Chapter Text
It was only twenty-six years after they had defeated the demon king. Since she had bid the rest of her party farewell.
Indeed, she had not been expecting to return this early. She hardly had a logical purpose for doing so.
It was curiosity.
And it started with the dreams, that started several months ago.
Frieren drifted off as soon as the scratchy linen sheets rubbing against her back became a background annoyance. The musky-smelling, unfurling flower of sleepiness bloomed into the forefront.
Next thing she knew, she was standing in a glade, surrounded by tall, thick tree trunks blackened by the dark. There was a human child huddled at the foot of the tree before her, wiping glistening and reddened eyes with a small hand.
What was she doing here? She hadn’t been back to this forest in centuries. She had no reason to. Yet here she was, staring down at this child with cropped bluish hair that looked strikingly like-
Frieren pointed in the direction of the human settlement. A human child really shouldn’t be in the forest at this time of night, in the dark.
Still, the child's saucer-wide eyes gazed at her. Shockingly blue, swimming in white sclera. He still needed something from her - something more. What else could he want? She'd already guided him home. And yet his eyes expressed a need, one she couldn't fulfil.
The child's look invoked in her a familiar sensation. It had the dry aroma of exasperation, murky hues of bewilderment and the aftertaste of inadequacy. She was missing something, a piece in the puzzle that everyone else seemed to have except her. Something unspoken that passed between people but she never had the intuition to understand - not like with magic.
Magic. A spell.
Humans liked flowers, didn’t they?
The flower spell that Flamme had taught her illuminated the clearing with pale, glistening light. The whirlwind of mana stirred Frieren's skirt and tousled the boy’s cropped bangs.
And just like that, petals shining in every hue of the rainbow and vivacious green stems blossomed where there had once been rain-darkened shrubs.
Even with her direction, this clearly witless child might have stumbled off the path on his way. Some nice flowers might light up his path back home. It was awfully dark, after all.
It was an effective spell, she concluded, in more ways than one, because the boy’s expression also lit up, brighter than the vestiges of her mana.
Frieren watched him stumble to his feet and rush back to his settlement.
She’d had this same dream every night for the last five weeks. She'd done the same thing every night, as her dream-self. Some small part of her might have been curious to see what would happen if she flipped the script but… something stopped her. A pull - a tug in her chest - every time she considered leaving him in the dark.
But this time, it felt different.
This time, the boy stopped mid-run. He turned around.
“Thanks, magic lady!” he exclaimed, his voice an infantile mockery of the Himmel she knew.
She blankly acknowledged this, and turned to go on her way.
“You know, I won’t be here forever. Do come and visit, okay?”
She paused. Turned back. Blinked.
Why would she visit him? He was but a human child - entirely unforgettable.
But she didn’t forget. She dreamed of that scene again. Again. Again.
And every time he implored, “Do come and visit, okay?”
"I won’t be here forever."
Of course he wouldn't: human lifespans were depressively short. Why this was a reason for her to visit him was beyond her.
“Frieren.”
Five weeks later, she drifted off and turned around to see him standing there. Not the boy, but the older version that she knew. He smiled, that little mole on his cheek shifting slightly, blue eyes coruscating with many golden and cerulean hues.
The flowers were already here this time, illuminating the glade. The dark green of nearby trees. The earthy ground beneath their feet.
Him.
“Himmel,” she greeted.
"It's nice to see you again. If you don't mind, I thought I'd ask why you haven't visited."
"...I haven't had any reason to. I am yet to come across a spell that requires the horn that I left in your possession."
"Of course," Himmel chuckled airily, though it didn't reach his eyes, "And there isn't another reason to visit?"
"It's only been twenty-seven years," Frieren countered, "They've flown by."
"So you've been keeping track," he noted, with a grin. Smugly, for some reason.
"...The date we defeated the demon king is a useful reference point for time."
"Sure," Himmel teased.
"...And I'll admit our ten years together were especially meaningful. I use memorable times as landmarks in my life."
Himmel hummed. “I know you've got so much more time on your hands. But I'm getting impatient."
He took a single step towards her, so they were closer. If Frieren reached out a hand, she could have brushed his. "I know you’re not too keen on subtleties, so I’ll speak in your language,” he murmured.
“…” Frieren took this in. It was rare for someone to respect this idiosyncrasy of her character. The last person had, perhaps, been Flamme. A warm feeling spread in her chest. “Thank you.”
“I love you, Frieren. Always have, always will.”
Frieren’s eyes widened - a singular break in her emotionless façade. “I don’t understand,” she muttered, breathless.
“Oh come on, Frieren! I spoke in your language!” Himmel chuckled, face turning red, “Don't you know what it takes to work up the courage to say that to someone?"
"Really? Is it a big deal?"
Himmel searched her face, several shades of incredulous phasing across his expression before he sighed, then shook his head. "Fine, Frieren. I'll give you time to think about it. Just- don't leave me hanging, okay?"
"Alright." Frieren filed away his 'courageous words' for analysis later. As of now, they were producing as much of an emotional reaction in her as hearing a passionate oration in a foreign language.
"And come visit me. I won't be here forever. Come visit. I miss you, Frieren."
Frieren raised her eyebrows. “I knew a time when you would never admit to missing anyone.”
Himmel smiled. “The older I get, the less I care about that sort of thing.”
“What? Pride?”
He chuckled. "No. Embarrassment.”
“But you never had much shame anyway.”
"What do you mean?"
"I remember when you wasted hours trying out different poses when that sculptor tried to-"
"Yes! That! Frieren, you won't, in your long lifetime, be able to survive without seeing my handsome face a few more times! I've thought of a few more poses to add to your memory!"
Frieren shook her head and muttered, "Still no shame."
“So what will it be, Frieren?” he'd ask, his face suddenly falling flat, serious. His eyebrows drawn in, lips turned down. A rare frown.
And every night, she would wake up before she had a chance to respond. Before the refusal spilled past her lips as easily and reflexively as a yawn.
She would wake up as the sun was just beginning its slow climb atop the horizon, the sky a gradient from blushing pink to the last navy blue vestiges of twilight. To her horror, she'd be unable to fall back asleep, moping through her days in a daze.
This continued every night. She was getting sick of morning birdsong.
So the seventieth night, she cracked.
In her seventieth dream, she said yes, she’d come and visit.
The next day, she awoke at noon. The warm midday sun greeted her like an old friend.
But she knew that this wouldn't be the end of it. That until she actually fulfilled her promise, she'd have to relive that same dream, again and again and again.
She set off. Headed towards the town where she'd left him.
This feels like manipulation, she thought.
But she didn’t know who else could be manipulating her but herself.