

Himmel began to shuffle in her lap, stirring awake. Heiter narrowed his eyes and ran his hand down his face, sighing as he went for the door. "I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that. It's best for the both of us. Don't mention a lick of this to Himmel, please. I'll be watching you."

Frieren expected him to threaten to leak her secrets, but he begged her instead. How unexpectedly noble for a priest that drinks.

The queen helped her too. The people here were exceedingly kind. That... was troubling.

A sudden thought ran through her mind as she reconsidered his words. Wait, the queen hates mages? But she didn't emit a single sign of animosity towards her while they were discussing Frieren's past. There was no way she wasn't briefed even a little about her background as an elven mage. 

The door closed once more, leaving her alone with the waking prince. She wondered if Eisen finished his mission the entire time she was unconscious. Heiter and the queen might know more than they led on, and it was important that Frieren find that grimoire as soon as possible. Before Himmel woke up, she quickly spoke her orders aloud.

"Eisen, you're okay, right? Did you warm the bath?"

A voice came from the shadows. "That priest, Heiter's room, didn't have the grimoire you're searching for."

She nodded. "Quick, spy on the queen and report back in the morning. Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I can't take off these earrings either, so you're still doing the duty entrusted to you."

A flash went past her, and she knew that Eisen heeded her.

At this point, she wasn't sure what side Eisen stood on, but she promised herself that she'd get him on her side soon enough. He should get out of here and see the world, a world that wasn't riddled with war. If they got far enough, they wouldn't have to worry about the war they'll cause.

Himmel yawned and she felt his hair tickle her thighs as he unconsciously adjusted himself on her lap. His eyes twitched and fluttered open, and her eyes was the first thing he saw. 

Funny, she thought. 

She was so worried earlier, but now all she could think of was the blueness of his eyes. How the orange flames contrasted against his eyes like the sunset battling the morning sky.

He smiled, bringing his hand to caress her cheek. "You scared me, Frieren. I knew I shouldn't have let a sickly person stand in the rain."

"It was just cold." Or magic meant to make her pass out, but she wasn't going to tell him that. She closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. Warm, the kind that was nothing like fire.

He chuckled. "The cold must be terrifying to have caused you to pass out like that."

"I prefer it to be cold than warm if anything. I don't like fire."

He rose from her lap, swiveling his body to face her. "Why?"

"... It's a normal fear to have, isn't it? Like heights, and spiders."

He nodded, deep in thought. "I see, my mother doesn't like fire either. She doesn't like anything that can hurt people, that was what I thought for the longest time. Until..."

"She orchestrated the death of the king's mistress?" Frieren said, continuing his sentence.

Frieren had heard about this off-hand numerous times while she was in the palace, it had seemed to be a generally accepted truth despite the mistress' cause of death officially dubbed a suicide. Even so, the queen seemed to think of the mistress in a completely different light from how the people painted her as. 

Himmel nodded. "Ever since that happened, it didn't feel like I really knew her anymore. She didn't feel like my mother, and I didn't feel comfortable cozying up to her knowing that she killed my brother's mother. She seemed to think the same, because we rarely saw each other ever since then."

"... How is everyone so sure— how are you so sure that she did it? You don't seem like the kind of person that would blindly believe rumours."

"That's what I thought at first. I believed in her innocence, but after the mistress died, mother ran to my room and confessed to me herself that she had to do it to protect me. She was crying while doing so, but... did she have to do it? The mistress wasn't anywhere near a danger to me, surely. It sounded to me like she was making excuses..."

She directly confessed the truth to him? Why did Queen Charlotte attempt to convince Frieren into thinking she cared for the mistress? She couldn't think of a reason why, especially when she clearly never bothered to "correct" the public's opinion on the true cause of the mistress' death. Why tell the wife of your son the complete opposite of what you told him? Of what everyone else thought?

Himmel had dipped his head down, shaking. Shadow casted over his face, and Frieren couldn't see his eyes in that darkness. She held his hand and squeezed it. "Do you hate her?"

His voice was soft. "I wish I did. It's not because she's my mother, but she seemed to be in pain..." he trailed off, his eyes widening as if finishing that sentence would be akin to admitting to a crime. "... I wonder if Heiter would be disappointed in me for saying that. Is not hating her the same as excusing her murder?"

If he learned about Frieren's plans, she wondered if he'd extend her that very same kindness.

She reached for his sky blue hair, and ran her fingers through its soft layers, cascading waterfalls that were always tempting to put her hands through. 

His eyes widened, and he rose to meet her eyes.

She smiled. Humans always had interesting things to say to her questions. "I can't answer that for you, Himmel, but you can trust Heiter. I know he's always looking out for you." 

Because even after all this time, he's still wary of me being around you, and a few minutes ago, I might've proven him right.

"... I guess I just don't want him to hate me. It's a miracle that us brothers were close in the first place, considering our circumstances. He's my only friend here before you came along."

"I see. I wouldn't want Eisen to hate me either." She abruptly coughed. "Um, don't tell him that. I sent him away earlier." Eisen wasn't nearly as annoying as Heiter, but he had his moments too. 

Himmel tilted his head. "Eisen— that knight. Who is he to you? Family?"

She pushed some hair behind her ear, deliberating her next words. "Eisen and I aren't family. We're... two beings on the same boat. The only two beings on that boat, actually. Stranded in the middle of the ocean, and we don't trust each other at all."

"You don't?"

Her mouth fell open wordlessly. Himmel looked truly dumbfounded by her sentiments. "And here you were the one who told me to trust people more," he playfully said.

"He's... done things that would make me distrust him, and he has no reason to trust me."

"He watches over you all the time, right? He knows all about your mage practice, and he hasn't said a thing considering the fact that none of this leaked. Did he promise you that he'd keep your secret too?"

"I... I didn't ask him to do that." That's just because his only duty was to make sure she didn't take the earrings off, right? He could care less what she did otherwise, as long as she stayed in this palace as part of the agreement between the kingdom of Historia and Roselia. 

... Right?

But he left her side to go spy on the queen. If he did find something useful, it might help in her escape of the palace. But if he was helping her search for the grimoire...

He... trusted her?

Himmel bursted into laughter, wiping the tear squeezed out of the corner of his eye. "I've never seen someone look so confused before! Now I need to know what you think of your parents, because this is guaranteed to be even funnier."

"I told you I was lonely when I was younger, there's no stories for you to laugh at. All of them start and end with me on my bed in my bedroom." A total lie, but making up childhood tales meant risking discrepancies. She didn't know what her supposed father told Himmel on the day of their wedding. If it was anything about her past, it ran a real risk of creating inconsistencies.

Himmel held his hand over his chin, mimicking a thinking pose. "Hmm, your dad? He looked like he loved you a lot," he said, giggling. "Oh, and you had a teacher, right? Is it okay for me to ask about them?"

Frieren went silent. Of course she had to blab about a teacher's existence. She only wished he'd forget about that already, because all she could tell him were her next words. 

"... There's no need for us to talk about the past anymore, is there?"

Flamme wanted to be remembered.

She wanted humanity to experience the beauty of magic, to see magic in her lens. She tried, and failed. Frieren had taught Fern magic too, but one person was nowhere near the amount of people Flamme initially wanted to bring magic to. It was pointless, doing anything ambitious was pointless. Frieren only wanted to escape and see the people she loved free.

Himmel chuckled. "Maybe the both of us are too fixated on the past. Seeing how it keeps bothering us."

She caressed her arms, running her hands down it. "Then would you rather think about the future? What would be an ideal future for you?"

He leaned back, facing the ceiling of the room. "The future, huh? An ideal future..."

He smiled, giggling. "I'd fly in the sky, in a world where everyone was happy."

But with the demon king's rampage, and his position as a prince, there was no way that could come to pass. 

She smiled with him, following his gaze to the space above them. "How dream-like. Now that's idealistic."

The ceiling they shared over their heads was decorated with golden ornate engravings of lilies entangled in every corner. The gold of the lilies' petals and leaves glistened beneath every flickering flame of the room's fireplace, brighter and more glorious than the stars. Frieren never realised its existence the entire time she was here. She turned towards him and chuckled. 

His smile was still brighter. 

... Even though it's just a change of scenery.

Himmel turned to her, baffled, brushing his hair back. "A handsome man is being vulnerable and your first instinct is to call it stupid and laugh. Alright, what's your ideal future?"

She hummed, leaning left and right as she thought it over. A better ideal future that could wash him out of the park. But in the end, all she could think of was another stupid, idealistic dream.

"I suppose I'd want to be at home," she muttered, smiling wistfully.

Back at that elf village, from before they were attacked. She'd spend her idle days that could stretch onto eternity passively studying magic, and if bending logic was allowed, she'd want Flamme to be there with her, to teach her the spell for flower fields. Then there wouldn't be a barren field in the world anymore, and it could be filled with the boundless bountiful splendours of nature's gifts.

A glade of lilies.

Maybe she'd voluntarily leave the village, if only to find more flowers in the world. A wish of the future purely rooted in the past. For once, she could imagine something like that, but it was only that, and nothing more.

"... Is that actually what you really want?"

Frieren opened her eyes again, broken free from her delusions, Himmel's pained voice ripping her back to reality.

His hands were shaking, and she realised that the words she spoke didn't mean the same things to him. I want to be at home, it implied something completely different to him.

She messed up, she dropped her guard around him too much.

"Himmel—"

"We're friends, aren't we? I know that our position is a little complicated, but if being at home was so important to you, why didn't you tell me?"

She couldn't tell him, because she had been lying to him from the start. 

Himmel continued. "I thought we were friends in the same boat too, since we were both forced into this arrangement, but you don't even see it as that, do you? When you said you were in the same boat as Eisen, you didn't even think to include me, did you? I wasn't anywhere near your boat."

"Himmel, that's different. Those are two completely different boats—"

He took a deep breath that later transitioned into a sigh. Himmel smiled again, but it wasn't the same smile from before.

"... Frieren, I'm not upset. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get heated." He massaged his temple. "You must have your own reasons as well, and I'm not entitled to it. I'm just... some stranger you were forced to marry."

He wasn't letting her speak, like he had already decided what the narrative should be without her. But she shouldn't have been upset about it, because his interpretation of it was right. They were strangers that were forced to marry each other, and she never intended on seeing him as a friend. A friend wouldn't let a war start in their country just so that they could escape. A friend wouldn't deliberately plan to potentially doom them and their entire family to their death.

They weren't friends. 

He was right, so maybe she shouldn't say anything. This wasn't a hindrance to her plans, so there was no need to care whether he thought this way or not. Either way, she'd leave him behind. If he already disliked her, that would be better. It would make her feel less guilty about everything. He could do whatever he wanted. He was never part of the "boat".

Himmel spoke again, pragmatically and detached. "I know that we only married each other to prevent a war, so divorcing each other wouldn't be a choice our parents would allow us to make. I doubt your parents will welcome you back with open arms, either. At best, you'd be married off to another man again."

But if this was better, why did it hurt to hear him talk like that?

Like they were mere strangers sitting across each other.

So before he could speak again, Frieren wanted to stop him no matter what.

... It was soft, and irresistibly sweet.

She pressed her lips against his, her eyes closed. Her hands went down his face to his neck down to his collarbone, and she pulled away, her eyes blinking open.

Their eyes met, his heavy breaths tickling her cheek. He was warm, his face flushed. She'd never seen him look like this before, his eyes held a hunger that she was entirely unfamiliar with. Himmel gently brushed her hair out of her face, his touch electrifying against her skin.

Almost as if it wasn't nearly enough, he softly kissed her back, and their warmth entangled each other in ways they weren't expecting. 

Frieren didn't want it to stop. All she could think of was how much she wanted more of it. She landed on her back, and she felt his hands sliding up her legs from within her dress, lingering at her thighs. His fingers grazed the edges of her undergarments, brushing against her skin.

He's someone that will die for my escape.

Frieren opened her eyes and pushed him off of her, her breaths heavy and quick. "H— Himmel, listen to me." She let another breath out before she continued, desperately ignoring the warmth throbbing between her legs.

"I can't— There's something I have to tell you."

He swiped the saliva off of his lips, painfully forcing a smile, his face somewhat scrunched. "There's lots of things you haven't told me about from the sound of things. What am I to you, Frieren?"

Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and his gaze upon her was burning. "... I don't know. I don't have the right to decide that. I was going to let something so horrible happen to you. To so many people. I thought it wouldn't matter to me. I thought I wouldn't be bothered at all."

Her vision blurred and her voice began to slur, cracking. She just wanted to be home, she just wanted to be free. She wanted to see the sights of the world without something constantly squeezing her neck. She wanted to see Fern again, the only person that truly cared for her in that other palace. She wanted to see Flamme again. Everyone was gone, and there was nothing that she could direct her anger to. Once everything had burnt away, all that was left was the icy numbness that plagued every single part of her aching body.

"Take a deep breath," he said, piercing through her thoughts. She felt his arms wrap around her, a blanket on a snowy day. 

"You can tell me everything," he whispered. "Slowly, one by one."

His hand rubbed her back, his comforting presence draped all around her. And just like that, she began to cry.

Chapter Text

Eisen dashed through the empty hallways. As he thought, the queen was heading to her bedroom. Her steps were swift, and suddenly, she was gone.

Not because he lost track of her, but due to the sudden hand on his shoulder. Eisen whipped around behind him and unsheathed his axe in a single motion. 

He paused. 

The hand belonged to a tall man with moss green slicked back hair. That priest, the first prince. He quickly put his axe away and bowed. "Your highness, please forgive me for my transgression. I assumed you were dangerous."

Heiter laughed. "No one's heads were lopped off, so all is well!"

Eisen's eyes flickered behind Heiter's. He genuinely didn't see nor hear him coming. How did he sneak up on him like that?

Heiter narrowed his eyes. "Are you heading somewhere? Is Frieren still in that room?"

"... Yes, she is. I was tasked to search for grimoires again."

Heiter sighed, crossing his arms. "That girl, she's obsessed. She can't even use magic yet. I pity you for having to put up with her shenanigans. Do you need more grimoires from me?"

Eisen nodded, glad that Heiter believed his lie. "That would be useful, yes. I don't know where else to look at this point to please her."

I already know it's not there. The next step was to search the king and queen's chambers, or find some kind of secret room. Where in the world would a kingdom that despises magic store the one spell it secretly has?

"Right, well, let's have this conversation in a place that isn't a hallway that anyone can simply waltz into. Let's have a drink in my chambers," Heiter invited.

Eisen resisted the urge to turn to the queen's door. "Of course. Lead the way, your highness."

Heiter opened the door to his room and his eyes scanned the surroundings, before turning towards him and smiling. "Come on in!"

The door shut behind him, and the air suddenly changed. Eisen forcefully rooted his hands by his side, despite his instincts telling him to unsheathe his axe. Heiter towered over him in the dark room, the moonlight illuminating his visage.

“Sir Eisen,” he beckoned, his hand calling him over to the table in the centre of the room to sit. His voice was as cheery as always, but Eisen felt a lump form in his throat.

Eisen shook his head. “There's no need. I'm used to standing, your highness. I thank you for your courtesy.”

Heiter chuckled, lighting a few candles and incense. “I see, that's alright then.”

Heiter slumped down onto the chair by his table. Uncorking a bottle of wine, his eyes remained glued to Eisen’s every minute mannerisms. Eisen felt like he couldn't move a muscle, lest those eyes that flickered brightly every so often by the candlelight read his thoughts just by those movements alone. 

“It appears that there's something you wish to speak to me about, your highness. What is it?”

Heiter laughed. “Why, we have plenty of time. Must we get to the topic so soon? I won't be able to finish my bottle that way.”

Eisen balled his hands into fists, hoping Heiter didn't notice. “My mistress is waiting for me. Forgive me for my lack of manners, but I must retrieve a grimoire for her as soon as possible. She's prone to temper tantrums, you see.”

“Mm,” Heiter remarked. “An angry princess wouldn't be very good.” He stood up, wine glass in hand. “But all of that is a lie, isn't it?”

Heiter had no basis for that claim, regardless of how he came to that conclusion. Eisen could still feign ignorance. “About the temper tantrums? I do believe you'll see it one day. It’ll be an incredible sight— she can cry and scream for three days at a time—”

Something blitzed by his face and shattered against the wall into powdery pieces. 

Eisen realised that his cheek was grazed, red fluid flowing down to his chin and seeping into his blond beard. Without turning to confirm what was thrown, he stood firmly by the door, keeping an unbreaking gaze towards the priest that threw the glass that narrowly missed him.

Heiter smiled, slicking his hair back, the hair then falling back in cascades to his forehead. “My apologies. It was an accident, how dreadful it would've been if it did more than a cut.” He took a step towards him. “Let me heal that for you! The princess is sure to despise me if she finds out I damaged her knight, after all.”

Eisen backed away as Heiter approached him, his eyes a solemn glare. “... Your highness, do you take me for a fool? You were clearly threatening me, why won't you follow through with it?”

Heiter’s outstretched hand stopped just short of Eisen’s bleeding cheek. He withdrew them and hid them behind his back. Those hands were trembling. “... Dear me. Even I wasn't expecting to hesitate. Stuff like this really isn't made for me after all.”

He always intended to threaten him, but it seemed like he was trying to stall for time to steel himself for it? Then with a bit of intimidation, Eisen could get him off his back. “For what purpose am I being threatened? You must have reason to believe that I am deserving of such treatment. Out with it. You may hurt me however you please, but I refuse to tolerate any sort of disrespect towards the princess.”

Heiter froze. A smile crept upon his lips and he cracked into laughter, heavily slumping back onto the couch he stood from. He glanced back at the dwarf glaring at him, boring into his soul and sighed. 

“... I thought I was the only one that noticed my mother’s sudden proficiency in magic.”

Eisen’s fists tightened. “The princess is a prodigy, it seems. Please forgive her rude question, as she had just started learning magic, after all.”

Heiter shook his head. “It took me a long time to get to this point. No amount of natural talent can get you here. She has practiced magic for a long time and is skilled.”

There was a long silence between them. 

Heiter clicked his tongue. The room’s curtains opened behind him, and the scarlet flames blew out, leaving the two of them in the dark, backlit by the moon. “I’ve done my own research as well,” Heiter said. “A few months ago, all of Frieren’s servants and maids vanished.”

Heiter began to slowly pace around the room, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass he planned to drink from, still on the table. “It is quite difficult to cover your tracks completely when hundreds of families are involved. Someone told me something quite peculiar.”

Eisen was sure that information about the princess’ palace wing was completely classified. Though the king and queen of Roselia had access to it and were able to blackmail Historia, Heiter shouldn't have been able to learn anything.

Heiter tilted his head, his voice low and resonant.

“The princess is dead, isn't she? Princess Emilia of Historia. As her knight, I assume you should know this story best.”

Eisen’s eyes widened, his hands balling into fists. He desperately kept them by his sides, his deep, growling voice rumbling ever so slightly. “... I must say, I understand your tendency to joke, your highness, but a joke of this nature is of poor taste.”

Heiter paused and chuckled. Eisen realised that Heiter saw through his facade. “As a priest, I would never joke about death. Why, I take it quite seriously, and it seems you do too. Which is why…”

Eisen blinked, and Heiter disappeared. His eyes scanned the room for his presence, and not a shadow was to be found. Only the sound of the wind outside and the lingering sweet scent of the incense that Heiter lit earlier. Goddess magic. Was this how Heiter snuck up to him the first time? Using mana to completely conceal your presence? Eisen’s mind quickly flashed to the only person he needed to protect— the princess. What if she was in danger?

He went for the door, and when an arm grabbed him from behind this time he was prepared. He swung his axe without a moment of hesitation, and it made a clean cut. A clean, lateral cut across Heiter's arm. 

Eisen didn't have the time to worry about the consequences for this. His hand reached for the doorknob when Heiter’s chilling voice stopped him, inches away from touching it.

“Open that door, and I’ll accuse the two of you for conspiring to assassinate a member of the royal family.”

Was that why Heiter riled him up? So Eisen would attack him? If Heiter told the public about what he learned, not even the king and queen would be able to quell the rumours. Frieren would—

Eisen’s suspended hands fell to his sides. He could only scoff. “This is the only time you'd ever flaunt that royal status of yours.”

Heiter laughed, clutching the open wound on his arm, blood vigorously trickling down his arms and dripping onto the floor, now splotchy, sticky and wet. “I’ll heal this nasty flesh wound myself if you give me the answers I want. Who is Frieren, and what are you trying to do with my brother and this kingdom?”

“... You should've just revealed your findings to the public, or had us speak in the hallway where there would be witnesses. By delaying it and telling me, I could just kill you to silence it all. I’ll kill everyone here, take the sole blame, and pray my mistress finds the world she'll smile in.”

Heiter shivered. “This is another level of loyalty. She's not even your princess, is she? Are you in love with her?”

Eisen sneered. “I know my place well. Do not accuse me of such a thing.”

Frieren’s my dearest salvation.

Despite my countless sins; she gazed upon me, and forgave it all. Forgave me in place of the princess I was supposed to protect.

Heiter narrowed his eyes, sighing. “Forget it, I don't care about your relationship. Do you vow not to harm us?”

Eisen shook his head. “So long as you leave the two of us alone. I assure you, the one with the upper hand is Roselia, and we are dancing to your kingdom’s every whim.”

“So they have a plan involving the two of you? Surely they must know that Frieren’s a fraud—” Heiter massaged his temple, mumbling to himself under his breath. “They wouldn't tell me if I asked. If they wanted me to know they would've told me from the start.”

Heiter trailed off, seemingly having thought up a plan. “If they wanted Frieren despite knowing that she's a fake, it means there's something special about her. It's so important that Himmel had to be legally tied to her. I don't know what it is, but it means she cannot die, or their plans would fall through.”

Eisen gripped his weapon. “How brazen of you to discuss your plans so openly. I’ll kill you here and now.”

Heiter healed his own wound in a flash. “Calm down, knight. I'm no murderer.”

Eisen froze up.

The priest moved his arm up and down, stretching it as if to double-check its mobility as he spoke. “There must be a reason you're searching for spells. It's for our identity-changing spell, is it not?”

Eisen didn't know how much of his own hand he should reveal, but Heiter continued to speak nonetheless. 

“Only mother and father knows where it is. I suppose that's why you were tailing her?” 

Eisen’s silence was pointless.

Heiter chuckled. “I’ll help you with it, but you'll also have to go along with the plans I have for you. No matter what.”

Eisen gulped. It felt like he didn't have a choice.

“... Tell me.”

A crooked smile spread across Heiter’s face.

—

Himmel heard her soft weeping, accompanied by sharp breaths and sniffling, tears she needlessly choked back. His hands ran through her hair and neck and down to her back. She clung to him like it was only natural, clutching onto his shirt that had gotten damp and warm as she pressed herself against his chest.

Then, it was quiet. 

Her breaths were slow, her back rising and falling in rhythm. He gently brushed her hair out of her face, and realised that she had fallen asleep.

“Pfft…”

It was so sudden that he could only laugh. 

He laid her down in bed and swept the remaining tears from her eyes. His finger felt exceptionally warm when it caressed her skin.

She winced and began mumbling in her sleep. “Stop it, mom…”

I'm not your mom, you know?

He chuckled, running his hand through her long silver hair, the kind that reminded him of the sheen of moonlight. It was soft, akin to glimmering snow. “... What's your relationship with your mother even like?”

He seriously didn't know anything about her. Whenever he tried asking, she always shot him down. It's true that he wasn't entitled to any information about her, but Himmel would be lying if he told himself that he wasn't hurt by that sentiment.

The crackling flames in the room was all he could hear now as he yawned. It felt like ten years had passed during their conversation, even though it probably took about ten minutes in reality. He laid down beside her into the soft embrace of the mattress, his eyes transfixed on her lashes that casted a shadow over her shut eyes. 

Her lashes were longer than he thought. 

His eyes drifted down to her lips, and his fingers pressed against his own. Soft. He was surprised when she parted her mouth before he did, when something wet, warm, and slightly rough slithered across his lips.

Himmel slapped himself.

Why did I kiss her back? 

She seemed to be in a vulnerable state that time, and he felt awful for taking advantage of that. He shouldn't have lost his cool like that earlier, so that she wouldn't feel forced to kiss him. 

“... Why were you crying?”

He hoped that it wasn't because of him. He didn't really understand what she meant when she said “letting something horrible happen”. 

Did it have to do with his dreams? He had been trying to ignore them for so long, pretending that everything was okay. 

Every night when she drifted to the land of dreams before he did, he'd look at her sleeping expression. It was peaceful, the sort of peace achieved once you have nothing more to look forward to. That was a good thing, he thought, but…

He took a deep breath. 

Please wake up soon.

Let's exchange stories about ourselves.

—

Fern ran across the moonlit halls of the maids’ quarters, clutching her black cloak over her head. She slowly cracked the wooden door to the garden open, surveying the quiet surroundings. She hid her presence and ran.

Her heels clacked against the stone path as she slipped from shadow to shadow. Ever since Mistress Frieren left, she had this uneasy feeling take over herself every other night. It wasn't as if the voices came back, but no matter how much she clutched her chest, she still couldn't stop it from thumping wildly. 

She trusted her. The plan would work. Even if she and Sir Stark were being watched like hawks. They were hostages, after all. They simply weren't supposed to know that they were.

They had been pretending like this for a while now. That’s why the people currently following her aren't worried. After Mistress Frieren was sent to Roselia, Fern was reassigned to become a laundry maid. It was strange to have to adjust to such a difference in schedule.

She arrived before the stables and knocked twice.

The door creaked open, and a head of red popped itself out. He smiled when their eyes met. “Fern!”

Stark pulled her into an embrace and she sighed, whispering. “Did you have to hug me? Us meeting like this at night hints at it enough, does it not?”

“Nah, I don't need to, it's just…” he whispered back. “Seeing you made my anxiety go away.”

She forgot how much of a scaredy-cat he was. 

Fern pinched his back. “You're using too much strength. It hurts.”

He quickly let her go. “Sorry!”

She straightened out her clothes that were messed up by his tight hug, watching his expression. He was staring at her again. Quietly, and she couldn't read his mind at all. He rarely ever got quiet. She wished he could be more like this at times, but now his silence was uncomfortable. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Oh,” he stammered. “It's just… I was thinking…”

He's worried again. She smiled and went towards the haystack, sitting down. “Sit down then,” she invited, patting the cold floor next to her.

He hesitantly sat down, his back resting against the haystack. His gaze went off to the wooden ceiling, high up above them.

“... Fern, what if we really die here?”

“We won't.”

His hands pushed his hair up to his scalp as he sighed, exasperated. “Why'd I get dragged into all of this? I just wanted…”

He looked at her and his sentence trailed off. “... Sorry.”

She tilted her head. “Why are you apologising?”

“No, I shouldn't doubt the princess. I know you trust her. And I trust Master Eisen too. I know they'll protect us.”

“Well, you're strong enough even if they don't. I wouldn't worry.”

He shook his head. “No way! I freeze every time I'm sparring! I’m like those deers that always get run over by carriages!”

“That's normal, I suppose. I don't have any combat experience either, I've only learned some basic spells.”

He looked like he was going to tear up. “How are we gonna get out of here!? We're just two people that can't fight!”

She forcefully put her finger over his lips. “Say that again but louder, why don't you? Did you forget that we're being watched?”

They came to the stables every day because they wanted to establish a useful normalcy in their schedule. The stables were unoccupied at night, so they were merely “lovers searching for a quiet place to rendezvous”, even though they actually wanted to make sure that securing a horse wouldn't be difficult by the time of the escape. Stark kind of knew how to ride a horse, apparently he had some kind of formal training before he lost his family and village to demons.

In the hidden corner of the haystacks, they hid some supplies that would let them survive on the road for a couple weeks. All they needed to do was wait for the princess and knight’s signal. 

His eyes suddenly widened. He held her wrist that was inches from his face and began to sniff her fingers.

What the hell? She ripped her arm away from his grasp. “Pervert, what are you doing? Pervert, die.”

He blinked, seemingly realising what he did. “What? No! You didn't have to say it twice, I wasn't! I wasn't—”

“Pervert.”

He shook his head and flailed his arms around pointlessly. “Your fingers smelled nice! I was curious! I’m sorry!”

Smells nice?

She sniffed her own fingers and understood what he meant. It was the sweet flowery scent from the soap used to clean the clothes and garments. “I'm a laundry maid, remember? I guess the scent lingered on my fingers. All the laundry maids’ fingers must smell like this.”

“Ohh,” he nodded, giggling. “No wonder you smelled so nice when I hugged you earlier.”

“... Pervert.”

He couldn't refute her anymore, opting simply to slump his shoulders in defeat.

She chuckled, watching him deflate like a disappointed puppy. They wouldn't ever be able to talk like this together if they weren't both hostages. Under normal circumstances, they would’ve only seen each other in passing every other month. Oddly enough, that made her smile. Maybe something was wrong with her. 

She wrapped her arms around him and she felt him stiffen, his arms still by his sides. 

She began to whisper again. “The war that'll happen soon; I wonder what'll happen.”

“... I'm scared.”

“I know. Me too.”

Honestly, she really didn't want a war to happen. Both of them lost their families to war, and she surely didn't want others to lose their families too. But Mistress Frieren and Sir Eisen couldn't think of a better way, so she was willing to accept it.

Oh, she realised. Her thumping heartbeat from earlier was gone. All she felt was his heartbeat and her own, beating in symphony. 

“Let's escape together, all of us,” Fern whispered, soft enough only he could hear.

—

Frieren awoke from her slumber. For the first time in a while, she didn't dream. Inches away from her face was his, his breaths tickling her nose. The memories from earlier came flooding back, and she regretted every single one of her actions. Was she about to up-end the entire plan that would save not just herself, but the two children she left behind at Historia? She hoped Eisen didn't see her fumble that hard, but it didn't seem like he was back yet for some reason.

She didn't know what she wanted to tell Himmel. In a way, she was glad that he was asleep.

It was still dark outside. She didn't know what time it was. 

But what she knew was that she wanted to be outside. She crawled out of bed, but felt something tugging her hand. It was him, holding it as he slept.

… Don't do this, Himmel. 

It would be easy to slip her hands out of his, but she didn't want to let him go. 

How troubling. She could only muster a chuckle, weak and defeated. 

If she told him she wanted to put him and his entire family, alongside his kingdom all in danger just so she could slip on out, what would he say?

She never minded being selfish, but she was hesitating for the first time. She took the hand that was holding hers and pressed it against her cheek.

“... Himmel, I want you to hate me.”

If he forgave her like he did his mother, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

Despise me, spit on my name and declare me your greatest enemy. 

His eyes cracked open ever so slightly, and she almost instantly dropped his hand. Did he hear her?

When he's looking at her with such a warm gaze, what was she supposed to do?

He smiled, his voice soft. “If you want me to hate you, then I will.”

Her eyes widened.

He lifted his hand and caressed her cheek. “But that's not what you really want, is it? Because…”

He trailed his fingers over the bottom of her eyes. “You wouldn't be crying like this if it was true.”

She didn't realise it until he swept it from her eyes. 

Himmel sat up and cupped her face. They were still inches apart, their breaths tickling each other. He gazed into her eyes and Frieren closed them in anticipation.

She heard a giggle from the other end. “Your eyes are swollen,” he pointed out.

Frieren felt a little stupid for closing her eyes. She cracked her eyes open again and headbutted him away with her forehead. “Whose fault do you think that is?”

His head hung low as he clutched his forehead, chuckling. “So it was my fault, huh?”

She went silent. “... Never mind, stop. I don’t want to blame anyone. The blame game is tiring. Consequences happen because I make mistakes, that's all.”

“That's ominous. There's a lot of lore I don't know!”

“... I don't know where to start.” She gripped her dress as she trembled. She didn't want to tell him anything. He'd hate her, she knew he would.

He smiled. “Then I'll start. Follow me, won't you?”

He took her hand and both of them went outside. 

The sudden icy breeze took her off guard as she shivered. They weren't wearing any shoes either. Himmel looked back at her and tugged her hand, bringing her to his side. “Stay close, you won't get cold that way.”

Under the guise of moonlight, they trekked on grass and off the beaten track. 

Frieren didn't know where they were going. It was getting awfully far from the main palace, and she was scared. Eisen wasn't with her. 

Himmel pulled apart the bushes in their way and went through them. She hesitantly followed, and came out the other end to be greeted by a meadow. The long grass rolled and swaying by the wind made it look like an ocean of green. 

“I’ve never been to this part of the palace before,” she remarked.

Himmel laid down on the grass and giggled. “Lie down with me.” 

He pulled her down and she landed atop him, her arms by either side of his body.

Before she could get off of him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kept her in place. 

“It's cold,” he reasoned. “Can't we stay like this?”

If it was cold, they should've just brought a blanket with them. They were in a reasonably warm room just moments earlier. She rested her head on his chest, her eyes watching the grass around them dance. At the very least, this truly was warm. “What is this place, Himmel?”

She could hear his racing heartbeat. She briefly wondered if he could hear hers too. 

“Haven't you always wondered where I run off to to skip my dance classes?”

So this was where he went all along. “You're still skipping it? Your dance instructor hasn't been asking me where you went these past few weeks, so I assumed you were going to them.”

He chuckled. “Nah, he just gave up. He knows you don't know by now.”

“Then why tell me? I can rat you out next time.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “I wanna tell you things about me, because it feels like you’re going to disappear.”

Frieren lifted her head and met his eyes. “What?”

He giggled. “Weird, right? I mean, I don't even have a reason to think that.” He avoided her gaze and watched the skies and clouds, his voice soft and melancholic. “I just keep getting these dreams where you're leaving me behind.”

How did he know?

“What are those dreams like?”

He winced ever so slightly. “... If I tell you, then you'll have to tell me your secrets too, okay?”

She hesitantly nodded. “I can't promise you everything, but… to a certain extent.”

He took a deep breath.

“In my dreams,” he said. “We'd run in a field of blue flowers, and you were so far ahead of me. I'd beg you not to leave me, then… I’d blink, and…”

She watched his lips move voicelessly. Something about the next phrase was something he absolutely couldn't verbalise. Himmel tightened his grasp around her waist, his fingers clutching her dress. His voice was clearly pained, like that of a crying, guilt-ridden child.

“I killed you.”

Chapter Text

Fern and Stark left the stables and were walking by the waterfalls and rivers of Historia. Stark giggled as his toes poked the water’s surface, causing ripples upon ripples to form, distorting their reflections and slicing them up into goofy images. 

“You're such a child,” Fern said, rolling her eyes.

“We're the same age! And we're still kids, technically.” His voice in his final sentence was getting smaller and smaller, as if he wasn’t confident of it for some reason. He wasn’t even wrong.

She chuckled, squatting by the riverbank. “Come here, Sir Stark,” she beckoned.

Stark was a bit apprehensive of that request, but he came over anyway, squatting by her side. Both of them gazed at their own reflections, and Fern quickly splashed the water to Stark’s face.

“What— what was that for!?”

She looked to the side. “Must've been the wind. It's trying to punish immature children.”

“Yeah? You're gonna regret this!”

He threw his legs into the river and kicked towards her.

She screamed, the icy water drenching her dress and seeping through to her skin. “You— wow!”

This boy wasn't a gentleman at all.

Fern lifted her skirt and took off her cloak, hopping into the river, bending over to scoop water into her hands. She glanced to her sides for a split second, and whispered a spell.

When she threw the water at him, a large wave overwhelmed him to his feet, causing him to fall onto his butt. He shot out from beneath the surface, huffing and puffing, his hands pushing the water out of his face. “How did you—”

He paused, seemingly realising what she did. “Oh that's unfair— and dangerous!”

“It seems someone's a sore loser.”

He paused, water dripping off his clothes and hair. “... Oh, you're on. I'll win fair and square.”

She froze up as he began to charge at her. He’s so fast! She put her hands out between them, and he tackled her into the water. A large splash flew in every direction, and all Fern saw was his face on top of her, water dripping off of both of them. His hands pinned her wrists to the ground, and she couldn’t move. Their chests rose and fell, drenched in water. Her heart was beating so quickly, and his eyes were so close to hers, she could see a reflection of herself through his eyes. Her face felt too warm, it was strange.

“... It hurts.”

Stark gasped, leaping off of her. “Crap! It happened again, I’m sorry!” He crouched beside her, reluctant to get nearer. She noticed that his eyes were avoiding her for some reason. She didn’t mean to make him feel that guilty. 

“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear. Are you okay?” he asked.

She sat up, her hands gently grasping her wrists. It didn’t actually hurt that much, but it kind of scared her. He had immense strength, but he didn’t understand that. So whenever they played together, he never tried to control himself. Even though she told him before that it hurt, he never really took it to heart.

Fern pouted. “You’re really strong, Sir Stark. I’m just a regular person, not a behemoth-in-dwarf-size like Sir Eisen is. Please be gentler next time. How many times do I have to tell you?”

He sullenly nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re okay.”

… Does he actually understand, or does he just want to get out of trouble?

She smiled, and splashed him one last time. “Splashing like this is fine. I’m sorry for cheating too.”

“That’s okay, I’m not bothered.” He grinned, grabbing her cloak from the side of the river and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Now let’s go back before we get sick!”

He stood up and went ahead as she followed behind him.

She tugged the cloak around herself, momentarily looking down at her soaked dress. She was sure to catch a cold— 

Her eyes widened. She forgot that she had been wearing her white nightgown. It was see-through. No wonder he wasn’t looking at her. She pulled the entire cloak around her body, suddenly conscious of the way her dress clung to her skin. For once, she was glad that there weren’t any lamps around to light the path. It was just the dim moonlight brushing both of them a soft blue.

She glanced up at him, looking at his broad shoulders from behind. From the heavy way he walked to the way he made sure not to embarrass her, she felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. It felt like time was grinding to a halt. Was she having another panic attack? She clutched her chest and took a deep breath. 

And she realised that it wasn’t another panic attack.

Even though the chilly wind was freezing her over, she still managed to feel warm walking behind him. Almost as if he sensed that she was staring at him, he turned. She wondered what kind of face she was making, and how he'd react to it.

— “Fern, duck!”

She blinked, and Stark was suddenly behind her. He turned back towards her, blood spewing out of his mouth. 

“Stark!?”

He grabbed onto her shoulder. “We're going to the stables, now!”

“But the signal—”

She swallowed those words in. Now wasn't the time to argue. She grabbed his hand and began to run.

There were screaming, yelling, and they were surrounded almost instantly by shadows larger than the both of them, their armours glistening under the moonlight, reflecting their faces carved in fear.

Why were the knights suddenly surrounding them? Surely her usage of magic earlier wasn't noticeable, she swore she kept it as minimal as possible. 

Stark clutched his chest, spitting out the blood in his mouth. He put his hand out in front of Fern, as if to shield her. “Captain Wirbel, what's going on?”

The man with gray-silver hair hulked over both of them, grinning. “Something’s gone wrong, so we're gonna have to bring you in.”

“By attacking us? That doesn't seem very knightly,” Fern stated. Probably because none of the knights in Historia are actual knights. They're all warriors and hired mercenaries. If something went wrong to the point of the knights needing to capture them, she worried for the state of the knight and the princess. Something must’ve happened to them, otherwise the knights would have no need to openly arrest them.

“My apologies for my methods, m’lady. I promise that we're not trying to kill you yet.”

…Yet, this man was saying. Fern gripped Stark’s hand, nodding as he turned towards her.

Stark replied in hushed whispers. “What? We're surrounded!”

Fern took a quick deep breath, rolling up her sleeves. “It's about time I get some combat experience, don't you think? They may be strong against mages, but I can still take them off guard. They don’t know that I’ve learned magic.”

Stark turned back towards Wirbel and nodded. “I'll pull their attention, you do your thing.”

She nodded in turn. 

We'll be expediting our schedule, Mistress Frieren. Please wait for us. 

—

“... What? What do you mean?”

“It was just a dream,” Himmel insisted. “I’d never do something like that. Even if you were really terrible— I’d never kill you. It was a dream.”

Frieren didn't know what that could possibly mean. “Then, is that why you think I’m going to disappear?”

He sheepishly nodded. 

Frieren averted her gaze. “I suppose it's my turn.”

She wondered why he was keeping her so close to him before, but it made sense now. He had a hunch that was weirdly accurate to a certain degree. Frieren rolled to the side, landing onto the grass, his hands still around her. The grass tickling her body felt so familiar.

“I knew a lot of… people, back then.”

She remembered the sun hiding behind the clouds and peeping out every so often like a mother playing peek-a-boo with a child. 

“I used to have a friend called Milliarde. She made a drink so awful that she didn't want to drink any more of it, but there was still plenty of it left.”

Himmel nodded. “So what did she do?”

Frieren smiled. “She wrote a lie; said that it was the most legendary alcohol everyone would covet and vie for.”

“What? Why?”

“I asked her that too. She said it was for fun. Other people believed that note, and there's treasure hunters searching for it now. I wonder what she thinks of this outcome.”

Would she laugh at the absurdity of it all? Would she smugly turn to Frieren with an “I told you so” expression? Would she be bored that things went exactly how she expected it to?

Frieren wished she could find out.

Himmel narrowed his eyes as they softened. “Do you miss her?” he asked in his gentle voice.

How long had it been since she last saw her? Years? Decades? Centuries? 

Did she die in the attack on the village?

Milliarde loved the idea of adventure. Whether she was still alive or not, Frieren genuinely didn't know.

“... Regardless of what happened to her, I'm going to meet her again sooner or later.”

He tilted his head. “How are you so sure?”

She chuckled. “It’s an inevitability. No matter what I choose to do, we'll see each other again soon.”

“Hmm,” he said, nodding. “That sounds really nice,” he replied.

She genuinely didn't think he would still believe that if he knew what she meant. He didn’t seem like he really understood. “Yeah, sure.”

Because depending on certain circumstances, she'd be able to reunite with Flamme real soon too.

Though she probably wouldn't be sent to heaven.

“Frieren,” he called out. Her attention returned to him and his sky blue eyes. He smiled. “Your eyes are still so red.”

She covered his eyes with her hands instantly. “Alright, I'm leaving.” God forbid an elf cry for her people.

He giggled. She felt his lips graze her hands that were covering his eyes, and she quickly pulled them away. Both of them went silent.

She parted her lips to speak, but he spoke before her.

“Frieren, can't you tell me what you meant by letting something horrible happen to me?”

…

She really didn't have the heart to say it after all. Especially after that dream he had.

“... I told you I wanted to go home, right? By doing that, it'll start a war. Your kingdom needs me, you see. I'm very… important.”

“... Why would visiting home cause a war? I thought about it, and surely... all you needed to do was go back sometimes. As long as you don't leave forever, no war will happen.”

Her eyes were focused on his collarbone, anywhere else that wasn't his face. She didn't want to see what kind of expression he was making.

He sounded enthusiastic, an obviously false kind of enthusiasm, his voice cracking at some point. “You can organise a home visit. I'm sure it'll go through. It's not permanent, but occasional visits should be able to soothe your homesickness, right?”

“My home isn't Historia.”

He went silent. She took herself off guard as well. Who knew that she could say something so firmly like that so openly. She peeked at his face, and he didn't seem angry at her, rather…

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I'm important to Roselia, but not primarily because I’m Historia’s princess. In fact, there's something about me that they absolutely couldn't pass up on.”

“Your… sickness?” he answered. He looked utterly clueless.

She bonked his head. “What member of royalty would want genetics like that?”

Frieren took his hand and brought it to her ears. His long, thin fingers ran across the rim of her ears, his expression still confused.

“Do they feel real to you, Himmel? Normal human ears?”

He tilted his head, blinking.

She twitched, a little annoyed that the magic restricting her was that effective. “Because these aren't my ears. They're meant to be pointier, longer.” Part of his hand was pressed against her cheek, and she purposely lied against his palm. 

“I didn't really care about how they looked, but not having them made me feel like I wasn't myself anymore,” she continued. “I've lived hundreds, hundreds of years, and that was the first time I cared about my appearance. Every time I saw my own reflection, I almost couldn't recognise the woman I was staring back at.”

His mouth hung wide open. He caressed her ears one last time, and his voice came out weakly. “I thought they went extinct,” he whispered. “The reason you had to marry me must be because—”

He looked like he had more to say, to ask, but he didn't. His mouth clamped shut after that revelation, his hands hovering over them. He no longer kept his hands around her.

She caressed her earrings. “These can only be taken off by Eisen; they're why my ears look like this, and why I can't use magic. They did all this to trap me here. I can't simply run off, because they know how important my magic is to me. I need Eisen’s cooperation, but his loyalties lie with Historia. Once he's converted to my side, I'll take him with me.” She knew Eisen had different reasons for going along with her, that had to be the case. Otherwise he would’ve already taken off her earrings.

“I— I see…” he noted. “That must've been hard.”

She raised her brows. “You believe me? I could be lying to you. I could be dangerous. You don't know what I'm hiding from you.”

He wistfully smiled. “Don’t tell me things you don't want to tell. We're sharing secrets right now, aren't we? No matter how outlandish the things you tell me, I know it's true.”

Is it because they were married? Was “believing your partner no matter what” a verse in their vows? Despite being proud of her memory, she couldn't recall what they were. Nothing, except the final part.

She gulped. “You're too trusting.”

“Who was the one that whined and told me I should trust people more?”

“The woman that’s lied to you before and will keep doing so in the future. Besides, I told you to trust your brother.”

Himmel closed off his ears. “Lalala— What's that? Trust you? Yes ma’am!”

He's so stubborn she could only chuckle. No wonder he was a younger brother; he had the natural annoyance ability only younger brothers were capable of.

“I’m a bad person, you know?” she reminded him. “I'm going to run away and let the two kingdoms fight it out. People are going to die, and you could be included.”

He grinned. “But causing a war is why you were crying, right? There's something good in there after all.”

“And here I thought you were going to trust everything I say,” she teased, though slightly frustrated.

“Touché,” he admitted. He leaned his head on his palm. “Alright bad person, what was your home like?”

She smiled. What a stupid conversation. “It really wasn't anything special at all. It’s probably similar to a human settlement, except you see the same faces for decades to centuries. A lot of us go for adventures that last an entire human’s lifetime. It's normal for elves to disappear and randomly reappear in the village a few centuries later. We leave when we're bored, and come back when there's nothing left to do. The cycle then repeats.”

His eyes glimmered. “Have you ever travelled before?!”

Frieren was taken off guard. It was rare to see his eyes shine like that. They were beautiful, like it was looking at something far beyond her, twinkling for a light brighter than the sun.

She shook her head. “I was never the outdoors kind, but I wish I was back then. The wind kisses my skin so softly. If it wasn't for my teacher, I never would've thought that at all.”

He looked at her quietly, like he was holding himself back again. She knew why.

She closed her eyes, and could recall her face so clearly, like she was still of this world. Her smile and her long apricot braid. Her dreams were so sparkling, like stars she couldn’t avert her eyes from. A dream that would never come true. 

“Her name was Flamme. She was human, like you. She was odd like you, and she loved magic and humanity so, so very much. Maybe that was normal since she was human as well. I wouldn't know. I'm not human, and I've never loved anything as passionately as she did. I can like things, but her passion was an unwavering flame.”

Frieren paused, her lips quivering. Her eyes cracked open ever so slightly, like a child that had just woken up from a long dream. “She had a favourite spell, did you know?”

He tilted his head. “What is it?”

She chuckled. “It was a spell to create flower fields. The first time she showed it to me, it was a field of white lilies. It replaced the charred earth so effortlessly, like it had always been there. Even though it was just a change of scenery, everyone gleefully ran about like it was the greatest thing in the world. I thought that if I learned it, I could go and fill every lonely glade with bursts of colour.”

Himmel ran his hand across the long blades of grass around them and ever so slightly smiled. “I want to see that spell one day too.”

She tilted her head. “What’s your favourite flower? If I know it, then you can consider it a gift from me.”

That grimoire Eisen gave her, she wasn’t expecting it to be of use here. Though she had no way of using it yet.

He hummed in contemplation. “I don't know what it's called, but it appears in my dreams a lot. That soft, light blue flower that bloomed so radiantly like it wanted to kiss every sunstreak in the sky.” 

That was likely the most vague description of a flower he could've given her. “Hmm,” she replied. “I have some flower homework to do.”

He giggled. “I’ll be waiting, Miss Prodigy.”

She sighed. “I have to leave before the end of this year, so you'll have it before then, I suppose.”

Himmel suddenly froze.

She tilted her head. “Is something wrong?”

He looked her in the eyes and wordlessly parted his lips. He quickly smiled. “You still don't know how you're going to get out of here without a war, right? Let me help you.”

Her eyes widened. “You're going to help?”

He enthusiastically nodded. “Of course! As your husband, it's only appropriate that I help, right? Or, well—” he stammered. “I want to help you as a friend too. That's it.”

“You’re… okay with all this? The king brought me here to be Roselia’s immortal incubator. Is it okay to defy them?”

“They're not me, I don't care. Besides, if you don't want to be their… um… that, then you really shouldn't be forced. I don't want to fulfill the heir-creating duties of a prince if it means they get away with what they've done to you either.”

He ran his finger through her hair and kissed it. “You running away is the right thing.”

It wasn't that she disagreed with what he said. She was glad he was on the same page as her despite not telling him absolutely everything. Her hands wrapped around her arms and slid down as she took a deep breath. He was hiding something from her again. But she didn't know if she had the right to demand for the truth. 

“... Himmel, don't make me kiss you again.”

He anxiously giggled, suddenly taken off guard. “Huh? That's not the threat you think it is.”

“Do you really want me to go?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Then, do you want me to beg you to stay? You dream of painting all the lonely glades in the world with bursts of colours, don't you? You can't do that if you're stuck here.”

She dropped her gaze. “Yeah, you're right,” she agreed. “You can't go with me?”

“Of course not,” he answered. “I have responsibilities here, the same way you have responsibilities you want to do out there.”

She nodded. “Alright then. I suppose, on the same day of my departure, you can look forward to a field full of your blue flowers right here.”

He giggled. “Thanks!”

His smile was bright, the kind of brightness she didn't need sunlight to see. Yet the sun began to rise, and the skies were that of dawn, pink and purple and getting brighter and brighter. It dyed both of them in cold hues, but warmer than before. She could see him clearer now, and it was exactly how she expected him to look like.

They gazed upon the rising sun, and Himmel laughed. “I didn't think it was that time of day!”

She couldn't blink, she didn't want to. 

The sun made its presence known into the darkness, bringing with it light and warmth. Without fail, it would rise in the morning, a congratulatory greeting for those who have persevered through the gloomy night. 

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Himmel asked.

She turned towards him. He wasn't looking at her when he asked. Like her, he was transfixed by the light, but their definition of light wasn’t the same.

She smiled, something inside her blooming.

Frieren leaned in, and planted another kiss onto his lips. 

By the time she pulled back, he looked as if he was a pure maiden in love, reddened and embarrassed. “Frieren?” he called out, his fingers shooting to his lips.

As if they didn't already go further than a peck a few hours ago.

She chuckled. “You asked me what I felt about you, didn't you?”

He anxiously nodded. “Wait, but I told you not to tell me anything you don't want to.”

Frieren leaned her forehead against his. “So you don't want to?”

“... I…”

She saw his Adam's apple bob, and he averted his gaze. 

“... I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye if you act like this,” he finally answered, a soft murmur. “We should just plan your escape now.”

“That can wait, can't it?” She wasn't expecting him to refuse. 

“... Frieren.”

She liked it whenever he said her name. Like it was the single most important word in the world, something that should be treasured and cherished. 

“Hmm?” she replied.

He traced his fingers around her face and cupped it. They gazed into each other’s eyes, and she knew he was glancing at her lips.

He sighed.

“... Fuck it.”

His fingers were warm against her skin, causing her to wince. They slowly slid down to the lacings of her dress, and began to untie the knots. He lingered at the final one, and met her eyes. 

—

The queen sat at the edge of her balcony, wine in hand. The morning wind was as sweet as the victory she felt like she achieved. She sipped her wine and took a deep breath. 

The view beneath her felt so small. The people scurrying around in panic looked like little ants, and everything felt so insignificant to her. Up here, it was as if she could stomp her feet and crush them all. Charlotte could only scoff as the knights briefed her about what happened. Of course she expressed her remorse appropriately in front of them, but now that she was alone, she didn’t feel anything at all. 

Revenge didn’t feel good at all. 

Perhaps it was because she wasn’t the one that did it? Would it have felt better if she personally wrapped her fingers around his neck, squeezing on his throat until he choked and vomited? It felt like it happened far too fast, like the Goddess wanted to grant him mercy.

Her eyes darkened. How cruel. Even a man like that deserved mercy?

Maybe she simply wasn’t a religious person. To be frank, she wasn’t expecting things to progress this quickly. The princess and knight playing-pretend far exceeded her expectations, and she didn’t even need to lift a finger. She thought they’d need to be pushed even harder. Someone else must’ve intervened, but she didn’t know who.

…

She chuckled.

That was a lie.

Of course she knew who it was.

Only one other person had a grudge against him as much as she did. 

“… Heiter, you're being far too hasty.”

There's no way it wouldn't be traced back to him. But if he was to come under fire, then Charlotte was willing to shoulder the blame for him too. It was only fair, and it would make up for all her lies and deception over the years, maybe. Perhaps he knew that she would protect him, which was why he was so impatient. How vexing. He was just like her.

She traced the rim of the glass with her slender finger, humming a hymn. She glanced down at her sky blue hair, and was reminded of her. The woman she despised with her entire chest. That abhorrent woman that knew only herself, and thought the world belonged to her. It was dreadful dealing with her, and it was dreadful being her. But her love was genuine, and her misery was real. She hated her, but they were in the same pathetic, dingy boat.

“Charlotte… are you satisfied with this ending?”

Her thoughts suddenly went quiet, her voice soft and defeated, weak. 

“Of course you’re not. In your eyes, you probably wanted him to be mutilated and fed to the pigs.”

But were those wishes Charlotte’s, or her own? Her words came out in murmurs and whispers, like a secret she didn’t want to acknowledge herself. After all these years, she had forgotten everything.

“I don’t even remember my own appearance anymore.”

I’ve truly become Charlotte, the queen of Roselia.

In the amount of time she was acting as her, she wondered how much of Charlotte she erased from this world. Would there exist even a single person capable of recalling her? She didn’t know which “her” she was talking about at this point. They became one and the same. If she wanted to use her magic to turn back, she couldn’t. Because she couldn’t imagine herself anymore.

A mage that loses their imagination is no mage at all.

She smiled a cruel smile.

When will retribution come for me, I wonder?

—

Frieren felt at peace in a way. They laid in the grass, covered in sweat. Himmel was by her side, buttoning his shirt as she rested on his lap.

They were going to find a way for her to leave without anyone getting hurt. She couldn't think of one herself, but… she wanted to believe that he could think of one. Maybe it's because she just assumed that he was more pure of heart than her, and thus he would be able to think of kinder solutions much easier than her. As easy as breathing was.

The prospect of everything finally getting better made her giddy. “Himmel,” she called out. 

He looked down and smiled. “Yes?”

She couldn't help but to smile in turn. “Are you still crying?”

Himmel bent down and pecked her lips. “How dare you,” he whispered, seconds after their lips parted. “I don't think you understand what I was feeling.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Really? Would you like to demonstrate it again, then?”

He chuckled, booping her nose. “Shut up.”

She pursed her lips, upset. But even with the warm atmosphere they built for themselves, Frieren couldn’t shake the terrible feeling taking root inside of her. It was as if there were still things she hadn’t told him, and things he still hadn’t told her either. Alongside her strange paranoia were the feelings she felt for him. She wasn’t so stupid as to not be able to name what it was by now, but if she does, what then? She still… needed to leave.

Himmel didn't say anything about it either.

A thunderous boom exploded in the distance, shooting into the clouds.

There was a large, overwhelming flare of light— it flew to the sky from the palace’s direction, dying their faces bright red. Himmel’s expression turned deathly pale.

She tugged onto Himmel’s sleeve. “It's coming from the palace. What's happening there?”

He looked as if he stopped breathing. Himmel leapt to his feet and began to run.

“Himmel!”

He turned back at her, and only managed to muster a few words. “I’ll go back first. Please, I need to go.”

She nodded, and he ran. He was so far away from her so quickly. She wasn't as fast as he was, her legs were still trembling from before. She reached out towards him, but his silhouette kept getting smaller and smaller, further and further away from her. She dropped her hands, and stopped. Everything’s fine, she told herself. She took a deep breath and sprinted as fast as she could, pushing through the soreness.

The closer she got to the palace, the louder the hectic scene seemed to become. Knights were scurrying about and picking up arms. By the time she arrived, Himmel had returned way before her.

She saw Himmel on the ground, clutching his head, seemingly in pain.

Something was wrong.

“There she is!”

She paused, her head swiveling to all the knights around her. They tackled her to the ground and pinned her body in place. In the corner of her eyesight she could see Himmel’s face, and tears dripped down his face.

“We've been searching for you all night, murderer. To think that you've bewitched our prince too makes me want to hurl.”

Frieren’s eyes widened.

The knight held her by her hair and glared at her in a way that reminded her of the demon’s gazes. It was a murderous gaze, except a demon’s eyes didn't have malice. This one truly, undoubtedly, irrevocably wanted her dead. He pulled her hair like he was going to rip it off of her scalp. That knight turned to face the ever-growing crowd, his voice loud and precise, echoing over the chilling, icy, howling wind.

“This woman is a fake! She stole the identity of the real princess, and killed the king!”

For once, she felt like she knew what was being said, but she absolutely didn't understand.

What?

—

Heavy breathing filled the all-too-quiet room. Eisen held his axe down by his sides, eyeing the blood dripping off of its blade-end. His shoulders rose and fell, cold sweat rolling down his back.

It was far, far too easy.

The man that ordered Princess Emilia’s death was this one. Anton— this wretched king wanted to get rid of any direct heirs to the throne of Historia, and seize control while it was in disarray. He wanted a war from the start. 

If it's the war he wanted, then Eisen was more than willing to deliver it to his doorstep. 

Chapter Text

Eisen wasn’t always a knight. Before knighthood, he was a warrior.

He placed large stones atop the mounds of soil by his house. While he was burying them, his mind was blank. He expected to cry, but what ended up happening was nothing at all. His mother and father perished when his village was attacked by demons, and they had moved on to oblivion. His finger lingered on the surface of the stone, as if something would disappear if he dared to lose contact with it. Eisen took a deep breath and retracted his hand. 

He gazed upon the cruelly bright morning sky, the clouds drifting like it always had, squinting as the light blinded him.

What do I do now?

What was the point of becoming a warrior? He wasn't deserving of that title at all. 

Before he knew it, he found himself walking. Indiscriminately, without an end-destination in mind. Heat rays beat down on him, sweat seeping into his beard. He walked on grass and on dirt and on sand and on stone paths, his boots clacking without end. He couldn’t recall how far he’d gone or even how much he’d walked. The sun rose then fell when the moon came to knock, and rose once more when the moon had gone to sleep. It repeated like that over and over, moving from darkness to light then darkness once more. He went from one city to the next without stopping, and suddenly, his legs gave out. 

He landed on his knees with a loud thump.

Oh, the dwarf realised.

How long had it been since he last ate?

His eyes blurred in and out of view, the trees before him growing bigger and smaller every time he blinked, rotating with no rhyme or reason. There were the sounds of gushing water nearby and the ground was hard. Gosh, he wondered. Since when had he collapsed onto the floor?

Without realising it at all, Eisen was lying powerlessly on the cold stone ground, in the corner of some random town square. He wasn’t sure where he was, exactly. He simply assumed it was a square, but it could’ve been the backyard of someone’s house, or the middle of nowhere. He didn’t have the strength in his neck to crane it around and check his surroundings. The chirping, squawking birds and waterfalls all felt like droning voices mixing and meshing together into a cacophony of… noises. He lost the senses in his hands, the hands that were supposedly still in contact with the stone beneath him.

He thought he let go of the stone, but he supposed that he never did. 

His blurring vision was giving him a headache. Where he thought he was and what he was seeing didn’t match up at all. Everything shrunk and grew and turned upside down, multiplying and dividing into multiple translucent layers on top of one another. Then, it was black.

Eisen felt a smile creep up to the corners of his lips. The only “sensation” he could feel.

What was oblivion meant to be like, anyway?

Turning to dust and being blown away by the wind. He supposed that he would simply cease existing.

He stopped thinking. There was no point in wondering since he was about to find out himself in a few moments anyway. 

His consciousness began to slip away from him, and he did nothing to hold onto it. It all turned to blackness, and he readily shut his eyes.

…

— “Excuse me, are you okay yet?”

It wasn't cold anymore.

Accompanied by a throaty cough, it was a child-like feminine voice, a demanding tone, one he absolutely wasn’t familiar with at all. Something thin, small, and weak was poking his cheek over and over.

The stone below him was soft, ever so slightly shifting beneath him. Rustling of fabric filled his ears.

He then realised that those weren't the properties of stone, and unlatched his eyes.

There was a breeze around him, and the world was alive to the melodic hymn of the night-wind and the sparkles of the cosmos. The stars twinkled as if to signal to him that he wasn't part of them as of yet. He was still alive down-low on the earth, the furthest one could be from the skies. In the middle of nowhere, there wasn't anything else noteworthy in sight. A shadow came over him and blocked his vision.

Emeralds.

As a dwarf, he didn't like using the names of jewels to describe things, as he knew what jewels looked like intimately. Nothing could ever hope to match the lustre and shimmer of jewels. That was what he thought, but—

He blinked, white hair tickling the tip of his nose, the wind gently blowing them out of her face. A little girl as pale as the moon stared back at him, her wide, emerald eyes shimmering like gemstones, and he realised that he was on her lap. The thing poking him was her finger, suspended inches away from his cheek.

She gasped, her tone of voice more amazed than shocked. But her amazement was that of a lazed amusement rather than excitement.

“Huh, you actually woke up?”

He quickly rolled off of her and attempted to get back to his feet, his hand reaching for his back. Just as he planted one foot onto the ground, he stumbled and fell again, losing all strength. He grunted, his arms trembling as he tried to push himself back up. His axe wasn't on his back anymore. He forgot that he left it behind in his house.

“Wait!” she pleaded, her hands outstretched towards him. “Cease your movements, peasant!”

He looked down to her side, and noticed a woven basket of bread alongside a little jug of water. She dipped her hands into the depths of the basket and pulled out a bun, handing it towards him. “Eat something first,” she offered. “Most people would never get the opportunity to eat something from my delicate hands.”

She was wearing a somewhat fancy-looking dress with the pink frills and puffy skirt and what-not. She had to be well-off to a certain degree. He surmised that it wouldn't do him any good to anger her, not that it mattered to him what the consequences were going to be. It would simply be too troublesome.

His stomach grumbled. Staring her up and down, he took the bread off of her hands and tore into it. He ravenously chomped down and emptied the basket in seconds, his hands reaching down the basket just to notice that there was nothing more.

The girl chuckled. “You must be super hungry, huh? I don't think eating that much right after starving is good, but it's not gonna be my stomachache.” 

“... I'm sorry.”

“Nah, it's fine.” She rested her head on her palm, cocking her head at him, her voice soft and whispery. “That ardent desire to live is admirable to see.”

His eyes widened.

“Why am I alive?”

“Hmm?” She tilted her head. “How would I know? I'm not the Goddess, you silly.”

Well, of course he knew that. He wasn't really asking the Goddess that question either. His gaze dropped to his palms, remnants of breadcrumbs still glittered all over them. He scoffed, and smiled.

She narrowed her brows. “Why were you even here, laying on the stone all alone like this? In the middle of nowhere?”

“... I got lost.”

She smiled.

“It wasn't to kill yourself?”

He averted his eyes away from her gaze, and she burst into laughter, leaning back and clutching her stomach. Her high-pitched laugh rang in his ears like a resounding bell.

To be laughed at by a little human girl, he wasn't sure if he was feeling humiliated or humbled. He was a proud warrior at some point, so perhaps this was his punishment. It seemed a little too light of a punishment, however.

She swept a tear from her eye. “I was joking! Besides,” she continued. “The loser that came here to die was me.”

“... Then why'd you bring food with you?”

She scratched the back of her head, anxiously giggling. “Uhm, it's scary, so I know I'm gonna delay it as much as I can. It's gonna take me so long to commit that I'd inevitably get hungry. I don't wish to succumb to hunger; it would be below me to die a peasant death.”

He couldn't really criticise her despite finding her reasons a little silly. It wasn't like he knew what her situation was like leading up to this point, even if he thought she looked a little too young to be contemplating suicide.

“I see,” he replied. “Are you still going to do it?”

She hummed, tracing her finger along the stone ground surface. “Well, you ate all my food, so I guess I have to make my decision quickly.” She calmly sighed. “This is what I get for being gracious towards a peasant.”

The both of them sat in silence beneath the stars. Eisen didn't really know where to go, but he wasn't particularly in the mood to stay for someone's suicide. He probably needed to go somewhere else.

A grumble resounded in the silence.

She coughed, clutching her stomach. “Oops, pardon me, that's uhm, embarrassing.” She bit her lips and smiled. “Man, hunger gets you quick!”

He turned away, looking at the swaying trees in the distance. His eyes squinted when he spotted purple dots trailing the tree vines in bunches upon bunches, hanging off the branches. “Do you want grapes?”

She followed his gaze, faltering when she understood what he was talking about. She shook her head. “I… I really shouldn't delay it any longer. Go ahead without me. It was nice meeting you, peasant. I hope you won't be passing out in empty fields again in the future.”

He got up and headed for the trees, but instead of leaving like she expected him to, he returned to her side, handing her a bunch of grapes he plucked from the vines.

She didn't spare him a glance, and waved the grapes away. He shrugged and began scarfing the grapes down next to her, and suddenly paused. “It's sour,” he noted. “So incredibly sour.”

“So what?”

He offered it to her again. “You don't want to miss out on this.”

She pursed her lips and snatched a grape out of his hand, throwing it into her mouth. Her face instantly scrunched up and she quickly swallowed it down, her tongue sticking out like she was trying to air the taste away. “Agh! It's terrible!”

He laughed, and she hit him on his shoulder repeatedly. “What the hell!” she screamed.

Eisen placed the entire bunch in his mouth and finished it in seconds. Truth was, he didn't particularly like the sourness either, but it was so extreme that it reminded him that he was most definitely still alive. He didn't know anything could be so sour.

Strangely enough, he thought he could grow to like it.

“Now you have more time to reconsider your decision,” Eisen said.

She froze, her arms no longer hitting his back. She dropped her gaze and retracted her hands, placing them firmly on her lap. She spoke softly to a whisper. “ Even if I don't go through with it, I don't have anywhere to go back to. I’m just a burden there.”

“... I don't have anywhere to go either. If we stay here long enough, I suppose we'd both simply die off eventually.”

She breathed out, and frost caught the air from her body. She shivered and wrapped her hands around herself and smiled. “Yeah, or my illness will catch up to me first.”

“You're sick?”

She nodded. “I hate it. They smile in front of me as if I can't hear them crying behind my front door. I’m not stupid, I just pretend I am. There's a big difference.”

He didn't know what to say to that, but she continued before he could posit a response.

“But I feel so guilty. Because even though I know how much it hurts dad to visit me, I was really happy whenever he was there.” Her voice was shaky, weak. She buried her face into her knees, her hands wrapped around her legs. “I'm so selfish. I'm the worst daughter ever.”

The worst daughter, huh? 

Eisen wondered if his parents thought of him the same way. If he was the worst son they could’ve ever had.

“You should cherish the time you have left with them. You're not as alone in finding joy in each other as you think you are.” Eisen patted her head and watched her gaze soften. 

“I—” her eyes began to shimmer, reddening. Her voice was stuttering. “I was supposed to be married off to help my family, but my illness doesn't even allow that. No nobleman wants a wife that can't bear children, much less a wife that can't survive a session in bed. The only thing I had to offer was my family’s status, but even that was stripped away from me when my family refused to announce my existence to the world on the year of my supposed debut. No one knows I exist. The truth is, even just getting here on my own felt like I was treading knives on the bottom of my feet, and I'm barely staying conscious.”

He nodded. It felt as if she wasn't really speaking to him, but more like she desperately wanted someone to hear her. He knew she wasn't actually expecting a response from him at this point as he subconsciously swept a tear from her eyes.

“I want to go home.” She reached out to him and buried herself in his chest. “I wanna go home!”

He felt something warm and wet stain his beard as she clutched onto him, trembling, sniffling. “It's scary out here alone. I want to see dad again!”

Eisen wished he knew what to do in situations like this. “If you could still see him, you should. Then maybe you can tell him what you've been feeling this entire time.”

“... But he won't be happy if I'm around. I'm useless.”

“Apologies for being blunt, but all kids are useless,” he gruffly responded. 

“Wh— excuse me!?”

Ignoring her, he continued. “You still have some growing up to do, and there's no knowing whether your illness will disappear or not in the future. Take this advice from a dwarf that has lived hundreds of years. You never know where life takes you.”

She pursed her lips, averting her gaze and crossing her arms. “You're here to die too. I don't want to hear that from you. It just proves to me that living long sounds miserable anyway!”

He bonked her on her head and she winced in pain. “Go see your father. I'm sure you've made him worried sick. It's the elder’s job to care for the young, even if the elder in question is a hypocrite.”

“... I don't have the energy to go back.”

“I'll carry you. Just tell me where to go. You're small enough that a dwarf like me can still pick you up.”

“That's embarrassing. I'm not five anymore.”

“Then I suppose you aren't going home?”

She paused and clicked her tongue. 

“... Fine. I'll allow you to carry me.”

She settled onto his back, her feet almost touching the ground. “Just keep walking forward. That's what I did after climbing my walls.”

She was skin and bones, but supporting the weight of a person was still a lot to handle after starving for days on end. He took a deep breath. “How funny,” he commented. “That's almost exactly what I did too.”

In the darkness, they trudged through the wilderness. Her heartbeat was miraculously slow for a child, beating against his back. Her arms around his neck were shaking and trembling. He wasn't expecting that, even though she already told him how weak she was. She simply didn't seem like the kind of person that would have a weak heart.

“... Peasa…” She abruptly paused and restarted her sentence. “Dwarf, where are you going after this?” she asked him, close to his ears.

He couldn't answer that, but if he told her he didn't have an answer, she might get worried. Though he doubted that she actually cared. The question was more likely to fill the silence than anything. “North, perhaps.”

He felt her stiffness behind him. “The demon king’s castle? Why?”

“They've taken my parent's lives. It's the only thing I could think of doing right now.”

“Oh… I see.” 

She fell quiet, and the rest of the journey was quiet too. He didn't know the night could be so peaceful, even when he didn't have a home to return to. As he walked and walked, even the immense weight behind his back faded into the wind. It didn't feel so bad anymore.

Slowly but surely, they were approaching a colossal stone wall. She pointed towards it. “That's Historia’s palace. I have a way to get in myself, so you can drop me off here.”

Historia’s palace?

“You live here?”

“Hmm?” She tilted her head, leaping off his back. She combed through her white hair with her fingers. “Don't tell me my appearance didn't give it away. I was honestly half-expecting you to kidnap me for some ransom while you were carrying me on your back.”

White hair and green eyes. They were the symbol of Historia’s royalty. Even if she didn't debut, he should've clocked that from the start. He sighed, cursing himself for not caring much about things like these before to the point of not noticing. “So you're a princess,” he said. 

It wasn't a courtesy he really wanted to do, but it just felt right at the moment. He got down on one knee and held a hand over his heart, bowing. “My name is Eisen, a… warrior. Though I'd rather abandon that title by now.”

She smiled and brought her hands to her side, her fingers picking up her skirt. Her legs crossed and she ever so slightly bowed. At that moment, it felt like even the cruel breeze softened to her presence, dancing whimsically around her. Unlike her sour attitude before, her effortless grace and elegance captivated all his attention. “Princess Emilia, if it pleases my knight,” she said, her voice soft yet clear, dignified.

So she was capable of being pleasant after all. “... I'm not a knight.”

She giggled, her hands over her mouth. “I know. I've always wanted one, though. Don't all princesses usually have one?”

“Right, if you had one you probably wouldn't have been able to get so far without anyone noticing.”

Princess Emilia chuckled, and turned towards the stone wall. “I suppose I'll return now.”

He nodded. “Don't run away again in the future.”

“Gosh, I'll have to apologise to everyone,” she lamented. She turned towards him and waved goodbye, but just a couple steps in towards the wall, she stopped, and her hands shot to her mouth and chest.

He raised his brows and approached her. “Your highness?” he called out.

She didn't respond to him, much less even react to his words. She turned towards him and quickly turned away. He took one step towards her and repeated himself, assuming she didn't hear him.

Without any sort of response, her entire body dropped down onto the grass, motionless.

Princess?

He dashed towards her and cradled her in his arms. She wasn't conscious, but she was still breathing. The entrance to the palace— where was it?!

His legs were on fire, it was so sore he could barely feel it move anymore. The palace servants took her off his hands instantly, and dragged him to the underground prisons. 

He leaned against the stone wall and said nothing to anything asked of him. He knew she was weak— maybe he should've just carried her inside from the start. He shouldn't have let her move on her own. Or maybe he shouldn't have eaten her food in the first place. She needed it more than him; she was a child and he was an adult on death’s door anyway. Or were the grapes poisonous? He knew that his body was more resistant to things like that, he shouldn't have assumed that it was safe to consume simply because it was safe for him. She was more delicate than him, but he treated her how he would treat himself—

What if she died because of him?

That thought alone kept him awake.

Not again, please.

… Days passed, or maybe it was weeks. Maybe it was just a few hours, even. Eisen didn't know. He stared down at that stone ground until it was all he could pay attention to.

—

Eisen opened his eyes, his vision still a wavering blurry blob of white. He was limp against the cold stone floor, and he finally recalled that he was imprisoned. 

As his vision grew clearer, the white blob began to look like someone familiar. Someone with long white hair, and emerald eyes. His eyes widened, as if he needed to double-check. “Princess?” he called out, hoping to hear her voice again.

“Hmm?” That voice sounded tired, like she had just woken up too. “Eisen… did they hurt you?”

But the voice that responded to him wasn't hers at all.

It was a tone of disappointment and resignation, indignation and confusion. He was shocked that she wasn't getting mad at him and hitting him for what he did, but maybe she simply wasn't the kind of person that would do that. His princess would, but she isn't her.

She's not her.

He massaged his temple, clearing his head. He could finally see properly again. It was Frieren, slumped against the wall in tatters. He should've clocked that instantly, because their eyes were so different from each other. That emerald wasn’t something that could be replicated. It was one of a kind, and belonged to just her.

“... I had a dream about Emilia again. It was back when we first met.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I see. I suppose that was your mission, then. I’m happy for you, but I can't let you revel in your happiness too long. Assassinating a king isn’t entirely consequenceless, as per our current situation.”

His eyes wandered to the light outside their prison and pictured his princess’ face again, running up to the bars and gripping onto them. Knights would be surrounding her, and she’d scare them all away with a single scowl. They’d warn her that he was a dangerous man that was going to be executed for kidnapping her, and glared at him like he was below even dirt. Then she’d turn towards him, who was still registering the fact that she was still alive, and mischievously grin.

I, Princess Emilia of Historia, appoint you as my knight!

As she stood in the light, he moved to bask in it with her. The corners of his lips curled up, and he bowed.

I’m at your service, your highness.

Eisen returned to the present, the image of his princess long gone. The night she was killed sprouted a darkness in his heart that he felt had now been cleansed away. “... I do have a plan, but I apologise for acting without discussing it with you. Have I messed anything up?”

Her lips pressed together, and she looked away. She shut her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. “... No. We’ll slip out during the impending war like I originally planned.” Her fingers caressed her earrings again, a habit she unknowingly picked up every time she was anxious. 

He wondered if she knew about this habit of hers. Those pesky earrings. 

He never had the heart to tell her the truth.  

His hands trembled and he could never meet her eyes every time she asked him that question.

She let out a breath. “I’m glad you’ve come around. I thought you were against my idea, Eisen.”

He shook his head. “Your plan… cannot be executed to the degree that you want it to.”

She froze, and slowly brought her eyes to his. Words finally made it past her lips.

“You… what are you planning?”

Though he could guarantee their escape, he wondered if Frieren would still be with him after they fled. When she finds out the truth…

His hand shivered at the thought.

Frieren’s attention was suddenly pulled to the side, when sharp footsteps could be heard walking down the dungeon corridor, heels clacking against the stone floor. A shadow grew closer and closer, draped in a dark cloak. Eisen had been waiting for this person to arrive. Her timing was impeccable, almost planned to perfection.

A hand stretched out of the cloaked figure, reaching out towards the bars. They snapped their fingers, and their surroundings distorted and melded into blackness. 

Frieren threw herself between Eisen and the cloaked figure, the bars of the jail cell disappearing like it was never there. Where were they now, was a question Eisen couldn't answer.

Eisen took a deep breath. “Stand down, Frieren. That's our ticket out.”

The cloaked figure giggled, and brought their hood down to reveal their face. It was the face of a woman neither of them recognised. The black hair that framed her face was messily worn in a wolf-cut, and her brown eyes watched over both of them with an unfeeling gaze.

“... Magic?” Her voice slightly trembled. “Who are you?” Frieren asked.

The woman tilted her head and looked down, her hand rushing to brush aside the black hair resting by her neck. “Oh dear, I forgot to turn back.”

In a blink, that dark hair faded into a sky blue, night becoming day like melting snow. Her irises glowed a sapphire that trumped over the previous brown hue, a beguiling smile plastered across her face. 

Eisen wanted to be surprised, but a part of him wasn't shocked at all.

The woman brought her index finger to her full, rosy lips, and winked.

“It always falls to the adults to clean up the children’s messes, don’t you agree?”

That woman paused and sighed. 

“Though I suppose… I'd be a child in comparison to the both of you.”

Frieren scowled. “What do you want?”

A crooked smile spread across the woman’s face.

—

Himmel gazed upon the flowers in his mother’s garden, caressing its white petals that seemed to be almost translucent on his slender fingers. As far as his eyes could see were white flowers swaying in the wind, dotting the verdant grasslands with its burst of life.

“Oh,” he realised, turning over the flower in his hand. 

He accidentally plucked it. He didn't even use that much strength. 

He lifted the flower up to the sun, shielding the sunlight from his eyes through the small, translucent petals. The white lily glowed, and his vision began to fade, blurring.

His hand shot to his eyes, the other still holding the lily close to his chest.

Something warm dampened his cheeks, but he quickly swept them away, taking a deep breath. Just like that night, the breeze was cool, a wonderful day to be out. And before him was nature’s treasure that stretched out until forever. Her treasure.

A field of white lilies looked truly breath-taking.

“Are you going to bring that to your father?” 

He wasn't shocked to hear her here. In fact, he was surprised she didn't find him sooner. It was her own garden, after all.

“I don't think he'd appreciate a shoddily plucked flower like this.” He turned towards the source of that voice and smiled softly. “Mother, has the funeral started yet?”

Charlotte nodded, the black veil curtaining her solemn expression swaying with the breeze. “It's about to. It's best that we head to the cathedral now.”

Himmel twirled the lily’s stem in his hand. His fingers ever so slightly parted, and the gentle force of the winds picked it up into the corn-blue skies. It flew away from him so easily, he was a little taken aback. Even though he knew his grasp on it wasn’t all that strong in the first place. He simply didn’t realise how much strength was necessary to hold onto it, the flower that he didn’t intend to let go. The sight of the white petals in the air, swirling and dancing towards the cotton candy clouds was entrancing, mesmerising. Before he knew it, it was already so far away— the flower that seemed more free than the man rooted to the grass below him.

His lips twitched at the desire to utter a name, but he knew better than to let it leave the tip of his tongue.

“... Alright,” he said, standing up. 

Himmel strolled to his mother’s side and offered his hand, to which she casually took, putting her hand over his. 

She softly chuckled. “It has been a while since we last spent time at this garden together, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed it has, mother. The last time was…”

“Must be close to a decade by now,” she said, interrupting him. “The flowers here were less abundant as well, yes? The years have been kind to our soil.”

“The flowers…” Himmel’s sentence trailed off, but even if it didn’t, he didn’t know what he was going to finish it with. He wondered why he never visited this place himself over the years. He swore this used to be his favourite place in the entire world, though he admitted that his “world” was confined to within the walls of this palace. For some reason, he simply stopped thinking of coming here at some point.

Charlotte abruptly paused, and Himmel followed her gaze to the shadow in front of them. 

It seemed the entire family would be fashionably late to their father’s funeral.

Heiter spotted them from a distance and waved. Charlotte muttered something beneath her breath, but Himmel wasn’t able to hear her very clearly. He doubted that it was anything good, though. 

“Himmel, will you head to the funeral first? I have something to discuss with your brother in private.”

He shook his head. “Mother, Heiter hasn’t done anything wrong. Don’t send me away just to scold him again. Whatever ticked you off about him today, won’t you just let him off for once? He must be grieving for father as well.” For once, he had the courage to stand for his brother even though he knew his mother wasn’t going to—

“Yes, mother, listen to your son.” Heiter interjected, having walked close enough to them to be in hearing range. 

Ah, Heiter was certainly not in a good mood if he was going to make biting remarks like that. Himmel wasn’t sure how he should be mediating this upcoming fight.

Charlotte’s mouth fell open wordlessly. She looked at the both of them and jerked at their hands.

Himmel’s eyes widened.

In just a few moments, they were on the ground, held tightly in their mother’s arms. Both of them were.

This feeling was terribly familiar, yet unfamiliar all the same. He couldn’t see anything, his head buried in his mother’s chest. He felt her boney arms rub his back, and her chin resting on his head. He felt the warmth of her body, and Heiter’s next to him.

The breeze was as cool as autumn nights but Himmel didn’t shiver; bundled under their presence. 

“Mother?” He called out, purely confused.

She finally loosened her grasp, and both of the men drew away from her.

Himmel didn’t have the words to describe what he saw.

She was crying.

“... Everyone’s at the funeral, right? So no one is around,” she asked, her voice trembling.

Himmel hesitantly nodded.

Charlotte smiled, pulling them back into her arms.

Without explaining a single thing, she embraced them, and they didn’t ask her any questions either. It was likely more than  anything that she wouldn’t answer them even if they did. Himmel felt like a child again, but he felt like he could almost recall the last time she did something like this. It happened in a field of flowers too, and… it was a field of those blue flowers. The blue flowers he only saw once when he snuck out so many years ago.

… Huh?

Was she with him when he snuck out?

Charlotte suddenly pulled back and met Himmel’s eyes, before she then met Heiter’s.

“I’m going to be free from this curse I’ve placed on myself. I hope both of you permit me to indulge in my two sons’ faces a little longer.”

Heiter clicked his tongue. “As if you ever acted like a mothe—”

“I’m sorry, Heiter,” she said, caressing his cheek. “I did my best to protect you, but I hurt you immensely in the process. That’s okay, though. Once I’m gone, neither of you will be blamed for anything, and the truth will die with me.”

Gone?

“Mother, what are you talking about?”

Charlotte giggled, the kind that sounded awfully exhausted.  

“The two of you are taller than me now, so so so much taller. Himmel, you’ve always liked daydreaming, didn’t you? I wonder if you still do. Oh, how I wish I got to drink with the two of you.” She poked Heiter’s nose with the edge of her finger. “I had to divert attention away from you every time you downed a glass of wine at parties. Don’t you know how difficult that was? Haven’t you learned to drink in your private room by now? Or maybe you did, and I just don’t know about it.” She giggled again. “Oh, I know so little.”

She continued. “But I do know one thing. The both of you really loved Charlotte. I could never be your mother.”

“... Mom?”

This time, it was Heiter that asked.

She stood up and ruffled both of their hairs, wiping her tears away from her reddened eyes. Beneath her veil, it was hard to tell whether any of this was genuine or not. She began to walk towards the gates, turning away from them, her soft voice echoed by the winds.

“Everyone will get their happy ending. Even that elf of yours, Himmel.”

He wasn’t ever going to bring that name up in front of her, out of fear that Charlotte would be hurt. No one knew if Frieren actually plotted to kill the king, after all. But based on what she said, Frieren’s going to be… fine?

But how?

He watched her grow smaller as she walked further and further away from them, but just then, a silhouette ran past him towards her.

“Mom, wait!”

It was Heiter. 

Oh.

He forgot that chasing after her was ever an option. She’d never allowed something like that before, after all. It simply wasn't princely to act so childishly.

But no one's around to judge them for acting like a family.

His legs began to move before he knew it, and his slow steps gradually turned into a sprint through the blades of grass and splotches of flowers.

Mom, wait.

With his hand outstretched, he sought to get to her. 

In his dreams, he was running through a field of flowers, calling for someone who couldn't hear him.  Someone who was going to disappear.

It had never been a clear figure before, but he knew who it was now.

It wasn't Frieren.

Then the person he killed in his dreams were—

His eyes widened and his legs tripped over himself, and he tasted the dirt in his mouth. Bile was growing to his throat, and his hands uselessly pressed against his lips to force it back down. He couldn't dare lift his head to stare at her, not after thinking about that strange dream. It's… just a dream, right?

No matter how gruesome it was. No matter how much his head was stinging and weighing down his entire body.

It didn't happen.

Because she's still right there. And if he ran fast enough, she was still within his grasp.

Chapter Text

Fern held the reins of the horse despite not knowing how to ride one, as Stark rested on her back, his large axe still stubbornly affixed onto his back. He was bleeding in his shoulder, yet he was clutching his stomach that was kicked instead, his breaths that warmed her back slowly getting slower. They didn't have the time to grab their bag of supplies hidden in the hay, so she could only bandage his wounds with a torn piece of her cloak.

She was only half-sure that they were heading in the right direction, but it wasn't like she had the leisure to go back and check. Roselia was… probably this way. Following traces of Frieren’s mana was her only guide. It was also the only thing assuring her that Frieren was still alive.

Their clothes were wet, Stark’s bleeding, and the horse wasn't going so fast on account of her lack of experience outside of the small amount of practice she got some nights. The journey to Roselia from Historia, without accounting for time wasted from wrong directions, was meant to be a week. If she wasn't fast enough, they'd get caught before they could take even one step inside Roselia.

She needed to think of something, anything.

Going off the beaten path was the only thing she could think of, occasionally peeking out to the main road to grasp her surroundings. It was so dark, and she was terrified of every moving shadow. She was glad that it meant their location was obfuscated, but the shaking of her body said otherwise. It was like staring into the abyss every step the horse took, and her eyes began to feel useless the more they stayed open. 

In the pitch blackness, it felt like everything was loud again.

Their breathing, the critters, the birds, the leaves, the rushing river. Every step the horse took was reverberating against her eardrums. 

She blinked, and suddenly felt like opening them took more effort than before. She turned back and nudged Stark, before realising that he didn't have the energy nor the particular arm-power to take over the reins for her.

In fact, his bandage was incredibly damp when she accidentally grazed it. It needed to be changed again already?

She gulped and uselessly scanned her surroundings, pulling the horse's reins to a halt. Tying it to a nearby branch, she slowly helped Stark off the horse, almost flinching when she made contact with him and resting him against a tree.

His body was far too warm.

Her clothes were still wet. Fern hastily ripped off a part of her dress and pressed it against his hot forehead, changing his arm’s bandage with a different part of her cloak. It's strange, he'd been hit with wounds like this before, some were even worse, but it had never caused him to be this ill. 

Something else was weakening him.

Were their weapons laced with poison?

As she thought, Captain Wirbel was never the kind to play fair, but if that was the case—

“Fern,” Stark whispered.

“Shh,” Fern replied. “Don't waste your energy talking.”

“... Just leave me here.”

Her eyes widened. Did he realise it as well?

“... Either you stand up right now or the both of us die. Do you understand?”

She didn't mean for it to come out so terribly, but she was so taken aback by his request that she didn't hold herself back.

Fern gripped Stark’s hands and forced him to face her.

“A knight wouldn't fall from a simple gash in their shoulder. What would Sir Eisen think of this when we reunite with him?” She paused, considering her next words. It came out softer than she liked. “You have a brother you want to meet again, right? So you can't give up here.”

She didn't know his brother at all, but Stark had mentioned him once. It was a better motivator than what she originally wanted to say.

He heavily coughed, clutching his shoulder. “... Fern, this isn't about me. Neither of us can do Goddess magic to remove the poison—”

A rustling interrupted their argument.

Fern turned towards the source of that sound and quickly stood in front of him and the horse. She couldn't see them, and blindly attacking with concentrated mana could reveal her own location. In the off-chance that this enemy didn't know where they were yet, she couldn't risk showing herself.

Light was approaching them, or rather, a person holding a light source. The shadow of a person grew larger and larger, more menacing as it trumped everything they could see.

Have they been found already?

Before that person, or perhaps an entire order of knights could reach them, Fern quickly grabbed Stark, leaving the horse that she didn't have the time to untie from the branch behind.

It took every effort not to stumble over every little bramble, branch or root on the earth, and the dim moonlight shining in between leaves left them with little to no sense of direction. They threw themselves into a small cave, blocking the entrance with rocks and leaves and huddling in the deepest corner they could find. It could hardly be called a cave, really. It was more accurately a depression in the stone wall that could fit ten standing people.

Every shifting shadow made their breaths hitch, and their gulps remained in their throat as if it would make sound had they fully swallowed it. Stark winced and gritted his teeth, gripping his shoulder. The wound must've accidentally ripped open again while they ran through all those branches.

Was this place even a good hiding spot? Fern’s breaths grew erratic, and she began wondering if she should engage in battle again despite knowing that she was at every disadvantage. She shivered and held Stark’s hand, and she could now barely distinguish between blinking and keeping her eyes open. She just needed to fight them again, that's all.

But they already knew she could use magic. She couldn't surprise them again— 

Stark abruptly slipped his hand out of hers and stood up. 

Huh?

Fern quickly turned, only to be met with the sight of him gripping the handle of the axe on his back with his uninjured arm, his back facing her.

He turned back towards her and smiled, and she noticed that he was trembling, even in the darkness that shrouded over the both of them. Perhaps due to the pain, but it was far more likely that it was…

… He said he'd be too scared to do this kind of thing, that liar.

His gaze softened, but the smile never left his face. “You told me to choose between standing up or the both of us dying. Well, I kinda hate the second option.”

“... You're making a stupid decision,” she said, despite the fact that she was considering the same decision herself seconds prior. She stood up and took his hand off the axe, steeling her gaze. “We're running. With our tails tucked neatly between our legs.”

He took a deep breath.

“I'm done with running. My village is gone because I wasn't strong enough and ran away. How long will I continue doing that? How long am I gonna stay weak and use it as an excuse to run?”

“Weakness and running away aren't the same. What's weak is being incapable of telling when you're needlessly heading to death.”

He cocked his head, chuckling. “I know. But it's going to buy you time to run away. We can't run from a hundred knights without a plan.”

“What? I'll think of one— so just stay with me,” she said, her voice unexpectedly raising itself.  “You’re letting fear control your actions!”

She stopped. She didn’t mean to yell. Her eyes hesitantly looked for his response.

He flinched and took a step back, his gaze falling to the ground. The both of them were silent for a long time.

“... Why do you even care, anyway?”

He was the first one to speak. It was a cruel question to ask. Had he always seen her as someone so heartless? Even if he was a complete stranger, she still didn't want to see someone die—

“If it's because you don't want to see a dead person again, you don't have to worry. I'll die far away from your eyes, and it won't even be your fault. Besides, I'm just some guy that annoys you sometimes. There'll be no traumatic flashbacks comparable to your parents, that's for sure.”

Her eyes widened, and her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her flesh. 

She didn't tell him about her past for him to bring it up at a time like this.

She raised her hands and slapped him across his face.

The sound reverberated in the small cave they inhabited. He clutched his cheek and blinked, confusingly turning to her. 

She gripped his collar and slammed him against the wall of the cave with a strength she didn't know she had. 

“Fern?” His voice came out in a small whisper, almost a whimper.

Fern met his utterly confused gaze, and suddenly snapped out of it. Her grip on his collar loosened, and she took a deep breath, burying her face in his chest. Her voice came out in a soft murmur.

“... I don't want to lose anyone again.”

In just a blink, her parents weren't in her life anymore to pat her head. In just one blink, the messy bedroom she hated cleaning up and hated being told to clean up even more simply vanished. When she looked again, the sweets she hid away beneath her pillow had been blown to smithereens. Even while she pressed herself against him, she could hear his heartbeat get slower and slower. It was like holding her parent’s hands as they got stiffer, and worms began to steal their flesh away from her. Sapping them away from her bit by bit.

Stay with me, please.

Pleading that wouldn't bring anyone or anything back.

“... Then just pretend I never existed,” Stark whispered. “You’re Fern, you can probably do that no problem.”

Was forgetting someone an act so easy that anyone could do it on a whim?

She pulled her head back and faced him, inches apart.

“I don't want to forget you.”

“What?” His exasperated breath tickled her nose. “I'm just… Sir Eisen’s squire. I'm nothing to you.”

She didn't understand herself either, but she hated that he seemed so resistant to her words.

“And I'm merely Mistress Frieren’s maid, yet you're throwing your life away for me. Does that mean you like me or something?”

She knew his answer was no, that was the point of her question— That you don't need to have special feelings for someone to not want them to be erased from this world. But as soon as those words left her mouth, her heart grew heavy. A small part of her regretted asking.

She didn't want to hear his answer.

“That's—” he stammered, pressing himself against the stone-cave wall. Even in the darkness, she knew that his face had turned as red as his hair and eyes.

Her heart began to race. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. She took a quick breath to compose herself, quickly speaking to retract her question. “Never mind, it doesn't matter—”

“I do— but I’d save you either way!”

His voice was exceptionally loud in that densely silent cave, effortlessly slicing through her sentence.

So loud that it took her a moment to register his words.

“... Huh?”

Sounds of rocks toppling reverberated all the way to the deepest corner of the cave. They both turned towards the entrance, and Stark jumped in shock. 

“Huh?! M— maybe we should run after all!”

“Run? Why?”

A third voice that didn't belong to either of them shocked their souls out of their body. A soft, whispery voice that sounded utterly disconnected from reality.

“I just wanted to scare you for a bit… sorry. I'm tired, so don't run again.”

The voice belonged to a short lady with hair that rested comfortably above her shoulders, and her ears were unnaturally pointy and sharp. She held a lantern in one hand, a bored expression sweeping over the both of them. Her cloak draped over her entire body in a way that made it look unkempt and old over her long dress.

“You said her name… It's been so long since I've heard of her.”

Somehow, without either of them noticing, the lady was already standing right next to them. She kept talking by herself, entirely ignoring the horror on both of their faces. Fern wasn't sure whether this woman was ignoring them on purpose or if she genuinely couldn't tell how afraid they were.

Stark held the handle of his axe, but he didn't lift it off his back. It seemed that he couldn't reconcile striking a woman with unknown origins and intentions.

Fern whispered an attack spell, but it was blocked by a magic barrier, and the lady looked utterly unfazed.

“Hmm, that style of casting spells certainly reminds me of her.” That lady cocked her head. “I was content with simply watching you humans earlier, but then…”

Fern stiffened as the lady pushed herself into her private space, her face a little too close for comfort.

“Frieren, you know her? I thought she died.”

— The crackling of fire filled Fern’s ears as she sat on the ominously creaking wooden floorboards, gently placing the basin of water by her side. This cabin was comfortably lit, hidden away between the trees and foliage. It even had a stable, despite the fact that the lady didn’t seem to own a horse.

They had followed the elf lady home after she offered them temporary lodging.

Stark lied on the pile of rags on the floor that substituted a bed, soundly asleep by the fireplace. Fern drenched the cloth in the bowl of water, pressing the cold wet cloth against his forehead. 

The elf lady could remove poisons, and it was so easy for her to do. 

Fern gripped her own tattered skirt, frustrated. She couldn't do anything at all to help him, and all she did was make him feel worse. Truly, she was utterly useless. 

Her parents wouldn't be at peace at all if they were seeing how terrible she was at living. It should be something so simple, but she couldn't even navigate a single conflict. Frieren wouldn't have let a fight happen, she was sure.

She's still so immature.

… Mistress Frieren, are you okay?

Her thoughts drifted to her again. Her mana traces were still strong, but the very fact that they were being hunted meant something had happened to her on the other end. What's happening in Roselia?

A sudden jolt of warmth pressed against her cheek. Fern jerked away, suddenly making eye contact with that elf lady again, who was holding out a bowl of soup.

“Eat,” that lady said. “Prize for being entertaining to watch. Then sleep. I have a lot of questions I want to ask you tomorrow.”

Fern wished that she had some kind of memory-wiping spell, because those questions sounded like they'd undoubtedly be the bothersome kind.

Fern disdainfully stared at the bowl held out in front of her face and hesitantly took it into her lap. She stared down at her own reflection in the soup and felt her lips twitch for a question. “... Why are you helping us? You must be an elf in hiding, correct? It must've been incredibly risky to approach us.”

“Risky? … You?” The elf tilted her head, casually eyeing her from top to bottom. 

Fern cleared her throat. 

The woman finally stopped her very obvious staring and sighed. “Frieren would never have you as company if you're not to be trusted.”

Ignoring the unfiltered jab at her strength, Fern finally decided to ask the million dollar question. “You've said her name twice now— Who are you? What's your relation to her?”

She tilted her head. “Oh,” she said, realising something. She pointed at herself. “Milliarde. Frieren and I used to live in the same village.”

—

They are going to kill my daughter.

The gall they had to extend him a personal invitation to King Anton’s funeral while holding his daughter captive in their dungeons. Yet they hadn't issued a declaration of war yet, despite accusing his daughter of such a ridiculous thing like murder. He had no idea what else they're planning to demand from him, after they've already taken away the only person he ever cared about.

King Regis glanced at the caged dove in his pure white carriage, his wrinkled hand reaching out to caress the shimmering, golden bars. The bird did not weep, nor did it chirp as he petted the feathers on the back of its head.

It was peacefully asleep in the rocky ride to Roselia, the rocky ride to the cathedral where he would retrieve his daughter from the cold, dark hands of that accursed kingdom of flowers.

He found himself whispering to the sleeping bird, in a tone that dripped with a warmth he forgot he had inside of him.

“I brought another gift for you, Emilia. You lost your bird again. This one will never run away, it'll stay in this cage just the way you want it.”

Outside the window of the carriage he rode, the sun was rising. The pastel pink was beginning to paint over the dark green world around him that began to resemble the flowery fields of Roselia. It was another night in which he did not sleep, for the dreams the night brought him were far too unbearable.

If he had to choose, he'd rather not sleep at all.

His daughter must be so afraid in the depths of their dark cells, cold and alone. His little girl begged him for a bird every day, but never got it because he was afraid of the illnesses she could contract from one. This bird was going to cheer her right up.

If it meant formally declaring a war to get her back, he was more than willing to. He had enough reason to play the villain. He could care less if it made him and Historia look bad, and that this was entirely orchestrated by Roselia to paint them as the tragic victims in the history books to come.

He just wanted her back.

And to do that, his warriors were more than prepared to paint Roselia red.

Then, the carriage stopped.

They already took a break yesterday. To arrive on time, they were scheduled to have their next break once they entered Aria, the quaint village that was neatly situated between Roselia and Historia. 

Regis knocked on the carriage door and stuck his head outside. “What's the matter? We cannot afford unnecessary delays.”

A knight sidled up by the window, bowing before him. “Your majesty, the roads are congested.”

He narrowed his brows. “For what purpose? The funeral is days away. Surely Roselia is not so prominent a kingdom that many travellers from afar wish to go to its late-king’s funeral.”

The knight shook his head. “They're not heading to Roselia, your majesty. They're leaving.”

Regis turned to the road in front of him, and it was as that knight said. The road was chock-full of carriages and carts leaving Roselia.

Regis smirked. 

So even their citizens could smell a war on the horizon.

He thought it said a lot about the amount of trust the citizens of Roselia had towards their monarch. “I suppose I'll have a legitimate excuse for my tardiness.”

He imagined sauntering up to Charlotte at the tail-end of her husband’s funeral, telling her her own people were clogging up the streets while they were busy fleeing her horrid kingdom. There was simply no way he could've arrived earlier, it was completely out of his hands! Perhaps then he'd have the satisfaction of ordering his knights to skewer her annoying face if she dared smile a mocking smile at him again.

He wondered when he'd become so childishly spiteful of her at the grand old age of “too old for pettiness”. Something about Charlotte’s clearly-faked smiles always unnerved him, even when they were children. It seemed to bewitch everyone— save for him. But now she's the queen of Roselia, and it was as if another soul had taken her place. Not that he particularly cared, their interactions in their childhood were limited to the summer she spent living at his palace as a potential marriage candidate. She was merely a political tool. One that was particularly good at pissing him off and ripping his daughter away from him.

“If you'd allow me to suggest something…” The knight awkwardly cleared his throat, interrupting his line of thought.

Regis sighed. “You may speak.”

“T— Thank you, your majesty.” He spat out the thank you in a stammer, like he wasn't used to speaking so politely. Regis was more than aware of his knights’ barbarish backgrounds, so he was willing to forgive these little mistakes. “We could leave our carriages and go off the road with our horses to circumvent the traffic. I fear that it will not be a very comfortable journey, however, and we do not have enough horses for everyone— Ah, which… which will still be manageable. We've trained for this too, not to worry.”

The knight squeaked out the final part as if Regis was going to pop his head off if he didn't reassure him of a problem he brought up himself. Regis cocked his head.

“Not enough horses? We have the coin to buy more. Simply negotiate for some horses from the leaving crowd. We are sure to get some from desperate families. Offer them as much as you think is necessary. I will not have my knights arrive in Roselia in an exhausted state.”

—

Frieren held the dwarf by his neck and slammed him against the hard wooden floor, her fingers curling around his throat. The extremely small store room, dimly lit by the moonlight, rattled and shook.

The queen watched on in quiet amusement, which annoyed her all the more, like she was some kind of show meant to be gawked at.

Eisen’s fingers slipped off of her ears, caressing the ruby teardrop earrings as it fell.

Her eyes widened. 

“Take them off!”

His neck was easier to grasp than she thought, and that terrified her. In her mind, Eisen had always been someone more powerful than her without her magic, and the thought of him dying by her hands felt like some sort of revenge for the hand he played in her village’s eradication. She never held it against him; she knew he was a mere puppet, but he was far easier to take out her grievances to than the king that could order the end of her existence with a single flick of his wrist.

Eisen closed his eyes. He wasn’t resisting her at all. At this rate, she really was going to kill him. But even if she did, it would be utterly senseless. All of this was senseless.

Eisen, you’re seeing Emilia in me again.

Your eyes are closed because you imagine her fingers around your neck. Because my eyes are nothing like hers.

You’ve exacted your revenge, but she still weighs you down.

As expected, neither of them were the kinds that would enjoy revenge. But if both of them didn’t have a purpose to live, she briefly wondered what farce both of them were playing at.

She loosened the grip around his throat and gripped her earrings as tightly as she could. Gritting her teeth, she pulled as hard as she could, and she felt something wet trickling down her fingers as she did. Then it stopped, as if a force beyond her was physically holding those earrings in place. It was a disappointment she had faced countless times before, but it felt like the world was mocking her for trying so hard. 

Her hands fell still to her sides, and she couldn’t stand the pity that was so clearly emanating from Eisen’s eyes. She got off of him and stared blankly at the hardwood floor, at her own bloodied hands that had never succeeded at doing a single thing.

She could still picture that lonely glade. At Flamme’s command, it was filled with bursts of colour. It was just a change of scenery, but everyone gleefully ran about like it was the greatest thing in the world. The wind once smelled keenly like the flowers that enraptured her entire existence. 

There was not a trace of that wind in this old attic, only dust and ashes.

A single clap resounded in the attic-like room they were transported to.

It came from the queen, finally standing up. “Do you believe me now?” she asked.

Her fingers twitched. “You… lied to me. You said that you could take my earrings off.”

He, the liar, couldn’t look her in the eyes. “... They’re irremovable. You were only told that I was your key to trap you by my side. If you believed that I could give you your magic back, you wouldn't run off without getting it back first.”

Her gaze turned to the queen. “Did you know all along? Was that why your magic-hating self was alright with me around?”

Charlotte blinked. “Magic-hating? Oh,” she said, interrupting herself. “Right, I suppose she did think it was unfair how much she had to struggle if something like magic existed in this world. I wonder who told you that. She wasn't joking around this entire time?”

She said all of those confusing words with a pained smile. Frieren raised her brows. “Answer me.”

“Oops.” Charlotte giggled. “Well, of course I knew. I have a proposition for you in relation to that, even.”

Frieren scoffed. “As if I have a choice.”

“Hmm? Of course you have a choice! Follow my plan and survive, or everyone dies!”

“You should at least hear her out, Frieren,” Eisen interjected. He instinctively knew Frieren was losing her patience.

She sighed, which let the queen assume that it was her turn to speak.

“Simply put, this’ll ruin your personal name, but it’ll stop the war and clear Princess Emilia’s name.”

So that was why Eisen agreed to this plan. 

Frieren averted her gaze, caressing her bloodied ears. “... I don’t care about the war, nor about the name of a dead princess I never met.”

The queen gazed at her knowingly and nodded. “Of course, there are other benefits to this as well.”

She walked to Frieren and caressed the tips of her ears that didn’t exist, causing her to wince. Her long, slender fingers ended at the very edge of the wound, and she gently played with the clasps. “I can’t remove this, but I could grant you the disguise magic you’re looking for.”

“What?”

The queen smiled. “I can cast it for you. I’ll hand you the grimoire, and you can have someone else use the magic should you want to change your identity again.”

Charlotte casually produced a book from behind her and dangled it in front of Frieren’s face. “You could even ask for King Regis’ life as well. I invited him to my husband’s funeral for that sole purpose. It’s your freedom and more, all for the little cost of following my plan to a T.”

… She never thought her life would get to a point where magic was now completely inaccessible to her, and that she’d need to rely on someone else for it.

Frieren took a deep breath, considering her offer. 

A deal that simply sounded too good to be true. Not that she had any interest in that dying human’s life anymore either. He ordered the death of her kin, but his death wouldn’t bring them back.  “... There are two children in Historia. Their lives—”

“— Will be safe and sound. I know of them. They successfully made their escape. If you’re worried about my sons, they will be fine too, though I suppose it would be difficult for Himmel to accept this. Still, he’ll be fine, I know he will.”

Frieren went silent. 

So he’ll be fine too. 

Moonlight suddenly peeked out from between the clouds, and shone into the dark room, directly into her eyes. Frieren glanced at the night sky outside and saw the moon, round and proud, hanging so high up and utterly unreachable to the common man. No matter how high up she stood, the moon never got closer to her hands that stretched out towards it.

That was why she had no interest in the sky. At the very least, the ground was something she could touch. A flower seen from a distance could be plucked, but her fingers could never hope to pluck the moon from the sky.

She felt like, if it was him, he’d hold his hand up to the clouds like some sort of fool.

But she was nothing like him, and thus, she watched the clouds obscure the moon once more, and the little glimpse of light was gone.

She returned her gaze to the queen with a defeated sigh. Everything was planned out so idyllically, she felt like a bigger fool for even trying to think of her own plan, or for trying to negotiate for better terms. These terms were already at their best. If everyone was going to make it out fine, then it was a better risk to take than her original plan. But something was bothering her. It was true, she didn’t like the idea of letting Charlotte control everything, but something else was bugging her about this whole thing.

“How does this affect you?”

Charlotte’s eyes widened, but it eventually softened into a smile.

“I’ll be free too.”

Frieren’s lips fell open, but no words came out. The queen smiled, the kind of smile that seemed genuine, free of lies and conceit. It felt familiar, and that feeling sent a chill up her spine.

She waved her away. “Leave us alone. I wish to speak with Eisen in private.”

“Of course,” Charlotte agreed. She walked out of the room, the door creaking shut.

She turned to Eisen, who was still clutching his throat. There were so many things she wanted to say, but when she finally had the opportunity to say it, nothing was coming to mind at all. She was so used to him understanding her without any exchange of words that she thought they didn’t need to say anything to each other at all.

“... Eisen, I’m sorry for what I did.”

He shook his head. “I’ve done something unforgivable to you, princess.”

She narrowed her brows. “Knock that off. There’s no need to play this charade anymore, is there?”

He gazed into her eyes, and turned away again. “You’re right. We aren’t knight-and-princess, and in this situation, all falsehoods are unnecessary.”

“And thus, as Frieren, the elf whose village you destroyed…”

He flinched, but said nothing.

A smile came to her lips, slight but true. “And as your friend, I sentence you to a lifetime of living every day more fulfilling than the last.”

Eisen heaved a long sigh, finally meeting her eyes. “You torment me, Frieren. I don’t even know what that means.”

“You’ll discover it once you’re out there.” She chuckled, never having caught him this off-guard before. It was refreshing. He could do so many things once he’s out there. Perhaps he could even find some exceptionally sour grapes again. Eisen hadn’t eaten any since he was with her. Now that he was going to finally be free, he could finally eat them again without having some sort of guilt tearing him down.

“I can even make those sour grapes you like—”

She caught herself before she could finish her sentence. Those accursed words that slipped out of her mouth so naturally and easily. She could only smile, her instincts telling her that it was the only thing she could do. Eisen reached out for her hands, but she didn’t wrap her fingers around his.

“... I’ll teach that spell to Fern, and she’ll make all the sour grapes you want.”

He smiled at her in turn. Something that she felt like she hadn’t seen in forever. “And I’ll help you plant flowers together. Manual labour helps with passing the time. That’s the only thing we have plenty of, anyway”

“... Well,” she turned away, blankly staring at the decrepit wooden walls that surrounded them. “Right, I suppose that that’s an option too.”

Her smile came so easily to her. The end was right around the corner, after all.

—

Milliarde listened intently to the stories the purple-haired human teenager told her. She was supposed to ask her questions the next morning, but as soon as she revealed her identity, the girl ended up becoming super friendly, as if some kind of flood gate had opened. 

Now they were lying on the floor and whispering to each other under a blanket like two girls staying up past bedtime during a sleepover.

Truly, Frieren, you went on quite the adventure, didn't you?

She glanced at the flickering flames in her fireplace. “Frieren declined when I invited her on an adventure.”

Fern’s eyes widened. “Did you used to go adventuring too?”

“Well, only once,” Milliarde answered. “I woke up from that dream, however. That juvenile, pointless dream.”

She glanced out of that window, and saw the horse that the girl brought with her. Underneath the hay, her dreams returned to the earth. It had been a long time since she even thought of leaving this forest. It couldn't be helped by the fact that elves were marked as beings that went against the Goddess’ will alongside the demons, as they wielded magic so naturally.

Fern suddenly seemed to sour.

Milliarde tilted her head. “Something wrong?”

“No…” Fern trailed off, quickly shaking her head. “Your eyes remind me of hers the last time I saw her.”

“Hmm,” Milliarde pondered. “Is that bad? Everyone wakes up eventually.”

Her calm, whispery voice seemed to have struck the girl in some way. Fern was silent for a long time. Or perhaps the girl was sleepy.

“... What’s so wrong with dreaming?”

Fern’s voice was so very small, fiddling her fingers. 

She’s so very young.

Milliarde smiled. “Dreams are beautiful little things, aren’t they? We stretch our arms to its fleshy limits to get even a sliver of its golden shine.” 

She reached towards the flames in her fireplace from beneath the blanket, crawling towards it, and felt scorching heat rush the tips of her fingers. She didn’t flinch when the enticing flames licked her skin. It’s simply so, so, so warm. 

“They burn so incredibly brilliantly, gloriously dazzling those that seek to touch it.”

Fern hastily ripped her hand away from the flames, blowing cool air to her burned fingers. She was in a panicked state.

Milliarde’s gaze softened. “But then a force beyond your control rips you out of that dream, and you open your eyes.”

Fern froze, her grasp on Milliarde’s wrist weakening. “... Miss Milliarde, can’t you just go back to sleep?”

Her mouth hung open, and it took her a moment to collect her thoughts. “... Indeed, I’ve thought about that countless times.”

Milliarde shook Fern off of her wrist, and brought her burned hand to the soft touch of her own lips.

“But I don’t want to face that desolate cold again, as addictive as the flames were. I suspect Frieren must be the same.”

Fern took her hand again, and linked their fingers together. “Miss Milliarde, your dream must’ve been a really nice dream.”

It was merely a trivial musing, but the girl seemed to take their topic of conversation really seriously. 

Milliarde chuckled. “I collected human books, and was inspired by the tales of valiant knights that vanquished evil and saved the world without asking for anything back.” She found a smile bubbling at her lips. “It truly was a simple, nice dream.”

“... You saved us. You were more knightly than most of the people I knew.”

Milliarde’s eyes widened.

“... I was merely intrigued by the mention of her name.”

Fern shook her head, smiling. “You had been following us since before I uttered her name.”

How vexing, Milliarde thought. How incredibly cruel.

Don’t tell me these things when my dreams have already been shattered and ground to dust.

Fern suddenly closed in on her face, and didn’t turn away from her. “Miss Milliarde, please help us reunite with Mistress Frieren and Sir Eisen. I know that you think she’s waking up, but I want to help her dream. Even for just a little bit longer. We can’t reach her alone.”

…

Milliarde averted her gaze. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Fern faltered, and Milliarde backed away from her, standing up. “Sleep. Humans get sleepy really easily. You can leave whenever you want.”

Her steps towards her bedroom were faster than she wanted it to be, but as her hand laid inches away from her doorknob, Fern called out to her again. Milliarde hesitantly turned towards her.

“... If you save Frieren’s dreams, you’ll dream too.”

Fern looked into her eyes with a fiery gaze, the flames behind her still flickering strong.

Milliarde let out a defeated sigh.

How pointlessly persistent.

… How pointlessly bright.

—

By the time Himmel got to her, mother had already greeted the servant waiting by the carriage, and when she turned back to meet his eyes, her foxy smile returned, the shadow of her previous self completely gone.

“The cathedral is awaiting our arrival,” her cold voice said, turning around to step into the carriage.

The cathedral was deathly quiet, as the coffin was placed down in the centre of the hall. Slight shuffling could be heard when people moved, carrying flowers to offer to his father’s corpse. Himmel could hardly believe that they managed to fix up his body that much within a week, when he was found to be in pieces. The king looked like his body parts had never been unattached to him before, beautifully shrouded in flowers of every hue.

He stood next to his mother and Heiter, both of whom holding solemn expressions on their faces. He looked out the paned windows, colourful depictions of flowers painting sunstreaks that passed through them vibrant hues of red, green, and blue, taking a deep breath.

Heiter seemed completely out of it, glancing up at the ceiling and out the windows in complete silence like he was. 

Himmel pulled Heiter aside into the sideroom of the cathedral, hiding from the hundreds of people pouring in to pay their respects to the late king, hiding from his mother that he couldn't bear to look into the eyes of at that very moment.

He shut the wooden door and locked it, sighing as he slid down the door on his back, his head buried in his hands. This was some kind of dim storage room, cramped with crates and boxes, and a little dusty, but he didn't care.

He didn't understand what was going on anymore. 

Everyone around him had secrets that seemed to be at the verge of bursting out all at once, including the secrets that belonged to his dead father, yet Himmel had a feeling that he wasn't going to be allowed to know any of them— not a single one.

Now that his father was dead, he was going to inherit the throne.

His wife was nowhere to be seen, accused of being his father’s murderer.

And those dreams he had always dubbed as cruel illusions of the mind were haunting him again.

Heiter kneeled by his side and patted his head. “You poor thing,” he said. “You used to do this a lot when you were a kid, balling up into yourself like this.”

Heiter’s hand running through his hair was warm, but his usually gentle and reassuring words didn't reach Himmel the way it should. He felt a chill instead.

He said something he never thought he'd say.

“... Are you hiding secrets from me too?”

He thought that, if there was someone he could trust to tell him absolutely everything, it would be Heiter. He always assumed that there were no secrets between them, because they were always going to be together. 

But now he's realising that they never promised to do such a thing, and that he might've been the only one who assumed that they'd naturally be open to each other. He wouldn't ask this of anyone else. Everyone else can keep their secrets if they so desire. Only Heiter, his brother from another mother. Only he shouldn't keep any from him.

If this was the Heiter he knew, he'd be offended by the question, but it would end with both of them laughing once the misunderstanding had been neatly sorted out.

Heiter, you and only you, would never lie to me.

… Right?

Himmel looked into Heiter’s light green eyes, eyes that always seemed so soft and kind no matter the glow it stood under.

Those eyes closed, and Heiter took a long, deep breath.

“Himmel,” he said.

His eyes opened again, and he smiled a gentle smile.

“When the time comes, you have to play the part of the hero. It'll be like when we were kids, daydreaming becoming heroes of the world together.”

Himmel winced, slightly taken aback. Offended, even. It was like Heiter was still messing around after he asked him a serious question. But even though he wanted to yell at him to be serious, a part of him believed Heiter was serious. The part of him that wanted to believe that Heiter was on his side, as equally clueless as he was.

“Is that… another premonition?”

Heiter chuckled, ruffling up Himmel’s hair, speaking softly. 

“I don't know what mother is planning, only the instructions she told me. You might hate me after hearing it, so that's why I was too scared to tell you.”

“I’d never hate you.”

Words said without a moment of hesitation. Heiter smiled.

“I know. You couldn't even hate your mother.”

Himmel perked up, his eyes widening. Heiter's eyes were as soft as he remembered them being. He smiled, resting his head against his brother’s shoulders.

“Tell me then, you traitorous liar.”

Heiter whistled. “Rich, coming from you.”

Himmel giggled, and looked out to the rest of the little room before him. The little room made him feel little too, and it truly felt like they had gone back to being kids, playing hide and seek with the servants of the palace.

Heiter took a while to speak, but he eventually did. Whispering, like they truly were hiding together again.

“I wanted dad dead for so, so long.”

Himmel wasn't surprised to hear that sentiment at all. He scoffed. “I know. Your eyes…” he trailed off without the intention of finishing that sentence. “Was it a coincidence that Eisen killed him?” 

Heiter shook his head, adjusting his glasses. “Well, I’m far from the only person to despise a monarch. He had his own reasons too, and all he needed was a little push.”

“Huh?” Himmel froze. “It was you? Then—”

What about Frieren’s involvement?

Heiter took a deep breath, almost as if he knew what Himmel wanted to say. His eyes drifted to the high ceiling again. He kept looking up there, even earlier as well.

“Tension has been brewing between our two kingdoms for years. Now that your wife’s named as dad’s murderer, there’s no doubt that this funeral will end terribly. King Regis of Historia took the trouble to come all the way here, after all. It’s not difficult to assume what he’s thinking.”

Himmel felt his blood run cold.

“What… What can I do?” His mind began to race. As the yet-to-be-crowned king, this was his direct responsibility. “Should we release Frieren and announce her innocence? No, that doesn’t change the fact that a knight of Historia still killed dad. We can’t cover that up, nor his association with Historia. No matter what happens, everyone will assume this was a purposeful assassination ordered by Historia. Even if we cover it up, there's a chance that the assassination really was premeditated. At that point it means he really does want a war. How do we—”

“Shh.” Heiter forcefully placed his index finger over Himmel’s lips. “Your big brother has no intention of letting his little brother inherit a kingdom wrought in war. Besides, this is a mess I helped create.”

Himmel didn’t understand.

Heiter smiled, but it didn’t seem like a particularly happy one. “In an era of fear, people look for something, or someone to blame. They’ll unite under a common enemy no matter how terrible their relationships were before.”

A loud crash blared out from beyond the door behind them. Himmel jerked up and took hold of the door’s handle, and he heard Heiter speak again. A soft whisper.

“King Regis has arrived.”

Chapter Text

Himmel rushed out into the main hall, greeted by the ever-distinct metallic stench of blood.

In the midst of the skirmish, a force slammed him to the floor, and sounds of screams and clanging of swords overwhelmed his ears. He hastily raised his head, watching helplessly as his kingdom’s knights battled Historia's knights. From the very beginning, negotiation wasn't on the table.

He spotted a lone sword on the floor and quickly picked it up, turning back. “Heiter—”

… Run and hide somewhere safe. Himmel’s eyes widened. Somewhere between leaving that sideroom to running out into the main hall, Heiter had separated from him. 

Wait, his mother and King Regis. They were gone too—

Something bumped into him again and he missed slashing into them by a hair. It was a short lady with hair that rested comfortably above her shoulders, wearing an old cloak over her long dress. He struck his sword against someone behind her, and stuck it through the gap between the knight’s armour in their neck, kicking their body away.

It was terrifying. He'd never been in a real fight before.

The lady froze up, blood drenching her cloak. Himmel wasn't sure if she was afraid, but she had no reaction when he held her shoulder, only backing away from him and pulling her cloak over her head even more. He scanned all the exits, and realised that Historia’s knights had blocked them all. He gestured towards the sideroom he came from.

“Miss, please hide in there! There should be a window to escape through, but if you're scared, barricade the door and stay there until it's over.”

She blankly stared at him and opened her mouth, but didn't say anything. She reluctantly nodded and ran.

He watched her disappear into the room, and faced the sword that came in his direction. The knight suddenly slashed at his thigh using their feet, stumbling him to the floor. He realised that they had hidden small blades at the bottom of their sabatons.

There might be blades hidden in other parts of their armour.

They leapt on top of him just as he rolled out of the way, but the gash in his thigh didn't allow him to stand up and run in time. The sword in his hand was thrown as soon as he realised what the knight was trying to do. He caught the blade’s handle just as the knight was about to plunge it into his heart, their strengths battling for dominance, the blade’s tip hanging inches away from his chest.

The knight pressed their entire body weight against Himmel’s body, crushing him under their weight. Their knee kicked him in the wounded thigh, and he did everything he could to reel his scream in, to compose himself.

It was nothing like what he was taught. He thought knights were too honourable to employ tricks like hidden blades, but the real world was wildly different from what he assumed. Roselia’s knights certainly didn't have things like this.

Himmel scanned the knight’s armour, and he realised that there's some extra space at the arm, like some sort of latch. It must be where they keep more blades, but he couldn't reach out for it when this person was pressing their entire weight against him.

Sweat was forming at his palms, and he could feel the blade tip slipping closer and closer to the skin of his chest.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as he battled the soreness that was building up in his arms and shoulders, desperately holding up the blade handle being pushed towards him.

For just a moment, a small part of himself voiced something he never thought he'd ever think of in a serious way.

I'm going to die.

Just like this?

A pathetic death where he didn't save anyone at all, his entire body crushed against the floor against his will, and when he faced the ceiling, all he could see was the gaping abyss between the gaps of the knight’s helmet, staring him down. 

Not even the slightest hint of that blue sky he so dearly loved.

It was just dark.

— Himmel, fly. I'll be the wind beneath your wings.

The scent of flowers entered his nostrils, and those words suddenly came to mind. Words he had never heard of before, from a voice he didn't know the origin of.

A loud twang interrupted his delusions, and he cracked his eyes open to see the woman he saved over him, slashing into the knight with the blade she stole from their shoulder’s hidden compartment. She pushed the knight off of him with a huff and met his eyes.

The lady didn't say anything, but she took his hand and forced him to his feet despite his injury. She had a build far smaller than him—yet she was braver. He felt ashamed for needing her help. “Thank you,” he sluggishly spat out, his strength still returning to him.

She pulled him with her, as he watched the cathedral he thought to be pristine and pure splattered in red all around him.

He couldn't even fight off that knight. He was so frustratingly weak.

But they needed him, his people. This woman was dragging him away from his sole responsibility, the one he was born into. His mother and Heiter were nowhere to be seen, but they said they had a plan. Was this all still according to plan?

He balled his hands into fists, choosing to trust that they were safe, successfully executing whatever plan they had.

They went up the steps to the attic, a room only a few people know of, past bodies of both sides lying lifelessly in pools of their own blood.

She crashed through the door, and it instantly closed behind them. Himmel turned, as there was no way the woman had closed it herself as she was in front of him, and he knew he didn't close it himself.

His eyes widened.

Behind him was a dwarf he thought he'd never see again.

“Bandage his thigh, Eisen.”

The lady let go of Himmel’s hand, and ordered Eisen around with the authority that was given only ever to one person. Even though she didn't look or sound like her at all…

He felt his accelerated heartbeat calm, and a relieved smile washed over his face as he met her unfeeling eyes. Eyes that eventually turned back to the teal he recognised, the spell wearing off.

… You're safe.

—

Charlotte struggled with the restraints around her wrists and ankles, stuck to the floor. They took her to the roof of the cathedral, far away from the ruckus down below for a reason, she was sure. She snickered, gazing upon the king that menacingly towered over her, holding his sword to her neck. 

“Must you do all this during my husband’s funeral, King Regis?”

His facial expressions scrunched up, and he pushed the blade closer to her neck.

“As if you were planning anything good, Charlotte. I'm merely protecting myself while I'm knee-deep in foreign territory.”

Protecting yourself when you haven't even been attacked?  

She sighed. “It wasn't I that named your daughter a murderer. She is safe, I was going to return her to you and name a sacrifice as my husband’s murderer. Our children will merely be married in name, but you'll get to have her forever.”

“... Do you take me for a fool?”

“I do!” She whined. “Anton is dead! He was the one that wanted her to bear a royal child, not me. Can't you at least let me tell you all this in person before you stick a sword in my face? It wasn't like I could put that kind of information in a letter that could easily be leaked!”

He cocked his head, and waved his hand behind him, signaling for his knights to leave them alone. He kneeled down to her level, and gripped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his.

“How can I trust you?”

Charlotte stopped herself from reacting physically. He was willing to listen already? She thought he needed to hear a lot more sweet lies for him to melt. 

She smirked. “I know what happened all those years ago. To your daughter. The truth.”

He shivered. “It was the mages. They tried to kill her.”

She bursted into laughter, causing Regis to fume. She didn't know why he hated it so much, but she knew he hated her laugh, her voice, and her smile. But especially her laugh.

“My dearest Regis, do you truly believe the entire class of mages conspired to kill your daughter? For no reason? You absolute fool.”

He scoffed. “Watch yourself. I’ll rip your tongue out myself, Char.”

She sighed, lamenting the fact that she'd never understand his conflicted face, nor the seemingly random name of endearment that he called her by. But the very fact that she hadn't been killed yet was telling.

“Mages didn’t take your daughter away from you, Anton did. Your daughter’s knight knows this, and murdered him for this very purpose.” She leaned into him as much as she could within the restraints he put on her. “And I’m offering to forget your petty revenge. Doesn't that make me an angel?”

He cackled. “Angel? When you're complicit in hurting my daughter? None of this would've happened in the first place had she been unharmed!”

He was blaming her for his pointless mage and elf genocide?

She clicked her tongue. As evidenced by the past and right now, he had always been an “attack first and think later” type of man, but it seemed that framing the event lightly wasn't working on him. Then, she just needed to sound more serious.

“I wanted Anton dead too!”

His eyes widened, but she continued nonetheless. “Who do you think told your knight the information necessary to kill him? I helped you with your revenge, for fuck’s sake!”

He flinched, backing away from her.

She forced tears out of her eyes, weeping. “So just let my people go, Regis. Everyone's happy now, right?”

“Ch— Char…” He turned away. “But it's too late. I've already started the attack on Roselia.”

She grinned, spotting a familiar figure climbing onto the rooftop before quickly returning her gaze to Regis. “Then I'll take the blame for it. As long as you promise me that you'll play along, and won't get mad.”

He confusingly gazed at her and sneered. He must've noticed that she instantly stopped crying and felt fooled again. “Another one of your schemes?”

She nodded. “I'll free absolutely everyone.”

Right as she let out those words, a force like no other crushed Regis to the ground, and his knights were powerless against this force. All of them were glued to the floor despite their fruitless efforts to get back up.

That figure finished climbing the roof, and ran towards her. He masked his shock as he untied her from her restraints, and she stretched her sore arms and legs once they were free. All that magic and she still didn't have a spell to cut restraints. That's annoying.

“Charlotte— Are you doing this?!”

Regis asked her that in dismay. “I am doing this,” she answered. “Add your genocide to the list of reasons why I had to lock this ability of mine away.”

“I didn't know you were…”

She chose to stop engaging with him, turning to Heiter behind her. 

Heiter seemed utterly afraid of what she was capable of, but he didn't say anything about it. Only… “I got separated from Himmel, but I followed the trail of your mana and found you up here.”

Himmel was going to be fine on his own. She instructed Frieren to watch over him— Huh?  

Her eyes widened. He could see her mana? Even after she used the disguise magic, it didn't mask her mana? Then, this entire time…

She decided to address it later. If Heiter could restrain himself, she could too.

She turned towards Regis and cupped his face, greeting him with a smile. “Let's get this show started, shall we?”

The floor beneath them began to rumble, and break.

—

Frieren watched the warmth of his eyes reflect her visage, and winced. Even at a time like this, he still looked at her head-on. She rooted herself where she stood, hesitantly meeting his eyes.

He smiled. “Have you missed your husband’s face, Frieren?”

She sighed. The disguise spell wore off already. “You're lucky I know how Historia’s armour works, otherwise you'd have been a goner.”

He chuckled. “What would I have done without you?”

If he had the energy to joke around, she probably didn't need to ask if he was okay or not. 

Eisen quietly bandaged his wounds as Frieren stood by the window, holding the grimoire Charlotte handed to her in her arms. The very fact that it was simply given to her so easily was still something she couldn't believe, but once more, she found herself staring longingly at a grimoire she couldn't use.

From that day onwards, she was to live a completely magic-less life, with no hopes of ever getting it back.

Of course, Fern could cast the spell for all four of them. It wasn't a useless grimoire.

She ran her fingers across the cover, and pressed it against her chest like a child hugging their favourite plush toy. No grimoire was a useless grimoire, but she was a useless mage. Someone that couldn't even be called a mage.

“... Is that my kingdom’s grimoire?”

Himmel asked her that question once Eisen had finished bandaging his thigh, but he didn't approach her to do so.

She nodded without turning to look at him. “I got what I came for.”

“I see,” he muttered in relief. “Then you should leave as soon as possible. It's not safe here.”

… Even at a time like this.

Himmel continued. “I'm going to go back outside too. I can't stay here in safety while my people die. Or at least, I should bring them here—”

“Not yet, your highness.” Eisen interrupted him. “Your scene hasn't begun yet.”

Frieren wished Eisen didn't word that so vaguely. Or rather, so straightforward-ly. Because Himmel had no way of understanding what he meant.

Before Himmel could ask anything, she quickly interjected. “We must stop the war first, and kill the one to blame.”

Himmel gulped. “To blame? You want to kill King Regis? I don't think that'll stop anything—”

He paused. She didn't know what he was thinking, but he must've come to his own conclusions somehow, regardless of whether it was right or wrong. 

“It’ll stop it,” she reassured him, still facing away. Though not in the way he thought. “When it's time, I'll tell you when you can leave.” 

She didn't know why she couldn't look at him, but she suspected that it was the same reason behind why he wasn't approaching her despite being in the same room.

It used to be so easy, but now it wasn't. 

Eisen stood up and creaked the door open, peeking his head out. “I'll head out now to prepare to catch him.”

She nodded, and he left.

Just like that, there were only the two of them left in the room. She opened her mouth first to fill the silence. “Eisen will make sure everyone's safe. He's good at hiding himself too, so he won't get caught. You've seen proof of that yourself.”

“Right,” he responded from behind her. “You trust him, so I'll trust him too.”

Her fingers moved to caress the earrings on her earlobes, and it was quiet again. The skirmish below them was loud, bouncing off the stone walls, but the blue skies outside remained cruelly sunny.

“Now that things have gone this way, I guess I can't get that field of flowers for myself, huh?”

Frieren froze. Himmel had walked up next to her, gazing out the window to the plains below. She knew where he was looking. It was the empty field he said he liked to go to. She didn't know it was close to the cathedral.

“... Sorry.”

He chuckled. “That’s okay. At least you'll be able to fill every empty field with bursts of colour from now on, right?” He turned towards her and smiled. “I know that in the future, if I ever see a meadow of flowers, I’ll think of it as a gift from you.”

Her grip on her earrings tightened again, but she didn't realise it until Himmel grabbed her wrist. 

“... Himmel? What's wrong?”

He grimaced.

“... Your ears are bleeding. Don't pull on them like that.”

“... Oh.”

He let go of her wrist and sighed, hopping onto the windowsill, his legs dangling off the outside. He suddenly giggled, and met her eyes again.

“I used to be scared of sitting on the edge of heights like this.”

He offered his hand and she smiled, joining him on the windowsill. The wind was warmer than that first night, but it still smelled keenly like flowers.

She pulled her hand away once she had stabilised herself, but he linked their fingers together and winked at her. “I’m not letting you pull your earrings until you bleed again. That's a really bad habit.”

Frieren huffed, letting their hands settle on the gap of the windowsill between them. She didn't want to speak any more than she needed to, because she felt like she'd pour everything out if she did. 

She gazed out onto the horizon again, but she couldn't pay attention to it anymore. The grimoire on her lap and the hand holding hers were so warm. It was so, so, so warm, and she couldn't properly explain to herself why she was feeling this way. In the corner of her eye, he looked out to the horizon too, and he parted his lips.

“I love you.”

Her eyes widened, snapping out of her blur. At that moment, his voice carried itself through the wind, softly and gently. Her lips twitched, and a pained smile formed on her face.

“... I know,” she managed to reply, swallowing back the uneasiness welling up inside of her. “Even though I've caused you so much trouble?”

He nodded. “I love the you whose eyes light up like fireworks when she speaks of magic, and I love the you who loves gazing at the world.”

She met his sky blue eyes, and it truly was similar to the skies above them.

His voice was softer than before, sadder, and he tightened the link between their fingers.

“... So why is it that, when you're going to be free, do your eyes look so hollow?”

…

Because the person you said you loved doesn't exist.

She smiled. “I feel as light as a feather. Is hollowness such a bad thing if I can fly?”

This was the freedom she found.

Free from anger and everything that was sad in this world. The freedom to realise that letting the wind pick her up was better than trying to stay on the cold ground. Once she shut the window, the storm clouds outside ceased to exist. 

Time felt like it had stopped. A truly wonderful feeling where she felt nothing at all, to the point that she wondered why she wasn't like this from the start.

She took a deep breath. The ceiling above them was rumbling, and so was the entire building. 

They quickly hopped back inside the building, and Frieren pointed towards the door. 

“It's your turn, Himmel. You wish to save everyone, right? Follow your heart.”

“Frieren—”

She chuckled, cutting him off. 

“After this, you could fly too. Though I suppose we won't be going to the same destination.”

His lips quivered. She knew he had so many things he still wanted to say, but they simply didn't have the time. And their lack of time was something he knew too.

It was ironic. All the time she had in the world, and no more of it could be allocated to him.

“... I love you.”

He said it again, as if she didn't hear him the first time. Or that once wasn't enough to communicate how he felt.

She nodded, making sure that she smiled. 

“I’ll be right behind you. Go on ahead first. We each have our own roles to play.”

He lingered on her for a split second, but nodded in return. He ran out the door, and she kept her hands by her side. The hands that almost reached out for him as he left. She held the grimoire to her lips and planted a kiss, glancing at the ceiling.

… Goodbye.

She reached for the vial hidden in her cloak’s pocket and gulped the emerald fluid that Charlotte gave her down in one go, turning the now-empty vial in her hands. Her appearance changed again, though she didn't feel like she changed that much.

Glancing at her reflection on the glass surface, she sighed.

They really did look similar. Eisen and King Regis were right. It was uncanny.

She tossed the glass vial aside and opened the door, picking up the blade she used to save Himmel and hiding it in her cloak. 

It was finally time.

—

Himmel returned to the main hall, and realised that the battle had abruptly paused. Instinctually, he hid behind a pillar in the shadows.

No one was moving— No, it wasn't that something took them so off-guard that they forgot to move, they were petrified.

All of their eyes were glued to the hole in the ceiling, where sunlight leaked into the building. Himmel followed their gazes to the sky, and saw his mother leaping into the building, King Regis floating behind her. 

It wasn't a sight anyone had ever seen before.

Heiter ran in from the front door, and Himmel rushed into his arms like a little child. Truth be told, it wasn't just concern fueling his actions, but a need to be comforted, too.

Heiter patted his head, and turned to the “stage” in which their mother stood, right by their father’s somehow still untouched coffin.

Charlotte cleared her throat. 

“You knights are loyal to your vassals, and I commend that.”

She sat on top of the coffin, crossing her legs. With one snap of her finger, Regis fell neatly into the arms of a being that seemingly came out of nowhere. He gently placed him down and pointed the blade-end of his axe to his neck.

Eisen, Himmel realised.

“I have your king, Historia. Stand down or his life is forfeit,” she growled.

Himmel watched those in his surroundings drop their weapons, and heaved a sigh of relief. He walked up to his mother, grinning.

“You did it, mother! Let's let him go and send everyone home. We can sign a peace treaty!”

He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but he could just ask her later. Peace came first!

She whipped her head to Regis, who glared at him in contempt. 

“I'm not signing anything until my daughter returns to me.”

She cocked her head, pointing in the direction Himmel had just come from.

“Father!”

Quick steps resounded from the shadows, and out came Frieren, running straight towards Regis, embracing his dishevelled body in her arms. Running right past him without even a single glance.

Her hollow eyes felt eerie to watch as it curved upwards in her smile, only that it didn't look like her eyes anymore, and he realised that she changed her appearance again to someone he didn't recognise.

Emerald.

He suddenly remembered. Frieren alluded that she wasn't this man's daughter. Knowing that, a chill went down his spine.

Why was she treating him so warmly?

Chapter Text

Frieren ran her hands down Regis’ arm, as his laboured breaths filled the silence between them. 

She used to flinch every time he touched her, but his insistence on treating her like she was his blood-related daughter wore her down over time. 

He killed everyone she knew and caressed her cheek like a soft kiss right after, wailing about how he finally “found her”. No matter how much she begged to be killed, or prayed to the Goddess for his death until her voice grew hoarse, he kept her by his side. She realised that it didn’t matter to him whether she spoke or not, so eventually, she stopped.

Regis’ eyes widened as he met hers.

This was the first time she had called him “father”, and her eyes now resembled Emilia’s to a T. Even though she was accused as a fraud, she knew Regis still wanted to believe that Emilia was alive. Her appearance was simply the final piece of fabricated evidence.

She never had much of an actual father, so she had no way of knowing for sure.

“Emi—”

He froze, his eyes flickering to Charlotte for a split second. Charlotte held a face of indifference in return, her presence alone keeping everyone else from interrupting them.

His wrinkly hands slithered up her arms. His voice shakily dripped out like rusted iron, his eyes watering, his fingers trembling. 

“My beloved daughter, I came all this way just for you.”

She had no way of knowing for sure the face of a father who loved his daughter.

“... I knew you’d come to save me.”

But he, with bloodshot eyes, looked horrid.

Those lies dripped out of her so easily it was scary. She wondered if this was what Emilia would’ve said if she was in this situation. What would a loving daughter have said?

Regis smiled and pulled her into a deep embrace. He was so guardless around her, because to him, she was his dearest daughter who could do no wrong to him.

“I brought a dove for you, caged in the grandest of gold. You'll love it, I'm sure.”

“... Thank you.”

It was the strangest thing, human relations. She’d never understand needing someone so much that you’d destroy who they were as a person by replacing them with a clueless duplicate whose past you also ripped away from them. 

Describing him like that made him sound insane to her, but perhaps she simply didn't understand.

She closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into his large shoulder, speaking as loud as she could to echo her voice in the large hall.

“... Father, did you remember where you found me?”

“I remember it like it was just yesterday. I knew that orange demon was suspicious. I was right in following her.” 

He tightened the hold he had over her, like she was going to escape if he didn't. “She arrogantly brought me right back to you, as if I didn't have the power to annihilate those demons that held you hostage. She looked down on me, dear, and she paid the price for it.”

… He didn't even refer to anyone by name. Not even Flamme, who definitely introduced herself to him when she pitched the idea of humanity adopting magic to him.

“How did you figure out that I was being held hostage?”

He suddenly coughed, tired. He pulled away from the hug and cupped her cheeks. “Honey, let's go home first. I’ll answer all the questions you have! You're suddenly so talkative today, we'll have to celebrate this in your room, okay?”

“Nuh uh!” Charlotte wagged her finger, butting into the conversation despite making herself and everyone else so invisible to them before. “No one's leaving until you answer all her questions. I'm curious too!”

A few of Historia’s knights suddenly made their moves, but with just one swipe of her finger, they were all slammed down to the hard floor, their metal armour crushed against their bodies.

“No one's allowed to interrupt. Sit tight and everyone will get to be on their merry way!”

A knight of Roselia cut in. “But your majesty, that princess is a fraud—”

“Do not call my daughter by that name!”

Regis roared, sending chills down Frieren’s spine. He glared at Charlotte. “Char, I'm agreeing to sign your peace treaty—”

“We already had a peace treaty and you violated it, King Regis. Answer her questions and I'll consider trusting you again.”

“Mother,” Himmel interjected. “We must prioritise the peace treaty. I promise to take responsibility should this fail—”

“Himmel,” she cut in, her voice colder than ice. “Wait for your turn, will you?”

He suddenly froze in place, and couldn't move anymore.

In the corner of her eye, she accidentally met Himmel’s eyes. She quickly averted her gaze, ignoring his dazed countenance.

Regis turned to Frieren again and smiled. “I— I didn't know you were there, but it was a gut feeling inside of me. The gut feeling of a father. You were missing for so long, but when I saw you, I knew.”

He grinned and beamed. “How could I not recognise you?”

…

For some reason, that answer disappointed her, even though she was prepared to be disappointed. Before this moment, she didn't use any sort of disguise spell for him to think she was Emilia. He claimed to have recognised an utter stranger, and revelled in it.

Was this love?

It sounded so cruel.

She let out a scoff, almost catching herself off-guard as she slid her hand into the pocket of her cloak.

Not even this revelation was capable of making her angry. She wasn't even sad. 

“How foolish,” she muttered.

Regis’ eyes widened as she plunged the dagger into his stomach, kicking him down to the floor as he clutched his blood wound.

The villain of this narrative was a foolish, foolish being. 

If an afterlife existed, she wondered if Emilia would embrace a father like him. Someone who effectively erased her existence by painting over her identity with someone new.

Gasps echoed in the hall, and Historia’s knights pointlessly struggled against the force holding them down. 

“Frieren?!” 

It was Himmel’s voice, calling out her name but powerlessly held back by Charlotte’s spell that kept him in place.

The blood seeped into her clothes as Regis limped away from her, the blood following his body like a trail. She stabbed the blade into his feet and arms, and he couldn't move anymore. It seemed he never thought about how much it hurt to have things like this done to him, even though he happily ordered this sort of thing to be done to her people.

He spit out blood and his eyes watered. Every word he tried to spew out only did so in the form of blood.

He slumped onto the floor, now just another corpse amongst the many in the cathedral hall. On the inside of his coat was a pure-white feather, now coated in red.

That was probably meant to be another gift for Emilia.

Frieren sighed, exasperated.

She actually did it.

She neither laughed nor cried. Even though this awful human being was dead.

… Well, she knew she wouldn't have felt anything.

No, she did feel, she supposed. The blood felt cold when it seeped in from her clothes to her skin, and she wished that it didn't feel so sticky. Sticky and grimy, dirty and impure. So sticky she wondered if it was ever going to wash off.

If only he was a demon, then she wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of his death at all. He'd simply disintegrate and fly away with the wind, and she'd forget him completely.

Alas, he was human. 

And the blood on her arms, thighs, shins, hands— were incredibly, truly and utterly sticky.

Watching him writhe in pain and wriggle away from her reminded her of what he did to her people, as they tried to scream Flamme’s name but couldn't due to the blood in their necks. Not that she would've been able to help. She was killed first, after all.

But even as that horrid sight resurfaced, she still killed him after all. Probably because she thought she'd feel something afterwards. It was a murder.

Her bloodstained hands uselessly draped over her own body, as if it would warm herself up even by a little bit.

She truly was, nothing more and nothing less, wholly hollow.

—

The elf girl committed to the act a little too well. She swore the girl didn't want to kill him. Charlotte was confused, and the silence in the hall upon his sudden death was compounding her perplexity.

… Well, it wasn't like she was sad he died. It was simply a shame. A shame that the man Charlotte wanted to run to in the past died. 

In another world, all of them would've been protected by him under his roof. Charlotte was sure of that fact, even though she never told her why. 

How different would their lives have been if that didn't occur? 

… How different would their lives have been if they didn't try to run away?

She released her control over Himmel, but he did nothing but stare at the girl as she emptily gazed upon Regis’ corpse.

Hmm, surprising. She thought he would've gone to embrace her by then.

… Though it was possible that such a dreadful sight reminded him of something he willingly forgot. She gritted her teeth, pushing herself for just a little bit longer.

Charlotte giggled, gesturing to the crowd. “What a heartwarming reunion!” 

Frieren handed the dagger to Charlotte, the red blood still dripping off of its blade-end.

“Your majesty, what's happening?!”

Roselia’s soldiers were still loyal to her despite her proficiency in magic, and despite the fact that she was sitting on their late-king’s coffin. And despite the show they had just put on in front of everyone.

She pouted. “You still haven't figured it out?”

She pushed past Himmel and pushed the coffin open to King Anton’s corpse, caressing his cheek. She then lifted the dagger into the air, and plunged it into his heart.

The silence was deafening.

“Both kings have been killed by us, and you still don't think you've been duped by changelings?”

— “So that was it,” Heiter chimed in, pointing an accusatory finger at the both of them. “Mother had never had that much mana before, but around a decade ago, it changed.”

Himmel’s eyes widened, and he backed away from them, from her, Frieren, and Eisen.

She froze, but got back to her senses only moments later, forcing a giggle out of herself.

“That's— That's right! I killed her and took her place. But I’m afraid you're too late. Everyone's dead, after all.”

Frieren nodded. “... It was easier to mimic the princess. All I had to do was look like her, and King Regis welcomed a demon into his palace just like that.”

“Quiet, you incompetent sow,” Charlotte harshly hissed. Frieren was expanding the story in a risky way. “You're correct, however,” she agreed after a sigh. “Humans are incredibly easy to trick. Their so-called empathy can be exploited with just some bitch’s face—”

A dagger flew towards Charlotte and she barely jumped out of the way. The dagger ended up stabbing into a pillar, completely straight. It was thrown by Historia’s knights. They had somehow gotten up without her removing the magic that kept them on the floor.

“Demons! We will banish you back to hell!”

Well, forget her villainous monologue. They don't seem to have the patience for that kind of thing. A shame, she rehearsed her lines a lot.

Wait, how did they bypass her magic?

Frieren’s ruby earrings suddenly caught her eyes.

… Oh.

She realised what else they had in their weird armour. Enhanced magical items that were the same as Frieren’s dastardly earrings. Something to completely nullify magic being cast at them. She supposed they finally decided to whip them out.

Roselia's knights took up their swords and pushed themselves in front of Himmel and Heiter, fuming red. “We swore an oath to fight for Roselia, and though we failed our king and queen, we shan't fail now!”

Oho, getting riled up!

… Well, it's time for her to fulfil her side of the bargain. A distraction large enough that it takes everyone off guard.

She scoffed, and with one raise of her hands, their surroundings began to rumble, crumble, and break.

The roof then completely caved in.

—

Himmel coughed, clutching onto Heiter as they both ducked away from the collapsing roof. As the dust settled, Himmel froze as his eyes scanned his surroundings.

Everyone had been crushed.

Those that weren't were trying to dig their comrades out, and Charlotte, Frieren, and Eisen were nowhere to be seen. Did they run away?

His father’s coffin had completely broken into pieces and the vibrant flowers poured out, drenched in red alongside his corpse. 

The skies above them shone into the cathedral, now a shadow of its past magnificent self. Shards of stained glass littered the floor around them, drenched in blood.

He heard screaming, crying, wailing ringing endlessly in his head. But the fact that there was so much screaming meant that most of the people in this hall were still alive. He pressed his palms against his ears as if it would muffle the sound to the point of nothingness, but his hands eventually slowly fell to his lap.

… Could he have prevented this? 

Once he heard that his mother wasn't who she said she was, should he have stabbed her in the heart like she did his father’s corpse?

It was too confusing for him to register— that she had been capable of this sort of disaster from the start. That Frieren had been in cahoots with her from the start.

She cried when she asked him to hate her, and confessed that she was an awful person. He wanted to believe in that sincerity, but actions spoke louder than words. She killed King Regis right in front of him, no mercy whatsoever.

But Charlotte’s story didn't even make any sense. If she had taken over his mother’s body more than ten years ago, why attack now? Why not ten years ago if the motive was just murder for the sake of murder? If she had power like that from the jump, then waiting made no sense. None at all!

He turned to Heiter for an explanation, but Heiter’s hands were trembling.

Himmel hesitantly held his hand, and gently spoke. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

It was hard to see his state properly, the both of them shrouded in the shadows of a ruined pillar, harsh sunlight slightly streaking in between the now-cloudy skies.

Heiter’s lips quivered, gripping Himmel’s hand like his life was depending on it. “I’m… I’m fine,” he said, still breathing heavily. “Mother didn't tell me about this— She only told me to find her at the start, and she told me to be honest about the mana thing before I left the rooftop. I don't know about any of this, she didn't tell me about this. Did I help a demon? Is this my fault—”

“Heiter!”

Himmel forcefully gripped his face, leaning into his forehead. His heart had been thunderously racing too, but when he pressed his forehead against his brother’s and remembered his warmth, he calmed down. He softly whispered.

“We'll fix this. Everything will be okay.”

Himmel had never seen his brother in this state before. He'd always seemed so self-assured and confident, bubbly and wise. Whenever Himmel didn't know what to do, Heiter would always chime in with an answer, and he was always correct.

“... Heiter, you've never been wrong before. The debris must've missed us on purpose because mother wants you to heal everyone. No one else's dead yet! She's planning something!”

“Planning the eradication of our kingdom, more like. I made a mistake, Himmel, and now she's nowhere to be found! Stop that aggrandizing naivety of yours!”

His eyes widened.

Heiter had never yelled at him before. If this was the first time, then it had to be because it was truly serious.

… 

He'd given so many people another chance because he couldn't hate them once he understood where they were coming from.

He didn't know why Frieren killed Regis, but she must've had a reason for it, and so he didn't want to hate her for it. 

He didn't know why Charlotte killed Heiter’s mother, but she must've had a reason for it beyond what she told him, because he was a child back then.

He knew why Heiter wanted their father dead, and couldn't hate him for orchestrating it.

… But if they were demons, then there was no reason behind their murder. It's just part of their instincts. That was what made demons so dangerous.

“Heiter,” he muttered. “I have a question.”

“... What is it?”

“You said you noticed that mother’s mana changed more than ten years ago. Was that after or before your mother’s death?”

Heiter went silent, his lips twitching.

“... After.”

So his original mother did kill Heiter’s mother, and it wasn't the demon that took over her. For some reason, a part of him hoped that this demon was responsible for all the villainy that was committed.

…

If he let her go like this, all of them would kill more people out there. He had seen what they were capable of.

As the uncrowned king of Roselia, he needed to take responsibility for not realising that demons had entered his kingdom and swindled another at once.

Frieren told him she wasn't human, but he never thought that it was because she was a demon. Her performance was so realistic he actually believed every single one of her words.

… A part of him still wanted to believe her. To believe that both of them were good, and that King Regis wasn't just slaughtered right in front of his eyes.

The way King Regis’ body still yearned for her touch despite her plunging a blade through his stomach, the way that the light slowly left his eyes. He felt as if he'd seen such a sight before, so so many years ago.

But he couldn't explain what he was recalling, and decided to push it to the back of his mind again.

Believing in them wasn't going to save his people.

He stood up and walked to the nearest sword, trying his best not to limp from his thigh-wound. He gripped it in his hands and saw his own reflection, a determined gaze staring back at him.

He looked back at the struggling crowd, who blankly stared at him in their dishevelled state, both regular citizens and knights.

He bowed down in front of them, and felt the clouds part above them, the sun burning him with its addicting heat. “... I'm sorry for being indecisive.”

He stood tall and held the blade up to the sky, meeting all of their sunken eyes.

“As your future king, I’ll make sure that no one else will die today.”

This was his responsibility, and continuously running away from it all this while and pretending it doesn't exist wasn't feasible anymore.

“But I realised today that I don't have the strength to defend anyone on my own,” he lamented, and placed the sword by his side. “And thus, I need your help.”

He went down to the ground, his forehead pressed against the floor.

“Please help me save us all.”

One of them snickered, causing Himmel to lift his head from the ground. It was a young knight from Historia, his gray hair and fierce eyes lending him a daunting aura. “So the future king of Roselia bows down to those lower than him.”

… His behaviour wasn't appropriate at all, he knew that. He'd always struggled with that point, and that used to frustrate his teachers greatly. But right now, that pride wasn't what was needed.

“... Right now, I am the one requesting you to place your lives on the line,” Himmel responded. “It is only right that I employ the proper etiquette.”

The man raised his brows and whistled. “So nobles can throw out their suffocating haughtiness after all.”

He laxly approached him, his arms resting on his hips. As he stood tall over Himmel’s flat body, Himmel tried his best not to shiver, and instead met his eyes without fear.

Behind those gray eyes of that man lied a bloodlust even Himmel wasn't blind to. Himmel didn't know if it was directed to him or not, but he had to trust that it wasn't.

The man then suddenly chuckled.

“I like you,” he said, bending down and offering Himmel his hand.

Himmel blinked, confused.

The man grinned as he pulled Himmel to his feet. “The name’s Wirbel, appointed Captain of Historia’s Order of Knights. You see, I have a particular disdain for demons myself.”

Just as suddenly, he bowed down himself. 

“Take as many of my capable men as you need.”

The men behind him looked between each other, and they bowed too.

“Naturally, you may command the knights of Roselia as well, your highness.”

… This was a sight he should've gotten used to by now, given his position as crown prince and future king, but it was still a tad bit intimidating to have people treat him like some sort of higher being.

“... The fate of Roselia and Historia lies in your hands.” He bowed down to their level, and smiled. “Thank you, I will be in your care.”

He met Heiter’s eyes among the crowd and grinned.

Sweat rolled down his back, cold against his warm, trembling body.

Heiter chuckled in disbelief, forcing himself up. He hobbled up next to him, clearing his throat in a dramatically loud fashion. 

“Ahem, while my dashing brother needs no introduction— I’m Heiter, the first prince and a priest. I’ll attend to all of you, so for those who are still able, please bring everyone that's hurt to me.”

Historia’s knights hesitated, but one of them spoke up. “... We know we hurt you, but—”

“I’ll heal your men as well,” Heiter said, smiling. “If you're not going with my brother, please assist me in healing those that are hurt.”

“Yes sir!” They all yelled out in unison, rushing to collect those that got injured.

Himmel chuckled. 

One of them ran up to Himmel, and placed something on his hands. He tilted his head, and they promptly explained what it was.

“We have these magic nullification objects on us because our king wants us to be protected against demons. If you're going after them, please take this.”

His eyes widened. Were these the same things used on Frieren?

He noticed earlier that she hadn't removed hers yet. 

… But she didn't speak of it to him, so it must be fine. It may even have been a manufactured concern of hers to make him pity her. It was possible that nothing she told him was true, but…

He closed his hand over the object in his palm. “Thank you, kind sir. It will be of help.”

Even with this object, he felt himself trembling. Heiter gripped his shoulder and gently nudged him. “Her mana headed west. I can't trace Frieren's, but she must be with her as well.”

“... Right,” Himmel replied.

It felt frustrating to be read by his brother so easily like that, and to be comforted for it.

“I don't want to kill them,” he confessed, whispering, muttering as though it was a forbidden thought he shouldn't have voiced out, because it was. He promised his people that he was going to save them, and that meant vanquishing the danger no matter who they were to him.

Heiter nodded, holding his hand.

“That's just love. There's nothing you can do about it.”

Heiter wouldn't hesitate if he was in his position, which was why Himmel had always thought that he should've been king instead. If he hesitated again like this in the future, he could only imagine the number of people he'd sacrifice.

… Or perhaps he was idolising his brother too much.

Both of them were shaking, after all.

“But I know you'll choose the right thing,” Heiter added. “I'll support you no matter what.”

There were still so many answers he wasn't privy to because of how much he held himself back. This time, he didn't want to have any regrets. If he hesitated again, he wouldn't be someone he'd be proud of looking at in the mirror at all.

Himmel took a deep breath, running his fingers across the hilt of the sword on his belt. 

At least, he wanted to know why things turned out the way they did.

Chapter Text

Heiter had a short moment of respite amidst the endless sea of blood. So many poisoned victims, and he was the only one capable of removing them. They told him to rest for a bit while they brought all the non-poisoned victims together and out of the rubble. 

He lifted his father’s corpse and gently placed him on a dusty carpet they found in storage, drizzling the flowers that were in there with him over his body. The intricate coffin crafted specifically for him had been broken into pieces.

He didn't think this man deserved such kind treatment, but it would go against the Goddess’ wish to disrespect the dead. 

His fingers caressed Anton’s cheek and the conversation from before he left the rooftop flashed into his mind.

“Charlotte” asked him a strange question, a question with obvious answers that she should've already known regardless of her status as a demon. With her stolen sky blue eyes, she looked him in the eyes and reached up to him, running her fingers through his moss green hair. She wistfully smiled.

“Anton and I are cousins, which is why we share similar physical traits,” she stated with a weakened breath. “But your hair’s not blue, and neither are your eyes.”

He gritted his teeth. Even at a time like this, she was going to mock his lowly origins again, knowing that all he could do was swallow his feelings.

“I wonder,” she muttered, her warm hands then sliding down to his cheeks, gently cupping it. 

“... How much of you is my mirror?”

… 

Neither of them verbally answered her question. They didn't need to.

He unconsciously pressed his cheek against her palm, relishing her warmth. Realising that, he quickly backed away from her.

Even though she was blatantly mocking his status as a bastard son, he lost control as soon as she touched him.

Heiter wasn't stupid. He understood long ago that he yearned for a mother's love. But even while his actual mother was still alive, people sought to bury her existence from him and everyone else. Now, not a soul knew who she even was. Dead, that was all that was known about her.

And the woman in front of him was the reason why.

— He returned to the present, healing the open cut on his father’s chest.

Heiter prided himself on being more perceptive than most. “Charlotte” told him that she was going to fix everything, and that he simply needed to play along. After he had the time to pull himself together, he realised that she was still holding onto her promise, demon or not. If that was the case…

Who are you?

Now wasn’t the time to ponder such things.

Heiter stood up and rushed to the ever-increasing group of people in the corner of the ruined cathedral, praying in his heart that the mana he had was enough to heal the hundreds of people in this hall.

—

A woman with sky blue hair stomped around in her bedroom, having heard of something she thought absolutely repulsive. She bit her fingernails and lurched towards the other woman in the room.

“This is my last straw! He promised me and it was a lie. The sheer audacity of that man to even consider harming what's mine! [][][][], you're coming with me. We'll shove it up his loose ass!”

This was what she had summoned her for? The other woman fiddled with her fingers. “Your majesty, this— this is incredibly risky.”

“Bah!” she yelled, drawing closer to her face. “Are you afraid?”

The woman nodded.

“Hmph,” she scoffed. “If you can't believe in yourself then believe in me. Naturally, no one in this world challenges someone as magnificent as I and goes unpunished!”

There was still doubt in the other woman’s heart, but as expected, Charlotte truly couldn't be doubted. Even still, she knew Charlotte was shaking too. She wistfully smiled. “Don’t act stupid. This is a big decision to make. It would be wise if you'd at least be honest about how you feel for once.”

Charlotte put her hand up to the other woman’s face, desperate to mask it. “E— Enough! Take our boys, it's time for flight!”

— Charlotte blinked herself out of that fleeting memory. She sat at the edge of the cliff where it all happened, overlooking the horizon. This was supposedly the secret route to Historia that only Charlotte knew about, because Regis told her about it.

She trusted him, the same way she trusted her.

That was why she trusted her with her face and name.

“I’ve returned your name to you,” she muttered, caressing the grass below her feet. “I'm sorry it took me so long.”

Even if it took ten years after her death, Charlotte got the ending she wanted.

… But what about me?

She chuckled, untying the borrowed sky blue hair that was in a messy bun and letting it flutter with the wind. She felt irresistibly light, like the wind would pick her up if she closed her eyes. 

After death, would my reflection return to me? Or was it too late to ever hope for such a thing?

Heavy footsteps moving in a disorganized cacophony were steadily approaching her.

She turned around and hastily stood up, dusting off the creases and dirt on her skirt. 

His sky blue eyes met hers as he arrived at this very field, and she smiled.

“Welcome to the end, Himmel.”

—

Himmel paused, but before he could say anything, an axe flew by his head at speeds so quick his hair flailed about by the force.

It stopped just short of Charlotte’s neck, and she didn't move an inch despite the close-call.

“There's no need to drag this out, demon. We're immune to your spells,” Wirbel taunted, holding another axe over his shoulder.

“Oh? But you've just handed me a physical weapon,” she replied, the floating axe's blade pointed towards them. “Shall we test this on your neck?”

“Heh,” he chuckled. “Go ahead, your majesty.”

Himmel knitted his brows together. She used magic to make the roof collapse, hurting people in the process. They’re immune to magic, but not to normal physical objects. She's speaking confidently because she knew she could get around their magical immunity. But in a wide field like this, she might have less options for inanimate objects to throw at them.

That said, he wasn't sure of the limits of magic. It's possible that every single blade of grass beneath them was a potential weapon for her.

… But the Knights of Historia were expert mage hunters by now, warriors trained to slay them all.

His eyes suddenly widened.

“Frieren and Eisen— Where are they?”

Upon his question being uttered, the knights behind him quickly readied their weapons and formed an outward-facing circle, huddling in one place.

Charlotte tilted her head, looking around as if she was searching for the same unknown that they were. “What are you talking about?”

“... Mother, please.”

Her upturned eyes gazed at them from the top of the cliff she stood at, where the sun was almost right above her. She giggled, her hand daintily placed over her mouth.

“They're dead, obviously.”

He felt like all the air in his body left in an instant. The sweat rolling down his back was like ice melting on his back. He gripped his scabbard but didn't withdraw his sword.

“... I didn't see their corpses.”

“Well, we're shape-shifting demons. We don't leave corpses behind!”

An awful feeling grew inside of him. He knew that she wouldn't answer him unless he was direct, but even so, she had never been honest with him when it came to his questions.

“Did… Did you kill them?”

“What?” She raised her brows. “Oh, I suppose? Not on purpose!” she yelled, waving her hands around in exaggerated denial. “They were simply too unskilled to avoid the falling debris. But well, if they couldn't do something as simple as that, they’d fall to some random puny human eventually.”

… Were they just games to you? Were we just games to you?

She waited ten years for fun, because demons had all the time in the world. 

Or so he thought.

She giggled uncontrollably in an almost comical way, and it was too obvious to him now what she was doing.

Mother, you’re smiling that smile again.

But she wasn’t going to stop, was she? No matter what, she wanted him to perform for her to the end.

“I don't see why we're still talking,” came a voice zooming past him.

Wirbel slashed at her in the blink of an eye, and all at once the spiky grass around them rose to the skies.

—

Himmel felt her warm breath get hotter and heavier against his shoulder, his hand entrenched in her bleeding, fragile body. All he could see was the blade plunged through her stomach, and the cliff that stood right in front of him.

“... Like she said, I'm not suited for battle at all.”

She slumped against his body as she said that, the both of them gasping for air.

He was too afraid to move. He held the sword’s hilt as still as he could, and his vision began to blur. He didn't want to let the sword go, even though it was already—

“Himmel,” Charlotte whispered into his ears, breathy and exasperated. He couldn't see her face as she laid by his neck, but he could almost sense a smile through her voice. “Good boy.”

“I’ll— This is a misunderstanding, right, mother? If I bring you back to Heiter—”

She suddenly choked, and something wet drenched his shoulder. He didn't need to see it to know what it was.

“Give up on me. Look, enemies are working together. They just needed someone to fight against. So, this is for the best.”

Even if he did, he still didn't get to hear her side of the story yet. He didn't want things to end in this unsatisfying way. “But mother—”

“Shh,” she hissed, coughing. 

She gripped his back for a moment, reeling back the pain of her flesh wound as she spoke.

“ ... Don't let them find my body.”

His eyes widened, and with what little strength she had left, she pushed him away. The sword he tightly held flew out of her body, the blood splattering onto his face.

In what felt like an eternity, he saw her smile one last time, as she launched herself off the towering, precipitous cliff. 

A voice came from somewhere behind him. “Your highness, you did it—”

But he didn't care.

He couldn’t go to Frieren because he was a coward, but he wasn’t going to repeat his mistake anymore.

He dived after her, and the world rotated freely around him without care. The ground down there was a sea of blue flowers, and it was neither directly beneath or above him, and his hair violently fluttered against his face. 

The skies and the flowers were blue, and so were the strands of hair of the person desperately falling before him, her outstretched hands reaching out for him. The person who wasn't a demon at all, but whom he still didn't know.

His mother seemed to grow farther and farther despite that, almost capable of being entirely eclipsed by his outstretched hands. 

She looked entirely taken off-guard, but only started laughing as the ground grew closer and closer.

“Hahaha! You're such a handful, your highness!”

He momentarily froze, but smiled. “Just realised?! You just never saw all the times I skipped class!” he yelled back.

“I did!” she screamed. “Did you think your dance instructor never asked me where you went?! She's getting paid for free because of you, goddamnit!”

He giggled, and he began to feel weaker and weaker. The wind whipping against the wound in his thigh was beginning to sting a lot, and keeping his eyes open was hard.

He was blinking in and out of consciousness, but he didn't regret a thing.

Because you finally stopped lying.

And even if it was at the very end, he could catch a glimpse of who she was. 

Though it was a shame that he couldn't get to know her sooner.

…

There truly was blue, everywhere he looked.

He was flying, a moment that felt like it lasted for eternity.

He closed his eyes, and after a long, long, long, long time, he stopped falling. 

Gentle wind enveloped his body in a warm embrace, and instead of the crash against his bones that he expected, he landed softly into the petals of the blue flowers.

Himmel opened his eyes, feeling a sudden warm fluid drenching his clothes, seeping through to warm his skin directly. It was red, and it dirtied the blue of that person’s hair too. She wasn't moving, though her outstretched hands implied that she had used her final strength to save him.

… But she shouldn't have.

He didn't know what was happening to himself, but he was struggling to grasp her hands. He shivered at the slightest breeze at the bottom of this cliff, surrounded by the flowers from his dreams. His head throbbed and vision blurred, to the point where he couldn't see her face anymore.

Why were those flowers here, and how did he know these flowers in the first place?

He always thought that there was a chance his brain made up a flower for the dream’s sake, but they were real all along, splattered with blood.

Himmel, fly. I'll be the wind beneath your wings.

That voice swarmed his head like echoes ricocheting off the walls of his brain, reverberating throughout his entire body. It was like something was banging against the walls of his head, against his skin from the inside, begging to be let out.

He knew he was losing his consciousness, but he couldn't do that yet. I need to hide her body, he thought, but he couldn't even tell where his hands were, if it was touching anything or if it was suspended in the air, or if he wasn't moving it at all. 

And after he was done, he needed to go back and make sure people believed all three of them were truly dead, so that Frieren and Eisen could be free.

Then he needed to spend time repairing his kingdom, though he hadn't really figured out the first step to that yet. Mages were still conflated with demons, but since Roselia owned a grimoire, they were generally more accepting of magic than a regular kingdom. That same reason was why other kingdoms, Historia included, thought that they were a threat— that Roselia may be sympathisers of demons.

Ah, there were so many things he still needed to do.

…

I want to see her.

…

The longer he tried to keep his eyes open, the blur of blue began to be stained red, red, red, and red.

— Then it vanished.

And it was all blue again, the blur gone.

It was a sunny day, and he heard her hum a lullaby while he laid on her lap, basking in the warmth of the day and protected in her shadow that was far larger than his. The breeze was a gentle one, and the meadow seemed to stretch on forevermore. The skies above them were a blue that rivalled the blanket of flowers on the ground.

But she wasn't anyone he knew, and she looked equally as surprised as he was.

This woman, with moss green hair and eyes while donning a palace maid uniform, defeatedly chuckled. 

“They say a mage can do anything as long as it's within their realm of imagination,” she said, with a voice he didn't recognise. “You weren't supposed to be here.”

She brushed his hair out of his eyes, and kissed his forehead. He realised that he was a child again as she did, his hands much smaller than hers when he tried to reach out for her face.

“I suppose I yearned for someone to hear my story,” she muttered, softly, to a whisper. “Even though I thought I was okay with dying alone, as all bad guys should.”

“Mother, you're not alone.”

She nodded. “I know. Even though you had a whole future as the hero laid out in front of you. You're such a piece of shit.”

He chuckled, and a door suddenly appeared in the field near them. 

A lone wooden door towered over the both of them. The woman sighed.

“... This'll be a trip for me too. I don't really remember what I was like before all of this. Everything just melds together now, like different colours of paint being mixed indiscriminately on a pallet.”

Himmel held her hands, and forced her to her feet, except he couldn't. He didn't have the strength in his little body.

She stood up by herself and led him to the door, taking a deep breath as her hand rested on the doorknob.

“... Are you sure you want to know? These memories are going to be painful for you too. You forgot something really, really important.”

The person he was speaking to wasn't Charlotte, but he had a feeling that what he forgot was related to her, and that going through this person's memories will help him remember his own mother, and answer his weird dreams.

He nodded and she groaned, slowly creaking the door open.

“If we get through this fast enough, I’ll try my best to send you back to the living realm. You're not quite dead yet, so you're not allowed to go after me again, alright?”

—

An elf with lemon hair and eyes taught her everything she knew.

Not really because she was taught, but because she followed her around like some kind of pest.

“Why do you learn magic?”

“Because it's everything I'm not.”

Beautiful.

That elf clicked her tongue. “Then get out of my sight. Someone like you isn't suited for battle at all.”

That elf didn't ask her anything else, and continued to treat her like air. She followed her for years until her feet grew sore, and one day, she passed out.

By the time she woke up, she was picked up into the royal palace, and could only practice magic in secret. The elf never seeked her out. She was probably happier that she was finally gone.

Raised as a maid without much of a background or any sort of qualification, she thought it was an honour when she was assigned to the main palace, where the king himself dwelled.

She ran out into the garden in the dead of night, hoping to practice her magic again.

Flying magic.

She saw the elf do that before, and thought it was amazing. Standing at the foot of a tree in an empty garden, she didn't hesitate or doubt herself at all.

Because anything she could picture herself doing was possible.

Slowly, she felt herself lift up into the air, and her feet were no longer touching the grass below her. Exasperated, a giggle slipped past her lips, but she quickly covered it up with her hands, her eyes quickly scanning her quiet surroundings. 

Focusing her gaze on the thick branch near the canopy of the tree, she felt the wind brush her legs and go up her skirt as she clumsily landed on her feet, holding into the tree itself for dear life.

Despite clenching her eyes shut, she forced them open if only to be transfixed by the pure white sea of flowers neatly arranged around the palace garden. Every planted flower felt deliberate, loved. She didn't know what the flower was called, but the white petals almost seemed to reflect the moonlight above her, almost glowing in an ephemeral way.

I wonder if she saw sights like this too. Flying was always an option for her.

But she didn’t think the elf had an opinion on flowers. It always seemed like something she wouldn't care about.

“Huh?” 

Her eyes suddenly landed on a peculiar sight. 

Amongst the flowers beneath her, there was someone in a simple white dress staring at the moon, her sky blue hair gently swaying with the wind. In the midst of the flowers, the lone figure, softly moonlit, stretched her arms to the sky. Her dress billowed as she did, and [][][][] felt her breath hitch, and her face felt hotter than usual. 

The sudden sensation that trickled up her legs made her stumble, and she accidentally let out a yelp as she held onto the tree.

Realising that the woman most definitely heard her, she backed herself against the tree and held her breath.

“... You there, green thing.”

She’s directly beneath me!

The surprise made her lose her footing again, but this time, she didn’t have the time to stabilise herself. Shit, if she used magic again in front of her, she’d be outing herself for a crime way worse than being outside after curfew. She closed her eyes, but didn’t land on the ground with a few broken bones like she thought she would.

A chuckle forced her to open her eyes, and she realised that the woman had caught her in her arms. Their bodies pressed against each other, the woman’s arms held her tightly in a bridal carry. It was like she had accidentally stepped into the world of a fairytale, and she was the princess caught by a prince after falling out of a tree.

That was how she saw her eyes, the same hue as her hair.

“Did you see me cry?” she demandingly asked, with a voice that sounded like angels.

… Like a fairy dripped from the moon.

The edges of her sclera were reddened, and her sky blue eyes reflected her face so clearly. Her sharp features look softened when she’s so close to her face.

Shit, she realised. “N— No! I didn’t. I’m sorry, please let me go. It’s my first day here as a maid!”

The woman hummed, and scoffed. “Hmm, what am I to do? If I don’t put you down, I suppose you’ll never be able to rat me out.”

“I won’t say a thing, my lips are sealed. Please free me—”

[][][][] abruptly slammed against the grass, the woman letting her go in an instant instead of gently placing her down. She might've cursed her out if she didn't train herself not to swear at potentially important people.

“I’ve never seen your face before. It truly must be your first day here.” The woman now towering over her, she smirked. “Tell me your name, and I’ll do you the service of remembering it.”

… Name?

“I— I don’t have one,” she answered. “They call me things like “you”, “mosshead”, and now “green thing” can be added to that list. I guess that’s my name?”

That woman raised her brows, and turned to the flowers around them.

“Then, I’ll bestow you a name myself. In exchange, you’ll belong to me.”

Something about that sounded ominous. “That’s alright, I don’t need a name—”

“Lily.”

“... Huh?”

The woman chuckled and crouched to her level, plucking a delicate flower and placing it in her hair. [][][][] winced when her warm fingers brushed against the skin of her ears, and desperately hoped that the woman didn’t notice.

“Lily. The name of the flowers in my garden, and the name I honourably granted you.”

She looked at the flowers around her, and felt a smile bubble at her lips.

Lily.

So that’s what they were called.

Lily fiddled with her fingers, and stuttered as she spoke, knowing she was going to sound stupid. “Um, but what does “Lily” mean?”

“Huh?”

The woman suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter, the sound of which was like the chirping of morning birds to her ears, even though she was definitely making fun of her.

“Well, I suppose it’s nice to know the meaning of your name,” the woman said, wiping a tear that was squeezed out of her eye. Plucking another white lily and placing it to her lips, she answered her question.

“This one in particular means rebirth, and... Well, you don't need to know the other one."

Lily didn’t really understand what that meant, but it sounded really cool. She excitedly grabbed the woman’s hands. “Then, what does your name mean?”

The woman blinked, tilting her head.

“... Do you not know who I am?”

Fuck, she probably should.

But most maids spend their whole lives never having seen royalty in person! Palaces spanned multiple kilometres over several different buildings that were not built directly next to each other. It wasn't fully her fault that she didn't know her face!

She shook her head, giving up on appearing competent.

The woman sighed, definitely questioning how she landed her position at the king’s castle without knowing who she was. She owned this garden, so she’s definitely someone pretty important, probably. She slipped through Lily’s hands and abruptly stood up. The woman lifted her skirt, bowing into a curtsy.

Her eyes were sharp, and her voice was clear. 

And the wind picked up when their eyes met, a cool night that smelled keenly like flowers. Her heart raced endlessly, knowing it had already been enraptured by her entire existence.

“Charlotte,” she proudly announced, beaming. “Naturally, it means “the free man”.”

That was how the two ladies met, in a billowing garden of moonlight.

Chapter Text

“So that's how I look like,” the woman contemplated, a forlorn gaze pointed at her own face from more than ten years ago.

“... We don't look very similar, actually.”

Himmel looked up at the woman who was holding his hand, her eyes entranced by that sight, speaking to herself. They were watching from a distance, experiencing the memory unfold right before them like some sort of play. 

“Lily.”

When Charlotte from the past gave her her name, the woman next to him froze up.

“... Lily,” she repeated, smiling.

He’d never heard of a Lily before in his life. If this person replaced Charlotte, that meant she existed in the palace the same time he did, and was close to her. The fact that she was a complete stranger to him was strange. Who was she?

Lily let out a sudden breath, interrupting his line of thought.

“Charlotte,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she spoke it aloud. A faint smile formed on her face, the kind he’d never seen before. She muttered something beneath her breath, gripping his fingers and letting out a breath as she did.

“There was another meaning you kept from me, because it made you too shy to discuss it.”

His eyes widened, and he turned back to the two silhouettes in the distance, smiling at each other.

There were things he wanted to ask her, but it didn’t seem like the right time. That woman she was speaking to was the real Charlotte, right? His real mother, whom he last saw more than ten years ago, and barely had any real memories of. It’s unsettling to look at her now, knowing that the past ten years of her life weren't real. Her life abruptly ended at some point, and he had no idea. She disappeared, and he had no idea.

The appearance of another door interrupted their silence and they quietly stepped into it, leaving the previous scene behind.

Himmel squinted his eyes, blinded by sudden streaks of sunlight. When his surroundings finally fully faded in, he realised that he was in a very familiar hallway. Two women breezed past them, the scene of the past beginning in a flash. 

—

Lily gulped, Charlotte dragging her by the wrist down a brightly lit hallway. 

Why am I going along with this?! I can get executed!

And as a peasant, her death would mean nothing at all.

They suddenly stopped in front of a grand, opulent wooden door, with intricate carvings of flowers and golden patterns. Timing their intrusion between the switching of guard shifts, there were no guards or servants around.

Charlotte grinned. “Anton's been keeping secrets from me, blowing me off every time I invite him to spar! He's off to survey the land right now, so I'm going to find out what it is!”

“This is childish,” Lily blurted out. “His majesty will inform you of his plans should he deem it necessary. What if his secret is meant to be a surprise for you?”

Besides, what kind of queen finds these things out by herself? Does she not have lackeys to do her errands for her? Lily was the only person she ever kept around for some reason, and Lily never found out why.

The queen ran it over in her mind for about five seconds, and shrugged her off. “Everything in this world belongs to me. Naturally, Anton’s secrets are mine as well.” She anxiously coughed, crossing her arms. “Anyway— I know it's not going to be a surprise. Anton’s never been the romantic type.”

The last part was probably true. Judging by the standards of a regular royal family, it was odd that they didn't have children yet.

Lily gave up on saying more. They were going to enter anyway. Knowing Charlotte, she probably only decided to do this because she thought it would be entertaining and wanted to use it to pass the time. Not because she was actually all that pressed about his secrets.

Charlotte pulled her into the bedroom and instantly went for the drawers on his incredibly messy desk.

The extravagant bedroom was at least triple the size of Lily’s own assigned sleeping quarters. Maybe the rich should be eaten after all.

Charlotte’s shoulders slumped down in disappointment, as they were filled with papers about the land and invitations to balls and parties. She rifled through the files and sighed.

“None of these are passionate love letters to a sweet maiden? He's so boring.”

Charlotte wanted him to cheat on her?

“You nonchalant loveless-marriage royals are scary,” Lily commented.

Charlotte raised her brows. “He knows about my escapades. Is it not natural that I want to know about his?”

Lily felt her face flush, suddenly conscious about her own sexual proclivities. Charlotte mentioned that way too casually, Lily thought, turning away from her. What kind of things does she…

Lily abruptly slapped herself, to Charlotte’s bewilderment.

“Um, anyway— If he's going out of his way to keep it from you, wouldn't he be mad if he finds out you rummaged around his room?”

“Nonsense,” Charlotte said. “Anton won't be cross with me at all. At most, he’ll sigh and tell me I give him headaches.”

“I— I see…”

It seemed that Lily shared a similarity with the king.

The maid’s eyes wandered to the bookshelf, and a sense of childishness was suddenly rising within herself too.

In stories Charlotte would tell her about, there were often secret passages hidden behind bookshelves. Charlotte said Anton wouldn't tell her about any of the ones that supposedly existed in the castle, citing her troublemaking as the reason. 

Lily reached out to a conspicuous book on the shelf, cyan-in-colour, and pulled it out, her eyes closed in anticipation.

After a few seconds, she cracked one eye open to peek at the shelf in front of her.

Nothing happened.

… Well, it was worth a shot.  

She dejectedly placed the weirdly bright book back on the shelf. That book stood out for no reason!

“Oh, I gave that book to him. It's a fairytale we used to read together.” Charlotte was standing right next to her, inspecting the shelf’s foot.

“Skid marks. This thing definitely moves around often. I thought all the shelves here were bolted to the floor.” Charlotte excitedly pointed at the carpet near the edge of the bottom of the shelf, giddily stepping to its left. “I’m giving Anton the biggest, deepest kiss on the lips if there's an actual secret passage!”

She raised her foot, and with one smooth motion, kicked the entire shelf aside.

What the?!

The entire hefty wooden shelf, full of thick books, moved just enough for a person to pass through, and Charlotte gasped, hopping in place. “There's an actual!? There's a!?”

She froze as she met Lily's dumbfounded eyes.

“Oh, I mean—” She quickly composed herself, clearing her throat. “Naturally, I deduced that from the start. We shall follow this path, Lily.”

Physical force being the answer to the puzzle was disappointing. Couldn't the king have implemented an actual shelf-moving mechanism?

Lily gulped, peeking into the hole behind the wall. It was a winding tunnel heading down, getting darker and darker near the bottom, to the point where they couldn't see beyond that point. “Your majesty, this might be dangerous—”

Charlotte blitzed past her, and Lily shrugged. She quickly grabbed a lantern from the wall to go after her, unable to resist the temptation of a secret passage herself.

…

That was a mistake.

Of course it was.

A child could deduce that.

“You’ve read the papers, mage.”

It was the first time she had ever seen the queen’s husband. The king. 

In this small stone underground room, his voice echoed off the walls, rumbling in her ears. He came running in because he returned early and saw his bookshelf pushed aside. Having to push a bookshelf physically left a lot of signs on the objects of the shelf. Even if they sought to cover it up by putting the shelf back where it was after entering, the items that were on the shelf would've suspiciously moved from how it was before.

He ran in with a weapon, and saw his wife with a stranger in his secret room. Naturally, he wanted to save his wife. A queen was worth a thousand peasants, and thus the loss of one peasant wouldn't be a problem at all.

Lily was merely a peasant.

… He looked a bit like Charlotte, though she wasn't able to look him in the eyes, his lantern hanging behind him silhouetting his appearance.

Heavy breathing filled the air.

Next to her was Charlotte’s sprawled body, unconscious on the cold stone floor, papers scattered all about. Lily went down on her knees and pressed her head to the floor, her voice trembling as she snuck glances at the king’s towering visage.

If he didn't come at her in the first place, this wouldn't have happened. Even if a maid shouldn't be entering the king’s chambers unauthorized and rummaging through his secrets— it's…

“I— It’s my fault. I never meant to use that spell, I was scared of dying and her majesty happened to be right next to me—”

He put his hand up, and she froze, shaking.

If she didn't use that spell, then Charlotte would've been fine.

“I've been searching for someone that could perform this spell. It's truly a miracle that a being like you came along,” he calmly explained. 

“That doesn't matter!” She yelled, pointing at Charlotte’s body. “How— How do I reverse it?!”

He tilted his head. “Simply perform the spell again.”

Her blood ran cold. “But then…”

He nodded. “Then you'd die right here, because your life that should've ended just now by my hands was extended by stealing my wife’s years away from her.”

He knelt down and cupped Lily’s chin, tilting it up to face him. 

“Transfer half of her lifespan back to her, and the other half…”

He trailed off, and she gulped.

“Well, it wouldn't be fair if you paid your debts to the queen using a life that isn't yours, would it? My people would cry at that sort of injustice.”

He was right. It wouldn't be right for her to take another person's life away from them for a sin she committed. “Then— what do I do?” She selfishly still wanted to live, even though she wasn't supposed to.

“… I need you to continue research on this spell without running off. Have my child, and we'll solve this predicament rather easily, no?”

What the fuck?!

She pushed herself away from his grasp and desperately crawled backwards towards the wall, pressing her back against it. 

He sighed.

“Do you think I want this? I have no interest in that filthy body of yours,” he said, leaning against the wall behind him. “But a child has a lot of life to spare for my wife, which means you don't have to give up the one you stole from her at all. And if I keep this child, you'll feel obligated to stay here and follow my orders.”

“That's assuming a lot of things,” she pointed out. “What if the child doesn't have long to live, and what if I don't particularly care for its life and run away anyway?

“A child from me will be a healthy one. It is foretold by the Goddess.” He groaned to himself, facepalming, seemingly realising how particularly awful he was being. “Anyway, while we were speaking, you've already transferred the half you promised to Char. An honourable trait. You truly value life, don't you? I'd like to believe that we have that in common.”

He gestured to Charlotte’s body, now breathing normally. She looked asleep rather than on the verge of death. Lily felt herself loosen up as she realised that she managed to “save” Charlotte’s life in time.

Even still, she still owed Charlotte decades worth of time.

“I… You're awful.”

“Would you have preferred for me to lie and seduce you? Or force myself on you? Or execute you for your crimes? It wasn't I that asked you to use that spell, nor was it I that took my wife’s lifespan for myself. I’d say my brand of honesty should be refreshing for a green thing like you,” he said, sneering. “Should you refuse me, I suppose I’ll be lenient and toss you into prison, and my poor Char will live an extremely short life.”

He hadn't even had a child with his own wife yet. “I… I’ll tell the world that you're messing with this kind of magic.”

“Tell who, exactly? Will they believe you? You're the mage in this room, a peasant-nobody, who used the spell to bring my wife to near-death. Go ahead, but I won't simply watch you waltz out of here so easily.”

I… I can steal his lifespan and give it to her.

She winced, ashamed that she even thought about such a thing. That would make her no better than a demon.

“If you do it, I’ll assign you to be her personal handmaiden. You'd love that, wouldn't you?” the king asked, sneering.

…

If I refuse him, she won't live past 30.

And Lily wanted to see how her sky blue hair would look once it turned silver, and she wanted to see her callused, warm hands grow wrinkly and old.

“I…”

Don't want to do it.

But it's the only way I can selfishly remain by her side.

—

Lily hugged her own figure, sweating underneath the blanket in the corner of her windowless bedroom. She balled into herself and pushed her back against the wall.

Winter was approaching.

Without a lantern, without a window, the bedroom was cold and dark, and it was difficult to breathe. Even though it was cold, Lily couldn't stop sweating. She didn't know whether it would feel better with or without the blanket, but she didn't want to come out of it.

Charlotte had called on her many times, but she didn't have the heart to look her in the eyes every time they met.

For Charlotte, she was told by his majesty that he promised to stop his research, and that he apologised for scaring “her maid”. It was handled so neatly, and for a woman that believed she owned the world, she believed her husband wholly.  She didn't know that Lily took half of her lifespan, and...

For someone who was so confident before, she really couldn't stomach the feeling eating up at her from the inside, clawing in her body. She pressed her hand over her stomach.

In just a bit more time, Charlotte could have what was stolen from her back.

They let her “take a break” for several months, under the guise of undergoing special training to be suited to be the queen’s handmaiden.

— “Lily?”

Charlotte poked her back, and she flinched. It was day again, and she was helping the queen sort the flower vase on her bedside table.

A few years had passed.

“Oh, forgive me, your majesty,” she quickly spat out. “Were you saying something?”

Charlotte pouted, staring at her from the bed she was lazing in on her tummy, hugging a pillow. “My father keeps pushing me to get pregnant. Anton’s lucky, he doesn't have parents pushing him to impregnate me.”

“... Yeah.”

“Agh,” Charlotte groaned. “That was insensitive, wasn't it? Anton was crushed when his parents were slaughtered by those demons on their trip. He's not luckier, you should've scolded me!”

“You're a grown woman, take responsibility for yourself,” Lily responded, unintentionally harsher than she usually was. She didn't mean to say it like that, and she didn't really know why she felt like being mean in the first place.

… No, she knew why.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, and continued to watch her work. Lily felt a little self-conscious, knowing how intently Charlotte was staring at her and her fingers between the lilies in her vase.

“... Lily, has your chest gotten bigger?”

Oh, Charlotte was not staring at her fingers. “That's sexual harassment.”

“No,” Charlotte said, holding her hands over her own chest. “Mine were bigger than yours!”

“Maybe yours just got smaller,” Lily reasoned.

“Then,” Charlotte paused. She sat up and took Lily’s hand, pressing it against her womb, chuckling.

“What are you…”

Lily’s eyes widened, losing her strength in her wrist and fingers, her words trailing off.

Charlotte giggled, holding Lily’s hand firmly against herself. “Naturally, my chest should be bigger than yours once this little thing is born, right?”

That feeling was coming back to her, getting lodged in her throat. Her body felt like it was growing heavier.

“... Don't call it a thing.”

And chests don't always get bigger from that. They can get smaller too.

“Yeah? You said “it”. That's the future heir you're talking to!”

So it's a son too.

Charlotte was laughing, and Lily wanted to laugh as well, because that was the mood Charlotte always set around her.

But she couldn't even get herself to fake a smile.

“... Lily?” Charlotte muttered.

Lily met her eyes, and Charlotte turned to the large window in her room, the blue sky greeting them outside.

“A name is a prayer from the parent to their child. I’m Charlotte, freer than anyone else in this world.”

“... And I was reborn the moment I met you.”

“Does this imply that I’m your mother?” Charlotte giggled, replying. “Naturally, I want my son to be just as free as I am, perhaps more.”

Lily tilted her head. “Are you going to name him… Charles or something?”

“No,” Charlotte said, her strong, callused hands reaching out to that blue sky. “Do you really take me to be that simple?”

Like the night they first met, Lily felt her heart flutter, and Charlotte’s voice was all she could hear.

“Wouldn't it be better to be named after something that seemed to stretch forever? Something so impossibly vast, it's completely out of my reach.”

Lily’s words were caught in her throat. “I…”

“And when it's out of reach even for someone like me, that means it's freer than I, no? So I want him to be able to touch the sky, and soar with the wind beneath his wings.”

“… A name… is a prayer.”

“Hmm? Yes, that's what I said. Inspiring, I know!”

For the past few years, she never gave him a name. She didn't want to be attached, because she was the reason he wasn't going to live his full life. To be loved by someone like her was a burden she wouldn't put on even her worst enemy.

— 

That night, Lily visited the church’s orphanage again, a branch located right by the cathedral. 

Two knocks on the door, and it cracked open.

The caretaker peered out and sighed, letting her in.

“He is asleep,” the old lady informed her.

Lily nodded. Against the wooden floorboards, her footsteps echoed in the deathly quiet night of the orphanage, where all the kids had miraculously gone to sleep.

She paused in front of his door, and gently leaned her forehead against it. Behind it, she could hear his light snoring, and she held in a chuckle.

“I heard… that you can sleep on your own now, and you can climb into bed on your own now,” she whispered. “You’re growing so quickly, and soon… you'll be old enough to hate me.”

She suddenly felt stupid for coming here just to stand outside his room and listen to his breathing. At this point she was just acting like a worthless, creepy stalker. It was no wonder that the old lady from earlier seemed to dislike her.

… What do I want to do here?

As she thought, she should just turn back.

My child shouldn't ever know that there's so much unhappiness behind his birth.

She hadn't been able to come here lately because of the time she had to spend on that stupid spell. His majesty didn't want there to be any drawbacks for making a lifespan longer, but it seemed to be almost hopeless. While she was at it, she even stumbled upon some identity-changing spell, so…

Her eyes widened.

Whispering that spell in her heart, she saw her appearance change to the lady she was speaking to earlier. Black hair that extended to her neck. It was a bit uncomfortable to move knowing she didn't look like herself, but she gently cracked the door open.

Her heart raced, as moonlight streaked through the little window of his bedroom. 

There he was, the little one, huddled underneath his blanket and only taking up a third of his bed. There's a little stool next to it, just for him to hop onto bed without help.

She froze at the door frame, and hesitated to take another step.

The little boy was snoring and sleeping so soundly, someone like her was sure to disturb his peace. But she wasn't herself right now, so it should be fine…

She knelt down by his bed, resting her head on its soft embrace. Her son’s face was a few inches away from hers, and it was small. Or maybe it was because his body had grown. She swore his head used to be one-third of his body, but he was changing so quickly.

Short moss green hair just like hers. She wanted to play with his hair, but she knew better than to do that. A precious little one like him shouldn't be touched by her, a treasure like him shouldn't be perceiving her either.

A name is a prayer, but what if the prayer I gave you wasn't what you wanted? Would that be me selfishly forcing my ideals on you instead?

What would she even name him? She didn't have the avant-garde mindset that the queen did, and she wasn't good with words.

But if there was one prayer she wished she could selfishly impose on him, it would be…

—

“Who is that kid, Lily?”

Lily paused, almost spilling the tea she was pouring into the queen’s teacup.

Charlotte took a bite of the cake, wiping her lips right after. It was a question so casual, Lily felt a chill go down her spine.

“... Your majesty, what are you talking about?”

Charlotte smirked, pointing her fork at her. “I sensed that you were keeping secrets from me, thus I followed you.”

“Oh, he's a regular orphan,” she quickly explained. “He reminds me of myself, so I visit him a lot.”

“Hmm,” Charlotte hummed, taking another bite of her cake. “You can't even see him without changing your appearance. What's your relationship with him?”

Lily gritted her teeth.

Charlotte was just bored.

As long as Lily told a plausible lie, she could get away with it.

“A queen’s personal handmaiden can't be seen visiting a child like that, right? It opens me up to unsavoury rumours, which could lead to shots being taken at you. I’m being responsible.”

“Wow!” Charlotte exclaimed. “You did this to protect me?”

Lily nodded, and Charlotte giggled.

“Then, I’ll protect you too,” the queen said. “To be under my wings is a blessing I don't grant just anyone!”

“Huh?”

Charlotte took her hands, and linked their fingers together.

“I’ll adopt that kid… so you don't have to go there to see him anymore, okay? And you'll be in charge of his care. Feel free to change your appearance all the time if that makes you more comfortable.”

“Your majesty, his majesty won't—”

“He will!” Charlotte insisted. “The child is officially an orphan. Even if rumours spring up about him being an illegitimate son, I can quell them. People will still speak ill however they please, however, but I will make sure to care for him.”

“... How much do you know?”

Charlotte paused, and kissed her rough fingers, and every red knuckle.

“A lot more than you think, but much less than I should,” she answered, her voice softer than she'd ever been before. “I’m… still figuring things out.”

… Right.

Charlotte can't stand secrets, after all.

Lily felt the feelings that she swallowed away pour out of her, dampening her cheeks. Charlotte wrapped her arms around Lily’s neck and pulled her into herself.

Her life that felt shivering cold as winter snow since that night was suddenly so warm, and she gripped the back of Charlotte’s corset, burying her face into her chest.

She didn't know that touching someone so intimately could feel so tender. If she could, she wanted them to stay like this forever, leaving the world behind.

“... I don't think your chest got smaller,” Lily blurted out.

Charlotte chuckled, rubbing her back. “That's sexual harassment.”

Lily pouted, though the queen definitely couldn't see her face. If she actually meant that, she would've pushed her away from her chest by now.

In the room that housed just the two of them, it felt like Lily’s home.

“... Your majesty, I gave him a prayer of my own.”

Even though he shouldn't have anything to do with me, I have just one, simple wish.

“Yeah? What is it?”

I just want him to be happy.

“... Heiter.”

—

He'd never felt so drained before. Hundreds of people were injured and he was the only one that could do anything for them. His mana was close to being completely depleted.

Where were the reinforcements? Heiter sent someone out to get help a long time ago. 

Hurried footsteps entered the cathedral’s main entrance, and everyone's attention was brought to the two young adults by the door.

It was a girl with long purple hair that extended down to her waist in what appeared like a nightgown, and a boy with short red hair with a scar across one of his eyes.

“It's those kids!” One of the Historian knights yelled.

“What's going on?” Heiter implored, walking up to the growing crowd around the entrance.

The girl’s eyes widened when she met his eyes, bowing down.

“You must be Prince Heiter, yes? My name is Fern, a servant of Historia’s palace.” She lifted her head and took his hand. “There's not much time, please allow me to speak with you!”

What?

This girl’s mana was a little unstable, like his mother’s was. Or well, whoever Charlotte was supposed to be. She clearly wasn't the simple servant she implied herself to be.

Murmurs filled the hall, and Heiter decided to pull the girl and the boy that came with her aside, to a secluded room.

“... Miss Fern, please get straight to the point.”

Her eyes were scrutinizing him, and she finally spoke.

“The people here are poisoned, right? Because of Historia’s new blades.”

He nodded. “I have healed all of them.”

“... Not all of them.”

Heiter’s eyes widened. “Who?”

She gripped her own skirt. “You don't have a lot of mana left, I assume. Someone… taught me how to heal, since she refused to come with me,” she stated. “Please let me take over your duties here. Someone else needs your help.”

“What? Apologies, but I can't simply leave the hundreds of people here in the hands of a stranger for one person,” he firmly answered. “Sufficient help will arrive soon. I will send someone to wherever that person is once reinforcements are here.”

The girl went silent, seemingly at a loss.

The boy next to her seemed to want to say something, but a glance from the girl stopped him from speaking up. 

“Mistress Frieren… was my master,” she said. “She told me to come here, to get you to save his highness Prince Himmel. He needs your help, and she can't give it to him. She said it had to be you.”

“... Himmel’s in danger?” 

Heiter suddenly recalled the bandage he saw on Himmel’s wound, which he had completely forgotten about. He didn't think about it too deeply as he didn't know about the poison at the time— nor did he think Himmel needed his help.

He didn't understand what was happening, but for some reason, even after what he saw of her— When Frieren’s name was mentioned, he thought he could trust her.

The boy finally spoke up. “Leave it all to us! I don't want anyone else to die anymore. Please be quick!”

Heiter hesitated for a moment, but instantly took off.

Huffing and puffing, he'd never run so fast before. 

A part of him was afraid to find him, and her. To see what happened to them. He'd always been too slow, too weak, too vain. Nothing like his virtuous, sunshine-like brother. If anyone should die, it should've been himself, someone who had nothing to hold onto in this world, someone who was never loved by anyone. 

Someone who wouldn't be missed at all.

Himmel always told him that he wanted them to be heroes together.

Heiter refuted that claim, because he was an alcoholic priest that was far from gentle and kind, always scheming and always distrusting. A vile person that felt not even an ounce of guilt when he committed patricide. An awful, selfish person who imposed his ideals on everything to get his way.

Someone like that shouldn't be idolised at all.

He scoffed.

Look at me, trying to play the hero now of all times.

How sickening.

Chapter Text

“Does distance affect the spell’s effectiveness? I recall you using it by touching both the people involved with the spell.”

She stepped away from him, slightly. “... Yes. I had to hold both the child and her majesty to do it, using myself as the conduit.”

“I see,” the king noted, flipping through his notes on the other table.

They were in the hidden room behind his bookshelf, and she was glued onto these stupid papers again. 

She had never been good at magical theory before, so this had been an insane challenge for her to get any progress done. If she wasn't forced to figure this out so that other people can replicate the spell, her life would've been a lot easier. This strange spell to transfer lifespans.

“... Your majesty, if you would permit me to ask, why am I doing this?”

“If we perfect this spell, it would be an incredibly easy way to slay the demons, no?”

Lily was shocked he actually answered her questions for once. “I thought magic was taboo to you people.”

He sighed. “Only fools would throw away an opportunity like this out of prejudice.”

“But demons have nigh infinite lifespans, who could shoulder a life that long?”

“It can be distributed evenly to my people. Many of them have suffered from this ongoing war, and deserve the opportunity to live long lives.”

… And put a large target on Roselia’s back, and inevitably turn lifespan into a currency; something to sell, buy and monopolise.

Lily shivered at that possibility. 

There was no way his majesty hadn't considered that outcome. He was an educated man, far brighter than a peasant like her. If she succeeded at perfecting this spell, then it won't end as rosily as the king was painting it to be.

But this was to end the war against the demons. Wouldn't the outcome be worth it?

Lily felt like it wasn't— that maybe she was being selfish again.

“That's— that's brilliant, your majesty. As expected, the king of Roselia is a benevolent one,” she praised, hiding her shaking hands behind her back. “Oh— The time. It's about time for me to tend to her majesty. Please allow me to excuse myself for today.”

He nodded, and she sprinted out and up the stairs, sweat rolling down her back.

But there was surely another way. Better and had less to do with the toying of life.

Once she made it out, she ran down the sunlit hallway and crouched, pressing her hand against her mouth, breathing heavily.

Did he realise that I know?

I— I can't help him anymore, but if I stop, he'll hurt Heiter.

She tried to stop once before, and the king ruined Heiter’s eyesight to punish her. Other than the permanent need for special glasses, Heiter was still a normal boy, but she was sure that her son would never forget the memory of his father forcing him to stare directly at the sun for a week straight.

It was painful for her to watch while being bound in place. She could only imagine the pain of experiencing it herself. Heiter was bedridden for almost an entire month following that incident, all because she was selfish. Every night, she'd visit him under the guise of a different maid and a different name, just to make sure that she never looked away from the sin that she committed.

But something still had to be done.

… Could Charlotte do anything?

The queen demanded for Heiter’s punishment to stop, citing the lack of reasoning behind it, but the king ordered for her to be dragged away.

Lily learned that day that Charlotte didn't have as much power as she thought the queen did, which was probably why Charlotte remained so silent for all these years.

They were more similar than she thought.

Before she knew it, her legs had brought her right outside of the queen’s chambers.

Taking a deep breath, she quickly entered without knocking the door, slamming it behind her.

“Shh!” Charlotte hissed.

Lily turned to the little figure asleep in the queen’s bed, and it was a young boy with sky blue hair and eyes, holding her hand with his little ones.

The queen chuckled, whispering. “This little thing came to my room and told me to read him a fairytale. He really likes stories with heroes in them.” She swept his hair away from his eyes, slightly flinching when her son slightly moved. “He even told me he was going to be a hero one day, you know? Both him and Heiter.”

“... Your majesty has always liked telling stories.” Also, she called him a thing again. Lily was tired of correcting her by then, though.

“You only think that because you kept asking me to tell you more as well,” she replied. “Well, not that I mind doing this every now and then. Regardless, why are you here? I didn't call for you.”

Lily hesitantly approached her, wondering if Charlotte would even believe her in the first place. But she was going to tell her everything, and she wanted to hope that Charlotte could do something for her.

Because Charlotte was nothing like her.

Charlotte would find a way for them without anyone getting hurt. Lily couldn't think of anything by herself, but she wanted to believe that Charlotte could. Maybe it's because she assumed that Charlotte was purer than her, and thus could think of solutions far easier than her. As easily as breathing was.

“... What?” the queen said, shaking. “Half of Heiter’s lifespan was transferred to me, and Anton is still continuing the research?”

Charlotte frantically looked around, cornering Lily to the deepest corner of her bedroom. “I… I need to look into this. It's not that I don't believe you, it's—”

Because she had known the king since they were both children, and she couldn't fathom that he'd blatantly lie to her. Lily wistfully smiled, and Charlotte panicked, holding her by her shoulders.

“Lily, you're under my protection, you belong to me. If this is as bad as you say it is, I have to contact a dear friend of mine in Historia for help, though I don't know if he remembers me fondly enough during that summer we spent together. Ah—” She quickly shook her own head. “No, he does! He will help me! Naturally, I’m Charlotte! So don't worry, okay?”

Lily had never seen Charlotte act like this before. She raised her hands and hesitantly wrapped them around Charlotte’s back, pulling her into an embrace.

“... I trust you,” Lily spat out, burying herself in Charlotte’s floral scent. “Because I belong to you, after all.”

—

Their surroundings froze again.

Himmel spotted another door appear behind them. “It's over already?” he asked, heading towards the door and peaking inside. It was another grassland-setting, and he didn't know how this was supposedly connected to the situation at hand.

Lily’s eyes widened, and she backed away from the door, hugging her own figure. 

Himmel quickly closed it, turning to his mother. She was trembling, curling up in the corner.

“... Mother?”

Her eyes flickered to his. “... Why are you still calling me that? After everything you've seen me do, and after you've found out who I am.”

She almost killed my mother, she halved my brother’s lifespan though it was returned to him upon Charlotte’s death, and she helped his father with his dangerous research, all for her own selfish sake. It was true. Logically, or even emotionally, he should despise her. Something was messed up with him, and whatever answer he came to was probably not the right one for most people.

Heiter told him something before he left. Himmel only recalled it now.

It's just love, there's nothing he could do about it.

He didn't know if Lily would believe him if he said it, so he slowly approached her and wrapped his arms around her too. His child form was too small to fully envelop her, so he struggled to make himself look dependable. Nuzzling his face on her chest, he looked up at her.

Why does he still call her his mother?

“Because that's who I want you to be.”

“I'm not Charlotte.” She winced, her arms rooted by her sides. “... And you won't think that anymore once we go through that door.”

“You’re right, it’s confusing if you’re both “mother”. Then, should I call you mom instead?”

“... Don’t be disingenuous.”

“I’ve seen you already,” he replied, chuckling. “You made it this far on your own, so I'm not scared of whatever's behind that door. You're with me.”

She groaned, exasperated, averting her gaze. “You mother-and-son pair really are a handful, your highness.”

“Himmel,” he said. “Don't call me anything else. You're not allowed to.”

“Hah, I hate dealing with royalty,” she lamented. 

He raised his brows, and held her hands.

Her lips twitched like that word shouldn't leave her lips when she's in her own body. “... Himmel,” she relented, ruffling up his hair. “Charlotte’s little thing.”

Himmel giggled and effortlessly pulled her up with him. “Let's go!”

—

“We made it out, now we need to head to the cliff. There's a secret passageway that Regis told me about!”

“Your majesty, we’re both valuable to the king. If we head there separately, we could divide the forces!”

“Good thinking! We'll have an actual chance!”

One of those voices was familiar.

“Mother…?”

Himmel blinked, and suddenly exhaustion striked throughout his entire body, crushing him down to the world. His vision blurred, and he realised that he was running. Running beneath the glittery night sky.

One arm tugged onto him and pulled despite the fact that it hurt. Himmel didn't know what was going on. He screamed as he tripped over his own foot, crashing against the grassy, uneven field. 

She pulled him up to his feet as he cried, and he stumbled back onto the ground. His knees were bleeding. He didn't want to move anymore. It felt like a knife was running across his skin every time he did. Where were they even going? They passed the palace gates long ago.

The blurry sky blue blob in front of him, tugging him along, was equally as exhausted as he was. The green field they were running across was so overwhelmingly vast, that it drowned out the blaring, ringing screams and voices that were ripping him apart in every direction.

“It… it hurts…!” he screamed.

Charlotte turned and picked him up into her arms, and ran even further and further away from home. Where were they going, and why was she taking him?

“We’re going out on a fun little picnic today, so just hang in there, Himmel!” She exclaimed, her arms trembling. “Soon you'll see your brother too! We're having it in a kingdom surrounded by clouds! You'll love it there, I know!”

“Why? I'm scared! Let's just have it in your garden!”

“We'll— We'll do that another day! Be a good little thing, won't you?!”

Let me go!

I don't want to leave home.

Why are we running?

He struggled out of her arms, kicking, punching, and flailing his body. He screamed and wailed, and with one final kick, he leapt off of her arms, and continued to fall, fall, fall, and fall.

Wind whipped against his body, and it felt like it was ripping his flesh wound apart.

Even so, it was as if time had stopped.

He opened his eyes, and he was flying. Like a bird!

He flipped around in the sky, and spotted his mother, smiling widely. She stretched her hands towards him, strands of her sky blue hair tickling him as she did. Those hands enveloped his body, cradling him into the protection of her warm arms.

“Is this where the picnic is?” he asked her. “We're flying in the clouds!”

She pressed him against herself, exasperated. “Y— Yeah! It's my surprise to you!”

He giggled, his heart racing. “This is so much fun!” His mother’s heartbeat was really fast too. He could almost forgive her for being so scary earlier!

The soft blue field beneath them was drawing closer and closer. That must be where they're having their picnic— it's so pretty! He could beg his mother to change her garden to look like this one next time so they wouldn't have to go so far!

“That's right,” she whispered. His mother turned them over, and she was now beneath him, caressing his cheek.

“Himmel, as soon as we touch the bottom, let's play hide and seek!” she screamed, overpowering the frictional wind. “I’ll only give you twenty seconds, so you really have to run!”

A game? His eyes glimmered with excitement. “Okay!”

…

Himmel opened his eyes, feeling a sudden warm fluid drenching his clothes, seeping through to warm his skin directly. It was red, and it dirtied the blue of her hair too. She wasn't moving anymore, maybe she was asleep. He should apologise for kicking her. It must've hurt. He wanted to wait until that person woke up.

… Is this… my fault?

—

Charlotte was surprised she was still even breathing. A glance at herself told her that her legs weren't bent the way it was meant to be at all, and the overwhelmingly warm puddle forming beneath her surely wasn't regular warm fluid. She didn't know pain could feel so numbing at the same time.

The stars above them were oh so bright. She couldn't touch the sky after all. Once she closed her eyes and everything ended, she wondered if she'd end up between the stars too.

“... Mother?”

Oh, he was still here.

You're definitely my son, she thought, chuckling. Stubborn, and really bad at listening to others. 

“... Himmel, go and run,” she mumbled, her voice rusting away, ripping itself out through her bloodied throat. She started choking on her own blood, which shocked the poor boy into ice.

He was too scared to touch her, too scared to move.

She smiled, forcefully lifting her arms through the broken bones and torn skin, but she couldn't reach him before it dropped back to the flowers around them, drenching them in even more unnecessary blood. She reeled back a scream, and smiled again through gritted teeth.

“Himmel, fly. I'll be the wind beneath your wings.”

“M— Mother?” he wept, his eyes glistening, his body shaking. “Is this because I was bad? I’m sorry, I’ll be good, so please get up—”

“Go,” she repeated. “And… be nothing like me.”

Himmel’s lips quivered, and he backed away. She wondered if he attained any injuries, but it wasn't like there was anything she could do for him at this point. He turned around and started running off into the distance.

Run, like you've done so many times by now, you troublemaker.

She sighed.

Hah, how funny, she lamented. She couldn't even laugh.

Of course she was going to die like this, bleeding out from external and internal injuries and blunt force trauma, on the field of blue flowers Regis excitedly showed her before.

When she told Regis about her desire to touch the sky during that one summer they spent together, he brought her here. With his arms stretched out and while he was playing around in the dirt, he smiled and told her this was “the sky on earth”, a land just as blue and vast as the sky.

… If my parents accepted his proposal, how differently would my fairytale have ended?

She never spoke to Regis again since then, and then she found out he became king of Historia, like he always wanted to. When he responded to her letter, he sounded so pleased to help her.

But even if she had the chance to redo her life, she wouldn't have gone to Historia.

Because if she did, then she wouldn't be able to meet her at all.

… I wanted to tell her something before we left together, but I didn't.

It was alright.

She didn't regret anything.

Bleeding out in this false sky, she truly was “Charlotte”.

— 

A shadow closed in over her, and Charlotte’s eyes were drawn towards it.

… It was Lily, cradling an unconscious Heiter in her arms.

Well, this was technically their meet-up spot. Charlotte and Himmel merely got here in a… faster way.

“Your… majesty?”

Lily crouched down to the ground and hesitantly reached out to her. “I— Our plan’s failed. I saw the guards capture Himmel, and I thought that if I ran to find you we could get you to lie to them about what's going on—”

The maid wasn't going to run away without Himmel, it seemed. Nor was she going to run without Charlotte.

That meant that they were going to be found sooner or later.

And when they were, Lily was undoubtedly going to be blamed for her death. It didn't matter what the true narrative was— the queen’s corpse would be found next to her, while she was holding two princes of the royal family. 

If she forced Lily to run away without them, Anton would surely use all his resources to drag her back to him. Without Charlotte’s influence and connections, she doubted Lily could survive out there and evade Anton for long. 

“... Leave Heiter here and run,” Charlotte replied. “Use your disguise magic to cover your tracks and blend in with other societies.”

“I'm not leaving without you—”

“I refuse to let you die with me. Who do you think you are?!”

Charlotte choked again, still forcing herself to speak. “You belong to me, so I decide when you die!”

Lily had never been the brightest bulb. Why was she finally thinking on the same level as her now of all times?

“If— If I live, his majesty is going to search for me.” The maid flinched, holding Heiter up to herself. “So, wouldn't it be better if the person who died was “Lily” instead? And “Charlotte” can stop his majesty, I know she can.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Lily whispered a spell to herself, and suddenly her hair glowed sky blue, and looked like a mirror of Charlotte. With another whisper, their appearances had completely swapped.

“Lily, what are you doing?”

“Please— Please let me make it up to you. I ruined your life, everything! It's all my fault! If— If “you” lived instead, our sons can grow up with a mother! And I’ll fix everything, please, please!”

Charlotte was in disbelief, but even if she whined as always, she was already on death’s doorstep, completely incapable of stopping Lily.

She sighed. “... Lily, come here.”

Lily hesitantly got closer to her face, and Charlotte grinned, forcing herself despite the pain. 

She kissed her, and her lips were so soft. So tender. She was a grown adult woman that's kissed and done so much more with several people, but she still felt giddy, like an immature teenager.

Charlotte felt like she kissed the sky.

Lily froze. It was a little weird kissing someone who looked exactly like herself, but that didn't matter. Lily’s tears fell onto her cheeks, and her lips parted without saying anything at all.

“Thank you, for being my friend,” Charlotte said, giggling. “Can you take all the lifespan I have left and return it to Heiter? It's not a gift I particularly need right now.”

Lily nodded, pressing her own lips together, her eyes reddening.

Charlotte’s vision began to blur, and Lily’s silhouette became a blue splotch of paint on her already mostly blue surroundings. She could feel the cold gradually infecting her entire broken, bleeding body. 

Lily looked like she was part of the sky. Night above, light below. It was breathtakingly like a sight right out of a fairytale.

“... Don't come back to me until you've fixed everything, alright, “Char”? Show me that you're freer than anyone else.”

Lily sniffled, pressing their lips together again, and slowly pulling away, linking their fingers together. “... Naturally.”

Her vision grew black, and she knew it was over.

It was silent, and all she was left with were her ever-flowing thoughts.

Lily, did you know?

There was another meaning to your name.

Purity.

Maybe there was nothing pure about you at all, but to me, you were the only one that made me feel like an ordinary peasant, and for someone as special as I am, I liked it. Just a little, though! It's hard to hide how amazing I am, after all.

I prayed that you'd treat me as yourself, and you did. My prayers are rather potent, so I know this means Himmel’s going to sprout wings at some point. He's not allowed to die until he does!

It made me really happy when you relied on me, and I felt terrible that I couldn't do anything to help you.

Lily, you saved me the night we met. 

You didn't have any ulterior motives when you interacted with me. When I cried, reaching for the sky, I was thinking about how pointless everything was. I’m not… free. I lied, but maybe you already knew?

When I saw you up in that tree, I thought you were one of the maids that were going to badmouth me behind my back again while lying to my face.

You only ever really thought I was a handful, right?

I selfishly held onto you, even though I knew you didn't really like me that much.

But by the end, I hope you liked me at least a little? My charm’s twice as alluring as yours! Which is a compliment, because I’m very charming.

… I hope I wasn't the only selfish one.

—

He was glad that Lily was with him. Otherwise, he wasn't sure how extremely he'd react at knowing that Charlotte wouldn't have died if he had just listened to her and not fallen off that cliff.

He's old enough to understand that what happened wasn’t “his fault”, and that it was an “accident”, but it didn't stop that stinging feeling inside of him from festering.

That guilt was probably the reason why he had completely forgotten this event.

… Huh?

Himmel’s eyes widened, as Charlotte's corpse turned to him after the “scene” had already frozen, and they were stuck in place.

How did mom end up getting Charlotte's memories in this realm?

“... Both of you, come here.”

Charlotte spoke, looking directly at him, who wasn't supposed to be part of this scene at all. Lily turned to Himmel, and he hesitantly approached his mother.

“Mother…?” he asked, crouching to her height. “You're… Charlotte?”

“Hmm…” Charlotte narrowed her brows, the flesh and bones of her body reconnecting and reweaving together. “Am I?”

“H— Huh?”

As if she'd never gotten injured at all, she got up with a spunk. She cheekily grinned, picking up Himmel and tossing him up into the air, catching him and twirling around as she did, then squeezing him to herself.

She was so warm, for someone who had been dead for over ten years.

He felt dizzy, being thrown and spun around in quick succession like that. The dizziness kept him quiet, still regaining his stability. He had no idea his mother was that physically strong.

He really didn't remember anything about her at all.

“Ah…” she contemplated, pressing her face into his hair, and falling back onto the blue flowers, tossing stray petals up into the air and all around them. “... You smell like the sun.”

He chuckled. “What does that even mean?”

“You must've been up there with the sun! I knew you'd make it!”

Oh.

Himmel paused, and hesitated. 

“I… I didn't fly. ”

Something in his heart felt like it had disappeared. 

He wasn't sure if he felt heavier, or lighter. It was as if he'd been splashed with the ice cold reality he'd been purposely ignoring his entire life.

Humans can't fly, humans can't touch the sky. When he dreamt of flying in the sky, and of wind running through his hair… He was dreaming.  

The reality was that if you try to fly, you fall.

Charlotte and Lily fell right in front of his eyes, and he fell with them. He understood now that it was stupid of him to dream of something so unrealistic and idealistic. The cool breeze would never pick him up like the leaves swirling around them. He wasn't a sail that followed the wind, he wasn't a bird raised by the wind beneath his wings. He was human.

The euphoria of falling was never worth the abrupt landing on the ground. 

You'll just die.

… He was wide awake now.

Charlotte suddenly pulled at his cheek, pulling him back to her.

“Then why are you here?” she asked.

Huh?

“I… I jumped after mom. I mean Char— … Lily. I didn't want her to go alone. I had so many questions, and…”

“Were you told to do that?”

He narrowed his brows. “Did someone ask me to jump off a cliff? … No?”

She giggled. 

“Then how did you feel when you did it?”

“I…”

As soon as he leapt after her, an indescribable thrill rushed through his body.

Glad.

He felt glad.

He never would've known any of this if he didn't do it.

Even though he didn't tell her anything, Charlotte beamed at him as if she had read his mind. 

“You dived down, not because you were a prince, not because you were a hero, a husband, or some other responsibility that was shoved onto you.” She raised him into the air, watching the pink sunrise rays paint them in the mellowness of dawn, her eyes softening as they reflected his face so clearly.

He never knew how much he missed being reflected in her eyes.

“You chose it yourself, am I correct?”

His eyes widened.

Charlotte gently placed him back down on the meadow, sitting him down. She looked up at him and smiled. 

“You've grown so much.”

Himmel looked down at himself, and saw that he wasn't in the body of a child anymore. He was back to himself, and he never realised how different his adult body was to his child’s. Obviously they were different, but the growth was so gradual that he never really realised how much he'd grown until he looked back and compared them directly.

He turned to the side, watching the sun wake up with the rest of the world. A smile came to his face so naturally. “... Morning’s here.”

“It sure is,” Charlotte remarked.

Wind surrounded them and the petals around them soared into the sky, connecting sky to ground. Things had been moving so quickly, he felt fortunate to be able to have this moment of respite with her.

“Mother, were you happy to have fallen?”

“... Fallen, huh?” she repeated. Charlotte turned to her side, where Lily had been absentmindedly staring at them the entire time and giggled, parting her lips.

“I sure am!”

Lily’s mouth fell open wordlessly, and she remained in her place, averting her gaze. “This— this talk is far too idealised, and dangerous,” she said. “Even if you get to choose something, that doesn't mean that you get to be stupid. Don't do things that lead to death.”

Charlotte snickered. “Rich coming from you, the “demon that orchestrated the fall of two kingdoms, forcing them to work together to vanquish evil”, the one that died at the very end. That came straight out of a fairytale I read to you once.”

“I—” Lily stammered. “I’m not good at these things, but it worked, okay?”

“… I knew you were lying,” Himmel confessed. “The story didn't really make much sense.”

Charlotte bursted out into laughter, cackling. “That's my son! Just as brilliant as his mother!”

He thought she didn't want him to be like her.

Lily pouted, rolling her eyes. “Well, I don't regret it. Maybe it is stupid and unhealthy, but what else was I supposed to do? Within the confines of my reality, this was the road that I thought would lead to the best ending.”

She thought that her death was the best outcome, because she couldn't pay for her sins with someone else’s life.

“Well, I don't plan on changing your mind,” Charlotte responded, waving her over. “Come here!”

“Why do I always have to come to you? Besides, how are you even here?”

Charlotte stood up and ran towards her, leaping into her arms. Lily failed to catch her and they tumbled onto the ground. “We both died here at this same spot, silly. You really missed me, didn't you?”

Lily let Charlotte sprawl out on top of her, averting her eyes. “... I didn't. Every second I spent as you was miserable. I don't understand how you handled being yourself.”

“Yeah? What did you do after I died?”

A heartbeat.

It electrified and resounded throughout his entire body, like his heart was trying to rip itself out of his incorporeal body. It echoed on the walls of his skin, trying to burst out and escape his shell.

He gripped his chest, falling to the floor.

“Oh, our time’s running out,” Lily noted, gazing down at him as blood choked out of his lips. “I’m not actually quite dead yet, since this space still exists.”

She held her hand over her own chest, and the other hand over his heart, whispering something he couldn’t really understand. Once she finished reciting her unknown words, she smiled, waving goodbye. 

“I hope this gives you enough time.”

His vision grew blurrier and blurrier, and Charlotte planted a soft kiss on his forehead, grinning.

Lily suddenly fell by his side, and they met eye to eye. With his last few seconds in this realm, he saw her mouth a secret sentence meant just for him.

“Don’t tell Heiter about me.”

—

Flowing silver hair, with glassy teal eyes.

Himmel blinked again, and it was gone.

Heiter gasped, exasperated, breathless. “I— I ran all over to find you.” He crushed Himmel in his arms, the both of them holding each other with little to no strength. It was a bit funny how weary both of them were.

“I’m… alive?”

Heiter grinned, poking his cheek. “Of course you are. Your older brother’s here to save you, after all.”

What his mother did at the end, Himmel felt like he knew what it was.

A giggle slipped past Himmel’s lips.

“Just like a hero.”

The day was turning dark, slight tinges of orange dripping in the sky, and the wind was beginning to pick up, temperatures dropping. The battle was over, and the day was drawing to a momentous close.

Himmel felt his heart drop. The mere fact that he was watching his mothers interact like that was nothing short of a miracle. A miracle that his brother was missing out on. This was the kind of opportunity that should’ve been granted to Heiter instead, who thought he never had a mother that cared about him.

Part of him felt like Heiter deserved to know about everything he saw, but would he knowing ruin the secret that was hidden to save his kingdom? What if knowing simply hurt him more?

Lily told him to keep her a secret. 

Heiter went silent, and averted his gaze. “... So you defeated her, huh? Mr. Hero?”

“Oh,” Himmel hesitated. He whipped his head around, and realised that even though he seemed to be in the same field of flowers before he lost his consciousness, Charlotte— Um, Lily’s body was nowhere to be found, though the puddle of blood remained. It could easily be confused for his own, but the problem was the fact that he didn’t bury her yet. His head rang, and he slightly panicked. Did someone else find her body? If they did, then her sacrifice would’ve been for naught.

He leapt to his feet, only to be stopped by Heiter grabbing his ankle.

“Himmel, what are you doing? Rest, you reckless thing,” he scolded. “Let’s wait until the search team finds both of us.”

“... The search team hasn’t gotten here yet?”

Heiter nodded. “I felt like I knew the route to get to you somehow, even though I’ve never been here before. Strange, right?”

Even though Heiter was asleep during the incident…

Himmel shook his head out of the distraction. If it wasn’t the search team that found her body, who else could it be?

Chapter Text

After lying through her teeth about the true nature of the events that had occurred, Lily ran to Himmel’s room as soon as she heard that he woke up. Everyone had to believe that “Lily” was dead, but she didn’t want Himmel to blame himself, being the only other person that saw her body.

“I killed her,” she lied. “So don’t believe anything else, okay?”

Tears flowed down her cheek, knowing that Himmel was weak to these kinds of things.

It was better her fault than his.

“H— Heiter’s mom…? Why?”

With his trembling voice, he backed away from her with eyes of fear. She wiped the tears on his face, but was shocked that he believed her so easily in the first place. He saw Charlotte on the verge of death, with torn skin and exposed bones. How in the world would Charlotte have returned in one piece, and even killed a fully-abled person while she was at it? When she pressed him more about it, she found out that he had completely forgotten about what happened.

Not a single memory of them running away.

That’s… probably for the best, right?

And if he distanced himself from her, she’d feel less terrible about her lies.

The more difficult person to overcome was the king, Anton. He’d known Charlotte his entire life, which meant that fooling him was going to be nigh impossible. That was what she thought, but when they were finally alone, he had this to say.

“You’re such a pain,” he said with a friendly sigh, his hand patting her head, chuckling. “I won't hide anything again, alright?”

That was all.

He wasn’t even concerned after she was captured and returned to the palace.

He never chose to speak of it again, but he never bothered hiding what he was doing from her either. Anton assumed she was throwing another tantrum over secrets again, which boiled over to the point that she tried to run away from him. His rationale was that he just needed to make sure she knew everything he was planning, so that she wouldn’t pull antics like burning his entire lab down again.

She was being treated like a child.

Lily didn’t know what to feel about the fact that she didn’t even have to try to lie to him. Charlotte was right, Anton would never be cross with her, but something about that was even more chilling to her than if he did get angry. He didn't feel anything? Did he know that the Charlotte he was speaking to was fake?

… Well, she was pretty sure he didn’t know. Otherwise, he would’ve forced her to continue researching. He truly believed that Lily died.

She would've preferred it if it was harder to trick him.

And that was how it went for years, until Lily found a perfect way to postpone Anton’s plans.

The spies in Historia told them news of an elf captured to be Charlotte’s old friend Regis’ replacement daughter.

Elves, with their nigh boundless lifespans, were logically the best choice for research in draining and transferring lifespan. She was even a mage. Lily told Anton that if they got their hands on her, they could have naturally long-living descendents and continuously drain her lifespan with no drawbacks. Anton agreed so easily, and Lily knew that all she needed to do was foster that elf’s hatred of her captors and oppressors in order for her to snap.

It was a shame that she had to step on Himmel and Regis to get her over here. The two people Charlotte seemed to treasure the most.

When that elf arrived, she seemed exactly like her. 

A person acting out the role of someone else without anyone really knowing. It sounded really, really familiar.

On that rainy day, when Himmel and that elf went out for a walk, she tried extracting her lifespan from a distance just to see if her plan was going to backfire or not. If she failed to push her to kill Anton in time, then Frieren’d be used for his experiments, and that wasn't at all Lily’s intentions.

Fortunately, all she succeeded at doing was cause the elf to pass out. She was lucky the elf didn't seem to notice anything! Or if she did, then she was lucky that the elf was smart enough not to comment on it.

Then she realised she played exactly into Anton’s hands. That crazy brute, he wanted to take over Historia while he was at it. His murder couldn't have come any sooner.

…

There were words she wanted to say to Frieren, but she kept it to herself. Frieren probably would've misconstrued her intentions as some kind of pity, and Lily understood that feeling well. 

Frieren, the reason you kept your name when you came here was because I insisted on it. Did you actually think you had any power over King Regis? Once you live a life with a different name, surrounded by those that don't know who you were— 

You'll end up like me.

—

Himmel trudged up the hill with the group of people sent to retrieve them, hanging off of Heiter’s shoulders. The team was comprised of people from both Historia and Roselia, laughing and celebrating between each other, singing songs and sharing jokes. It wasn’t even the party yet, and they already seemed drunk on the euphoria of the end of a difficult battle.

This was for the best, he repeated to himself. 

Wherever his mother’s body went, he needed to find an opportunity to slip away and look for it before someone else would. It would ruin everything.

He turned to Heiter, who seemed to be worse for wear than him for some reason, heavy breathing and slow steps.

… Should Himmel be the one helping him walk instead?

“Heiter, are you doing alright?”

“Don’t make me sound weaker than I already am,” Heiter responded, out of breath. “I’m ready to pass out as soon as I hit some kind of bed. Doesn’t even have to be mine.”

“You don’t want to party? I’m sure these over-excited people are going to organise one tonight. Seems like it’ll be exactly your scene.”

“Encouraging your brother to drink? Now that’s new!”

“So what? You deserve it.”

Then Himmel could slip away to look for her body while everyone’s blackout drunk.

Heiter chuckled, electing not to say anything further. Their steps up the hill was all that filled the silence, mainly eclipsed by the laughter that surrounded them.

Normally Heiter was the more chatty one. His silence was saying a lot more than usual because of it. Himmel narrowed his brows, nudging his side. “What’s wrong?”

“... It doesn't feel right. It's unnerving somehow, this situation,” Heiter explained. “I feel bad mentioning this, since everyone appears to have already moved on. Am I missing something?”

Himmel kind of understood what Heiter was talking about. Though Himmel was the one that held the answers that Heiter was missing. “I don't think losing someone is ever satisfactory, even if the outcome in the end was good.”

Heiter chuckled. “That makes me sound much like a wuss. She wasn't even our mother in the end, was she?”

“She…” Himmel’s lips parted to respond, but he caught the rest of the words at his throat. “... The identities of the other two weren't real, either. They died during the roof collapse.”

“They did? Now that's convenient for us, huh?”

“Y— Yeah,” Himmel stammered. “The demon that took the mask of our mother killed them. I’m just glad I didn't have to kill them too.”

Heiter was silent again, making Himmel gulp in his growing anxiety.

“But— I don't think you're a wuss for still loving her!” Himmel added. “There's nothing you can do about love, right? As long as you don't condone her misdeeds and such.”

“Love?” Heiter hesitated. “I wouldn't call it that. It's just…”

Heiter trailed off, unable to find the words to properly describe what he thought of her.

“... I thought I hated her,” Heiter finished. “She didn't do anything when father punished me, when she was the only one that could've stopped him.”

She couldn't, but Heiter didn't know that. He held onto this resentment while believing that he was hated too.

They were lagging behind everyone else, and Heiter finally stopped moving.

“But now that I found out that she wasn't even Charlotte, who was I despising this entire time?”

Himmel couldn't meet Heiter's eyes, still hanging off of his shoulder.

“... I don't know,” Himmel lied. “And I guess we'll never know.”

Heiter chuckled, his breath heavy. “That's terrible.”

“It was for the best.”

“I suppose. If more people got hurt I’d actually have to be competent.”

Himmel laughed, lightly nudging Heiter by the shoulder. “Now that's terrible.”

“Hah, you know what else is terrible?” Heiter asked.

Himmel turned towards him, tilting his head. Heiter gripped his shoulder, locking him in place, smiling.

“... You,” Heiter said. “You're one shitty liar.”

Himmel froze, and his eyes widened.

—

Eisen hid himself in the shadows again, watching over the two kids in the cathedral. It seemed that everyone was fine now, which meant that it was time to whisk them away and take their leave. 

But they looked like they were having fun being around other humans. They refused his offer of letting them go, insisting that they wanted to stay with the two supposedly dead criminals on the run instead of living a peaceful life among other humans.

So he decided to give them more time.

The grimoire Frieren received rested on his back. Frieren didn't want to hold it, and it would be suspicious if two kids from Historia were holding the grimoire from Roselia’s royal family. It naturally fell to him to be everyone's baggage carrier.

Eisen’s eyes landed on the king of Historia’s corpse, Regis’ corpse. He had already been collected and neatly placed next to the other king, but no one was really standing by their sides. 

If Regis had simply accepted Emilia’s death, he thought about how different things would've been, and wondered if this outcome was the better one.

Perhaps all of them would still be in Historia today, and Frieren would live happily in her village.

There was something Emilia told him before she died, the little thing bleeding in his arms.

“I didn't really want a bird.”

Even though she begged Regis for it every other day, only to be shot down because of the possible pathogens they could carry that might make her condition worse.

She looked out of her bedroom window, and a white feather gently floated in almost on cue. Emilia coughed, clutching his shirt.

“... Where's dad?”

Regis was out there trying to kill the assassin before they got away. Eisen refused to move, so Regis went out on his own alongside the rest of the knights.

Eisen didn't say anything, and held her closer to his chest.

She whimpered, the searing pain from the hole in her body too unbearable for a little girl like her, her tears drenching his clothes. She didn't ask anymore, or maybe the pain made her forget.

“... I thought that if dad got a bird, it'd be his new friend.”

Eisen nodded, helplessly watching the pool of blood around them grow bigger and bigger. 

“Because dad gets lonely really easily, you know?”

There was a fairytale she told him about once.

That when you die, you're reborn as your favourite animal, watching over your family and friends from above.

“And then he'd learn to fly with that bird, because he promised to bring me to the false sky.”

The “false sky”. Eisen didn't know if that was a real place, or if it's something that existed merely in a figment of a child’s imagination. But while she spoke, she smiled, and that smile was worth every delusion.

“... I’m sure that false sky awaits you.”

“I’m… an esteemed guest, after all.” Emilia said, giggling. “So a peasant like you’ll have to wait in line to get to me.”

“How long will that line be?”

“... As long as it could be!”

The stars in her eyes were disappearing, and he realised that her warmth was slipping away from him.

Again, he was losing someone again. So soon after his previous loss.

He knew the face she wanted to see at her death wasn't his. He knew she wanted Regis. She wanted her father. She touched and hugged him like he was Regis, not because he was Eisen.

She didn't need Regis to do the impossible, she didn't need Regis to do revenge.

She just wanted him by her side.

Why couldn't Regis do such a simple thing?

Emilia stopped moving.

Wind caressed his neck, and sent a slight chill down his spine. 

… 

Eisen closed her eyes, and gazed out the window. 

She loved her father more than anything else. 

To honour her, he decided to follow his orders. 

Though he didn't realise how far Regis was willing to go, and how far gone he was until it was too late.

— Eisen blinked, and suddenly realised that a lone figure was standing over Regis’ corpse, no one ever noticing their presence. It took him far too long to register that they were even there in the first place.

A short figure with long yellow hair and sharp, pointy ears.

Eisen clutched her shoulders and threw her back into the shadows where he stood, pressing the sharp edge of his axe against her neck. Two elusive beings that shouldn't be in this room.

The elf looked him in the eye, smirking.

“It's been milennias since a warrior ever took me off guard. You have potential, dwarf. The grimoire on your back almost had me believe you were a mage.”

Eisen gripped the hilt of his weapon, pressing it against her neck, slight blood trickling down to her collarbone.

“Who are you, elf? What do you want?”

The elf ignored his provocation, peering over to King Regis’ corpse again. “That must be Historia’s late-king.”

Eisen nodded. “He's dead. Your race’s revenge against his tyranny is over.”

“Hmm? Don’t assume my intent, dwarf. I am here out of mere curiosity.” She scoffed, resting against the wall he pressed her against. “That man slayed a disciple of mine. Is that not a feat worth admiring? Though I arrived far too late. You're a lucky one to have claimed his life for your own.”

“It wasn't I that killed him.”

“Is that so?” A sly grin spread across the elf’s face. “Who was it that had the honours?”

“... He bled out to death by Frieren’s hands.”

“I see,” the elf noted, her eyes lingering on the wounds of the dead king. “Those wounds look as if they were inflicted by physical weapons like yours. Frieren didn't use magic?”

Eisen raised his brows. “Were you from the same village?”

“No,” she answered, her voice suddenly a harsher tone. “If I was, that man and his people wouldn't have been able to take even one step into that village.”

Huh? 

“But you know of her?”

She sighed, seemingly annoyed. “I was introduced to her. She seemed like she had potential, but Flamme told me to stay away from her.” The elf’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something more, but was silent until she finally sighed again. “But I suppose that I should revisit her as well. Many changes have happened while I was idle, it seemed.”

“... She can't use her magic anymore. It was sealed away. I doubt you'll have much fun listening to her story.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widened and her lips curved into a wide smile. “How interesting.”

Without so much as a hint of movement, his axe was blown aside with a strong gust of wind, flying out of his hands. He caught it before it landed on the floor, his eyes flickering to the unmoving elf.

“Thank you, dwarf. Perhaps multiple reunions are now in order. Though there's someone I must prioritise.”

“Do not harm her,” he warned.

She scoffed. “As if I have any interest in battling weaklings.”

The elf stood up, and in the next blink she was gone.

He had never met someone like her before, and he never even got to ask for her name. Should he go after her? Was it dangerous that he let her go?

… Perhaps Frieren would gain something from meeting that elf, whoever she was. She believed she was the sole survivor up until Milliarde was said to be alive, after all.

In the corner of his eyes, King Regis’ golden crown glistened under the sunlight.

He slumped down onto the floor, making eye contact with that dead man.

Maybe the reason why he was so fixated on his death was because the sight of Frieren’s murder was still fresh on his mind. She explicitly said that she didn't want death anymore, but she didn't even seem to hesitate when she brought that knife down his torso.

It wasn't that it didn't make sense that she changed her mind. He understood more than anyone that Regis had done terrible things. 

But he also understood that he, the knight Eisen, was an accomplice of that same crime.

Frieren said she didn't blame him for following orders, but that wouldn't erase the blood of elves from her village away from his hands. It wouldn't erase the fact that he personally placed those earrings on her ears that took her magic away from her. He wanted her to punish him for his sins, but she didn't, or perhaps, she couldn't.

Yet when he saw her go through with her revenge, he realised that she was entirely capable of exacting justice.

It meant his punishment was meant to be something far greater. Something death could never be.

He didn't know what it was, but he hoped that it would be a chain that would never let him go. Take the Goddess’ place and punish him before the afterlife could. Or oblivion, or reincarnation. He didn't really know what version of the afterlife he believed in anymore.

… But then Frieren told him something peculiar.

And as your friend, I sentence you to a lifetime of living every day more fulfilling than the last.

Was he allowed to?

After all the atrocities he had committed, was that kind of ending allowed?

What constituted a fulfilling life, anyway?

Eisen took hold of his axe, and looked at his reflection on the blade. He was pretty sure that Frieren didn't know the answer to that either. When she told him those cruel words of salvation, she probably wanted to know the answers herself.

Even if he never finds that answer for himself…

… he wanted to help her find her answer instead.

“So don't give up just yet, please,” he muttered.

He didn't know if he was talking about himself or Frieren anymore. They were more alike than they seemed.

That strange elf, he wondered who she was here for if it wasn't supposed to be Frieren.

—

Lily's eyes fluttered open, and her utterly numbed body was hanging off of the back of someone else, as their footsteps crunched on dried leaves and twigs. Something thin tickled her nose, her vision that seemed like it was never going to be in focus could only assume that it was hair. Long, lemon-coloured hair and pointed ears.

“... Mast…”

She coughed, a dry one that plunged through her throat.

“So you’re not dead yet,” that voice replied to her. “How pointlessly tenacious.”

Her harsh voice that reprimanded her felt like a sweet return to home. She felt like she was smiling, though she couldn’t really feel any of her own body parts anymore. Everything was slipping away, one at a time.

Why are you here now?  

That sort of question wasn’t able to leave Lily’s lips.

… She repaid all of her sins, and was giving up her life, but a part of her still felt unfulfilled. A grown woman like herself should be mature and responsible, but she felt like a child. She should be happy to die like this, this was the death she wanted and deserved. 

They reached a clearing in the woods, and her master gently placed her down on the grass. 

It was quiet between them, like it always was. Her master had always been of few words, and much of it was probably because she didn't like Lily very much. Probably.

“... You, why did you learn magic?”

It was blurry. Lily couldn't see her master’s eyes when she was asked this question. What kind of emotion was she feeling, or was she feeling nothing at all? Her master had never been particularly expressive.

But Lily remembered that question. Her answer back then was different, but if she had to answer it again…

“To… survive.”

Her master was silent for a while, but Lily thought that she would’ve been pleased with her answer. Magic had always been for the sake of killing in her eyes, after all. And what is survival if not stepping on someone else’s right to live?

Only in this case, Lily was giving her own up for someone else's survival.

“... I see.”

That voice was as cold as always, though severely lacking in the bite, slyness and cockiness it usually had. Though Lily thought she was being delusional, it even felt a little soft. It was stupid to expect, but it sounded a little tinged in melancholy.

It was probably mere projection on Lily’s part.

… Was that what her master said back then too? Lily couldn’t really remember. It had been far longer than ten years.

She supposed that didn’t really matter anymore at this point.

The elf squatted by her side, sighing. “I had two humans buzzing around me, and I only trained them because I felt like it. You were just human. There’s no way you’d ever reach heights like mine.”

Lily knew that already. Though she didn’t know there was someone else like her. Did her master have to rub it in one last time? Right while she was going to die?

“But,” her master continued. “I never stopped thinking about both of you. The two of you were more similar than I liked.”

With a snap of her fingers, a field of lilies grew in the clearing around them.

Lily’s lips curved up into a smile, nuzzling against the petals brushing against her face. Her master watched her wordlessly, and began playing with the petals herself.

Petals that were soft, and oh so fragile. Someday, these flowers will wilt too. It reminded her of the pale garden of that night, of the wind and of the warmth. She wished that her master could be more communicative and expressive about these things sometimes. Not that it mattered anymore at this stage. 

Dwelling on useless things seemed to be the only thing she was doing on the brink of death.

Things like why her master didn't ask her about the man that was passed out in the field with her. Things like why her master didn't ask about how her life had been, or what her name was. Not that she knew her master’s name, either. How cold, she thought.

And incredibly comforting, oddly enough.

The answer was always the same.

It didn't matter.

Her crimes, her sins.

She was still her master’s disciple, even after all of those “things”.

Her master sighed, the sky overhead now a dark shade of purple, the stars waking up to greet them for the night. Lily wondered if they were all gazing upon the same sky.

“I’ll bring you where you were once those humans have all left. It seems that location meant something to you.”

Do I deserve to be buried there?

Her master didn't care about details like that, and that felt so warm.

“... Thank… you.”

A reply never came, but Lily expected that.

Ah…

Frieren, I was a little envious of you.

I chose this life, but it meant I was going to be lonely forever.

But maybe, I simply wasn't looking at the people around me. Maybe it wasn't such a bad life after all.

—

Himmel paused. “... Heiter, what are you talking about?”

Heiter shook his head. “We're not going home until you answer me. We'll stand here all night if we have to. If I die here from exhaustion and starvation, it'll be your fault.”

Heiter’s grip on Himmel’s shoulders tightened. He's serious about his very childish threat. 

“What do you think I’m lying about?”

“I don't know, and that's what's bothering me!”

Himmel gulped. This was going to be a long night.

“Your highnesses, what's the hold up?”

Someone had walked up to them to ask why they were lagging behind. Oh goodness, Himmel hoped he didn't hear the first prince earlier. Without the proper context, Heiter sounded completely unreasonable.

“Nothing!” Heiter wagged his finger in the man’s face. “We left something back there! Go ahead without us!”

“Huh?!”

Heiter took Himmel’s hand and took off back where they came from. For someone who was on the brink of collapse, Heiter had an incredible burst of energy! Was he just pretending before?

The blue flowers were coming back into view, and the sudden gust of wind blew some of the petals into the dark sky. Himmel held his ground and pulled Heiter back, pointing at the figure in the distance, lowering something into the ground. He’d never seen that person before. Long yellow hair and sharp, pointy ears. It didn’t look like it was safe to approach her, whoever this person was. Something about her aura radiated something that he should be wary of.

Heiter whispered something, and began walking towards that lone figure. Himmel grasped Heiter’s hand, mouthing warnings left and right. The priest smirked, pulling Himmel forward with him.

They ended up standing right next to her, and she didn’t have a single reaction to their presence. When they peeked into the deep hole in the ground she made, Himmel froze.

A woman with sky blue hair, drenched in blood, a smile on her now-lifeless body.

She was who this mysterious elf was burying.

Heiter’s lips parted, but no words slipped out of them. His hands trembled and curled into fists. Himmel wasn’t expecting this to be how the secret would get out.

That elf suddenly turned towards them, the ground over the woman’s corpse slowly being covered up by soil.

She pointed at Heiter’s face, her sharp eyes meeting his.

“Her blood flows in you.”

Heiter’s eyes widened. “I used a presence concealing spell.”

No wonder he approached her so confidently. Himmel thought his brother had lost his mind.

That elf snickered, her eyes brushing over Heiter’s entire appearance before then returning to the disturbed empty patch of soil in front of her. She snapped her fingers, and flowers sprouted from the ground, the same kind of flowers, with the exception of one singular white lily.

The elf plucked it, and delicately placed it into Heiter’s hands.

“... I never expected her to get a child of her own,” she muttered. 

The elf turned and disappeared with the next blinking of shadows, giving them no opportunities to ask her anything.

Who in the world was that elf? His mother was keeping a lot more secrets from him than he thought.

Heiter stared at the lily in his hands and looked at the subtle grave before him, the only indicator of a person ever buried here being the disturbed soil beneath the flowers. Heiter turned to Himmel, and chuckled. “She mistook me for you,” he said.

“... She didn’t.”

Heiter narrowed his brows, annoyed. “Himmel, quit being so vague. Her body didn’t disintegrate. Charlotte wasn’t a demon, but the mana still changed more than ten years ago.” He stomped over to Himmel and grabbed both of his shoulders. 

“Who the hell was I looking at, Himmel?”

Himmel winced, meeting Heiter’s eyes. “You already know, don’t you? You always figure things out, and you’ve always been right.”

“No,” Heiter responded. “I don’t, I don’t know. It’s wrong, it’s not true.”

“What’s not true, Heiter?”

Heiter paused, and his hands weakened, sliding down Himmel’s arms. The strength left his legs as he fell to his knees. He grasped the lily and wistfully smiled.

“... Because I hated her. Because I never knew who she was.”

Heiter met Himmel’s eyes. “Why didn’t she let me know her?”

“Because you’d hate her, she thought.” This was probably why she asked not to be identified. She didn’t want to face his eyes that looked exactly like hers.

Himmel knelt down to Heiter’s level, wrapping his arms around him. It was warm, and Heiter’s body was shaking. Himmel didn't know what he could say to comfort him, but he thought there was something he needed to know. “She was the one that named you, you know?”

Heiter gave a wry smile, slowly accepting his embrace. “That makes sense. I always thought it was odd that Charlotte or Anton would give me such a positive prayer.”

His name was used as a way to mock him. That his name wasn’t “royal” enough. Anton meant “invaluable and priceless”, and was also related to flowers. Charlotte was a name reserved for those related to the royal family, “the free man”, and Himmel’s meant the sky and the heavens. All larger-than-life names that transcended the traditional naming conventions.

Heiter simply meant “cheerful”.

People thought the royal family was announcing to the world how worthless he was to them by giving him such a simple name.

The problem didn’t stem from the fact that Heiter was despised.

The problem was the fact that he wasn’t despised. No one despised him. Anton had no reason to despise a son he held no expectations for beyond his identity as a hostage, and Charlotte definitely didn’t despise the son of the woman she loved. She simply didn’t live long enough for him to understand that she didn’t.

But even though he wasn’t despised, he wasn’t loved. It was far easier to believe that he was hated, because the idea that the people around him simply didn’t care at all hurt even more. He wanted to matter to them, even for a little. Indifference was scarier than hatred.

Himmel pulled away and pulled at Heiter’s cheeks. “That’s why you have to smile. That’s what she wanted for you.”

Heiter scowled, but didn’t stop Himmel from pulling his face. “That’s so selfish. Did she really think I could smile all the time when Anton was around?”

Himmel chuckled. “All parents are selfish, one way or another. Just by bringing you into this world, she wanted you to live.”

“I doubt it was that simple,” Heiter replied. “But that sounds nice, so I’ll take it.”

Heiter turned towards the disturbed soil that blanketed her entire body and placed the lily over the soil, putting his hands together in a prayer. Moonlight shone over them, and the chirping of birds began to settle down. Himmel put his hands together too, and closed his eyes.

Mom, mother.

Rest well.

I hope you weren’t expecting to keep the secret from Heiter forever, because he found out pretty quickly. My bad, but I didn’t have the courage to do such a thing to him.

He’s a full grown adult, not your little child sleeping in the orphanage all on his own anymore. I trust him, with my entire life.

Himmel’s eyes fluttered open, and he found Heiter piling rocks on top of one another.

“... You used to topple my rock piles all the time,” Himmel said, a hint of bitterness still in his tone.

“Are we bringing things up from the past now? I hated you for having a mom so I messed with you, it’s old news by now.”

Himmel paused. “Wait, what? You did?” He genuinely thought their relationship had always been good. Heiter held a grudge against him once? He suddenly felt incredibly stupid.

Heiter looked at him in disbelief, bursting out into laughter. “My goodness, you thought I was ruining your fun for no reason.”

It appeared that his perceptiveness definitely still needed some work. Himmel laughed, picking up another rock and piled it on top of Heiter’s. 

“Let’s come back here sometime. We’ll build a new, huge rock pile here every time to make it easier for us to find her.”

Heiter nodded, running his fingers across the disturbed soil where she was buried. There was a long pause between them, as Heiter's fingers traced over every crevice.

“... Himmel, return before me. I’ll join you later.”

His brother thought he could be sneaky? “No, I’ll stay with you until you’re done.”

Heiter giggled, his gaze downcast, faced away from Himmel as he removed his glasses. With his shaky, weak voice, he spoke. “I really, really hate you.”

“And I really, really love you,” Himmel replied, giggling in turn.

The rock pile was their promise, and it was going to stay up this time, no matter how strong the winds that weather it would be.

—

Frieren sighed, and began to walk away. She was in the forest near that field of blue, and was supposed to be the one to get rid of “Charlotte’s” body. A lot of things went wrong. Himmel wasn’t supposed to be poisoned. Himmel wasn’t supposed to jump with “Charlotte”, and…

She stopped moving, frowning. A figure stepped out of the shadows of the trees before her, wearing her usual mask of pride. That person stood between Frieren and her ending.

“... Serie, what in the world were you doing with the queen?”

It was the elf with long lemon hair and sharp, pointy ears. Flamme’s master, the bloodthirsty elf, a legend even among elves, who existed since the times the Goddess still walked the earth. She had so much power, but she didn’t do anything to stop the attack on Frieren’s village.

Serie smirked. “Is that the first thing you say to me? We only just met a few years ago.”

For elves, “a few” could mean numbers far larger than what humans would use the word for.

“You—”

Serie flashed in front of her, her fingers brushing against the ruby teardrop earrings on her human-like ears. Narrowing her eyes, she muttered to herself. “That dwarf was speaking of the truth.”

Frieren flinched and backed away, clutching those earrings. “This doesn’t concern you. I doubt you even actually care. Leave and continue idling away like you always do.”

Serie’s hands remained suspended in the air, and she hesitantly placed it back down to her sides. 

“Whatever,” she said. “I don’t care, if that’s what you want to believe.”

“Then goodbye,” Frieren replied, beginning to walk by her.

A hand stopped her, holding her by her wrist. Frieren sighed, turning to Serie again. 

“You killed the king of Historia,” Serie said. “It is a feat not even Flamme accomplished.”

“And?”

“... I’ll reward you for your efforts,” she said, eyeing the earrings on Frieren’s ears.

Frieren shook her hand off of her wrist. “I didn’t do that for a reward. I don’t want to be rewarded. It was a murder, plain and simple. Spare your rewards on someone you actually find potential in.”

“Then use it to atone,” Serie insisted. She averted her eyes to the field of blue behind them. “... Elves really do get stranger once they mingle around humanity.”

Serie had never been good at being honest with herself before. Frieren relented. “You won’t let me refuse, will you?”

“Only this once,” Serie responded. “I don’t wish to see you any more than I have to, either.”

“... I don’t hate you,” Frieren clarified.

Serie didn’t say anything in return but she quietly nodded, her hands rising to the clasps on the back of Frieren’s ears.

Just like that, both of those earrings fell away from Frieren’s ears.

Serie placed it in Frieren’s hands. “They used Flamme’s earrings as host for their curse. That’s…”

Serie sighed and turned away. “We’ll see each other again. Perhaps soon, perhaps never.”

In a blink, she was gone. Frieren didn’t get to ask why Serie was even here in the first place with “Charlotte”. She supposed their relationship will remain only between the two of them. Serie even used the spell for flower fields that she dubbed useless and a waste of time. Frieren chuckled, for no particular reason at all.

… Wait.

Frieren’s hands shot to her ears, trailing the rim that was now longer than it was before, her fingers stopping at the pointy tip. She pressed against it, and it was physical, it was cold. She pulled at it, and she paused, as if she wanted to absorb the warmth of her hands onto her ears.

She looked at the earrings in her hands, and closed her fingers over them, putting them into the pocket of her cloak.

… Atone? What did that even entail?

Beneath her nails, she saw the blood from the murder she committed. All over her body was his blood that she never wiped away. Blood that she couldn’t wipe away, because it was so, so very sticky. So what if she got her magic back? So what if she “atoned”?

This blood will never, never go away.

She looked up to the moon, and began walking through the dark forest, moonlight creeping in from between the leaves. Her body was still incredibly light, and the wind that grazed her skin felt like it passed through her body. She felt neither cold nor warm, it was freeing, heading to where she was going.

Rustling from behind her, she turned, expecting it to be some woodland critter, but her eyes widened.

Please, not now.

“Frieren?”

He still stood in the shadows, but she could tell him by his silhouette, by his voice, by his presence. It was so sweet, so alluring.

She regretted not being further away from where he was, so that this mistake wouldn’t happen. There were so many ways he could’ve stumbled onto her, but she didn’t realise that he actually would.

“I’m heading to the cathedral. Eisen and the others are still there.”

“Oh,” Himmel said. “Right, but, that’s the opposite direction of the cathedral.”

She pressed her lips together and turned away.

Himmel’s eyes widened. “Your ears,” he pointed out. “You took them off. You can use magic now!”

His excitement stung. “Yes, I can.”

Himmel smiled, remaining rooted where he was. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, I’ll leave now.”

“Oh, wait a moment.” 

He took one step towards her, and removed a handkerchief from his pocket. Frieren hesitated, but let him approach her. He gently took her hand, and wiped it. Wiped the blood that she couldn’t wipe away. He met her eyes and smiled again. “All clean. Take the handkerchief and wipe the other parts of your body yourself.”

His hands were so warm, but she shivered at every touch. He was so close, and she did everything she could to not stare at him for too long. She’d rather he wiped all the blood off of her himself, all the blood on her body, all the ones beneath her clothes, even though it wasn’t going to mean anything. A part of her thought he’d be able to do it, because she couldn’t. She looked beneath her nails again and wistfully smiled, taking his handkerchief if only to get him to stop talking to her. It felt like his hands would’ve lingered over hers forever if she didn’t pull away.

“... Before I go, do you want to try flying?”

Frieren didn’t know why she was prolonging this conversation herself, and silently hoped that he’d refuse.

His eyes glimmered. “Really?!”

But of course, he wasn’t going to.

Frieren unconsciously smiled, taking his hand, just for a bit.

Only for the very last time.

Chapter Text

To fly?

Himmel didn't think that this was the direction their final conversation was going to take. She held both of his hands and slipped her fingers between his, their palms pressing together. 

Her hands were ice-cold, and the shock from it caused him to giggle.

“Why laugh?” she asked.

He looked into her eyes and slightly wavered. They were a glassy teal that used to reflect him so clearly, but he couldn't see himself in her eyes at all. It was…

“Hmm,” he pondered. “Can it be for no reason? It's been a long day.”

She chuckled. “I suppose it has.”

Frieren had been laughing so much easier recently. Ever since she told him she was a hollow feather— a slave to the wind’s whims, she truly seemed far lighter than before, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Like she was utterly and completely weightless.

If she's laughing, he supposed it really might be fine.

Without a second of delay, Frieren lifted up into the air, taking him with her. 

The night-wind was chilling, and he closed his eyes reflexively once his legs lost contact with the ground. Moments passed in darkness, and all he felt was the coldness of her hands grasping his.

Then a gentle whisper lilted. 

“Take a deep breath.”

He smiled. Not a single word of encouragement. He used to think it was cold, but now it only seemed endearing. He would never fall to his death in her hands— she didn't even fathom that it was a concern of his, so she never addressed it.

He wondered how it would be like to be so self-assured.

The wind blossomed around him, and he couldn't help but to quell his curiosity. 

Ever so slightly, he squinted his eyes open, and then they widened if only to take in all the wondrous sights in the distance and forevermore. It was like their first night together, when she showed him how boundless the world could be from above.

Rivers were like winding, interconnected threads. Villages were like the toys he used to play with when he was younger, and fog obscured the mountains that were too far away. Like it had consumed it into its belly. To see what was hidden, he would've needed to walk there himself.

The leaves that crunched beneath his feet were nowhere to be seen, and in the far distance atop the cliff was the cathedral. The hulking building that was so colossal now seemed like a tiny speck that could fit in the palms of his hands. The field of flowers nearer to them was a mere patch of blue, and Himmel could hardly see his brother's sleeping body by their late mother’s makeshift rock pile tombstone.

Heiter looked like a little dot down there. It made him feel satisfied after being shorter than him his entire life.

Himmel pointed at the castle in the distance, gasping. “Is that patch of white my mother’s garden of lilies?!”

Frieren squinted, nodding. “I didn't think the size was astronomical enough to be seen from this far.”

She'd been there before? He supposed it was possible she wandered around while he was at class. Maybe Lily kidnapped her there once for tea. 

“Can we go there from here?”

Frieren shrugged. “I don't see why not. I doubt people were tending her garden while a war was raging at the cathedral next door.”

She took his hand and they swept through the wind so quickly it only took several panicked blinks for his feet to touch the ground. His hair was whipped up in the frenzy, his body trembling. He was pretty sure a part of his soul had been left behind in that forest.

Himmel had never loved having something beneath his feet this much. His knees collapsed, his heart beating out his chest. He turned to Frieren and realised that the hand gripping hers was leaving a red mark on her wrists and quickly pulled away, gasping for air.

Couldn't she at least warn him?!

Frieren squatted down to his level, pressing her hand against his head. “It doesn't seem like you're sick,” she said, frowning. “Why are you reacting like this? I thought you wanted to come here.”

She's serious…

“Frieren—” he spat out, sucking in air. “Um— Thanks. Sorry for hurting your hands.”

Man, he couldn't even scold her.

“You're welcome?” Frieren responded. “It doesn't hurt, you can hold my hands as tightly as you want.”

She couldn't even tell that he was scared. 

“Pfft…” 

He started laughing. The insanity of his day overwhelmed him to the point that all he could do was laugh. His limbs had gotten so wobbly that he collapsed backwards onto the flowers.

Soft, delicate petals that tickled his skin and neck. When you're in the sky, the things in the distance don't really feel that real until you get closer yourself. He glanced to the side, and spotted a familiar tree from the vision he was shown. In the moonlight, it did look like the tallest thing around that wasn’t a building.

He giggled. 

So that was where they first met.

Now gazing directly towards the skies, he thought the moon would look smaller if he was further down, but it kind of looked the same. The moon was so far away that it didn’t matter where he stood in the world. Stars twinkled like glitter, obscured partly by mist-like clouds.

… When his mother said to fly, was this the sight she wanted him to see?

Charlotte probably didn't mean it in that way. The skies were the furthest away from everyone else in the world, so that was probably what she wanted. To get away from everything, to get to the untouched skies that rejected humanity’s impure corruption that had already seeped into the very grounds they walked on.

But, he smiled.

The world was really, really pretty.

With his power, he could probably make the ground a home. He wanted to see that future, where everyone saw how beautiful the world was, and humanity didn't need to look to the skies for an impossible ideal. If they were even a tiny bit like the skies, then it would be enough.

He wanted to show his mother that the ground wasn't to be feared.

He giggled, and mustered what little strength he had left to throw his arms around Frieren's body. Resting his head on her shoulder, he felt so giddy, like he was a child again.

“Thank you.”

Frieren froze, but he was glad that he couldn't see her face at this moment.

She probably didn't understand what he meant, since she's already free. She already understood that, because she'd always been able to see the ground for its value. She thought the flowers he took for granted were beautiful. 

As expected, Frieren didn't say anything back, nor did she reciprocate his embrace. 

He pulled away, and wiped away a lone tear that squeezed out of the corner of his eye with one hand, the other now holding her hand.

“I was confused about what to do from now on, but I think I got it.”

“... Yeah? What is it?”

Her entire body was cold. She'd been out here for a while. It was as if he was hugging some kind of solid elf-shaped breeze.

“I’ll make the world a better place. Mom laid the path for me. If I negotiate with Historia, I might be able to end the demon king with them! And once that happens, people won't fear magic and elves anymore, right?”

He felt her fingers stiffening, but her smile betrayed the gesture. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “When you're out there, you'll be able to do anything you want. Endless flower fields, everywhere. You have your magic back, anything’s possible, because—”

“— Because a mage can do anything as long as it's within their realm of imagination,” she continued, interrupting him, her face a solemn gaze.

Himmel chuckled. “So it's a common saying? That's incredible. I wish I had the proficiency for magic, but Heiter told me to give up and focus on my swords. I’m glad he did, though. I think I’m quite good at it.”

Roselia may have adopted an anti-magic stance like the rest of the other kingdoms, but they never threw away the grimoires and teachings they already had. It was probably why the rest of the world didn't like Roselia very much, and why Roselia was more open to magic than every other place. In a way, Himmel was glad that this was where he was born.

She smiled, looking into his eyes. “After all that’s happened, I think your positivity’s the most incredible part.”

“Wow, I am amazing,” he said, giggling. “This was all my mother's plan, though. All I've done so far is dream an idealistic dream.”

She shook her head.

“You made a choice to stand up for everyone, and she trusted that you'd make that choice. If you didn't, the plan wouldn't have turned out the way it did. It was your choice that stopped the war from escalating. For you humans, this probably matters the most.”

He smiled.

“But I killed her. If it was my choice, doesn't that make me a murderer?”

Frieren froze, and he found her staring at her fingers again. Her lips quivered, and her cold hands started shaking.

Himmel’s eyes widened.

He didn't realise that he said it out loud.

“Oh, I’m fine!” He explained, interlocking their fingers together, smiling. “Today was— my first time killing someone. I understand that it has to be done, and dwelling on it isn't good. I’m bothered, but I can get past it with time. Heiter has more to think about than me, really. I suffered nothing in comparison. I— I’m not a murderer, it was out of necessity.”

He was lying, and her piercing gaze on him knew that he was.

“... Who cares? She was going to die by jumping off that cliff even if you hadn’t stabbed her. Could you really qualify as her murderer?”

He felt a lump form in his throat. “Well, it’s less about who actually did the final strike, and more about the principle…”

“So you’re admitting you did kill her?”

“I…”

His mouth clamped shut. He couldn't say it.

He merely wished that his mother didn't feel so pushed and so alone that she felt like she needed to sacrifice herself to save the kingdom. If he had made even a little bit of effort to understand her, maybe she wouldn't have needed to see death as her only solution.

Frieren sighed. “Let’s say you didn’t stab her, but she leapt to her own death. Are you still going to blame yourself for it? That’s foolish. The least you can do is respect her choice and acknowledge that she was her own undoing.”

“... Am I not allowed to feel anything at all?”

She tilted her head. “It’s merely death,” she said. “An unfortunately meaningless one like every other death. It didn’t need to happen, but it’ll happen anyway without fail. Is the fact that it happened earlier than it should’ve truly such a big deal? You aren’t the Goddess, you have no way of knowing when someone’s supposed to die. Whether you personally drove that sword between her guts or not, the outcome remains the same. She dies nonetheless. It’s a waste, but everything returns to waste one day. Being upset at the natural order is a foolish endeavour.”

…

Himmel felt a chill down his spine. It was cold, colder than the breeze of the night-wind. He forgot that the person in front of him was utterly inhuman, different from him in the time that they lived and the life that they led.

She gripped his hands, as if the words she spoke were words of comfort.

“... You're right. I want to save my kingdom because I feel like I failed my mother— But my feelings are a little more selfish than that,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. Her eyes were filled with resignation. “I just want to be a good person, too. If that means I get to honour her death in the process, then that's a plus.”

“... Hah,” she huffed. “She surely didn't die for you to throw yourself to the demon king.”

“Don't word it like that.”

“What if the king is just as human as you?”

His eyes widened, softening to a smile. 

“Humans make choices, and if they're actively destructive, someone has to stop them.”

She pulled her forehead away, sighing.

“Even if it turns you into a murderer?”

He wondered which king they were speaking of at this point. Maybe that didn't matter.

“... Thanks, Frieren. I know you’re trying to protect me, but I want to do this. I know I’ll be alright,” he responded, clasping his hands over her ice-cold ones. “Time will surely heal my wounds, but will it heal yours?”

She raised her brows, staring down at her own body. “I’m fine. The blood splattered all over me isn’t mine.”

He chuckled, but he knew that the gap between them was only going to grow larger and wider if he let this one go with a laugh again. He always let the things she said pass him by, but he never thought to read into them any deeper.

She's tired of blaming, and when she wept a long time ago, it was for the people she believed she failed. She believed that she let go, but she hadn't. In her heart was a weight she held onto and pretended not to see. Even her weeping was abruptly stopped by her sleep. Subconsciously, she believed that not crying for them meant she had accepted their deaths.

It might be fine. Not everyone released their feelings with tears. If he told her she was dealing with it wrongly, he'd have to prove that he was doing it the right way. He didn't know how he was supposed to deal with death either.

In her eyes, they were probably doing the same thing. She probably thought he was heading down the same path she did.

Then, could he really do nothing?

He opened his arms wide, smiling. “Never mind, I don't feel good right now. Won't you comfort me?”

“... I didn't get to say anything earlier, but I just told you about the blood. You shouldn't get this on you. Go to your brother.”

“But he's all the way back there, and you're the one here with me right now,” he whined.

“I can get you to him in a few seconds—”

“I don't care about the blood. There's plenty of blood on me too, and only some of it isn't mine,” he interjected, reaching out to her cheek, chuckling. “Does it bother you?”

Frieren froze, and he felt her heavy breath tickle his fingers. She glanced down at her own fingers, clenching them into fists.

“... I’m only relieved Heiter found you in time to heal you,” she answered, pressing her cheek against his palm. Her skin was still cold to the touch when he pulled her into his arms. This time, she reluctantly put her hands around him, burying herself in his chest.

“I don't think I’m the right person to go to for comforting,” she muttered. 

Himmel tightened his grasp around her waist. “This is all I need.”

This was all he could do for her.

“... Alright.”

—

He's a liar. Himmel, more than anyone, would be afraid of blood.

Frieren glanced up to Himmel and nestled her nose in his shoulder. It was unbearable how warm he was. If she closed her eyes, she felt like she could melt into his arms to the land of dreams. She didn't want to sleep, however. What was waiting for her was surely an unpleasant dream.

But when he's holding her, it felt like everything was fine.

He's naturally kind, that was why he could hold her even though she felt like her own body was slipping through her fingers. Like the ground was going to swallow her whole at any moment.

His heart was racing at a rather astronomical rate. He must be scared. This punk. If he was going to be like this, why act so confident? 

“... Are you sure you want to defeat the demon king?” she asked.

“I have to…” he mumbled.

“I don't believe you are strong enough to do it, even with the strength of two armies,” she said. “After the death of both of its reigning monarchs, your kingdom is in a fragile condition. You can't afford to care for it and participate in the war at the same time.”

Give up, please.

“I’m going to try anyway,” he replied. 

…

Frieren sighed. 

She knew it was pointless saying these things to him, the same way it was pointless trying to convince Flamme that her idea to team up with the kingdom of Historia simply because they expressed interest in a village full of magic users was a bad one.  Everything was pointless.

Humans with dreams were singlehandedly the most stubborn beings in the world— gladly marching into death if it meant they could get even a glimpse of their gold. Even though they had so much light left in their world, they're willing to throw it away just like that.

No gold is worth the inevitable wither.

But humans never acknowledge that. Maybe it's because they didn't live forever, so the pain of withering would only last for a moment. Maybe it was because of how easy it was for humans to forget, so withering meant little to them.

He'd never understand her. She'd never understand him. 

She chuckled, staring down at the blood beneath her nails. She whispered something she had always thought from the start.

“You’re a hero through and through.”

He was a human just like Flamme, and just like her, he'll die too.

Then, only until he fell asleep, she planned on staying in his arms. Once he did, she'd leave so as not to see his end.

…

Frieren’s eyes widened. 

Behind him, she saw a shadow of a daunting silhouette.

Something whooshed through the air at light-speed.

Frieren pushed Himmel down to the ground and reached out her hand to create a magical barrier, a glowing shield covering them.

The thrown axe lodged itself into her shield, and behind the scattered magical particles was a tall man donning the armour of a knight from Historia. Short gray hair, wielding another large axe on his back.

“Your… majesty,” his deep voice rumbled, his steps towards them a heavy weight.

The magical barrier shattered, and his first axe fell to the flowers. He pointed his second to Frieren’s face, the blade end barely scraping her skin.

“Why are you so friendly with the demon that killed my king?”

In his eyes was a bloodlust she couldn't dare describe. Upon closer inspection, she realised that she recognised him. Wirbel. He's the head of the knights of Historia, and was the reason why she knew about the hidden compartments in the knight’s armour. Why was he even in the late queen’s garden?

Wirbel’s eyes narrowed, snickering. “I came here to find some leverage for my kingdom, I’ll admit that. Currently we have no monarch ready to lead us, and if Roselia chooses to betray us instantly, we would have no way of defending ourselves.”

The tip of his axe pressed against her nose.

“So now tell me, uncrowned king.”

Blood drew, and she felt the cold fluid trickling down her to her lips.

“Is this entire event an orchestrated hoax to kill my king, while making yourselves appear like fellow victims? Are you going to take Historia from us while we're down?”

They never spoke much back then, but Wirbel had never been comfortable around her. He was part of their race’s genocide, after all. He knew she had been an elf this entire time, but couldn't do anything about it due to King Historia’s orders to protect her and chain her in the palace.

“I am a demon, aren't I?” she asked.

Frieren blankly glared into his hostile eyes. “If that's what you believe, why haven't you killed me yet?”

The man sneered. “I may not look it, but I don't actually like unnecessary bloodshed.”

She wryly chuckled. “Extending your sympathies even for the demon that killed your king? How foolish.”

“I can say the same to you,” he responded. “Why haven't you killed me yet? I imagine it's quite risky for me to see the two of you like that. Traitors of humankind.”

Despite the man’s confidence, the axe was trembling. She could feel it against her skin.

He's scared of her. Or maybe it was because they had once been princess and knight.

She clenched her hands into fists, feeling her nails dig into her palms.

“Sir Wirbel, put your weapon down,” Himmel commanded.

“You have not answered my question, your majesty.”

“She's…” Himmel hesitated. “Frieren isn't a threat.”

Wirbel burst into laughter.

“Do all members of royalty find the commoners brainless? I know what I saw. The sight of my king being slashed over and over was etched deep into my mind.” Wirbel steadied his grip on his axe with both hands. “She may be safe to be around now, but she is a ticking timebomb, and that's more dangerous than any normal threat.”

Frieren sighed. This conversation wasn't going anywhere. 

She whispered a spell and a spear of light pierced a fine hole clean through Wirbel’s abdomen.

The impact blew him back onto the ground, dyeing the white lilies a dark, dripping red. She stood up and put her hand out towards him, and another flash of light tore a hole through his thigh. And another, and another, and another.

She couldn't hear anything else but the wet, sticky sounds of the pieces of his flesh staining the flowers around them.

Wirbel began inching backwards, blood spewing out from his mouth, swinging his axe around. He winded his arm and blindly chucked it. The axe was blocked by a barrier she formed right before it could slice into her, and both of them watched it fall onto the ground. His breaths were heavy. She could almost hear him breathe through the gap in his neck. It sounded like the soft yet shrill tune of a whistle.

She picked up his axe, and arched her hands up into the air behind her.

His arrogant eyes from before were filled with fear, his entire body trembling. The moonlight lit up his facial expressions clearly. She could see her own face through the reflection of his eyes.

… Pathetic.

What is a life full of constant struggling like, she briefly wondered. It must be a sad, sad life. 

If only this man had given up, he'd be as at peace as her.

She fixed her grip on the heavy axe’s handle, hoping to bring it down his skull in one go.

— ”Frieren!”

Someone grabbed her arm and wrapped themself around her body. Frieren’s eyes widened and her body froze. She turned back and it was Himmel, holding her arms together. “Put the axe down, please,” he pleaded.

“He’ll die from his wounds anyway, Himmel. Would you rather he bleed to death? I didn’t take you for someone so cruel.”

“This— this is my responsibility. We can still talk, let's bring Heiter over and heal his wounds,” Himmel said, tightening his grip on the axe’s handle over her fingers. “I’ll handle it, please.”

Her eyes softened, relishing the warmth pressing against her back. It was only warm and nothing more. Himmel gripped the axe and pulled it through Frieren’s fingers, but just as he did, Wirbel lunged at the both of them, arms stretched out for the axe.

Himmel couldn’t react in time, his hands stuck in a trembling stasis. He’s scared. He’s scared of killing again, because Wirbel was merely trying to survive an unjust attack from a demon that wouldn’t talk to him. He was defending himself, and if Himmel struck he would be a murderer with no justification. He'd be killing an innocent person who was also in fear.

As she thought, only someone who has let go would be able to do this kind of thing without worrying.

She should've killed Wirbel instantly.

It was just that, maybe, she wanted to give him a chance to live.

What a shame.

Frieren raised her hand, and a spear of light appeared—

— Tearing a hole through the centre of Wirbel’s forehead.

…

Wirbel slumped against the snow white flowers, his blood pooling all around his mangled corpse, staining his surroundings in gore and shattered bones. 

She looked down at her dress, and more blood had splattered onto her clothes. She sighed, and heard the sound of the axe falling onto the ground. 

Himmel stared at Wirbel’s almost unrecognizable corpse that looked like a splatter of red paste more than a human being that was once alive for an extremely, extremely long time.

She took one step towards him, her hands outstretched towards his shoulder. “Himmel—”

Himmel slapped her hands away.

Frieren froze, her hands suspended mid-air.

His eyes widened, seemingly shocked at his own reaction.

Oh.

Oh.

Himmel flinched.

Well, it wasn't like she wasn't expecting this.

She retracted her hand and took several steps back.

“I killed him,” she confirmed. “When they find his corpse, tell them that he was trying to protect you from me, who survived the initial attack from Charlotte. He managed to take me down with him in a very difficult and grueling battle.”

Himmel’s lips parted ever so slightly, but he pressed them together in forced silence. He hesitantly nodded.

“... Someone needed to stop him,” he muttered, wrapping his hands around himself and gripping hard at the cloth of his own sleeves. “Humans make choices, and if they're actively destructive, someone has to stop them.”

He wasn't looking into her eyes like he usually did. His eyes met the petals drenched in blood, pressing his lips together as if he wanted to retch at any moment.

Frieren wistfully smiled, hiding her hands behind her back.

The sight of Himmel like this was exactly what she wanted, and exactly what she deserved. It truly should've been like this from the start.

“You were thinking that we could've talked to him. That he was open to listening, and that it didn't have to go this way,” Frieren said. “King Regis had it coming, but you couldn't give me a proper excuse in your head to justify my murder this time.”

Himmel raised his head and finally met her eyes. “We— we could've talked. He wanted to talk!”

“It doesn't matter what I say to Wirbel. He's already convinced himself that I am an unstable monster that could harm more people than just the king in the future. Speaking any more is a waste of time.”

“So instead of proving him wrong, you prove him right?!”

…

Frieren’s eyes softened, meeting his determined, strong eyes. His unbreaking sky blue eyes.

She wondered what it would be like to be such a pure, good person.

“So you think I’m a monster too, Himmel.”

Himmel froze, but he didn't refute her.

She released a long breath.

What a relief.

This time, she really wouldn't cry.

Because this was an opportunity to finally be carried away by the wind.

She outwardly stretched out both her arms to her sides, chuckling.

“Do you still want to embrace me? All this blood— none of it is mine.” 

“I…”

He looked at her face, and maybe he wanted to point out the trickle of blood on her nose, but that wasn't an answer.

The mere fact that he was hesitating was enough. He's a liar. The kindest liar in the world. She wasn't the good person he said she was. This heavy feeling welling up inside her heart, she needed to keep it locked away. Far, far away where she could never find it anymore.

She turned towards the sky, taking a deep, deep breath.

Frieren was a heartless, dangerous monster.

This is atonement. She wondered if Serie would be satisfied with this answer. 

“Your heart is soft, Himmel. You hate cruelty more than anything. Think of me as a bad dream, and you'll soon live long enough to forget all about me. As a hero like yourself…”

She slowly approached him, wading through the field of white lilies. Frieren took his hand, still irritatingly warm, placing the axe she picked up firmly into his grip. She tilted the blade end towards her chest.

Frieren continued her sentence with a light smile.

“... You'll kill me, won't you?”

Chapter Text

“You should've died along with the rest of them.”

Wirbel thought it was pure hatred that drove him to say that to her.

She's creepy, she doesn't say a thing. Not even when he said blatantly hostile things.

In the sun-drenched bedroom, the knight scoffed at how pristine everything seemed to be. Not a speck of dust could be seen, even if he squinted through the bright sun rays. He felt dirty for even stepping in here with shoes on. Wirbel could hardly believe that the late princess had been killed in here, especially when a creature allegedly resembling the princess was lying unconscious in that bed like she had owned it this entire time. 

Sir Eisen brought her here and left immediately, but Wirbel was told to stay and keep watch until the next guard patrol rotation.

The curtains gently billowed into the room, its floor-to-ceiling length making it so that the curtain would not slap the face of the person sleeping in the bed by the window.

His gaze unconsciously followed the beams of sunlight to the soft contours of her slumbering face, her eyes still wet and her hair a glistening silver.

He turned away. That was far too uncanny. 

Wirbel had never seen the late princess before, but the elf’s somewhat green eyes and silver hair could've easily tricked him into believing that she was part of Historia’s royal family.

When she laid down here quietly like this, he could almost believe that she wasn't the elf that wiped out at least half of the knight’s order all on her own. As he expected, mages were extremely dangerous. Was it right for his king to bring this elf back for such a sentimentally stupid reason like “my daughter has returned to me”? Just because she resembled her? Even if they had the trinkets to inhibit her magic, it wasn't completely risk-free to welcome the person whose family you killed into your home. There's a limit to human delusion, and this has long crossed it.

Maybe he should negotiate with Sir Eisen to persuade the king to change his mind. As long as she's unconscious like this, they still had the chance to kill her without any excess difficulties. 

Wirbel nodded to himself, hastily turning to the door.

… And he had passed by the same marble statue of a feather at least five times. He had enough self awareness to admit that he was pretty sure the castle did not have five identical marble feather statues that stretched to the glass ceiling in the very centre of five identical dove sanctuaries. Though he wouldn't put it above the king’s strange tastes to actually install four more of these if the idea was suggested to him.

Bugger, this stupid fucking building is too big, and all the hallways look the same. It's all white and eerily reflective, all of it!

A servant ran past him, and Wirbel unwittingly began following him if only for a hint of a way out of this maze. The same hallways winded again, and he somehow found himself back to the princess’ bedroom, its door ajar.

Hushed murmurs from all the servants overlapped one another in there, but Wirbel couldn't make out any specific words they're saying. Why were they even making so much noise in there? The “princess” was sleeping. Even Wirbel knew enough about manners that it meant he should be quiet.

Wait, other people are in there?

Shit, they caught him slacking off. 

Wirbel shrugged.

He supposed that he'll get another earful from Sir Eisen. Oh well, what's another scolding? It's not like he’ll get sacked for this. In fact, pissing him off would mean that Sir Eisen would walk to him instead of the other way around. Screw dealing with this rich kid’s vanity project of a building.

He cracked the door open, steeling himself for a firm smack on the head.

…

“... What?”

The window by the bed was wide open, the curtains swept to the sides. His eyes darted to the bed, its sheets messily torn apart.

The elf who should be in the bed was nowhere to be seen.

He pushed past the swarm of servants crowding by the window, peering his head out to the ground far below.

He squinted through the thin layer of clouds.

On that ground, far, far below, was a growing pool of red. In the centre was a girl with silver hair, splayed out in a way that seemed like she definitely cleanly broke those bones. The edges of her white dress were stained red, the red slowly spreading throughout the white cloth like some kind of parasitic disease. 

He sneered, gripping the ledge of the wall.

It turned out that being sacked was on the horizon after all. 

Maybe his head would roll too, and the puddle of blood he'll create would be even larger than hers.

But she made the right decision for everyone involved. She is a demon, after all. If he cleared the king of his delusions, then Wirbel's neglect could even be heroic. Now, how should he go about twisting this to his advantage?

While Wirbel agonized over his potential death penalty, something small flew past him. Someone with a large, metallic helmet, and a long, red draping cape. Damn, that guy's quick.

Wait, I’m standing by the window.

He peered down the window again in disbelief. “Sir Eisen?!”

That red cape swaying with the wind was all he could see as the figure grew smaller and smaller through the thin layer of clouds. Does Sir Eisen know what doors are?!

Oh, geez. Wirbel slammed his hand down on a random servant's shoulder.

“You. Bring me down there this instant!”

…

It was a miracle, really. How he survived letting the king’s “daughter” leave his sight, and…

In the somewhat sun-drenched bedroom, the knight scoffed at how pristine everything pretended to be. The room used to let more light in. Now it seemed like a space that was more up his alley. A room that didn't lie about its appearance. For a room that should still be all white, it looked like he was surrounded in a rather dull shade of soot that clogged his lungs from breathing properly. 

Money and influence are terrifying. He knew it was. That's why he agreed to be a knight for the royal family, but he didn't realize how much power that could give you until now. He merely wanted the power to protect people.

Wirbel could hardly believe that the elf in front of him had ever been injured. 

Or perhaps the Goddess simply didn't think it was her time yet.

He glanced at the window separating them from the outside world; thick, sturdy metal bars with gaps so thin you could hardly fit a finger through them let small strips of sunlight onto the bed. 

His gaze followed the beams of sunlight to the soft contours of her face, the king caressing her silent tears and whispering promises of showering her with endless love, warmth, and affection.

He turned away. It was uncomfortable, like an icy phantom hand had run across his skin.

When she sat so still like that, in a room that had been completely rid of all sharp and choke-able objects, he almost thought he could pity her. An elf that had killed so many and will kill many more had she kept her dastardly magic. Even someone like that was a creature he could pity.

The king left first, but Wirbel hesitated by the door. He sighed and reached for the armour compartment on his shoulder, clicking it open.

This only felt right. He became a knight to save people, and she deserved the freedom to choose her fate.

The elf’s empty gaze as he slid the hidden blade out of his armour was unsettling, as if she didn't care what his actions were implying. He gently placed the blade by the bed, but he was interrupted by the voice of a young girl entering the room. 

“What do you think you're doing?”

Wirbel sighed. What luck. She escorted the king out faster than he thought she would.

Wirbel turned and held the blade up in his hand. “It slipped out of my armour,” he explained. “Happens sometimes. I’m rather clumsy with this high-end stuff. Brainless commoners like me can't figure anything out on my own.”

The girl had just been hired here, which was why the purple shade of her hair was all he could remember about her. She's an odd one, he could never figure her out. None of his lies had worked on her before.

“... Sir Wirbel. I don't think you should come to this room again.”

And as always, his lie didn't work again this time.

He chuckled, sliding the blade back into the compartment on his shoulder. “Well, for my own sake, I don't think I should be back here either. Hopefully Sir Eisen will be fine on his own.”

He walked past the young maid, and took one last glance at the unmoving elf. He spoke loud enough for the elf to hear him, and didn't care if the girl heard him too.

“... You should've died along with the rest of them.”

…

Wirbel blinked. The memory had ended, and all he had left was the present reality before him.

Light formed on Frieren’s palm, and he knew it was his end. He looked into her soulless eyes and saw a reflection of himself. It was a cold gaze, distant and…

… Pathetic.

What is a life full of constant struggling like, he briefly wondered. It must be a tiring, exhausting life.

In those hollow eyes, he knew that she hadn't changed at all. If he had lunged at her instead, she wouldn't have made a single attempt to save herself.

—

Himmel held the axe she handed to him, the axe shaking in his grasp. It's in his hands, why in the world did he take it from her?

…

He looked at Frieren, her eyes shut as she stood still in front of him.

He watched her every minute movement, her fingers, her legs, the little contortions on her forehead, and not a single part of her looked like she was going to run. Even so… His fingers twitched.

She’s shaking.

This was one of his bad dreams, he was sure of it.

He's had them countless times before. Dreams where he smashed her head in a field of blue flowers, bringing a rock up and crushing her skull over and over again. Will it turn out like that dream?

He shook his head.

If he let his feelings consume him, he would fail to save someone again. She says she wants this, but he doesn’t. It felt like she was running away from everything that made her feel unpleasant, just like he did before.

It's not right. This isn't right. 

Calm down.

“No.” 

Himmel threw the axe aside, gripping the sides of Frieren’s arms. “You’re just as scared as I am, you idiot!”

Frieren silently gazed into his eyes, and suddenly chuckled. Her hand raised to cup his face, smiling. Her icy touch made him shiver, and he could feel the sticky red fluid on her hands smear across his cheek.

“It was a joke. You were so serious that I thought you needed a laugh.”

He froze. 

Joking?

He felt the relief coursing through his body, his legs dropping him down to the grass. Laughter slipped through his lips like she said would happen, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was entertained. It’s hard to breathe. He couldn’t look at her face properly, afraid of seeing his own face in the reflection of her eyes. He clasped her hand that rested on his cheek, his hands trembling. 

“You’re— you’re really good at making me worry,” he clumsily spat out, the words pausing between heavy breaths and desperate laughter. “That’s awful!”

Something tugged at his heart, banging on his head and clawing him from the inside. A heavy thought. A truth.

Does she think I’m stupid? She’s lying. She changed her mind for my sake. She’ll die somewhere else, away from my eyes.

Himmel smiled as if to lock that assumption away. If anything, her joke took him so off-guard that he finally had the chance to think.

“It's my fault,” he said. “I said I didn't mind, but bloodshed bothered me a lot more than I thought it would, and I demonized you for it. I know you were protecting me. If you didn't erect that barrier at the start, he genuinely would've killed me. I acted like you killed him for fun.”

He killed his own mother to protect his kingdom too. What right did he have to act so virtuous?

Himmel’s hands gripped hers, and he finally looked up into her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

Frieren tilted her head. “What if I did kill him for fun? Would you apologize to me then?”

Oh, he thought. He looked into her eyes, and it wasn’t really that scary after all. It was just as they met— a teal that was the precise colour he always imagined emerald seas to look like. They’re so pretty, he could stare at them forever.

An apology isn’t what she needs to hear.

If he kept apologizing, she was just going to find more loopholes to push him away with.

He chuckled. “What do you think I’d say?”

“... Well,” Frieren mused. “You wouldn’t be mean about it.”

“Don’t be silly, I was pretty awful just now.”

“... I deserved it, so I don’t mind.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t want you to ever justify me yelling at you.”

“Hmm, I suppose it does sound off when you say it like that.” She chuckled and turned to the skies hanging above them. “I won’t do something like that again,” she said. “It’s not any fun, and knowing that it’s supposed to be wrong doesn’t make me feel good either. It’s tiring. I’m tired. So tired that I don’t feel anything.”

“I know,” he replied, linking their fingers together. “What will you do now?”

Frieren slipped her hands through his fingers and dug into her pockets, glancing longingly at an item that she drew out. It was just out of view, and he couldn’t see the object her wistful smile belonged to.

She pulled her hand out of her pocket and turned back to him. “I think I want to go back home. There’s someone I have to bury there. She’s the only one that wasn’t burnt, because she was human. Maybe her body has rotted completely by now, but I should at least bury her bones.”

“... Your teacher?”

Every time she spoke of someone warmly, it was always her. It could only ever be her.

Frieren smiled.

“Yeah.”

“I see,” he muttered, chuckling. “Will I see you again?”

“If it’s fate,” she dismissively answered.

Fate. Himmel always thought that was a magical word, but now he found that he'd rather have complete control over his own life rather than praying that the wind would bring him where he wanted to be.

Frieren peered at Wirbel's corpse behind them, sighing. “You should go carry his corpse to the church and pretend you’re asking for help. Vomit after you’re done carrying his body. In the meantime, I’ll bring Heiter to the cathedral for you as well.”

“... Alright.”

She offered her hand and pulled him up, but he held onto her wrist just as she was about to leave. He smiled, and it felt like the gentle night breeze enveloping them was going to take her with it if he let go, like the white, bloodstained petals that were being picked up into the sky. He couldn’t find the right words to say. He always knew they were going to part, one way or another. They didn't even know each other for that long. It had been less than a year. Their marriage was a flower that bloomed only to be swept away by the wind.

He didn’t know whether she was truly joking earlier or not. Either way, she’s probably intending on never seeing him again. If she had, she would've said so. She was only being kind, though it was probably because she believed that he was going to die on his journey to the demon king. If he went now, in the state that he's in, he probably would. 

It's frustrating to admit that she's right. He didn't know how terrifying it was to kill. Demons speak the human tongue too. If they appealed even a little bit to his humanity, he probably would've hesitated just as much as he did just now, and that would cost him his life.

I’ll always love you.

“Thank you, Frieren. For saving me.”

He didn’t remember whether he thanked her for saving him at the cathedral too. She doesn’t really think much about saving others, does she? 

Frieren paused. “Don’t thank me for a murder,” she said, frowning.

Himmel chuckled.

“Thanks for killing him for me when I couldn’t. I still have a lot of room left to grow,” he said. “You’re my hero.”

The wind slightly picked up, and her hair swayed gently to the wind's tunes. Her eyes widened, then softened to her smile.

“That sounds nice,” she admitted. “Though it doesn’t really sound like the kind of thing that would suit me. Only you would ever say such a thing.”

He laughed. “Then I’ll never forget you until the day I die, so that you’ll always be a hero in someone’s mind.”

“I don’t get to spend much time with this title then,” she jokingly lamented. “If only you live as long as I do.”

“Someone else will carry your memories after me. Everyone you know will carry a part of you with them. It’s why I’ll live on and fight in this world too. There’s someone really, really important to me, with memories that only I carry. Her life ended much earlier than it should’ve, and she never got to fly. My journey goes on with that person by my side, so that I’ll take her to the skies with me.”

Her gaze suddenly faltered, her voice a wistful whisper.

"... So you're going to the demon king after all."

Himmel took her hand and interlocked their fingers, smiling. “Frieren, if you have memories like that too, and they’re important to you, I think it would be a waste for you to die.”

“I don’t have any memories like that,” she said, clutching her pocket.

He chuckled. “I’m sure you do. That’s why you still cling to life now.”

His fingers slipped through hers, and some of the blood on her hands had gotten on his. Some of the blood had gotten beneath her nails, and some of them were under his too. He glanced at her, and it seemed like she noticed him staring. He smiled, showing off his nails to her. They had some cleaning to do! “Use my handkerchief, alright?”

She hesitantly nodded, placing her hands inside her pocket. “Huh?” 

“What?”

She paused, and sighed. “No, it’s nothing. We might be spotted together again by another wanderer, so let’s split off now.”

…

There was a phrase Himmel heard once from a foreign land’s minister. He needed to know several languages as a prince, anyway. He wondered if Frieren knew it, but since she lived a life far longer, she probably does.

Himmel dramatically dipped his head down to a bow, his hand over his chest.

“Au revoir.”

She tilted her head and chuckled, picking up her skirt and performing a curtsy.

“... Adieu, my prince.”

…

She flew away just like that, and Himmel made sure that his hands didn’t stretch out after her. Once he had trained himself enough, he’d be able to fly too, and he wouldn’t need to hold onto her to do so. He turned to Wirbel’s corpse behind him, picking the pieces of him up into his arms.

Chapter Text

How peaceful, basking in that dim moonlight. The sea of blue flowers before her seemed so serene, it was only fitting that there was someone comfortably nestled between the soft petals, curled up into themself by a tiny mound of stone. It felt wrong to be standing here like this when she’d done so much wrong. Between the shadows, she could almost see their ghosts, stretching their icy phantom hands to her neck.

She shut her eyes as the cool breeze passed her by.

… Soon.

Frieren crouched down to Heiter’s sleeping body, watching his chest calmly rise and fall. Looking at him from above like this, he looked like a little boy. She took a twig and poked his cheek with its tip. No response. She tossed the twig away.

He’s out like a log.

Even Heiter could look like this sometimes, huh?

Healing all those people in the cathedral and Himmel must’ve taken a lot out of him. Whatever’s happening in his land of dreams, it was causing him to cry. His cheeks were stained wet, but she couldn’t wipe his tears off for him. 

The handkerchief Himmel gave her was nowhere to be seen. It must’ve fallen out of her pockets while she was flying with Himmel earlier. That’s a shame. It wasn’t so important that Himmel needed to know she lost it, though. She hoped he didn’t notice, because he might’ve gotten upset.

… Whatever. It wouldn't be the first time she lost something.

With her cold fingers, she hoped Heiter didn't notice that the hand that wiped his tears away was once so bloodstained.

Since Heiter’s knocked out from exhaustion, that thankfully meant he wasn’t going to wake up while she whisked him back to the cathedral. Frieren hoisted him up around her shoulders with a sluggish huff. 

They lifted up into the air, and she set him down beneath a tree nestled between bushes and vines near the cathedral. It wasn’t like she could just step inside while everyone was congregating there. At least he was no longer in the middle of nowhere all on his own. She stood up and turned around, but something held onto her ankle.

She sighed. It turned out that he wasn't knocked out from exhaustion.

“... My bastard of a brother was lying after all,” Heiter mumbled, still half-asleep.

Which one of them was the bastard again?

“I won’t cause any of you harm.” she said. “I merely brought you back. Himmel’s safe. If you let me go quietly, I assure you that nothing bad will happen.”

Heiter chuckled. “With me being in the state that I am now, I suppose I don’t have the leverage to be making threats in return.”

She smiled. “Rest well, Heiter.”

She couldn’t budge though, not with his hands still grasping her ankle. She met his eyes and Heiter whispered some sort of incantation. He let her ankle go, but she didn’t know what his incantation did.

Heiter grinned. “Alright, you may leave.”

“What did you do?”

“Hmm? The Goddess would be cross with me if I let you return without healing the cut on your nose.”

Frieren’s hand shot to the tip of her nose, and just as he said, the flesh wound was completely gone. Even though Heiter didn't have enough mana left to sustain himself, he still used it again for her. There's no way he has any left. If she decided to attack him now, he'd have no choice but to simply accept his fate. 

… Did he trust her that much? 

Heiter of all people?

She scoffed. “What about the Goddess makes you push yourself like this?”

“Hmm? It’s a lot simpler than it looks,” he answered, chuckling. “I want to do something good, and believing in the Goddess lets me believe that I’ll be praised for doing so. I wanted to be told…” he paused, but only for a moment. “That I did well to survive this far. Even if I’m the furthest from a pure priest.”

…

He's doing it for himself.

She nodded. Maybe being selfish isn't all that bad.

“That sounds nice.”

Frieren remembered something Fern once told her.

Every other night, I’d be woken up by nightmares of my parents beckoning me to their side. I know that I should’ve died along with the rest of my family. They keep reminding me of that, every other night.

Then they met, and it felt like she was looking at a reflection of herself.

Do you have nightmares too, Mistress Frieren?

Frieren never answered her question back then.

But surely the Goddess wouldn’t praise Frieren for surviving this long.

Heiter stood up and placed his hand on her head.

“... What are you doing now?” she asked.

With a smile on his face, he ran his hand through her hair. It was warm, and unlike Himmel’s roughened hands from all the sword handling, Heiter’s was a little softer, a little smoother.

“Praise doesn't need to come from the Goddess,” Heiter replied. “Even though I killed my own father, someone called me a hero, and I liked it. It felt like a daydream.”

He didn't mention names, but Frieren knew enough that she didn't need him to say it. There was a shadow of a smile on her lips, wondering if his eyes, gazing down at her, showed a true reflection of herself.

Heiter parted his lips, and out came a gentle whisper.

“You did well surviving this far, Frieren.”

…

Her hair was sticky, stained in red. It felt a little off to have his hand in it, but she made no moves to stop him. She closed her eyes, shivering as the night wind caressed her skin.

“... That someone must have incredibly bad taste. He called me a hero too.”

He nodded, laughing.

“Can’t argue with that!”

“... Huh.”

How strange. She never thought her and Heiter were particularly close, but it felt like the sun had risen to blanket her with light. It wasn't so cold anymore. She wanted to melt along with this feeling.

Is this a precious memory?

“Whenever I couldn't sleep from my nightmares, I felt a warm hand take mine, and a soft kiss against my forehead. That small gesture made all of my fears go away,” Heiter said. “I couldn't see who it was. I used to think that it was an angel’s kiss, but I've only realized recently that that hand didn't belong to an angel at all.”

She froze.

“... Well, even the devil’s kiss would feel warm if you’re cold.”

He grinned, and they stayed like this for a while.

Standing beneath the moonlight together, it felt like she was basking in its light. Flamme used to like doing this too, and Himmel had done it before as well. Even though Heiter distrusted her so much, he's still treating her like this? Humans are so… odd. Was her head so alluring? She could never truly understand.

If he was her older brother, she wondered how their relationship would've turned out.

Frieren took a deep breath and hesitantly pushed his hand away.

“Himmel will arrive soon. He’ll explain what’s going on, so support him like you were there with him.”

Heiter didn’t know what she was talking about, but he nodded. 

“And,” she added. “Don't let anyone know I’m still alive.”

“I know,” he said, chuckling. “I’m no fool.”

Without a goodbye, he stepped away. He turned towards the cathedral, slowly taking heavy steps towards the dilapidated, ruined building, towering tall atop the mountain. 

She hesitated to follow him.

Fern, Eisen, and Stark were in there. For some reason, she didn’t feel like she could face them. She stood still, rooted where she was. She didn’t know whether she wanted to get them to come with her or to go off on her own. Her hands balled into fists, and she looked down to the ground. 

Again, she was hesitant.

She almost burdened Himmel with her selfish desires, and she’d inevitably do the same thing to them. 

“That was the brother, right?”

Frieren froze, turning around. 

There was a figure standing behind her, someone familiar whom she hadn’t seen for a long time.

Her finger stretched out to that person’s cheek, a little poke. Her finger pushed into her cheek. It was soft, and real. She was a short woman, her light hair falling to her shoulders, her long ears protruding out of the sides of her head. Her voice was as soft as a whisper, yet the wind gently carried it to her ears.

Milliarde tilted her head, the hood of her black cloak falling to reveal her face; her expression confused. “Is this how you say hello now?”

Frieren sighed, dropping that hand to her side. “Fern told me you didn’t want to see me. Was this how you wanted to say hello?”

Milliarde had always been eccentric, even by elves’ standards. It seemed that she dropped her obsession with knights, though. She doesn’t have her horse around anymore, nor does she carry around the swords she forged herself, nor the twenty thousand other things she had an interest in and ended up dropping.

“Why not,” Milliarde said. “Must my greetings be special? I only wanted to watch the state you ended up in from afar, but you said something interesting, so I followed you.”

Something interesting?

“What is it?”

The wind around them picked up. Milliarde parted her lips, and—

— Something tugged on her wrist, slamming her back down against the dirt.

Frieren’s eyes shut from the shock, barely registering the warmth of someone’s firm arms wrapped around her. The fact that neither she nor Milliarde sensed this person meant it could only be him. Before she could say anything, another two bodies piled on top of her.

Her chest tightened, her ribs feeling like they’re scratching against each other. Frieren wriggled beneath their combined weight, eventually giving up, the world around her turning black.

Then, the weight disappeared.

She blinked her eyes open and saw the sight of three people levitating on top of her. It suddenly didn't hurt anymore.

Milliarde sighed, flicking her fingers downwards and dropping the three people to the grass next to Frieren. “Ease up. You almost killed her, you oafs.”

Milliarde turned to Frieren and shrugged, as if to signal that their appearance wasn't intentional from her end.

Frieren breathed heavily, the sight of the three of them with their limbs entangled upon one another forcing a giggle out of her between the laboured breaths. It was ridiculous, like a scene right out of a comedy book. Stark was the first to get up, offering his hand to Fern. Fern hastily crawled past his hand towards Frieren’s side.

The girl grasped Frieren’s hands, heaving a sigh of relief. “You’re okay,” she said, her soft voice trembling. “You were gone for so long.”

Eisen pushed himself up, chuckling. His eyes hovered over the two. “You got your magic back and you weren’t going to show it to us?”

Frieren froze, feeling his eyes on her ears. Her hand raised to her ears, grasping air. She paused, forgetting that she wasn’t wearing those earrings anymore. 

She awkwardly brought her hand back down. “Was that why you were so rough, Eisen? I didn’t take you for the temper tantrum kind.” 

“Then you’d have learned something new about me today. I’ll forgive you if you get me some grapes.”

Frieren cocked her head. “The sour kind?”

Eisen grinned. “I wouldn’t eat it any other way.”

All because she promised him some time ago that she could use magic to turn sweet grapes sour. 

She turned to Fern, who held her hand so tightly like she was some sort of flower that could fly away at the slightest gust of wind. Even though she wasn’t saying anything, Frieren could feel the girl’s hand trembling. The girl’s roughened hands, her cracked fingernails, her torn dress, her dirt-stained skin. Yet the girl’s violet eyes still shone beneath the moonlight, like the upper layers of a cascading sunset.

“... We’ve all been through a lot, haven’t we?” Frieren said, wryly chuckling.

With her hand wrapped around hers, the blood spreading to her hands made Frieren feel a little uneasy. Fern must’ve heard about the fact that she killed King Regis, but she wasn’t even bringing it up at all. The coarseness of Fern’s hands rubbing against hers reminded her of someone else with hands like these, someone who also had to survive. 

She could only smile.

“... Fern, I still have nightmares every night.”

The girl’s eyes widened, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She gently pressed their foreheads together.

“I do too.”

— 

Frieren, it looks like you’re going to dive into the flames again. 

Milliarde gazed at them, the sight leaving her speechless. She felt a little lonely, her arms wrapped around herself.

You’re going to leave me behind too. 

She was definitely out of place. She didn’t belong. Milliarde could read the room enough to know that, even though she was also aware that she wasn’t very good at reading the room most of the time. If she walked away now, they probably wouldn’t even notice.

No matter. It wasn’t like she needed to ask Frieren anything.

She took a single step backwards when a somewhat unfamiliar voice spoke, locking her in place.

“Haha, it’s a bit hard to get a word out, isn’t it?”

Milliarde turned to the source of the voice standing by her side, also a distance away from the others. It was the red-haired boy that was sick prior, the one she had to help heal. He was speaking to her with an awkward smile.

“Yeah?” she answered, unsure of what to say in response.

“I’m not as close to the princess— I mean, Frieren, as everyone else either. I joined the hug because I didn't want to be left out.” He heaved a deep sigh. “And now I’m left out regardless…”

“Right,” she said. “You were ignored earlier as well.”

He giggled, scratching the back of his head. “No, I mean, things are still a bit iffy between Fern and me, so I get it…” 

“Then, are things between me and Frieren iffy too?” she asked, tilting her head. “Is that why I have trouble speaking up?”

“Hmm,” the boy pondered. “I don’t know, but you look like you really want to say something, so you should. You’ll regret it if you don’t do it now.”

Her fingers twitched, a slight smile greeting her lips.

“Regrets, huh?”

Her hand went to her heart, clutching the cloth of her cloak.

“Everyone has regrets, right? And I think it's natural to want to be free of them,” he said. “Or maybe it'll feel nice to tell someone about a regret. It'll make you feel cared for, and everyone likes that feeling… probably. Even if some people don't want to admit it.”

That made her sound almost childish.

“There's no point. All of you can go ahead,” she said, waving.

“Huh?”

Milliarde began stretching, taking quick steps away from them. She could go back to that dingy cabin and return to her normal, everyday life of leisure and chores. Back to waking up to the blinding sunrise, and rotting away until the moon returned. Back to the same green pine trees and the same days, the same nights. It was exciting to be out and about for once, but that kind of life just wasn’t meant for her. No matter how much she wanted it to be.

She set her eyes on the stars above, her legs growing immensely heavier with every step. 

Gosh, she wondered if her plants were still alive after she left them unattended for a week.

What was she going to eat for dinner that day?

It didn’t matter. She just needed to eat enough to live.

…

She stopped.

Huh. 

Why did she stop?

Perhaps the fatigue of travelling so much was finally catching up to her. Flying so much took a lot out of her, since she didn’t have as much mana as Frieren did. That was her own fault for insisting on following an elf that could fly up and about in seconds without hesitation.

Footsteps caught up to her, and she didn’t have the strength to turn around.

“Milliarde,” the soft voice called out.

“... I’m leaving. We’ll meet again, Frieren.”

Soon, or perhaps never. If fate wills it.

She took another step, but something grasped her hand.

“Milliarde, I want to see our village again,” Frieren said, tugging at her wrist. “Come with me.”

Come with me.

It was funny to hear those words come out of Frieren’s lips rather than her own. The one obsessed with wanderlust and attachments had always been her, not Frieren. Back then, Frieren refused her every invite to an adventure. Perhaps Frieren made the better choice back then, since every single one of them ended in failure. Abject failure over, and over, and over again. For Goddess’ sake, all she could recall were bad memories.

Milliarde could only chuckle.

“Huh,” she said. “That was almost exactly what I wanted to ask you earlier.” 

She never considered visiting the village again before she overheard Frieren’s musings to that prince. She had failed it so miserably, after all. Nothing was waiting for her in that village. Nothing but the ruins of time, ashes and soot.

“Why do you want to go back there?” Milliarde responded, her eyes downcast to the grass between her feet. “Is that dead sunkissed human truly who you’re searching for? What could she possibly offer you?”

Frieren’s hand slid down from her wrist to grasp her fingers, letting out a giggle.

“You’re right. A corpse wouldn’t be offering me much at all.”

Then don’t go.

Milliarde’s fingers tensed up, but she could feel Frieren gently linking their fingers together. Her hands were so cold, she wondered if it had always been like that.

Frieren closed in on her back, whispering something only Milliarde could hear.

“Let’s search for that memory together.”

…

Milliarde wryly chuckled. “Just because I was listening in on your conversation with that prince, you think I understand what that means?”

“So you won’t join me?” the other elf asked.

Her lips parted wordlessly. She knew that if she said something, it would go against everything she was trying to avoid. She couldn't go back to that life.

How irritating.

This feeling. 

It’s as if a spark was threatening to light up again. She thought she had dampened every piece of firewood in her soul, but somewhere within the deep recesses of herself, in a dark and dingy corner, she hid away a little match. In hopes that a single piece of drywood would pop up.

Milliarde finally met Frieren’s eyes, her entire body warming up with excitement.

She grasped those hands, a slight smile at her lips. Her hands were unsettlingly cold. She didn't notice before, but…

Frieren, your eyes look as pathetic as mine.

You hear their voices clawing at your conscience, but you don't know if it's truly them or if it's just in your head. You want to die, but you're too afraid to. So when the prince told you that life was something you wanted, you're looking for a reason to make that true, even if it wasn't.

I know.

I know that feeling more than anyone else.

She giggled.

A journey for a memory that’ll make us cling to life. Even if this adventure goes badly, she’d at least die spectacularly.

“I already have so many regrets. What’s another regret to add to the pile?” she said, grinning.

Let’s set ourselves ablaze, even for the very last time.

—

Just a bit more to the village, Frieren thought, as she ducked between the branches of the trees.

What was she supposed to expect? She didn't know.

There was nothing left. Maybe she wouldn't be able to find anything at all, not even the corpses of her brethren, as they had all surely turned to ashes right before her eyes.

Then, a white petal swept up to her foot.

She glanced up, and instead of the gray ashes of her dilapidated home, she saw flowers instead.

Chapter Text

“Lilies? Why did you choose lilies?”

That woman’s deep, androgynous voice sent shivers down her spine, rumbling her bones. The world was dyed in orange, aureate rays causing her to squint ever so slightly, brown autumn leaves brushing past her skin as the cool wind sent the flowers up into the air. As far as the eye could see, white lilies stretched forevermore into and beyond the horizon, past the rolling hills and golden winding rivers.

Frieren ran her fingers across the green grass, engulfed by the drunkenly sweet fragrance of the lilies. Her eyes drifted to the figure sitting by her side, a woman with a long apricot braid, sunkissed. If she squinted enough, the woman was almost as translucent as the white petals in the breeze. Those ruby earrings looked like crystallized red wine twinkling beneath the sunset rays, and she couldn’t turn away.

“... Because it's the first flower you showed me. That's all,” Frieren answered.

She briefly wondered if everyone else chose their favourite flowers so arbitrarily as well. Maybe some people have deeper reasons for their favourite flowers.

“Why did you choose lilies?” she asked in return.

Flamme swayed her body from side to side, pondering her next words, giggling. “You know? My master never admitted it, but she actually really likes lilies. I guess that's why I grew to like it too.”

It’s hard to imagine that battle-crazed elf liking anything. Especially not something as fragile or fleeting as flowers.

“Serie? That's unexpected.”

“Right?” Flamme agreed. “She's awful with feelings. Like she doesn't know or care if people misunderstand her. She’s insufferable.”

“Mm,” Frieren replied, plucking a lily and bringing it to her lips. It was intoxicatingly sweet, and she couldn’t rip it away from herself. “But she chose a good flower. It's nice.”

Flamme ruffled her hair, grinning. “Aren't you glad I taught you this spell?”

Frieren smiled.

You didn't, though.

The cold-blooded murderer blinked, the flower in her hand now a puddle of blood dripping off her fingers. Her entire body was splattered red with someone else’s fresh blood. 

That green field became a wildfire, black plumes of smoke rising to the sky. The flowers were being eaten alive, from beyond the horizon to where she stood. The sickeningly sweet scent didn’t disappear, in fact, it only grew stronger.

Frieren rushed to her feet, but the white petals clung to her skin like hot glue, melting through her clothes and corroding her skin. She tugged her leg, but every attempt only made the scent stronger, and every breath taken was like plunging honey down her nostrils, ripping through her throat and lungs, but nothing came out when she vomited. No matter how many times she rammed her fingers down her throat, she wouldn’t retch up anything. Her mouth began slobbering, her vision blurring.

The elf fell backwards into the flowers, the lilies pulling at her and seeping into her skin. They were taking root, connecting themselves to her blood vessels. She could feel the roots sprawling and crawling beneath her skin, sometimes scraping against her bones and cartilage; sapping, draining, sucking. Leaves sprouted through her skin, beginning from her legs up to her arms. There was a small itch around her eyes, and she saw a green stem piercing through her vision and up to the sky. In exchange, she felt—

— Sweet.

It didn't hurt at all. Over in the blurred, foggy distance, the flowers who were being ravaged were being rejuvenated. The drops of her blood were helping them. They’re alive, lit ablaze, because of her.

In exchange, they pumped her with honey. Sweet, saccharine honey. She could feel her skin slowly tearing apart, bursting at the seams she didn’t know she had. Overflowing with honey, it ate away at her limbs bit by bit. Ripping, shredding. Where was her skin? Where were her legs and flailing arms? Did she even have those things in the first place? 

Her mind went blank.

…

What are those things anyway? 

Why did it speak of those things with such familiarity? 

Strange, strange.

All I have are my roots, my leaves, my petals, my golden blood.

Engorged, rupturing, it realized that it was no longer anyone. The black skies above were visible through its white, translucent petals. 

The flower was incredibly, cloyingly sweet.

It glanced at the corpse next to it, with eyes it might still have.

Before it was Flamme’s mangled corpse, the red bleeding into her flame-kissed hair. It couldn’t see her face, buried beneath layers upon layers of those troublesome apricot locks.

Then, it could only assume.

This 

must 

be 

my 

one 

and 

only 

salvation.

—

There was a tombstone in front of her, her fingers outstretched to the clumsily etched name on the arched stone.

Warm wind blew her silver hair away from her eyes.

It was daybreak. She dragged herself towards the grave, away from the meadow of white flowers and onto the disturbed soil, pushing herself against the rock. Her eyes focused on the rock and only the rock, her feet pushing the dirt as if to form a wall between her and the flowers around her.

Frieren pressed her palm against the warm stone, gray, smooth. Little sharp edges lightly pricked her hand, as if the stone-cutting was hastily done. Her hand went to her chest, pressing where her heart was, and a fast beating responded, reverberating throughout her entire body.

She could hear herself breathe. In, out, in, out. 

Then, she finally blinked. Once, then twice.

In front of her was a lone gravestone amidst a green prairie of white lilies.

“This was supposed to be my dream, but it seems your imagination overpowered mine.”

Frieren’s fingers twitched, and she leaned against the rock, running her hands over the engraved name. That wonderfully androgynous voice that rumbled her innards was behind her, as if that person was truly still alive. It’s uncanny, as if everything that happened to her before was merely a nightmare.

“... Then I’m in a dream,” she muttered, a part of her feeling relieved. It explained what happened, and why everyone was gone.

But the dream was this, and soon, she’d have to return to reality.

Flamme nodded, her arms crossed. “You passed out when you touched my grave. What’s wrong with you?”

What’s wrong with me? The gall to ask that with a judgy, accusatory tone.

“Oh, as if I intended this outcome,” Frieren replied, frowning. Why would she stage a dramatic fainting just to transition to… that? She wasn’t masochistic.

The woman laughed. “I didn't intend this outcome either! But somehow, I had a feeling that you'd come back to my body.”

“... You cast a spell on yourself before you died?”

“It only would've mattered if you came crawling back to me like a little baby.”

Frieren sighed. “So I’m a baby now, huh? That's new.”

It became silent again, as Frieren’s hands continued to run over the stone surface. Her fingers paused at the clumsily-written engraving of Flamme’s name. Her eyes shifted to the shadows of Flamme’s body by her side.

“Flamme, who buried you?”

Flamme gazed at the writing of her own name, then to the lilies that surrounded them in the vast meadow.

Her eyes returned to Frieren, giggling.

“Who else could it be?”

Frieren bit her own lips, though a part of her felt warm on the inside. She really doesn't let anyone in, does she?

“... She's such a softie,” Frieren begrudgingly mumbled, hugging the stone. Her voice was tinged in disbelief, and perhaps a little bit of jealousy.

You didn't care before, so why pretend to care now, when it's far too late?

You even took this one responsibility from me, though I suppose this is your responsibility too.

… As I thought, I can't like you, Serie.

But I don't hate you either.

“Is she? She taunted my corpse for being a fool. There's nothing soft about her at all.”

“... It surprised me too. You don't trust the demons, to the point of deceiving them by concealing your mana. Us mages usually only hide our magic around humans. With how careful you usually are, you shouldn't have been killed by them.”

The woman fidgeted with her fingers, setting her gaze to the sunrise beyond the horizon. Her hands wrapped around herself, sliding down her arms. She took a deep breath, fiddling her toes.

“Um, Frieren,” she started.

“What is it?”

“... Why aren’t you blaming me?”

Frieren’s eyes widened. 

“Why would I do that?”

As if taken off-guard, Flamme anxiously giggled.

“I brought those humans to your village. I wanted to prove that magic wasn't scary. I wanted to bring magic to the rest of humankind, so I sought a human king for his assistance.” She hesitated on her next sentence, but forced herself after a slight pause. “If I didn't do that, your village would've been able to recover from the demon attacks and be just fine.”

Frieren went silent.

She never once thought of Flamme as the villain. Flamme had a dream. A flimsy, stupid dream, but a dream nonetheless. If Flamme wasn't passionate and ambitious, her village would've still been alive today. If Flamme had chosen a different way of proving her point, their village would've been fine. If Flamme didn’t get tricked…

It was as if she took every single wrong step, and condemned everyone down to hell with her.

A prime example of the all-consuming embers of a dream.

“... You saved us from that initial demon attack. You helped our village heal, and taught me spells and methods I didn't know existed. You gave me company, though I never paid you much mind.”

“Even though my dream— No, my selfishness killed everyone?”

Frieren was biased. She should be furious, but she knew Flamme didn't mean for it to happen. She had already accepted that it was fine—

She paused, gazing down at her fingernails.

… Then, why couldn't she extend that same grace to herself?

Her next words came out as if it were only natural.

“You’re my hero. So I could forgive you.”

“... Haha, I’m dead and I’m still getting goosebumps,” she spat out. “Has a different soul overtaken my Frieren’s body?”

Frieren sighed. “Did you want me to curse you out? I can’t be bothered.”

Is she the masochist?

The woman giggled. “Now that sounds familiar.”

Flamme crossed over the little dirt mound Frieren made with her foot and ruffled her hair. Frieren still didn’t want to turn. She didn’t want to see her face. She didn’t want to look at those flowers.

Flamme’s hand ran through Frieren’s hair, her gentle fingers slowly sliding away. In the corner of her eye, she could see the woman crouching, plucking a flower from beyond the disturbed soil. Frieren turned away, but she felt that flower’s soft petal graze the skin of her ears.

Frieren blinked, her hand hesitantly raising to her ears, grasping what had touched her ear and peering at it by pulling at the petal. It wilted. She could feel its life being drained the moment she touched it. The flower’s soft petals had browned and curled into itself, contrasting against her silver hair.

Her eyes widened, and Flamme spoke from behind her once more.

“No matter who says it to you, even him, you can’t see yourself as a hero.”

“... So what?”

Heiter told her that merely surviving was something she should celebrate, even if she wasn’t a hero.

Flamme chuckled.

“Then, I don’t need to tell you what you want to do. It seems like you already know.”

Then use it to atone, Serie told her. She wasn’t the kind of elf to speak of things like atonement, so such a statement coming from her lips struck a chord within her.

Frieren gazed at the dead flower in her palm, folding her fingers over them. She brought it to her chest, their voices in her head growing stronger. “But I can’t. My people are dead, and the people I killed are gone. I can’t fix anything.”

“... But unlike me, you still have time. I can neither chase my dreams nor atone.”

Flamme put her hand over Frieren’s clasped hand, her fingers unlatching Frieren’s fingers away from the flower, the wind snatching it out of her hands. Frieren felt the urge to snatch it back, but she knew enough that it was a worthless endeavour. She only watched it fly away.

“You’ll never see that flower again,” Flamme said. “But you’ll remember it, won’t you?”

Frieren felt a little empty, watching the clouds drift and breeze pick up in silence. Her gaze fell back down to the endless flower field, and between her blinks, the flowers had withered. The green and white had turned withered brown, and her breath caught itself in her throat. 

She stirred to her feet, her eyes darting between every shifting shadow. 

When did this happen?

She looked from left to right, her body swaying as she swivelled around, surrounded by death, death, death. The gale was stronger, and not even the gentle chirping of birds were accompanying her panicked breaths. She had stayed away from them, she didn’t allow herself to be happy so that she could make up for leaving everyone behind, for having the gall to survive. Her sorrow should’ve satisfied them.

If they still died like this anyway, wouldn’t that mean that her sacrifices were only for herself? Only to make herself feel better? She wanted to have a noble reason behind her suffering. Recognizing that her suffering was merely suffering— that it wasn’t a punishment in exchange for her life—

That would hurt too much.

Frieren paused.

A small, hidden patch of white.

Her legs began moving before she could think. 

The breeze kicked up like a typhoon, ripping up, uprooting everything up into the sky. Her vision wavered, her hair whipping into her face, wet yet dried brown petals flitting by her eyes. Past the shrivelled flowers, she dove towards that patch, her knees sliding in the soil. She hastily inched towards that patch, realizing that she wasn’t wrong. White lilies, amidst a field of faded flowers. 

Frieren shielded the lilies with her body, curling over the little patch, whispering a spell to protect it with a little shield. It was safe, it needed to be safe. Even though these flowers were going to die eventually too, she wanted to see it bloom for just a little bit longer. Her eyes turned towards Flamme, searching for an answer.

Between the hurricane of flowers, petals and leaves, she squinted, and saw glimpses of Flamme’s face in the far distance.

It was a gentle, wistful smile.

It had been so long since she last saw her face, but she could recall it so clearly. Her absurdly thick, braided sunkissed hair framed her emerald eyes, her lips curled up into that smile. Somehow, that smile dispelled all the trembling from her hands.

“You and Serie,” that woman muttered, “are really, really similar.”

—

She blinked, seeing her outstretched hand toward that very same gravestone. Something about the atmosphere was intensely heavy, but she didn’t know why. It was a bit hard to breathe. Her head throbbed, beating out of her mind.

“Mistress Frieren?”

Frieren faced her, massaging her temple. She was back in the real world. “Fern, how long was I gone for?”

“Gone? Um, just for a few minutes…” The girl suddenly raised her brows, waving her hands. “Oh, my apologies. You can take your time to grieve. I didn’t mean to pressure you into hurrying.”

So she didn't pass out? It seemed she was just staring at the grave from Fern’s point of view. Was what happened a real conversation between her and Flamme, or was it merely all a concoction of her mind?

… It had to be real.

Her head began to sting.

Frieren whipped her head around. There’s no danger around. She couldn’t sense anything coming towards them, but this heaviness crushing her skull isn’t disappearing.

“Woah—”

A loud thud resounded behind them. Both of them turned to see what had happened.

Stark was on his butt, sluggishly rubbing his shoulder. His sword was laid on the grass, as if it had been tossed aside. Milliarde proudly towered over him, a smug grin on her face. She propped the sword she was holding into the dirt, offering her hand towards him. “You’re good, young human. Work at it a bit more.”

He took her hand with an anxious giggle.

“You’re not bad yourself,” Eisen interjected, having watched the two spar this entire time. “Were you formally trained?”

Upon being praised, Milliarde froze, leaving Stark to hang off of her mid-air as she processed Eisen’s words.

“… I wasn’t,” she replied. “I watched real knights spar from afar, and followed their movements.”

His eyes looked her up and down in surprise, settling on her ears. He sighed. “Elves truly have their entire lives to hone any skills they want, don’t they? It’s no wonder the demons want your race gone. It’s a shame we didn’t battle back then.” Eisen raised his axe from behind him, pointing it towards her.

“The one you handled is still a squire. Would you like to test your skills against a fully-fledged knight?”

If eyes could glow, sparkle, and crackle, Frieren would describe Milliarde’s eyes exactly like that. It was like fireworks had erupted within herself. Milliarde hesitantly nodded, her hand gripping the hilt of the sword she borrowed.

Milliarde against Eisen? 

Frieren never thought of pitting them against each other. Milliarde was away on her adventure when Historia’s army attacked the village. 

Stark started trembling, tugging his wrist uselessly. “M— Miss Milliarde? Sir Eisen? Your grip is really strong. Did you forget about me? Please let go of my hand before you start fighting—”

Frieren giggled at the sight. “Why aren’t you joining them, Fern?”

Knowing that they’re in the remains of a ruined village, it’s eerily lively.

Fern gazed at them in silence, placing her hands over her heart. Her fingers clenched into her shirt, taking another deep breath after another.

“... It’s not because a lot of people died here. It’s something else. Something about this place is making me uneasy.”

So Fern can sense it too. Frieren hesitantly turned towards the flowers, and her eyes widened.

She crouched and caressed the white petals. The trace of magic on these lilies were exceptionally strong, and she could feel it enveloping this entire area, like a haunting veil over the village. It’s suffocating. She had never seen Serie leave this much of her magic behind after casting a spell. Only amateurs would do such a thing, since anyone could trace this spell’s source. Just who did she want to send a message to? The veil felt threatening, leaving a constant gaping hole in her gut, prickling through her skin.

…

Oh.

When she realized it, the pain in her head seemingly subsided. It's just Serie, after all.

No wonder Milliarde’s so carefree.

Frieren smiled. “Fern, it’s completely safe here.”

“H— Huh?”

“You’re right to trust your instincts. Thanks for standing on guard, but,” Frieren plucked a lily and delicately placed it in her hair, brushing her violet locks out of her face. “A really irritating guardian is watching over us. No one with malicious intent will come here if they value their own lives.”

“You seem to be familiar with this guardian,” Fern pointed out.

Frieren nodded. “Too familiar for my liking.”

“That sounds nice,” Fern said, smiling. “You seemed to be lonely, Mistress Frieren. I hope we meet them one day.”

“Perhaps soon, perhaps never,” she replied.

Fern chuckled, bringing her delicate fingers to her lips. “Soon is scary when you’re the one saying it. I might die before that happens.”

“Then, I suppose I’ll have to make sure you live long enough until we meet again,” Frieren said, caressing her cheek. “I can’t die yet, not for a while.” 

Fern’s cheek was soft, and the girl joyfully pressed her face against Frieren’s palm. It was gently warm. Addictingly so. She wanted to protect this warmth for as long as she could.

Then, I don’t need to tell you what you want to do. It seems like you already know.

Flamme was right, but…

Someone else was resolutely marching towards certain death, and she wasn’t sure if it was something she could protect him from. He was strong, but there was a reason the demon king had terrorized the world for so long. The demon king’s rise to power wasn’t by accident. His genuine, pure desire to befriend humanity had twisted to such a degree that he was now actively killing them. The only enemy more formidable than a “strong” enemy was a righteous enemy.

With that strong sense of righteousness, the demon king began his attack at the north, and has been slowly encroaching upon the other territories since with no signs of slowing down. It made sense to want to organize an army against him before it’s too late, but one sage of destruction was worth hundreds of human soldiers. It wasn’t going to be easy.

Himmel chose the path of defeating him, and ever since losing that handkerchief, it was as if he had been severed from her completely. As if the world was telling her that he was another flower she’ll have to watch fly away before blooming.

What was she meant to do?

“... Fern, let’s stay in this village until we figure out our next step.”

The girl nodded. “Alright, but not for too long. Safe or not, this place still gives me shivers.”

—

Whoever lived in this house must’ve really liked embroidery. The curtains were embroidered, the bedsheets were embroidered, practically everything that could be embroidered was embroidered. Though the curtains were blown away and ended up on the floor when they came in. He wasn’t a master or anything so he couldn’t tell for sure, but they looked meticulously handmade. It felt a little sad that they had to  leave this house behind. 

Stark swept the dust and cinders into the slowly growing pile of trash. If they had masks, it would certainly make things easier, but they were lucky to even find brooms. The mages floated all the physical debris out of the semi-intact house they found near the centre of the village, but the remaining specks of dust had to be taken out manually. It lessened their workload by so much, Stark felt a little worthless that he could only help by sweeping.

They’re so cool. Magic was so cool. If it could remove dust too he would have no purpose whatsoever. Not that he hated manual labour, but he wouldn’t refuse the opportunity to do nothing either. It felt like he and Fern had been cleaning this bedroom for hours. At least it seemed like they had finished.

Fern suddenly sneezed from behind him, her mouth covered by her hands.

He turned towards her, setting his broom against the wall. “Are you okay, Fern? I’ll open the window.”

“… I can get the window myself,” she replied, her voice muffled. She quickly went to the window and pushed it open, finally taking a deep breath. She hoisted herself up to the windowsill, and the silence between them continued as wind entered the room.

The breeze blew her hair into her face, and she squinted, brushing her violet locks behind her ears. She gazed towards the night sky, the clear stars reflected upon her sharp eyes like specks of glitter. Faintly lit by moonlight, she looked effortlessly pretty, as if light existed only to present her to the rest of the world. There was a sort of heaviness behind her movements the moment they stepped into this village. It looked like something was deeply troubling her, but she wouldn’t tell him what the issue was, saying that it wasn't a big deal.

He looked down at his hand, pausing when he saw the dust spread neatly about his palm, as gray as the night blanketing them. He didn’t even notice he stained his hands. The broom was probably dusty too. Gosh, he didn’t have anything to wipe this with.

… Wait.

Stark mischievously giggled, an idea blooming in his mind.

He dashed towards Fern in mere seconds, and as she flinched, he forcefully smeared his finger across her cheek, his strength causing her to hold onto the window frame as he grinned.

“Got you!”

Fern grasped her cheek, dumbfoundedly staring at his dirty fingers as he laughed. He’d never seen her taken off-guard by this much before, even from the other pranks he’d pulled in the past.

The girl frowned, grabbing his wrist and abruptly slamming his hand into his own face.

“Ah—” Stark coughed, dust shoveling itself down his throat. “Hey!”

She chuckled, her lips grinning from ear to ear. “That’s for scaring me, Sir Stark. You never seem to listen to me when I tell you to stop doing these things.”

She finally smiled.

When he lifted his face, he saw his reflection on the opened window. There was a gray patch on his face in the shape of his hand, like he had been slapped by a dust ghost or something. Now they were both dirty.

He sulked. “But I like seeing you smile.”

Fern’s eyes widened, and she turned away from him, her hands cupping her cheeks.

“There's gentler ways to do that, don't you think?”

He didn't think he used too much strength on her, but maybe he really was still scaring her. He didn't know what to do about it. He thought he'd been gentle enough already. 

“Um, then, what can I do? Should I stop touching you completely?”

“What? No, come here,” she beckoned.

As if sensing his hesitation, she smiled and put out her hand towards him. When he accepted her hand, she pulled him towards her. He froze, feeling her arms wrapped around his waist, her head buried in his torso, in his jacket. All he could see was the top of her head, and he felt her warm breaths seep through the cloth of his shirt. He firmly kept his arms up in the air. It’s a bit… tingly.

“F— Fern?”

She nuzzled her face against his chest. “I don’t mind this kind of thing.”

Her hair looked so silky, even though they’d been on the road for more than a week. “Can I touch your hair?”

Her violet eyes peeked up at him, and she chuckled. “What are you thinking about? Pervert.”

“Huh? You’re the one that hugged me,” he replied, pursing his lips.

And he wasn’t thinking about anything dirty either.

… Not before she mentioned it, anyway.

She went silent, the smile fading away from her face. She averted her eyes and hid her face in his shirt again, her voice low.

“I told you that I was an orphan of war before, right?” she asked, murmuring.

She had, but she never delved into it further beyond the broad strokes. It happened so many years ago that she said she herself couldn’t recall all the details.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, though he wasn’t sure where she was steering this conversation to.

“Everyone I knew died, but if they could, they didn’t let me see them die. I heard them instead. Through a door, from a bunker, behind a wall.”

“They must’ve wanted to protect you.”

“Mm,” she loosely agreed. “But even though I can’t recall their faces, I vividly remember their screams.”

Her fingers stiffened from behind him as she tightened her grasp. He didn’t know if there was anything he could say, so he didn’t. He hesitantly placed his hand on her back, and the tension in her shoulders faded away. When his noble house was attacked, he ran away early. If he had stayed, he wondered if he’d have the same troubles as her.

“They were loud too,” she continued. “The weapons were fast, loud, explosive. I couldn’t see them, but I heard them. Every time I close my eyes, even if it’s quiet, it’s booming in my ears, ringing in my head. When something touches me too suddenly, I get scared, thinking that they’d finally come for me. It’s scary, I don’t know what’s meant to be a scary noise and what isn’t.”

… Oh.

Then, when he was surprising her, all he was doing was reminding her of the attacks on her hometown?

“... I’m sorry.”

He heard her take a deep breath, and he feared what she was going to tell him in response. She looked up and met his eyes, and he almost flinched.

“Sir Stark, I didn’t tell you this so that you’d apologize to me. Besides,” she smeared the dust off his cheek, chuckling. “I don’t mind playing around. I just want to be handled more gently.”

“Then— What do you want me to do?”

She softly smiled. 

“You like me, right?”

He froze.

Huh?

He did confess, but they tabled that discussion due to the more pressing matters at hand. But after an entire week of silence from her end, he assumed she wanted to forget about it. Even so, this hardly seemed like the appropriate time to bring it up.

“What does— What does that have to do with what we were just talking about?”

She tilted her head. “Will you accept me? What happened to me isn’t something that’ll ever disappear, and you’ll have to be careful around me. It'll be a pain. Won’t you find that tiring? Boring?”

Stark gulped, averting his gaze away from her.

“... Why are you asking me that? Not sneaking up on you, controlling my strength, and not yelling are things I can do just fine.”

“Is that so? You seem to struggle with it.”

“I— I’ll learn,” he said, stammering. “If you’ll be patient with me.”

She brought her hand up to his chin, forcing him to face her. She giggled. “Your face is about as red as your hair and eyes. What dirty thing are you thinking about now?”

Her voice is soft, almost alluring. It’s sweet. Her hand’s warm. They’re soft, but also a little rough. It tickles.

“... I feel like there’s some kind of deep-rooted misunderstanding going on,” he retorted, his face rapidly warming up.

“Really?” she asked, pulling his face towards her, leaning their foreheads together. “Then, am I the only one thinking about it?”

… Gently.

It wasn’t like he never thought about it before.

Their lips inches apart, he could feel her breaths tickle his skin. He couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted to stare at her lips anymore. It was all he could look at. They looked like they’d be soft, sweet. He wondered if she was looking at his own too, and that thought made him a little self-conscious. His lips probably wouldn’t feel as nice as hers.

“... You’re a perv too,” he muttered, gently pressing their lips together.

Chapter Text

Frieren had just finished cleaning herself up.

She stood by the old village well, leaning against the wooden pillar while hidden beneath the shade from the gentle moonlight. 

Frieren retrieved the earrings from her cloak’s pockets, gazing into the ruby-red earring that reflected back at her, where she met her own eyes through her own reflection. A reddened reflection of herself, the reflection bloodied, dirty, guilty.

… Even though she had just finished cleaning up.

She was still getting used to seeing her own sharp, pointy elf ears on herself too.

“You’ll never see that flower again, but you’ll remember it, won’t you?”

Her hand clasped over the earrings in her hands.

… Must she remember this chapter of her life too? In her life that would extend forevermore into the future, must she remember this period of gory death and loss so vividly? She could deal with forgetting just this portion, right? She’ll remember everyone that died, but this earring— it should go. This is how she’ll leave everything behind. 

The fact that she lost Himmel’s handkerchief too told her this as well. These physical symbols of her pain will leave her, and that’s how she’ll be happy from now on. The happiness of someone who no longer seeks to chase death— the happiness of someone who will not chase after those who march to inevitable death.

Her clasped hand extended over the well’s hole, where a small glance confirmed to her that it was deep. So deep that the bottom couldn’t be seen. The walls of the well were made of stone, the pitch blackness of the rest of its interior reminiscent of an abyssal cavern.

She gritted her teeth.

If she threw it in here, she’d truly never see it again.

Thus, all she had to do was let go.

She simply had to unfurl her fingers.

…

Why were her arms shaking?

… Oh.

Perhaps, she… couldn’t do it.

Frieren brought those earrings back to her chest, her fingers trailing its lustrous surface, watching the edges glimmer under the faint moonlight.

“... I hated looking at these earrings the entire time, but I still kept searching for it in my reflections,” she muttered, only to herself. 

It wasn’t something she wanted to admit, because it made her sound pathetic.

In truth, she had noticed it this entire time. She touched it every time her heart was torn, as if she had gotten used to its constant existence. She found cold comfort in how it clung to her earlobes no matter how hard she tugged on them, in how it restricted her magic. Normal earrings would've snapped off before she'd bleed, but these were far from normal. It gave her the ever-reliable excuse that she was helpless and couldn’t have done more.

When Serie had removed these earrings from her within seconds of them meeting, she should’ve felt unbridled joy. It was the lock and chains that kept her from accessing her magic. She was free from that moment on. She should’ve cheered from the bottom of her heart.

All that came to her was resounding resignation.

So you’ve left me too.

At some point in her life, these earrings that belonged to Flamme, that was turned by the Kingdom of Historia to be the very thing that oppressed her, had become precious. Immensely so. So much so that she couldn’t ever part from it.

Before she knew it, these little things had become her saviour. The light in her life.

… It didn’t feel right to throw it away. She wanted to hold onto this little thing that had kept her together.

“Frieren,” came a soft, almost whispery voice from behind her. It’s Milliarde’s voice, sounding a little more excited than usual.

That person’s footsteps excitedly trodden towards her, and she dangled an emerald green alcohol bottle in front of her face. The liquid inside looked somewhat clear as it sloshed around while shaken. 

“Look what I found,” she said, smugly grinning. “I searched my house high and low for the off-chance that it still exists.”

Frieren hid the earrings back into her pocket as she turned to the figure standing by her side. 

She didn't understand why Milliarde even looked for this. “How fortunate. I’m surprised this wasn’t pilfered.”

Milliarde wagged her index finger in disapproval. “This isn’t any alcohol, my pathetic friend.”

Frieren went silent, scanning her memories.

Her lips then fell open in disbelief. It didn’t take long to recall. Milliarde had only made one batch of alcohol in her life, and it was the same one she used to host the treasure hunt for humans back when she thought pirates were cool.

“... No.”

“YES!” Milliarde exclaimed.

She popped the cork off of the bottle and knocked it back, her back arched and one arm resting on her waist. The alcohol was being guzzled.

Holy fuck. 

Frieren quickly backed up in anticipation right as Milliarde spat half of what she drank back out, choking and coughing. She watched her with amazement, but also extreme confusion.

“You know it tastes like piss. Why did you drink it, you idiot?”

Milliarde giggled, her hand sloppily wiping her mouth clean. “I thought alcohol tastes better the more it ages!”

… Not this one, it seemed. Not even time can save this. That’s definitely why no one stole that bottle. They had one taste and then obediently screwed that cork back on.

Said alcohol bottle, now too disgustingly sticky for either of them to willingly hold, was perched against the stone well.

There were still traces of alcohol and saliva on her face, which Frieren remedied by collecting the well water and gingerly passing the bucket to her. 

She glanced at Milliarde as she washed her face, splashing her hair and getting part of her white dress drenched. Milliarde kept giggling at her colossal failure of an attempt at alcohol from hundreds of years ago, even though not a single part of that experience was particularly pleasant.

… Frieren hadn’t seen Milliarde laugh like this for a long time. It was almost as if she had found her old self and sense of adventure again just from chugging that shitty alcohol she made. Back when Milliarde would invite her to new adventures, or to try the latest fad she had an interest in with her. Before either of them had given up on everything.

Somehow, that thought made Frieren smile. It was foolishly stupid. 

“Milliarde, why’d you go look for that thing?”

There were surely plenty of other things in her wrecked and destroyed home that would be far more valuable, and would hold more sentimental value than that colossal failure.

“Hmm,” the other elf said, deep in contemplation. She used her cloak to dry her face. “I was curious. It was the only bottle I kept— the rest tossed in crates for my treasure hunt.”

Frieren wryly chuckled. “If it didn’t taste good for the first three hundred years, what made you think another few years was gonna do?”

“Well,” Milliarde replied, pursing her lips. “It’s a matter of pride.”

“Then, was it to your satisfaction?” Frieren teasingly asked.

Milliarde grinned. “Tasted like shit— just as expected.”

“Worth it, then,” Frieren jokingly concluded. “Now you don’t have any loose ends in your head.”

Milliarde nodded, her tone slightly somber. She glanced down at the cursed bottle placed in between them on the grass. The bottle that both of them had assumed to have been destroyed in the attack, that both of them had assumed was a lost cause could be found. It was this dumb bottle that made Frieren see the old Milliarde again.

“I’m really, truly glad I looked for it,” Milliarde muttered.

… Looked for it, huh?

Frieren’s gaze drifted up to the night sky, thoughts of him filling her mind. 

When they first met, the moon was almost perfectly round, shining down on them and veiling the world in twinkling starlight. Unlike the transient lilies around them, the moon always returns every time the sun goes to sleep. It’s up there forever, unreachable in the sky no matter how high up she stood. It existed before her and may continue existing far after her.

How many deaths had the moon witnessed?

She didn’t like looking at the moon very much, but she remembered that she only gazed upon it that night because Himmel did.

The moon reminded her of herself.

Stagnant.

Did the moon like being the way it was? It doesn’t disappear when the sun rises, the sun’s brightness merely consumes its existence for half of a full day. Every day, something else dictates whether it gets to be seen or not, and it’s fine with it. It’s fine with doing absolutely nothing for years and years and years and years.

That’s…

It frustrated her.

Even looking at it now, as beautiful as it was— She really, really hated the moon.

“... Milliarde,” Frieren called, softly. It was difficult to describe what she was feeling as she grasped those earrings inside her pocket. “I lost something recently too. Should I…”

… look for that handkerchief?

She didn't hear Frieren’s entire question, but it seemed that she didn't need to.

Milliarde tilted her head. “Are you asking for my opinion, or for a final push?” 

Frieren froze, blinking.

“... It's impossible to find. I have no idea where I dropped it. I suppose I know the general idea, but the breeze could've swept it away to another kingdom by now.” 

It had been a week since she left.

“Excuses,” Milliarde spouted, yawning. “Just look for it, and let the Goddess decide if you'll find it or not. If you don't look for it at all, you'll regret it, yes?”

Frieren had forgotten about Milliarde’s faith. She supposed that this faith was what led her to find that bottle in the first place. The bottle both of them thought were gone forever. Frieren couldn't help but to smile. 

“Let fate decide my outcome, is it?”

How droll.

She supposed that she had nothing to lose, then.

… If fate wills it, she'll use this opportunity to decide what she'll do. If she finds it, she'll take it as a sign. She won't let the world take things from her without a fight. She didn't want to throw away anything.

“... I won't waste any time. Tell everyone to wait for me. I’ll return in a week, with or without that handkerchief.”

Milliarde yawned again.

“Good luck.”

—

Frieren had been gone for more than a week.

Eisen had felt a strange heaviness weighing down on him ever since.

Milliarde told him she was searching for an answer from fate, but she left all on her own.

Whatever that meant, he believed Frieren would return, but he still couldn't sleep that night. He creaked the door to the temporary home they lived in open and stepped out into the moonlight. A little walk would get him groggy eventually. 

Just as he did, his foot accidentally kicked a little pebble away.

The pebble bounced on the destroyed stone path and landed against a tree stump.

He paused, surprised.

… Eisen wasn’t the kind of person to make this kind of mistake— making noise when he moved. 

He had been trained to be completely silent to hide his presence, but this place was unnerving him too much. He tried his best to ignore it, but all around him were dried bloodstains, brown-ish under the night’s veil. Red splattered on the paths, on the walls, on that tree stump, the grass, the floors. 

It's a pungent smell that plunged itself right down his nostrils; a familiar metallic stench that permeated this village like a curse.

He caused these bloodstains.

The bodies had all been burned, but the Kingdom of Historia obviously didn’t bother to clean up after. He took another hurried step to nowhere.

He didn’t have the right to fear this place, but he did.

…

He sighed. He had been too used to always knowing where Frieren was. This unknown was bothering him. He felt awfully clingy. 

The wind suddenly blew his long beard and red cape to the side, and a white feather flew by his eyes. It was a cool breeze that loosely reminded him of the night he met the princess. The night he met a little girl that pretended to be braver than she truly was.

He repaid Emilia’s kindness with genocide. He did it to avenge her— he thought.

He reasoned to himself that he was merely following King Regis’ orders, but if he was truly trying to do the right thing, he would’ve rebelled against the king earlier.

In the end, his murders were nothing more than a violent, thankless temper tantrum. As if he were no better than a child. Now, he could never see Emilia again. There was no way that he would reach the fake sky she spoke of. If an afterlife existed, it wouldn't be heaven that greeted him after death.

Thus, even if he was a villain like no other, if there was at least one person he could save— he wanted to do it. That was why he devoted his entire being to her, the one that didn’t condemn him even though she had the right to do so.

That's why, this unease welling up inside of him— has to be right.

His legs stopped.

White petals brushed by his feet, and his eyes widened.

He hurriedly crossed that field of lilies, reaching the centre where the tombstone of that human mage laid. His instincts had never been wrong before, not when it was about her.

Just as he was thinking about her, she was right here. The troublesome elf with silver hair.

Eisen’s body shadowed over her as she lay sloppily slumped against the gravestone in a fetal position.

…

Whenever he felt lost, his mind always brought him back to the graves of his parents. He thought that, maybe, Frieren felt similarly. It was this instinct that made her always so easy to find for him. 

Ironically, this grave, surrounded by flowers, was the only place in this ruined village that looked like it had any semblance of life left.

Her white clothes were tattered, her dress covered in dirt at the knee— as if she had dragged and crawled herself back after her legs had lost their strength. Her black cloak was used as a blanket over herself, but she still noticeably shivered. She was thin, almost boney, and her breathing was heavy despite looking like she was asleep.

She looked like she had spent all her energy and effort to make it back here.

In her hands, she clutched a dirty sky blue handkerchief, her fingers digging into that little piece of cloth like she didn't trust the wind around her. He'd never seen that before, but a red glint distracted him from the corner of his eye.

Seemingly feeling his presence, the sleeping woman stirred awake, her eyes slowly blinking open.

Frieren’s teal eyes met his, and softly, with all the energy she had left, she smiled.

It was a triumphant sort of smile, as if she wanted to tell him that she was alright. 

All at once, that unease was dispelled. It felt like they were never apart. It felt right. His instincts had always been right.

Maybe the one that needed to be saved wasn't just her.

His eyes returned to the red glint, hanging off of her ears. He had so many other questions to ask her, but all of those questions vanished at that moment.

“... Those earrings no longer chain you down, do they? Why do you keep it?”

He knew that it no longer held the curse that kept her magic away from her, which meant that they were now regular earrings. Even so, they’d only remind her of terrible things.

It reminded him of crystallized blood; an apt keepsake from a dead woman.

She exhaustedly chuckled, twirling it between her fingers.

“The thing about death is that, even if you accept it, the gaping hole inside you doesn’t disappear.”

He nodded, averting his gaze to the lilies around them. “It makes you want to do something about it. Even though nothing can be done.”

“... Do they look good on me?” she murmured.

He had turned away, but her question was forcing him to look at her.

It felt like she was punishing him for the times he gave her hope that those earrings could be removed. It felt like it was only yesterday when he leapt out of a window to stop her from ending herself, or when her fingers curled around his neck as she begged him to take them off.

All the times she pulled at her earrings until her skin ripped apart were still fresh inside his mind.

He turned his back to her, offering his hand.

“Get on first,” he said. “We’ll continue this conversation once we're inside.”

“No, you're short,” she said, refusing. “If I get on your back then my legs will drag on the ground. Carry me from the front.”

He was harshly reminded that he was a dwarf standing at typical dwarf-height.

“... Quite demanding for someone who can barely move. I could just leave you here, or hang you over my shoulder like a potato sack.”

“You won't. Now turn around.”

She was being difficult on purpose. It's irritating.

With his gaze cast down, he put his arms around her back and thighs, picking her up from the grass with relative ease.

Those ruby-red earrings were the first things to have caught his eye, even though he wanted to avoid looking at them.

She tilted her head as her arms clung to him, letting the gentle moonlight reflect off of the ruby exterior of those teardrop-shaped earrings. They contrasted greatly against her pale skin, silver hair and teal eyes. 

It was…

“... Does it not pain you?” he asked.

Frieren shook her head, resting against his chest. “No.”

Eisen wistfully smiled.

“I see.”

Then, that's all he needed to know.

He began his trek through the field of lilies with her in his arms, where they didn't have anything more to say. His steps suddenly grew heavier as they approached the village, and he remembered why he was rushing to leave it all over again.

… The strong stench of dried, metallic blood, reminding him that he was a cold-blooded murderer.

Frieren narrowed her brows, though he didn't know if she knew why he was so hesitant to enter the village again.

“... Eisen, did you know?” she asked, her voice soft.

He glanced down at her and she continued speaking, glancing down at her dress rather than up towards him.

“... Heiter told me he only healed my nose, but he healed my earlobes too. I wonder if he knew about my earrings. He never asked me how I got hurt, even though it must've been a strange place to have a wound in.”

Eisen froze in place, several steps away from the arch which signalled the entrance of the elf’s village.

… That priest, huh. The first prince.

Eisen didn't have a very good impression of him. He was a cold, calculating man; willing to harm himself and threaten others as long as he got what he wanted. They only worked together to achieve the same goal— killing King Regis, the reigning monarch of Roselia.

But in the end, Eisen didn't have the right to judge him from any sort of pedestal. 

All of us can be rather despicable, one way or another.

“So even that man has a warm side to him too,” Eisen commented.

She chuckled in response. “I just found out that someone I didn’t particularly like was a softie as well. It's an odd feeling, isn't it?”

“... Is that person the elf you spoke of?”

He had spoken to her too, back at the cathedral, ever so briefly. The elf that made him taste true fear for the first time in a while.

“Yeah,” she said, her fingers rising to fiddle with those earrings. “Even someone like her could change.”

…

“... I assume fate has answered you,” Eisen surmised. “Does it have to do with that handkerchief you've balled up inside your fist?”

—

Frieren’s eyes widened, later softening to her smile.

It took her so long to find that handkerchief that she'd rather not credit her achievement to fate. Sorry, fate. She could barely move by herself right now. 

Eisen was still, his arms firmly holding her up. They stood by the arch, a good distance away from the bloodfest of the village. She felt surprisingly nothing about staring at the gruesome results of her village’s eradication. It bothered her, but it also didn't at the same time. For a moment, she wondered if it was wrong of her to not feel so heavily, if she should've died with them.

… But surviving was something to be proud of too.

“Eisen, we can't take back what we've done, or what has happened to us.”

“... I know.”

“But it doesn't mean that we must wallow in our self-pity forever,” she continued, her fist unfolding. 

“Then what? After my revenge, there is nothing else left,” he said, avoiding her gaze. 

Frieren had asked him to live every day to the fullest, but she realised that it was a rather irresponsible request when neither of them knew what that meant. She knew that he was only alive for her sake.

“Perhaps we do deserve to rot for our entire lives for what we've done,” she responded. “Thus, the state of the world as-is would be perfect.”

… Right. That's the other reason why she didn't want Himmel to kill the demon king. It was either that he would die an early and pointless death, or the world would… change.

If she wasn't permitted to kill herself, then she wanted to live together with Eisen in pretend-bliss until the deaths they avoided finally turned around to get them too. When the demon king eventually reached them, she planned on closing her eyes and welcoming death’s kiss.

“But to leave the world as it is…” She held up the dirt-ridden sky blue handkerchief and regarded it with a sigh. “Those with us will fall to hell too.”

A world marred by destruction begets a destructive society.

… Or maybe it was the other way around.

Neither of them were heroes. They didn't know how to save anyone. The only things their hands had done were harm. Under that line of thought, atonement sounded like a joke even if they truly wanted to reach for it.

Eisen scoffed.

“Thus, we must save the world so that we may burn alone at the end?”

… Was this the only sort of future they could see for themselves? Waiting for hell's maws to swallow them whole?

Her brows furrowed. She poked the tip of his nose with her finger.

“As terrible people, can't we be more selfish than that?”

If even Serie can attempt to cheat hell, then we can do it too.

“I’ve been selfish enough,” he said, wryly chuckling.

“I don't think so,” she replied, her body swaying in contemplation. “We live remarkably long lives, don't we? Let's do so many good things that hell can't hope to touch a single hair on our skins. They'll be perplexed. How could a monster dare to knock on heaven’s door?”

His rough fingers loosened around her, and she shifted her position as her arms reflexively clung around his neck again. It seemed that her weight may be a problem for him to carry long-term after all. Or perhaps he was having trouble taking it all in.

As another plus, the demon king might also have spells she had never seen before. Magic belonged to the demons, after all. There's so many grimoires that she could find, and she might even meet…

She leaned against his chest, and felt the slow thumping of his heartbeat reverberate throughout her body. She felt almost… sleepy.

“... Then, one day, we can plant flowers everywhere we go. That's what you said you wanted to do, yes?”

Her voice was a little soft, close to a whisper. She thought that it was the first time she could truthfully speak of the future.

Frieren had only now realised that she kept herself awake for days so that she could make it back here.

When was the last time she slept?

Eisen took a deep breath, cradling her closer to himself. He probably sensed that she was lulling herself to sleep.

“Frieren, before we met, and before I met the princess, I was heading north as well.”

A warm breeze passed them by.

“... You were?”

Eisen nodded.

“I can admit that I merely wanted to die back then, but it felt almost like fate now that you're bringing it up again.”

Oh.

Was this what fate was?

“Through my time listening in at the cathedral,” he continued, “I surmised that many kingdoms are preparing armies for a large-scale assault in a few years. We can slip in with the crowd and provide some support, especially now that we can change our appearances.”

“... How do we pretend to be a knight with our skill-sets?” Neither of them were knights in the traditional sense. Eisen was never properly trained to be a knight, considering how differently Historia handled their army. They would surely stick out like sore thumbs.

He sighed. “There are many individual mercenaries hired by merchants that would love for trade routes to open up in the north. We can pretend to be one of them.”

Frieren hummed in contemplation. It was a lot to take in, but…

… Huh.

He acted so resistant before, as if neither of them had a single chance at trying anything worthwhile.

But Eisen… had put a lot more thought into this plan than she had.

Her consciousness was slipping away, and she could only chuckle.

You… merely needed that final push too, right?

—

Eisen placed the unruly elf into the soft bed, pulling the blanket over her shivering body. She was out cold, which had made her even heavier. He massaged his stiffened arms, hopping into bed next to her.

As he sat on the bed by her side, his hand brushed her silver hair from her face. He could only take a deep breath.

… Truthfully, whenever Frieren slept, Eisen thought he could see Emilia in her heavy expressions.

They were completely different from one another, but both of them carried a weight in themselves that he couldn't understand. If it was possible to look stressed while asleep, that was exactly how he'd describe it. Knit brows and slight frowns.

But today, Frieren looked different. A freedom in her that felt pleasant.

He wondered that this change could affect him too— and if it could, then he wondered if it meant Emilia could greet him in the afterlife with her usual prideful smirk.

He could prove that she didn't make a mistake when she personally knighted him.

He could look her in the eye and tell her the birds he saw and the places he walked. 

He wanted… to see her again.

Eisen sighed, picking up Frieren’s tattered black cloak that was clumsily wrapped around her, right as the sky blue handkerchief fell out of Frieren’s grasp.

“... What is this, anyway?” he asked, targeting no one in particular. If he asked Frieren she'd just tell him it was a handkerchief, which wouldn't give him any more clarity.

He wanted to know what was so special about it that she'd look for it all on her own.

Eisen picked up the handkerchief too, turning it over in his hand. In the corner of the soft, strangely high-quality sky blue cloth, an intricately embroidered H was sewn on, gold in hue.

… H?

The colour stood out, and reminded him of the exact shade of Roselia’s royal family. 

Funnily enough, both sons were named H, but Eisen wasn't so stupid that he couldn't tell which H brother this handkerchief belonged to.

“Is Mistress Frieren alright?” came a soft voice from behind him, peeking behind the half-opened door. It was the human girl with long violet hair, her hand rubbing her equally violet eyes awake.

He nodded, and her eyes eventually landed on the handkerchief he held in his hands.

“... If I may, what is that?”

Déjà vu.

He stretched his hand out to her as she approached him, and she gingerly took it from his hands.

“This was what she was searching for,” he elaborated. “In the state it's in right now, she'll probably lose it again sooner or later. She's hopeless at holding onto things.” 

If something were to leave her side, she'd simply watch it plod away. He… didn’t blame her.

“I’ve seen this exact shade on one of the tablecloths of this house. The elf that lived here seemed to enjoy collecting and making embroidered works,” Fern commented, studying the material. “There's plenty of leftover cloth and string around in the store room. I think they were in the middle of completing a blanket for a baby.”

Eisen’s fingers twitched, but he pushed that heavy feeling aside. “What are you getting at?”

Fern smiled, clutching the sky blue handkerchief against her chest.

“I think I can turn it into a scarf. It'll make it easier for her to bring it around, yes? Winter is approaching soon as well.”

“Is it alright for us to loot this house like that?”

“It would've been eaten away by time anyway,” Milliarde chimed in. Apparently, she had come into this room and neither of them noticed she stood right next to them. 

As if giving her approval in place of her dead brethren, she waved her hands in disinterest. “He would cry if his collection went to waste—” She suddenly paused, nodding to herself as if she had just recalled something important.

“... Right, and that rascal owed me a set of pyjamas. I donate my portion of cloth to you.”

Fern chuckled, bowing her head. “Thank you, Miss Milliarde. I can make pyjamas for you as well if you'll let me.”

The elf whistled, impressed. “Winter’s coming. Might as well settle in here for a bit and make warm clothes for all of us. I’ll help.”

“What happened to using only your portion of cloth?” Eisen asked, finally having the chance to chime in.

Milliarde frowned, bringing her finger to her lips and telling him to shut up. “He can't get mad. Who told him to lose our bet?”

Eisen didn't feel like knowing what the bet was for. He headed towards the door to leave his slumbering princess be, but paused right as he was about to cross the doorframe, turning around for one final time.

“... Did the two of you know that Frieren wanted to kill the demon king?”

Fern and Milliarde looked at each other and anxiously giggled.

“Yes,” Milliarde replied. “She can't hide anything from me. Even the things she doesn't know about herself.”

“... I’ll go wherever she goes,” Fern said. “Sir Stark doesn’t mind either.”

Eisen sighed.

“So I was the last one to be convinced, is it?”

Milliarde pointed her gaze to Frieren’s sleeping expression, her soft voice lightly echoing throughout the wooden room.

“I had a feeling she would've wanted to speak to you herself.”

—

Himmel’s boots sank into the snow beneath him, warm puffs of air leaving him as he walked. 

It was his first break in a while after months of constant battling. With somewhat sore muscles, he pushed past branches of trees laden with white snow and found his breath taken away. The starry sky shone down on him as he stood before a frozen lake surrounded by mountainous terrain.

He looked down at the frozen lake, his reflection staring back at him. Crouching down, his finger traced over the rim of his reflection’s face. It had been far too long since he admired his own visage.

I look damn good.

For a man that had aged ten years since he resolved to save the world, all that stress didn't get to his face at all. He was ravishing, he thought, cupping his own chin. How could a man age this well?

His sky blue eyes and hair looked like it could melt right into his surroundings. An ice fairy of sorts.

A sudden shiver staggered him to the ground, his arms immediately wrapping around himself— the world humbling him and bringing him back down to earth. His other hand rested on the hilt of his sword, stabilising himself.

Oof, he still needed to get used to the cold, however. His layers upon layers of warm clothes still weren't enough.

The North's winter was far harsher than his own kingdom’s winter. He had always assumed all winters were the same, but…

Himmel’s eyes trailed the reflection of the iced lake to the tip of the mountains towering before him, snow-capped peaks and fir trees. Most of the flowers he had been familiar with weren't around. Flowers, something he had taken for granted in the spring-haven plains of Roselia could only be seen in some parts of the alpine north.

The closer he got to the demon king’s castle, the more unfamiliar his surroundings became.

The world was impossibly vast.

Even the exceptionally bright full moon in the cloudless sky above him looked as if it could rival the morning sun.

In the north, the sun rose later than he was used to. Nights lasted longer than mornings, and he could watch the twinkling stars for hours on end. It messed with his internal clock.

Without much signs of wildlife, this snowy world seemed… lonely. Quiet, ephemerally pretty. Or maybe it made him feel lonely. He didn't know for sure. While he loved it, he didn't know if he would want to stay in this endless snow forever. Heiter was managing things back in Roselia alone. He wouldn’t want to let his brother take the burden all on his own for too long.

“Look! We can skate there!”

Two hushed voices with linked hands rushed past him, kicking up the snow in a hastened flurry. It was as if they hadn't seen him there at all.

It was two teenage girls, one with dark green hair, the other a soft blue. For a second, he thought they looked familiar. Most soldiers were resting back at the camp nearby. They must’ve wandered around like he did.

Even though they had normal boots on before, blades appeared at the bottom of their footwear in a blink as they glided across the ice, giggling all the while, screaming if they almost fell.

They hopped and spun without a care, and Himmel couldn't help but to laugh too. If he could skate, he would've loved to try it as well. It was a shame he wasn't good at anything dance or performance-related. He should've gone to his classes.

Crack.

Himmel’s eyes widened, as if opening his eyes wider would make his hearing clearer.

His gaze trailed the source of the noise, a crack in the ice. Before he could even speak, the crack spread, causing part of the ice to rise once broken off, cracks darting straight towards where the green-haired girl was skating.

“Woah—”

The girl with dark green hair tripped over the shattered ice chunk, and Himmel quickly rushed to his feet.

“Hang on—”

Himmel stopped in place.

The green-haired girl’s limbs flailed mid-air, followed by the roaring laughter of the other girl, now clutching her belly mid-air as well, turning and whirling around above the ice as if gravity was merely a suggestion one could ignore.

“Pfft, I told you you were getting fat!”

The green-haired girl gasped.

“How do you know it wasn't you that cracked the ice?! It must be your darn chest size!” she yelled in retaliation, her grabby arms slithering towards the girl with soft blue hair.

… 

Himmel turned around, opting to stare at the slumbering squirrels in the trees.

They seem to be alright. He felt almost stupid for worrying.

He remembered who those carefree girls were now. 

The navy blue coats the girls adorned were reminiscent of the members of the Continental Magic Association, a somewhat new association created by an elf that housed war orphans and trained them to become war mages.

Naturally, it faced a lot of pushback. Elves and magic were considered heresy, and thus it was conceived as a cult that attempted to steer vulnerable and innocent children to the route of the demons. They thought it was vile to manipulate children who were at the ends of their ropes, and thus had no choice but to use magic if they wanted to live.

It took only one show of strength from the elf that helmed the association, Serie, to shut all those criticisms down.

Himmel didn't know who “Serie” was, but a part of him felt like he had met her before when he saw her in pictures. He could never shake that feeling away, even though he was confident that he had only met one elf his entire life. Where in the world could he have seen her before?

He shrugged.

He had pondered this countless times and could never rightly recall where he could've seen her before. Maybe she resembled someone else he had seen in passing.

Now it wasn't odd to see mages on the battlefield, fighting against demons with them. Their numbers weren't as many as the foot soldiers, but they weren't weak, either. Thus, those girls were his fellow soldiers.

It came with the slight caveat that only mages from the Continental Magic Association were seen as good mages. Those people were the only ones that could fight alongside other humans.

He didn't know whether to praise or condemn the elf at the top for training kids for war, but he supposed that this was merely the kind of world he's living in now. Until peace was achieved, children would have to live with war beyond their doorsteps.

He sighed, hearing the girls behind him still giggling between themselves.

But maybe if children could still laugh like this, then the dream for a world without war wasn't completely hopeless.

Something glimmered in the corner of his eye, something shimmering, something glittering. 

Translucent, resplendent, gently moonlit.

Far in the snowy, alpine forest, in an almost-perfectly circular glade in the woods, there was a lone flower that looked like its petals were formed by rainfall.

… Is that a flower unique to the north?

He couldn't help himself, his steps heading deeper into the forest and leaving the girls’ echoing laughter behind.

Soon, it was completely quiet, not even the woodland creatures could be heard. That was how far he had gotten away from everyone else.

He ducked beneath snow-capped branches and paused several steps away from the flower. He hesitated to touch it, but he was far too curious to merely stare at it from afar. How entrancing.

It simply didn't look real.

Himmel bent down, slowly reaching his hand out, afraid that the petal would somehow melt if he touched it too carelessly.

— A sudden flash of light flew by his face.

Himmel withdrew his sword from his side in a single motion, slashing into the air.

It was a trap. The flower was gone.

A monster was blown back with that light blast that seemingly came out of nowhere, something that had been right in front of him. The magic blast had protected him from the monster he almost got tricked by. Who protected him…? Was it those girls from the frozen lake?

Heavy breathing. Fresh, red blood flowing down his sword. He moved before he even knew what was happening.

In mere moments, that ambush-type monster dissolved into nothingness, as if it never existed. Not even blood remained. 

He watched the snow settle, the only proof that something had ever happened at all. Amidst the icy chill, a veil of white had descended before him like gentle snowfall. All at once, the torrential anxiety inside of him disappeared in a blink.

Teal eyes that were the precise colour he always imagined emerald seas to look like reflected back at him. His saviour had long white hair that draped down to her hips, that matched the exact description of the woman he hadn't seen in ten years.

She stopped in front of him while donning a navy blue uniform, a sky blue scarf wrapped around her neck. As she rose back up to her feet from her leap, his eyes were drawn to the earrings on her long, pointy ears. Rubies in the shape of a single teardrop.

He felt a hitch in his breath. He thought he saw wrongly, and blinked again and again. She looked the same as she did ten years ago, but something in her eyes looked different.

Where have you been?

What have you been doing?

Are you… happy?

He had so many questions, but none of them left his lips.

This was…

She seemed to notice his fixation on her as she discreetly spoke. Her eyes closed, which broke him out of his trance.

“Your majesty, don't get distracted.”

Her voice was harsh, but he could sense a sort of warmth behind it. He chuckled, readying his sword, strengthening the grip on his hilt. That kerfuffle was sure to attract other monsters to their immediate area. As much as he wanted to make this dramatic— somehow, this sort of reunion felt just right. It was exciting and calming all the same.

He smiled, pressing his back against hers as their eyes scanned their winter-wonderland surroundings.

“Don’t worry, I won't mess anything up,” he replied.

Not this time.

Chapter Text

Himmel felt like he was still in a daze. A dream, even. An exceptionally warm dream separated from the rest of the waking world.

Sitting on a log by a magic-conjured flickering flame, he passively watched the gray smoke carry itself up to the stars above. He didn’t shiver anymore, since she gave him no opportunity to. His fingers trailed over the soft fleece draped around his neck, the patchwork sky blue scarf she forced onto him after he sneezed.

It really wasn’t a big deal, though. If anything, he swore she was the more vulnerable between the two of them. She passed out during that rainfall so many years ago, after all.

… And he did too, but oh well.

Actually, maybe that was only his flawed perception of her. His eyes flickered to the woman stoking the flames by his side, her small frame hunched over the fire. She donned that familiar navy blue uniform he saw the girls wear earlier. They didn’t sit very closely together, but the log wasn’t particularly large either. They sat just far enough that they weren’t touching, but close enough that he could feel her body heat emanate and warm him up better than any fire could.

“Did you end up joining the Continental Magic Association?” he asked her, if only to fill the dead silence. He thought Frieren didn’t want to kill the demon king.

She shook her head, sighing. “As if that elf would let me in. I was a failed apprentice. Besides…” Frieren met his eyes, and upon a single blink her appearance changed. She had light hair down to her shoulders, but he had seen this appearance before too.  “Dead terrorist Frieren with silver locks and green eyes can’t exactly be seen walking around. Not until another few decades. In public, I pose as Milliarde’s twin sister. Though I’m not officially a member, I can wear her extra uniform.”

“Milliarde? Then, was this person who you chose to disguise yourself as back at the cathedral too?”

She groaned, her appearance fading back into the Frieren he knew. “You still remember that?”

“She’s the alcohol one!” he said, giggling, unaware of whether his exclamation was rude or not. “You mentioned that name before too!”

That’s so nice. They found each other again even though neither of them knew whether the other still lived or not. That had to be fate. What else could it be?

She nodded, tossing the stick she was holding into the fire. It crackled again, like a satisfied beast after a good meal. It painted both of them in a slight orange tint. He swore she didn’t like fire either, but she couldn’t avoid it unless she wanted to freeze to death.

… Maybe that's why she's going to kill the demon king too.

Frieren then proudly handed him a single grape from her coat’s pocket, as if it was normal to keep grapes in pockets. “That drink tasted like rat’s piss, but this grape’s good. It erases the taste of it on my tongue perfectly.”

“Wow, this sounds like one powerful grape,” he commented, turning it over between his fingers. It looked like a regular green grape to him.

“It’s sour. Eisen likes these things, so I keep some with me to bribe him.”

“Ooh, I finally get to taste what he likes to eat,” he replied, glad to find out that Eisen was alive. He was afraid that asking outright would seem insensitive. Just in case something had happened.

Himmel’s face instantly scrunched as his teeth gnashed into the soft flesh of the green grape.

“It’s sour!” he exclaimed, swallowing the grape down in one bite, coughing. “You weren’t kidding!”

“If I wanted to prank you, I wouldn’t have told you exactly how it tasted…”

He laughed again, realising that even though he had so many questions to ask her, the conversation they're having instead was the most mundane thing on earth. He swiped the tears squeezed from his eye and finally asked something a bit more important.

“How come we never saw each other before this if we were both in the north?”

Frieren rubbed her hands together, blowing them for heat. “We’re constantly on the move to provide support to the different armies. I was merely passing by earlier, actually. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it, but…” He pursed his lips, crossing his arms. “I would’ve preferred to look cooler in front of you. I can’t believe I ended up looking like a bumbling idiot during our dramatic reunion. How am I supposed to prove that I got stronger now?”

She tilted her head.

“Would you have preferred it if I had left you alone?”

“... Thank you for saving this little pathetic worm.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He huffed. “Well, for the record, I could’ve slain that monster all by myself. I was just taken off-guard at first, that’s all.”

“I believe you.”

“... Why does it not sound like you do…?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. She had an inscrutable expression as always, so his eye-narrowing action was actually pointless. Her teal eyes were pretty, though.

Frieren chuckled. “I’m no good at sarcastic remarks. Take my word for it, your majesty.”

Now that’s a lie if he’d ever heard one.

“Wait, hmm? Where did all this distance come from? Don’t tell me you forgot my name already?” he said, grinning. “Just because I’m king now doesn’t mean you have to treat me any differently.”

“Right, it doesn’t feel like you changed much at all.”

“That’s not really a compliment, is it?” he said, defeatedly slumped over. “I’d rather not be who I used to be.”

She giggled. “Is that so? I think it’s a relief that war hasn’t changed you much.”

He lifted his legs and hugged his knees, softly muttering. He clenched his fingers together only to pretend like he wasn’t trembling.

“Haha, you’re probably the only person that would say that.”

He was king now, so appearing weak like he did just now was out of the question. Complaining was even more prohibited. He was the most privileged man in his kingdom, the one with the most power. Acting like an immature, weak and naive child now would just make him look like a pathetic fool that no knight would want to stand with. Sometimes he wished he could throw a tantrum for once and not be looked at like a freak.

But he knew better, obviously. 

Ever since the true Charlotte passed away, Himmel never threw a tantrum again. His last tantrum threw his mother off a cliff, after all. It was the harshest punishment a child could receive for acting like a child. Even though he had forgotten those memories for a while, his body instinctively knew that he should never act out again.

Be a good boy, or the people around you will fall to harm.

A sudden chill spread across his cheek and he quickly flinched, his hand darting to where he was hit. The natural heat from his hand warmed his cheek almost instantly. Whatever he was hit with, it was icy cold, wet, and soft.

… Snow?

He blinked, and a view of Frieren standing across the fire from him came into view. In her palm was another snowball, and she looked about ready to chuck another one towards him. She mischievously grinned.

“Your guard’s down, Himmel.”

“Hey—” His arms raised to his face, blocking the other snowball that came right at him. The chill seeped through his clothes and sent shivering tingles up his arms.

“What are you doing?!”

She narrowed her eyes and shrugged. “Do humans not play with snowballs? It seems I miscalculated.”

“No, no, we do!” he replied, hastily cleaning the remnants of snow from his sleeves. “I mean, I haven’t, but—”

“Oh? Even Fern has played with snow. We’ll have to fix that.”

“Huh?”

He ducked right as another snowball came his way. 

Is now really the time?! 

In a single blink, he found himself surrounded by floating snowballs in the air. All around him, above him, beside him— were snowballs waiting for their master’s orders. She stood across the fire from him, staring at him like he was fresh prey.

Using magic has to be unfair. He’s never had a snowball fight before but it has to be unfair!

Himmel dashed towards the woods, kicking up snow as he went. A barrage of snowballs came after him, and through his heavy breaths he could swear that normal snowball fights were probably not like this. He found a particularly thick enough tree to hide behind and crouched down to the ground, balling up some snow in his hands. 

He winced at the cold, but quickly packed the snow together into a dense ball. It’s kind of magical that balling up some soft snow could make something a bit tougher like this. Not that snowballs were magical— he just thought they were cool.

Frieren’s footsteps crunched against the snow, and he held his breath, watching for her shadow. His own shadow blended in with the trees, he simply had to hope that she wasn’t doing the same. The snow had muffled all sound, he couldn’t tell where her footsteps were coming from. Actually, it would be better if he could plan where she’d go. If she came from his side or even from any direction that wasn’t directly behind him, his cover would be blown.

His sword lightly bumped against the tree trunk, and an idea popped into his mind. The monster they fought used a similar kind of trickery, so maybe he could pull it off too.

If she’s playing dirty, he should have the right to do the same thing.

—

Frieren didn’t think he’d take her silly challenge so seriously.

Her feet trudged through the semi-deep snow, watching for every little glisten and every shifting shadow. The moonlit forest was eerily silent, and she was getting distracted by the puffs of her own warm breaths. He couldn’t have gotten far, it’s just a game.

She paused, catching sight of a billowing white cape hunched over behind a tree. He’s just going to hide behind a tree to ambush her? That’s not how fun snowball fights tend to go, right? In the first place, people don’t typically play hide and seek in snowball fights, but she supposed he had no way of knowing that if he had never played before.

… Something seemed off.

That figure wasn’t moving at all. She was too far to be able to tell properly, but he didn’t look like he was breathing, either.

She knocked the tree opposite from her with a snowball and hid behind a different tree, but there was no reaction to her noise. As expected, something’s wrong. Did they make too much ruckus and attract another monster? She swore she already completely cleared this area. Well, there’s no need to panic and reveal her location yet.

Aiming her sights, she launched the snowball from where she stood right at the center of his body, and blew his cape right off.

… Huh?

Unwittingly, she peeked out from behind the tree in shock.

Beneath the cape was a sword, and he was nowhere to be seen. Only a sword propped into the ground, alongside the white cape.

As expected, it’s not him, but if he placed a trap like that, the real him must be nearby—

Ah—

Frieren’s hand rubbed against her shoulder. It’s wet… and cold.

“Haha, I got you!”

She turned around, seeing a man with sky blue hair standing behind her, beaming and smiling. He leapt in joy and squealed as if victory was something he fought his entire life for. He was so fast she couldn’t defend from it in time, nor could she detect his presence. Compared to the man she saw ten years ago, he seemed almost foreign.

Seeing a grown man so proudly laughing about his simple achievement made her chuckle. “That’s dirty, Himmel. Snowball fights aren’t played like this.”

He puffed up his chest in defiance, his hands resting on his hips and his lips pursed.

“Well, I don’t think normal snowball fights involve a barrage of floating snowballs, either!”

She raised her brows.

She had played with Fern, Milliarde, Stark and Eisen exactly like this the entire time.

“... It’s not?”

Himmel blinked, staring at her, dumbfounded.

“You’re asking me?”

“... Pfft.”

Frieren couldn’t help but to chuckle. She leaned her head against Himmel’s chest only to hide the fact that she was laughing at how out-of-touch both of them were. Something that should be common sense was completely unknown to both of them. It was strange.

“Ah— Frieren, you’re cold!”

No wonder Milliarde looked as if she was about to burst into laughter when she explained the rules of snowball fights to them. That elf was lying through her teeth for the sake of her own enjoyment. No wonder Stark looked so bewildered when she explained those rules. 

To her credit, their abnormally intense snowball fights that allowed the usage of magic and overwhelming physical strength were actually fun.

She felt something warm drape around her neck, and she met his eyes. With his hands, he wrapped the sky blue scarf she had lent him earlier around her neck. She shivered as his icy fingers brushed past her nape, letting out a subtle breath. For a second, she wanted those fingers to stay where they were. These fingers that had not a ring in sight, but on closer glance, had the image of a little mirrored lotus etched on his skin.

He smiled as he looked into her eyes, neatly bundling her up in the scarf’s warmth.

“You’re gonna get sick if you let yourself get cold, dummy.”

Frieren sighed. 

“That’s rich. You’re the one that fell for a monster’s trap because you saw an illusion of a pretty flower. What are you, four?”

He giggled in response. “I learned from it and used its tactics against you. I’d say my exceptional learning curve more than makes up for it. Plus,” he smirked, “I had a really powerful mage behind me.”

Why in the world would he brag about her helping him? It truly was a coincidence that she passed by. If she didn't, he probably would've actually died. Or he could've gotten horribly injured. His faith in her was a bit…

She wondered if she had become someone worthy of that faith.

“... You know, that flower exists. It’s not something that grows naturally in the north, but a flower with petals that looks as if formed by raindrops exists.”

Ah, she was changing the topic again. It was a bad habit of hers, but she felt her gaze faltering and her body trembling. It's a reflex at this point.

His eyes looked as if they lit up. She didn’t know if he didn't notice or if he was simply playing along, but she was grateful for it nonetheless.

“They do?!”

She nodded. “They’re called skeleton flowers, and in the language of flowers, they mean…”

…

It wasn’t like she memorised the meaning of every single flower in the world. While she was reading a book about flowers, the meaning of this one simply caught her eye.

“... the impermanence of life.”

“Ooh,” he said. “It looked like something right out of a fairytale. Like petals that’ll melt if I touch it. Are you sure they're not straight up magic?”

She chuckled.

“If they were, I’d just show them to you right now. They don't grow in these climates though, so I can't.”

“After the war, then. I’ll wait.”

Himmel patted her on her head and smiled. “So you can't die on me before then.”

… What an odd way to mask what he truly meant. Neither of them were saying things properly. Both of them wanted to push certain discussions to “after the war”. It was too obvious. It was sloppy. It even made her a little frustrated. Both at him and herself.

She floated a snowball up into the air and chucked it right at his face.

“Hey—” he spat out, wiping the soft, crumbly snow off his face. “I thought it was over!”

Frieren giggled, quickly backing away. 

“I’m actually late to my meet-up, so I’ll go on ahead,” she said. “We won't have many chances to meet on the battlefield again, but if I see you, I’ll throw a snowball at your face just like that.”

“Can't you just greet me normally?!” he asked as she floated up to the sky, his head craning up to look at her. He looked smaller and smaller the higher she went up.

She smiled, waving goodbye.

“Au revoir.”

Let's end this war as soon as possible.

—

Ever since then, Himmel would randomly get pelted by snowballs if he wasn't watching out for them.

She wouldn't show herself so he couldn't retaliate even though he really wanted to. Plus, sometimes she'd throw them at him during battles?! Where the hell did she find the time to do that?

Most of the soldiers, knights, mercenaries and mages had scattered. The demon king was between these walls, and the plan was simply to light this place ablaze, but…

Well, the demon king wasn't called the demon king for no reason.

There was a crater where a dark, looming castle should be, extending down to the far reaches of the earth. He laid flat amidst the stone rubble, between rocks and dirt, his sword buried into the soil where the demon king’s body once was. Along with the icy winds, the demon king’s remains were blown away like ashes and dust.

Everything in his body was screaming. He didn’t know if bones could ache, but his bones were aching too. Compared to the others, however, his condition could be considered miraculously good. 

Himmel couldn’t move, and his gaze was fixed to the distant horizon where the snow-capped mountains met the night sky.

A figure shadowed over him, and in the corner of his eye he could see short light hair and long, elven ears. She wore that sky blue scarf again, but he wasn’t sure if the person she was mimicking also wore that scarf. If he could move his neck he would, but instead he could only greet her with his pathetically shaky voice and potentially bubbly smile.

“Um… Is this Miss Milliarde or her prettier twin sister…?”

The figure clad in a navy cloak crouched down to his level, ran their hands down the snow around them, and poked his cheek with a mini-snowball. He scrunched up his nose as the snow melted against his skin, the woman in front of him smiling a soft smile.

“You look like a wilted leaf,” she said, her cold fingers trailing his sunken cheek. “Good job. You were cool.”

“... Haha,” he let out. In between his quick and heavy breaths, he was laughing. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

Frieren nodded, following his gaze to that same distant horizon. The chilly wind whipped against their skins, sending slight shivers down his numbed body. It didn’t feel real, even though he could vaguely feel the reality around him.

He thought that the end of a centuries-long battle would be louder than this, but all he heard was the lonely wind howling in his ears.

The others were probably celebrating alone or too busy looking for each other in this big, vast, separated battlefield. That was why no one else had found him yet.

“... Oh, the northern lights.”

Himmel’s eyes widened upon Frieren’s comment, defying his body’s exhaustion to look upon the starry night sky above them.

Clear skies, bright lights.

There were swirling green, blue lights in the sky— dancing like deers prancing with the breeze. It painted the world around him in its hues, like the snow had absorbed it into the ground, like the sky was roaring in laughter. Even the harsh winds from before became hymns and songs in the grand stage of the coloured lights. He’d heard about the aurora before, but his luck was awful. He always seemed to narrowly miss this sight every time.

The fact that they came out right as everything was over felt like his very own congratulatory party. A gift from the heavens.

Then, a streak of light flashed by his line of sight.

“What was that?”

“A shooting star,” Frieren answered, chuckling. “Make a wish, Himmel. I already know you were planning on doing that.”

He clenched his eyes shut and began to think of the future. For his kingdom, for the world, for this ethereal peace to last forevermore.

But instead, when he closed his eyes, those words from prior to the demon king’s death swarmed his mind.

Humanity is why humanity suffers. I lamented their petty wars over love and envy, over insecurities and greed. As one who treasures humanity above all else, humanity must disappear for their plights to end. I will save you. All of you.

It was an arrogant solution, his reasoning seemed like a mere justification for his senseless killings. Himmel wasn’t so naive that he’d take the demon king’s words at face value. What right did the demon king have to solve all of humanity’s problems for them?

…

But the demon king’s words still remained in his mind. 

It was an irrational conclusion only an unfeeling creature can reach, but his reasonings weren’t without merit. Wars and conflicts between humans had existed far before the demon king’s rampage, and will continue existing far into the future.

No matter who they sacrificed, be it the demon king or the life of his own mothers, peace only seemed to be an ephemeral blessing. It’ll dissolve again all too soon, because humanity is why humanity suffers.

There’s no viable way to solve every problem humanity has in the world.

There’s no viable way to stop human suffering from happening completely.

“Himmel, what did you wish for?”

Her voice ripped him out from his stupor, returning him to the swirling flare of green-blue lights above him.

“... I don’t know. I couldn’t make a wish.”

She cocked her head, humming in amusement. “I bet you were thinking about something stupid like saving everyone in this world. Don’t get cocky. Just because you’re a king, you think you have the power to end all suffering? Try your best, but know your limits. Too many people burn themselves by dreaming too close to the sun.”

“Did you know someone like that?” he asked.

“... I don’t want you to turn out like her,” she replied, turning away, her fingers caressing her earrings.

“... I see. But Frieren, I don’t think I’m capable of doing much on my own.”

“Is that so?”

He chuckled. “Look around us. If humanity worked together, it’s possible for us to achieve impossible things. I’m sure no one even thought that we could actually defeat the demon king and his army.”

Even if it’s not possible, he didn’t want to give up on humanity, because this was the humanity his mothers sought to protect.

Frieren sighed, resting her chin on her palm, looking down at him.

“I suppose I’ll help out for a little.”

Himmel paused. 

“Huh?”

She grinned.

“I made a promise with a certain dwarf that we’d do so many good deeds that the heavens would have no choice but to answer when we knock.”

“Oh,” he replied, happy but a little bit lonely. “You're not gonna stay because it's me?”

How childish, he thought to himself.

“I can't stay as your wife, King Himmel. Someone else will have to give you that heir.”

He chuckled. “About that, I don't want to force anyone to be king either. It's a responsibility I had to grow into, but to be honest, I still don't really like it all that much.”

“Yeah?”

Himmel nodded, pushing himself up. It was hellish to use his wobbly arms to prop himself upwards, but Frieren helped him just enough that he could lean on her shoulder.

“... There's a little-known orphanage a ways away from the cathedral, the orphanage my brother was sent to prior to his adoption.”

The children there were raised to become clergymen, to devote themselves to the cathedral that gave them home and food. They weren't allowed to be anything more or less than servants of the Goddess, but that was for good reason.

All of them were illegitimate children of noblemen. If they weren't killed at birth, they were sent here in secret. The orphanage was a convenient dumping zone for irresponsible men.

Religion was used so these children wouldn't pursue their noble positions if they ever found out about their lineage. These children were officially “Children of the Goddess”, forever severed from their original family’s bloodline and can never truly be reclaimed. 

She tilted her head. “So what? You’ll be adopting an heir from there?”

Himmel chuckled.

“When I go back, there’ll be a lot of stuff that me and Heiter would have to deal with. I’ll have those kids help out, and well, whoever does well enough will be my heir. The ones who want the title the most will work the hardest. The others will be granted educational opportunities to go for what they want, even if it’s to go back to the clergy.”

If any of the other members of nobility protested, he planned on revealing these children’s backgrounds. The noblemen who committed infidelity will do anything to shut the other noblemen up in order to preserve their image. Despite how common infidelity was, it’s still publicly looked down upon. No one would want that sort of blemish on their image. 

To keep Himmel’s cousins happy, however, he might have to marry off the future heir to one of his nieces. It would help solidify their position as well. It’s a shame that he couldn’t get rid of politics completely, but it’s a consequence of having no nephews anyway.

If anyone attempted to use their blood ties to these children to get a step up, Himmel planned on reminding these children that those were the same parents that abandoned them because they were an inconvenient existence. What those children choose to do afterwards would be up to them. Critical thinking is important for developing children.

Frieren whistled. “Sounds complicated. Doesn’t sound like it’ll be peaceful, either. I’m glad I stepped away from this world.”

He laughed. “I don’t want to drag you back into this world, anyway. As long as you’re here sometimes, that’s all that matters.”

His words were soft, almost to a whisper.

He had a wondrous, grueling adventure to the north, but it was time to return to his kingdom to assume his duties once more. It was truly a priceless experience. He was sure that he’d never forget these years of his life, even at the foot of his grave.

Frieren went silent, and the howling wind picked up again, her appearance returning to her own, her long white hair brushing against the skin of his cheek. It tickled. She looked back up to the northern lights above, at the cloudless bright night.

“I’ll do all the adventuring for you, and return every full moon to tell you about it. I’ll save the people you can’t reach, and experience the sights you can’t reach.”

He chuckled.

“Is that a promise?”

How petty. He, a grown man, was jealous of her grand promise with Eisen. As he said it, he kept his gaze down and laid himself even lower on her shoulder as if he wanted to hide his face from her.

Her hand took his, and she wrapped her icy pinky over his, smiling.

"It's a pinky promise, I'll lose the finger if I break it,” she said.

…

“Pfft…”

Himmel giggled, a mix of shame and relief that she was going to entertain all his childish worries and needy-ness. Or that maybe, with her, it was alright to be childish and needy. She won't compromise on the things that she doesn’t want to give up, so he doesn’t need to worry about restricting her, either. All of those feelings poured out through those giggles, pooling at the fingers that connected the both of them. 

He wiped a tear squeezed from his eye, tightening their intertwined fingers.

“For the record, it’s not binding!” he replied, realizing he never clarified it to her all those years ago.

Her eyes widened.

“Huh, and here I thought this was some kind of self-inflicted curse.”

“You believed that and still made a pinky promise? That’s reckless.”

She let out a sigh, scratching her head with her other hand. “It’s with you, so I thought that it would be fine.”

Her teal eyes were reflecting the dancing lights above, and it looked as if the northern lights were specks of glitter swimming and shimmering within it. When he looked into those eyes, he could see himself existing in a space that was far beyond him, a boundless world that was far beyond his reach.

It was almost like having the distant sky stare back at him, as if it finally shone down on his cold world.

He leaned his forehead against hers, snickering.

“... I was right. You’re a hero, Frieren.”

Frieren’s lips parted, but no words came out. She shook her head instead, chuckling.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Her voice resonated in his ears, and he only now realised how close their faces were to each other. Her breaths tickled his skin as they linked their fingers together. They looked into each other’s eyes and Himmel wondered what Frieren was seeing, if it was anything close to what he saw in her eyes.

Before he could even think to do anything, something soft pressed against his lips. 

Individually, her fingers were cold, her forehead was cold, her shoulders were cold.

But when everything pressed up against him, it was warm.

A hug, a kiss, a…

He wanted to melt in this presence, as his back landed against the cold snow. Melt away along with the snow,  with the soon-to-rise sun.

—

A candle flickered, the sounds of crunched up paper echoing in the otherwise dark and silent bedroom. Himmel sat on his desk, running a blade through a closed letter.

During the months she couldn’t visit, she’d send a letter in her place. Sometimes, though, she’d send a letter and come in person anyway. Apparently she would write them thinking she wouldn’t be able to visit, but then the circumstances would change and she could visit, but she doesn’t want the letter to go to waste. There’s a specific spell that sent letters through fires, so Himmel knew he received a letter every time his candle abruptly lit.

He gently folded the parchment paper open, the first few words written in ink coming into view.

We found a dungeon. At first it didn’t seem particularly exciting, but Milliarde blew a hole through the wall and discovered some hidden stairs. 

Himmel paused from reading, feeling the envy burning up inside of him. His mom and mother discovered hidden stairs back in their days too.

He wished the kings of his time were still obsessed with extravagant tombs, because the coolest tombs only ever seemed to be made during eras far before his birth. He couldn’t create any excuses to slow down his expedition to the north, so he couldn’t enter any of the dungeons he found, either. His eyes returned to the paper, his fingers holding it up to the candle’s light.

We went down the dark and suspicious stairs, and it stretched on, and on, and on. Milliarde got sick of it and blew another hole— through the ground this time. Her lack of shits given in preserving historical buildings made our journey a lot faster. 

Well, it wasn’t his own tomb, so Himmel wasn’t too worried about the ethics of what Milliarde did.

There was a monster in a floating bubble of acid, and Stark almost melted all of his own clothes off. Then we had to swim through narrow tunnels leading out to the bottom of a dormant volcano. It's been fruitless until that point, so our journey was beginning to frustrate Fern. I considered turning back, but we found out through one of the notes that the owner of this tomb was a great mage. I knew then that this volcano could start erupting and I would still not leave until I got my hands on their grimoires. It then started erupting.

For a moment, Himmel wondered if this erupting volcano had anything to do with the fact that she couldn't visit him this time. They'll be fine, he knew that he owed every bit of his victory against the demon king to their support. If anything, he was sure the story after this point in the letter was only going to get more exciting.

He giggled, laying his head onto his desk, his fingers slightly crumpling the letter in his hand.

“... I wish I was with you.”

It was a little mumble meant only for himself, his low voice reverberating against the wooden desk, his eyes gazing at the candle’s flickering flame. If he penned his reply to her now, he’d probably only write that.

I wish I was with you.

… Not that life here was bad. He just visited Lily’s grave with Heiter the other day, and the blue flowers were in full bloom. The Kingdom of Historia’s new king is a little kid that idolizes him, and it’s nice, if not a little bit awkward-feeling to interact with someone who treats him like a God, especially after what happened between their two kingdoms. 

That same week, he actually started dance classes. Not for any particular events, but because Heiter wouldn’t stop making fun of him for the fact that Historia’s king, a child, knew dancing better than him. Plus, he had to be a good role model for the children of the orphanage.

He could tell her about all these things, but right now he wanted to open his eyes and exist in an adventure.

“How badly do you want to leave?”

“I’ll forcefully free up my schedule for this week just so I can have this vacation,” he replied. “Heiter can make up excuses for me.”

“—Then, I’ll grant that wish.”

Himmel’s eyes widened, realising that he was replying to a soft voice that shouldn’t be there. An alluring voice like a siren’s call.

The wind blew gently into his room, the open curtains of his balcony billowing, sending little shivers to his skin.

He turned around, and between the swaying shadows was an elf with long silver hair and a pair of teal eyes, leaning on the railings of the balcony. The full moon gently shone upon her, and it was almost like she was glowing. Glowing, like an angel’s beckoning.

His legs moved before he could think, taking the hand she outstretched towards him.

For the first time in a while, they flew. Up, up and into the air.

“I saw you last month,” she pointed out. “Why do you look like you've been deprived for years?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her tight against him.

“... I miss you,” he said, drawing his lips closer to hers. “The bed feels cold without you.”

She chuckled, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

Frieren then linked their fingers together. “I have a gift for you.”

He felt like a maidenly princess being swept up by the chivalrous prince, finally leaving behind the tower that the world had forced her to live in. If only for a moment.

They still flew a little too quickly for his liking, but by that point, his racing heart was racing for a different reason.

Over in the once-empty field he once spent his days idling away in, hidden between shrubbery and greenery, he saw patches of vibrant hues accompanying the usual green of the land. It was flowers where he had always wanted flowers to be, made possible by the person he had always wanted to see.

“That's just the beginning,” she said. “A week might not even be enough to show them all.”

… So this was why she was late to see him.

When he closed his eyes, even in the dead of night, he thought he could hear the birds sing.

END