Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sometimes Hilda wonders what it would be like if she ended up in some other dorm, like the Blue Lions or the Black Eagles. Perhaps she would be more rigid and disciplined, or maybe she would’ve kept her head down and never bothered to try and run for the board of student reps, or whatever. On the other hand, maybe she would’ve spun Dimitri around her little finger, or out-leadered Edelgard and wrung them dry. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.

In the end, it doesn’t matter because she can cross her legs on this very comfortable couch and paint her nails this super cute jelly pink color while Leonie and Ignatz go back and forth over budget specifics. To her right, Claude is flipping through a notebook that has all the previous meeting minutes, but she knows he isn’t really reading any of it. He just wants to have an excuse to not join whatever argument the other two are having. Marianne is to her left, quiet as always, and the rest of the student council is pitching in whenever they can.

What a bore. 

Sure, they have a charity gala to set up and all, but would it really kill them to spice up the details? Leonie thinks spending a thousand gold on flowers is excessive (it is, but Hilda won’t say that!), and Ignatz thinks the performers asking for three thousand gold is ridiculous (this is also true, but their backup is Raphael’s wrestling idea, which is not happening). The answer is really simply: spend half the amount on flowers and make the other half in house, and cut the performance down and give the rest of the time to the DJ. Hilda’s not going to say any of that though, because then they’re going to make her responsible for organizing it, and that’s the last thing she wants to do.

Sometimes she really wonders how she ended up as vice president for the Golden Deer house despite doing absolutely nothing, but hey, she won’t complain. It’ll look good on her resume one day (not that her resume particularly matters anyway — she’ll just join Holst in taking over the family business) so that’s a win in her books.

“So, as much as I love watching you guys duke it out,  I think I have an idea,” Claude finally says, letting the notebook fall shut. “And I’m pretty sure Hilda’s thought of it too and just doesn’t want to bring it up.”

Aw, he knows her so well.

She listens patiently as Claude lists out how to cut corners without making it look like they cut any corners, and although there’s some backlash, everyone seems to be in on the plan fairly quickly. This is what she loves about Claude. They both only want what they want, but Claude can make it look like it’s altruistic. Sure, he benefits, but isn’t it for the betterment of everyone anyway? What’s the harm? You gain something, I gain something. Hilda is just selfish. She knows this. She can live with this. 

“Why don’t you email the florist, Leonie?” Hilda says, and follows it up with, “I mean, you’re the one who wanted to cut down on the cost in the first place. I’ll look at your email if you want.”

“I can write an email myself,” Leonie mumbles under her breath, peeved. “But I guess you’re right.”

“Thank you! You’re the best, Leonie,” Hilda beams. She’s good at this, buttering people up. “And Lysithea, I’ve seen you make flowers before. We could do it together, if you want!”

Lysithea knows exactly what she’s up to, knows the trap, and falls into it anyway. “What, you think I can’t do it myself? I need guidance like a child? I’m fine.”

This is too easy. Raphael signs himself up to help move the large objects, like the tables and chairs, because of course he would, and Ignatz offers to help Lysithea for the artistic value. Marianne keeps typing away at her laptop, running all of the numbers to make sure they somehow stay under budget. 

Claude lies back in his chair. “See? It all turned out fine. Raphael’s not going to even be late for his date anymore.”

Record scratch.

“HIS WHAT?”

All heads turn towards the man in question like metal to a magnet. 

“Who?!”

“When?”

“HOW?”

Hilda’s hand nearly crushes her coffee cup. Raphael is going on a date, and she didn’t know? A travesty — an abomination! She needs to know all of the juicy details NOW.

To his credit, Raphael takes everyone’s astonishment in stride. “I know, I know— I don’t really know how it happened myself? Ya see, I was dropping my lil sister off at her dance practice—”

Lysithea tries to pretend she doesn’t care, but Hilda sees the way she tilts her head towards him, listening for every minute detail. Leonie has the worst poker face in the entire world, and it shows now as her mouth is wide open as Raphael talks about how his sister’s dance instructor cornered him at the end of practice and begged him for his phone number (of course, he would never say it like that, but Hilda knows how to read in between the lines).

Marianne is also avidly listening, but with an expression on her face that Hilda knows well. It’s one where she’s happy but confused, and also a little left out. Claude must notice too, because he and Hilda exchange looks, and he sighs loudly, twirling his pencil around his fingers. “Man, it’s been such a long time since I’ve gone on a date with anyone. I’m so jealous.”

“I know, right?” Hilda chimes in, despite the fact she was treated to a romantic candlelit dinner with some Black Eagles boy just this past weekend. Time is relative, okay? “Oooh, I saw Ignatz with a boy from Blue Lions last night!”

Right on cue, his entire face flushes red. “Hilda!” he cries out. “No one was supposed to see us.”

“Oh, well… Maybe you shouldn’t have a date in a public garden right after dinner where everyone can see you then?” she gently suggests.

“What about you, Marianne?” Claude asks, saving Ignatz from attempting to melt into the floor. What a guy. “You haven’t said anything this entire meeting.”

“Oh!” Marianne’s entire face flushes a deep red color. “Uhh, yes… I don’t have much to add, I guess. I’ve never been on a date.”

The room goes pin drop silent all at once, and now it’s Marianne’s turn to look like she wants the carpet to rip open and drop her into the abyss. Even Hilda is staring at her with her mouth agape, which is ridiculous, because this is Marianne. Hilda knows everything about her! She knows all of Marianne’s favorite foods and colors and even the kind of moisturizer that she uses, so technically she did know this, but to hear Marianne say it so plainly, it just hits her, the audacity of such a claim. 

Ignatz breaks the silence first, which is rich, coming from the guy who just tried to hide the fact he was on a very public date with someone yesterday. “Are you serious, Marianne? Never? No one’s asked you?”

“Umm…” She fists her hands into the fabric of her skirt, wrinkling it even more than it already is. “I guess… I’ve been asked maybe once or twice… B-but I get so nervous, and I end up running away.”

Aw, that’s so sad! Hilda says as much, which has Marianne looking at her miserably.

“Well hey, I think I see a golden opportunity coming up. What’s a better chance than as a VIP’s plus one to the Saint Indech Day Gala?”

Raphael grins, patting Marianne on the back, except she nearly falls off her chair from the force. Geez, doesn’t anyone know how to treat a lady around here? “That’s a great idea! I bet a ton of people secretly want to take you on a date!”

“Yeah!” She takes a glance at Claude, who is eyeing her with his scheming face as she says, “Oh my Gods, there’ll be music and dancing and drama! Mar, that’s the perfect event to start at.”

Marianne warbles blearily, “Oh… I don’t know…”

So what if Saint Indech Day is supposed to be about celebrating wisdom and water or whatever? If they didn’t want Hilda to make it about love and drama, then they shouldn’t have put her as vice president on the committee. 

“Don’t worry! You just gotta ha—”

Someone coughs from next to her, and she glares pointedly at Claude. “Aren’t you late for your tutoring session?” he asks, raising his wrist so that Hilda can get a look at his fancy schmancy new Grand Seiko watch.

Unfortunately, he is right. It’s nearly six minutes after the lesson was supposed to start, and it’s another five minutes away. Hilda’s not one to be late, but her tutor definitely is. So really, this is just a slight adjustment. She’ll probably still make it before him if she leaves now, but only if she leaves right now. “Ugh, fine. But don’t make any aesthetic choices without my approval!” she huffs, picking up her purse. “And email me the meeting minutes later, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Meet me at seven for dinner,” Claude replies off handedly, and she waves everyone off as a chorus of byes and see you laters follows her out the door.

Tutoring is so easy.

Hilda doesn’t even know why she’s here, but Ferdinand is always sweet, and most of all, he’s easy to boss around. True to her calculations, he was exactly twelve minutes late, giving some excuse about how Hubert was doing something wrong and they were arguing and then Edelgard had to step in or whatever it was. Hilda doesn’t tell him she also only arrived a minute ago. The Black Eagles are such a fascinating group of people. Most of them have their entire lives set up for them, and yet they still bicker and compete over each other for… what? Bragging rights? It makes no sense.

Ferdinand reminds her of Lorenz, but a little less trustworthy. She knows his company was a part of some big merger that put the von Aegir family in a tough spot, but if there’s something that Ferdinand knows how to do, it’s to cover up the dirt. That’s the difference between Lorenz and Ferdinand, she supposes. Or maybe that’s just a Black Eagles versus Golden Deer trait?

Calculus is boring, and she says as much, except Ferdinand just laughs and says something along the lines of maidens not needing to know all this stuff or whatever… Which is totally true, but she doesn’t want to hear it from him.

The session passes by in the blink of an eye, mainly because Hilda cannot stop thinking about how Marianne has never been on a date her whole life. Isn’t that crazy?

There’s a moment of silence, and she looks down to see the last bit of her problem set down, the final answer circled in a handwriting that clearly isn’t hers. 

“Wow!” The tips of Ferdinand’s ears are bright red, and Hilda gives him that small, coy smile. “Thank you so much! I could’ve never done this without your help. How are you so good at this?”

With a blasé shrug, the boy leaning over her laughs nervously. “It’s really nothing. I’ve always been good at math. But I really gotta go, so I’ll see you later?”

“Of course!”

When Ferdinand is finally out of sight, Hilda sighs, stretching her arms above her head. What a bore! Math is confusing, and after this class is over, she’ll never need to look at it again. The problem is that there are two more exams in the semester and she’s already nearly flunked the first one. Thank the world for people like Ferdinand! She’d only meant to ask him for help on a couple of problems, but he stayed long enough to basically do all of her homework for her.

Well hey, if he was willing to do the work for her, why not?

A moment later her phone vibrates, and she reaches for it, watching the notifications from the dorm group chat scroll by.

The next Golden Deer council meeting is postponed to some ungodly time in the evening, which they can really only get away with since they’re meeting up in Lysithea’s dorm room, all the way across campus from where Hilda lives. Ugh. It’s so pointless to call her chauffeur for a fifteen minute walk, but it’s going to snow all week and who knows how much of it is expected to stick. Maybe she can stay at Marianne’s apartment during the day…

Her phone buzzes, and it’s a message from Claude telling her that he’s on his way to dinner, so she starts to put books into her bag as well.

Claude is up to something.

He always has this glimmer in his eye when he thinks of some devilish plan, except he usually fills Hilda in on whatever he’s thinking. The fact that his lips are sealed has her watching him suspiciously for any tell.

“You wound me,” he fake-moans, clutching his chest dramatically as Hilda pokes fun at his newest Instagram post. “I thought it was funny.”

“Sure, it was funny,” she says, unlocking her phone again so she can look at it. “But really?”

Claude’s newest Instagram picture is a month-late upload from Hilda’s New Year’s party where he’s clearly blackout drunk. In one hand is a five thousand dollar tequila bottle and in the other hand he’s holding up the necklace he’s always hiding under his shirt. It’s a necklace made of pure gold that has his real name in Almyran (he’s never told Hilda, but c’mon, she can spot it from a mile away). Also something he’s never told Hilda, but some things you just can’t hide forever. The caption reads: you didn’t sneeze but i blessed you anyway #happybelated2k25

“I think it’s witty.”

“Aren’t you worried people will read your necklace?”

He laughs. “What are they going to do, sue me for being bilingual?”

This is his way of dropping the subject, so she just goes with the flow, although there is something in the back of her mind about conspiracies about his inheritance and overseas businesses. Although the Goneril corporation is under the von Riegan umbrella, Claude is a smart person, and she trusts him with her life.

“So why is the next meeting so late? You expect me to do my ten-step skincare routine and be in bed by ten when our meeting ends at nine?”

At this, Claude has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Hilda, it was out of my hands. My grandfather needs me to attend a business meeting in Daphnel. It’s supposed to be in and out, but I can’t take the jet.”

“Oh, that’s rough,” Hilda says, taking a sip of her wine. “Well, at least Lysithea was kind enough to let us use her apartment.”

“Speaking of the Golden Deer though, Lorenz will finally be back.”

“Did they close the deal then?”

“Yep. It wasn’t anything too difficult,” Claude says, which is basically the highest amount of praise he’ll allot for Lorenz. If Hilda is Claude’s right hand, then Lorenz would be his left hand, even if neither of them choose to see it that way. “Aillel has basically been uninhabitable the way that it is, so it was high time that someone tried to make any use of it.”

Gloucester Enterprises is mainly known for real estate, which Hilda sometimes teases her father with, because it’s just so easy, but then that means Holst and her father would test her to see if she was being serious. But really, it’s so easy. Even an acrid place like Ailell will be easy to sell if you market it right.

Hilda examines her nails. “So baby’s made his first deal! I bet he’ll come with his head held as high as possible and refuse to sit on the floor with the rest of us peasants.”

“You know it, but not just for that reason.” Claude’s glimmer is back, and he knows Hilda can see it, because he takes his time in calling a waiter over and ordering another sazerac. That ass, he knows she’s going to be waiting with bated breath for whatever juicy gossip he’s about to share. “He’s got a date that he’ll never let any of us live down.”

Oh? Now Hilda’s interest is piqued. Lorenz going on dates is nothing new - despite his atrocious aesthetic sense, he’s strikingly handsome with a tall nose and even taller cheekbones that supermodels would kill for. That, paired with the fact he’s the Gloucester heir, makes for an endless string of lovers. “Ooh, sounds spicy. Is it a celebrity?”

“It’s Marianne.”

The waitress nearby screams when the wine glass in Hilda’s hands shatters. “What did you say?” she asks, even as Claude’s eyes widen and he mutters holy shit, Hilda.

Lorenz is dating… Marianne?

“Dude, are you okay?” Claude is asking as he dabs at Hilda’s bloody hand with his cloth napkin.

“Mademoiselle,” the waitress stutters, ushering to get out from her seat so they can sweep up the broken glass, “would you like me to call someone?”

Reality comes back to her.

“Oh shit, fuck,” she curses - very unbecoming of her, she knows, stumbling back as droplets of blood run down her wrist. “Sorry! I just… I wasn’t thinking, no, I’m totally fine— maybe just a bandaid?”

An entourage of staff come over to fuss over her, including the head manager, and for once, she doesn’t want any of the attention. In fact, she’d rather that they all just leave her be as soon as possible. Thankfully, Claude can read her like a dictionary and waves everyone away after the bleeding stops and her palm and pointer finger are wrapped in gauze.

“You sure you’re okay?” Claude asks for the third time, after they’ve been sat at another table and given new plates of food. They also get a full bottle of 2015 Chateau Petrus wine on the house, probably because they’re scared Hilda might put them out of business.

“Yeah! Don’t worry silly, you just really caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Claude scratches the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. “I knew you’d be surprised, but I’ll be honest, even I didn’t expect that reaction.”

She fake gasps, bringing the bandaged hand to her chest. “I am but a dainty maiden! Of course I was surprised. But it’s… nice, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“Sure,” she says, though her heart is hammering again, and not in the love-at-first-sight kind of way. “I’m surprised Lorenz picked Marianne. Usually his taste is bad.”

“And it’s not this time?” Claude asks, reaching for the bottle of wine. Their server dashes over and grabs it before he can and pours them both a new glass.

Heat flares through Hilda’s veins. “Excuse me! This is Marianne we’re talking about.”

He laughs, holding his hands up in mock defense. “Sorry, sorry! You’re right, I was just ragebaiting.”

“Ugh, oh my Gods, are they going to the gala together then? No, they can’t be. That’s in like a month. Do you know what kind of date they’re going on? Lorenz has such gross taste, I bet he’s going to choose something awful, like a helicopter ride to Dagda. That’d be so tacky for a first date.”

Claude shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like he needs to flaunt his wealth with Marianne. Her family is doing well, she’s just quiet about it.”

“But Lorenz is just like that. He’ll think he’s genuinely being interesting and suave and he’s just… not.”

“He’s intelligent though, and he’s got infuriatingly good intuition. Don’t they both like horses? Lorenz has a stallion he’s obsessed with.”

Damn it, that’s true. No matter how the date starts off, as soon as horses come up, Marianne’s going to give him her full, earnest attention. Wait, why is this a bad thing? They would genuinely bond… which is supposed to be good. Right? Why does Hilda feel so bad about this?

“I suppose so,” she mumbles, pushing the last piece of shrimp around her plate. 

“You’re not happy about this,” Claude states.

“Of course I’m happy,” Hilda snaps. “I’m just being an overprotective best friend, okay? You could take a page out of my book.”

Claude looks wholly unimpressed. “Uh huh.”

What an evening. Her bandaged fingers feel numb, and the food here sucks. Maybe she actually will take the business down, why not? Who should be subjected to eating bland calamari? It’s just calamari, how hard is it supposed to even be? She could probably cook this without her chef’s help.

She knows she’s being superfluous, but there’s just something about this whole thing that is getting under Hilda’s skin and pricking at every single nerve.

“Well, anyway,” Claude says, changing the subject, because he’s good at that shit, “I have to go to Almyra next weekend, so you should come help me figure out what to wear.”

It’s an obvious exit to this conversation, and like a lifebuoy thrown to a drowning sailor, she grabs onto it desperately.

Honestly, what’s the point of having a morning meeting if you’re not going to even wake up for it? Claude strolls into the office lounge ten minutes late with coffee, not even bothering to look guilty, even when everyone stares at him. Hilda woke up extra early to straighten her hair today, and here Claude is waltzing in with coffee, just—

“For my queen,” he announces, holding out the cup to her, and whatever insults she was about to say dissipate into thin air. “Aww, thanks so much!” she squeals, taking it from him gratefully. “I’ll forgive you this one time, okay?”

He sits down on her right, and flips open a notebook and starts to talk about the budget for the rest of the year and ugh… boring! Hilda doesn’t do math - she just says what she wants and people tell her if it can happen or not. 

“Another camping trip?” Lysithea asks incredulously. “This is going to be the third one this year. No one wants to go camping again!”

Leonie looks offended at least three times over. “Speak for yourself! Camping is the best! It teaches great life skills and it’s great for team bonding.”

“Well, maybe we can apply it differently?” Ignatz suggests, and Hilda peers over to see whatever he’d been drawing, now that he’s distracted and isn’t covering his notebook with his other hand. It’s a small picture of a woman holding a book - how cute! On second thought, it looks like one of their professors…

For someone who’s usually so quiet, Marianne’s absence fills the room with its emptiness. Both Lorenz and Marianne are actually missing, but Lorenz is frequently in and out of Golden Deer meetings, thanks to his father insisting that he attend nearly all shareholder meetings in person. If Lorenz’s value wasn’t so damn useful, he would’ve been kicked off of the board a long time ago. That being said, he’s the only one aside from Hilda who can pop Claude’s balloon and bring him back down to Earth.

Marianne is missing for the same reason as Lorenz, but with much less pomp and circumstance. Her stepfather is, for lack of a better word… a bitch. 

That’s why Lysithea sighs loudly for the last time and snatches the laptop right out of Hilda’s lap, glaring at her, albeit without any heat. “If you’re going to volunteer to be the backup secretary, you have to actually write something. You’re so useless.”

Hilda loves Lysithea. She’s like a little tomcat with all her hisses and spits, but is just so fluffy and cute! It’s hard to take her seriously sometimes, even if Hilda technically knows that she’s very capable. “Be my guest,” Hilda says, letting the laptop go, and looks back down on her phone without shame. 

To: marmar <3

was the business trip with ur stepdad today???? i thought it was next week :(

miss u :(

“We do have enough money to splurge a little bit outside of our annual Galas,” Claude says, making a mark next to some number. “But just a little bit. If we can be smart and use that little to snowball it into a lot, we can keep up the momentum and do multiple events every year.”

“How would we do that?” Raphael asks.

“Low cost events, high entrance fee,” Hilda suggests mildly, eyes snapping to her phone when it lights up with Marianne’s name. Whatever she’s said sparks an intense conversation, because all of a sudden people are firing away suggestions and Lysithea’s fingers are dancing all over the keyboard. Whatever.

marmar <3 liked a message.

Ugh. She’s probably too busy to give Hilda a proper reply right now, which drives Hilda crazy. Is it so crazy she wants to know what her best friend is up to, especially when she’s with her sorry excuse for a father?

“Ignatz could lead a painting class,” Raphael volunteers, and Hilda swirls around her coffee, letting the melted ice and creamer mix together.

“Make it a paint and sip,” she says. “But like, BYOB.”

She can feel Claude grinning from beside her. “I love your brain when you use it.”

Hilda blows a kiss at him for good measure.

The rest of the meeting goes like that. Someone suggests something, Hilda makes it profitable, rinse and repeat.

Finally, once they’ve gotten enough ideas to last them until the end of the year, Claude leans back in his armchair and asks, “So, Ignatz, how did your second date go?”

“W-what?!”

“C’mon, don’t be so shy. I saw you holding hands Wednesday night, walking out of Anna’s Tavern.”

Hilda watches with unbridled amusement as Ignatz’ face flushes a dark red as he stammers. Leonie hums, then says, “Now that I think about it, I also saw you with someone Wednesday night. But you were going into the Black Eagles dorm.”

“Ignatz!”

“Oh my gods,” Ignatz moans, “are you all spying on me or something?”

Claude laughs at his misery. “It’s not like you’re trying to hide it, being in the middle of campus and all that. Really, I think we’re all mainly impressed.”

Raphael nods eagerly, although Hilda thinks he’s not that entirely interested in the topic, but just in Ignatz as a person. “Yeah! I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“So…” Hilda asks, asking the question everyone wants to know, shaking her cup again, “how was it?”

“I-I’m not answering that!”

Lysithea coughs loudly. “Can we get back to the topic at hand?”

Ignatz gestures towards the laptop. “Yes! Let’s… Let’s do that!”

Claude pouts, although he’s clearly enjoying this oh so very much. “I mean we can… but what if you could give Marianne and Lorenz the perfect dating advice?”

Hilda chokes on her coffee, nearly spilling it down the front of her brand new Loro Piana cardigan. 

“I-I really don’t think I have any valuable advice that I could give them,” Ignatz says, his face now a deep plum color. That looks kinda dangerous, Hilda thinks, what if he actually self implodes?

Not to agree with what is clearly an insecurity for him, but truly, what advice could he give them (that Hilda couldn’t)? 

“Who are they dating?” Leonie asks, eyeing the clock. Hilda takes a peek too, and frowns when she realizes there’s only ten minutes left for her to get to the other side of campus for her marketing class. This piece of gossip better be worth it.

Claude grins. “Each other, of course! I don’t know who started it, but someone set them up on a date with each other. It’s next week, the Friday right before the long weekend. I don’t know what Lorenz is planning, but hopefully it’s something nice.”

“Is he still in Gloucester?” Lysithea asks.

“Yeah, he should be coming back the day after tomorrow,” Claude says. “But so far the plan is to hopefully have them spend the whole day together.”

Lysithea raises an eyebrow and stares at Claude with pursed lips. “I thought you said you didn’t know who started it, but someone set them up on a date.”

Sometimes Hilda really hates Claude. He grins so easily, all relaxed like a cheshire cat, and replies, “Yeah. I don’t know who started the idea, but uhh… someone had to set it, right? That someone could be anyone.”

“You’re so stupid,” Hilda finally says, sliding her notebook into her bag. “But anyway, I have to run to class. Send me the meeting notes, Lysithea! Mwah, love you all.”

With one last kiss she blows to the group, Hilda heads out of the Golden Deer lounge and makes her way to the other side of campus. She sighs, looking down at her phone again to see if Marianne has messaged her back, and nope, nothing so far. 

Ugh.

“You’re not being serious about that couple, are you?” Ignatz asks, once Hilda is out of sight.

Claude laughs, bringing his arms to rest behind his head as he says, “Of course not! But that’s what Hilda’s gonna think. We all know who the real endgame couple is.”

Lysithea makes an ah! noise as Raphael and Leonie stare blankly at each other. Claude holds back a sigh. At least someone is getting the plan. “I don’t... I’m not following. You’re not actually setting up Lorenz and Marianne?” Leonie asks.

“Goddess, no, what am I, some kind of demonic beast? Why would I do that to sweet Marianne?” He takes the pen resting on his ear and draws two lines in the air. “Hilda thinks we’re going to set up Lorenz and Marianne together, but really we’re setting up Marianne and Hilda together. It’s the long con. I’ve already asked the Professor to help us out. You guys in?”

“It’s hard to say no when you’re threatening us with the potential of Marianne dating Lorenz,” Leonie points out.

“Good,” Claude says. “I’m glad we’re all on the same page.”

Hilda manages to finally catch Marianne on Tuesday after her statistics lecture, waiting just outside the hall so she’s the first thing Marianne sees.

“Marianne! Hey there, did your class just end?”

Marianne stops, clutching her planner to her chest as she looks around, eyes finally landing on Hilda. “Oh, yes. Why are you here?”

“Oh, y’know,” Hilda says, gesturing to the two cups of coffee in her hands. “I just happened to know that this was your last class of the day, and I heard some rather interesting news from Claude, so why don’t we sit down somewhere with our drinks and chat about it!”

“Some news?” Marianne asks nervously. She’s too sweet to say it aloud, but the fact Hilda heard it from someone else (especially Claude of all people) has Marianne’s face turning even more pale than it already is. “What’s that?”

Hilda holds out the latte until Marianne takes it, grinning. “Come on, I’m trying to bribe you into gossiping with me. I can’t do that if I say everything now. Let’s go!”

“Don’t you have a lecture in fifteen minutes?” Marianne asks, but Hilda’s already turned on her heels and is headed down to the courtyard.

“So... Lorenz, huh?” Hilda asks, taking out a small mirror compact from her purse. She already asked Constance if her eyeliner was smudged and she said no, but Hilda doesn’t really trust her opinion all that much anyway. Just like how she likes Lorenz but doesn’t really think he knows how to treat a woman. Actually, does she like Lorenz?

“I... yes,” Marianne admits, looking down at her hands. Hilda looks at Marianne’s uneven, unpainted nails over her own jelly pink ones and raises an eyebrow.

“You don’t sound too happy about it, Mar.”

Marianne’s head swings up. “What? No, I’m- I’m happy! I’m just... I’ve never been on a date before.”

“Oh.” Hilda snaps the compact shut. Her eyeliner was smudged! How irritating. “Oh, Mar! It’ll be fun, don’t worry. Dates are all about having a good time, and having someone spoil you. Just relax, smile, and let Lorenz pay for some fancy food.”

Marianne tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, except it’s still lopsided, and Hilda wants to reach over and fix it so badly. Not that it doesn’t look cute, everything about Marianne is cute, but if she could just— 

“It doesn’t feel right,” Marianne admits, flexing her fingers around the cup of coffee.

“I’m sure Lorenz is too concerned with his masculinity to not pay, if that’s what this is about. Have you seen him? He’s lucky to even land a date with someone like you!”

Hilda loves watching people squirm. It’s her second favorite thing after having them do things for her - something about the power she holds over them, something so sweet and dangerous. Watching Marianne squirm though, this fills Hilda with a type of emotion she doesn’t even know how to handle. Her face is flushed a dark red, from the tips of her ears down to her neck where Hilda imagines it spreads all the way past her scarf and oversized jacket.

“Someone like me?”

“Especially someone like you,” Hilda confirms. “Anyone would die to have you! You’re smart and pretty and such a catch! C’mon, it’ll be good. And you have to tell me all about it afterwards, okay? Ooh, I just have to know where he takes you!”

Marianne hums gently, then nods after coming to some conclusion, and takes a sip of her coffee. Hilda’s drink doesn’t taste all that good, but the coffee shop is closed now, and she really does have to be in class in five minutes. If she gets up right now she can make it, but will she? Not a chance, not while Marianne is still here.

Marianne must realize this because her eyes suddenly widen and her cup nearly slams on the table. “Hilda! You’re going to be late!”

“That’s okay, it’s just history. Boring!”

“Still… You should go.”

She sighs. That’s basically as persistent as Marianne will ever get, so she relents. Just this one time, for Marianne. “Fiiiine, but let’s have dinner together, okay? I’ll meet you at your place.”

“Okay. See you!”

She leaves Marianne behind and frowns. There’s something dark brewing inside of her, something that leaves a taste in her mouth more bitter than her coffee.

Lorenz finally comes back from his business trip on Wednesday, and makes his entrance as outlandish as possible, wearing a three piece white suit and holding an entire bouquet of roses bigger than his head. Hilda only sees him because it’s the last few days of the season before the weather gets too cold to tan outside, so she just happens to be on the rooftop of the Golden Deer dorms and sees the helicopter with the Gloucester emblem on the side fly in. Great. Mr. Obnoxious is back, and she has to watch this loser woo Marianne. Just fantastic.

For a moment she considers going down to the helipad and giving him a stern talking-to, but ends up staying put.

What would she even tell him? I know what you’re up to and I don’t like it! Or, like, You better treat Marianne right, or you’ll have to deal with me!

Both sound silly, and also not entirely true to the feeling in her gut, the one that’s like something heavy dropping, or the floor disappearing beneath her feet. Still, she should probably go say hi to him anyway, since he’s the captain of the Golden Deer.

Hilda, Claude, and Lorenz are the star icons of the Golden Deer, and quite literally dubbed as much: the Golden Trio,due to their influence, their grades, and their striking personalities. It should have been just Hilda and Lorenz, but when Claude dropped into the school halfway through their sophomore year with the Reigan family ring, the world practically stopped spinning overnight to roll out a red carpet underneath his feet. An overnight celebrity, handsome and witty in all the right ways — charming in the morning and cunning in the night. Everyone was immediately smitten with him.

But Hilda knows how to read people better than anyone. She can see it in the way Claude’s eyes follow people’s backs when they leave, the way his mouth twitches when someone sucks up to him, and the way he tries to be nowhere but also everywhere all at once.

He’s insecure, desperate for real connection, a gap that Hilda and Lorenz unintentionally manage to fill up easily. She sees the way his eyes light up when Lorenz calls him out on his secrets, confronts him about both work and pleasure.

And that’s the thing about Lorenz. He’s aggravating, pretentious, and most of all, honest to a fault. Frankly, although Lorenz can absolutely be annoying, and has no idea how to treat a woman, he does have a good heart somewhere underneath all that hair and cologne. Maybe that’s what annoys Hilda the most, the fact that there’s a real possibility this date could go well. Ugh.

Her phone rings, just in time to stop her brain from going down whatever dark path it was about to. 

She sees Lorenz pretty quickly after that anyway. Hilda forgot that they share a class together.

Actually, they share most of their classes together, since they’re both doing business administration, but the difference is that Lorenz vastly cares about the material and Hilda spends all of lecture scribbling in the borders of her textbook. And yet, he still has the audacity to come up to her after lecture and ask for a copy of the notes from the classes he’s missed.

“From me?” Hilda asks, genuinely surprised. No one’s ever asked her for homework or notes before.

“Of course,” he says, earnest. “You pretend to not care about class, sure, but you perform well and are always organized.”

…He’s got a point. She doesn’t have a reason to not give him her notes, although she really doesn’t want to. At least Hilda can recognize when she’s being petty, and this is definitely one of those times. “Uh… I have to see if I really took any notes,” she deflects. “I can look tonight and let you know tomorrow?”

“I will be waiting then!” he agrees, and then after a long pause, asks, “Aren’t you going to ask me how my trip went?”

“What?”

Lorenz frowns. “I was gone for two weeks on extremely important business. Surely the heir of the Goneril family wants to know what it was for?”

She shrugs. “I’m sure it’ll be all over the news in a few days. Also, I’m not the heir, Holst is!”

It’s amusing to see the frustration dance across Lorenz’ features. “Surely you can’t mean— the business still affects you! You’re going to be working the family business, aren’t you?”

“I suppoooooose,” she drawls, “but it’s just so boring. Anyway, I really have to go, or else I’ll be late to my next seminar. I’ll talk to you later though!”

His eyes widen. “Wait, Hilda—!”

She flounces away before he can say anything more, and runs (no, struts) across campus to the one place she knows her uneasy thoughts can find reprieve.

Byleth is sitting at her desk, red reading glasses perched delicately on her nose while she flips through a reason textbook when Hilda breaks in, slamming the door open. The picture frames on the wall rattle, but Byleth simply looks up, eyebrows raised in mock curiosity. “Can I help you?” she asks blankly.

“I need some elderly advice right now,” Hilda snaps, closing the door behind her. “And before you suggest it, no, I can’t go to Holst! It’s got to be big sister advice, okay?”

If Byleth wanted to say no, Hilda doesn’t give her the chance, flopping down onto her bed and screaming into the pillow. After a beat of silence Byleth asks, “Is this really something I can help with?”

“It better be!” Hilda cries, kicking her feet. “So, it’s about Marianne, right?”

Clarity dawns on Byleth’s face, and it makes Hilda pause for a second, because what’s that supposed to be about? “Go on.”

“So she’s going on a date with Lorenz, which… okay, fine. It’s just a date, it doesn’t mean anything, but like, Lorenz? C’mon, Byleth, think about the two of them together. Does that make any sense to you?”

Byleth always has such a way with words, which is to say, she never fucking talks, and sometimes it just drives Hilda insane. But a picture is also worth a thousand words, and right now the smug look on her face has at least a million running through her mind. How can someone have the most expressionless face and yet still convey so much? “You sound really frustrated, Hilda.”

“Well, yeah! This isn’t some random loser who has to put up with… with whatever you’d call Lorenz. It’s Marianne! I want to be the best, supportive friend, because she deserves so much love, but from Lorenz?”

Byleth finally puts her book down and swivels around in her chair to face Hilda. Gods, was that really so hard? Does Hilda not always give her undying attention to everyone she talks to?

Well… she won’t answer that. But when Byleth talks, she listens, so that’s exactly what she will do now.

“Lorenz isn’t a bad guy.”

Ugh. Of course that’s all she has to say. Coming here was a mistake. “I didn’t say he was, but come on. Can you see the two of them together? Do you think he’s going to actually care for her? He’s so… Lorenz.”

“Who can you see Marianne dating?”

Me, Hilda thinks reflexively, then pushes that thought way, way waaaaaay down back to where ever it came from. This is no time to be selfish! “Ohhh, I don’t know. Someone who will see her for who she is, someone who will consider her first, and treat her well!” That uneasy feeling crawls its way back up Hilda’s spine, because that so-called person doesn’t even sound like Hilda.

Hilda knows herself. She knows she’s lazy, selfish, and loud. It’s fine, most of the time.

For someone who looks like they couldn’t care less about how they are perceived, Byleth certainly has impeccable posture. Even now, when she crosses a leg over the other, it’s so perfect that Hilda feels the need to correct her own face-smushed-in-pillow stature. “Someone like… Claude?”

“Claude?! Eww, professor, don’t make me vomit! No,no, I can’t have her tiptoeing around Claude’s schemes all the time.”

“Raphael?”

She scrunches her nose. “Absolutely not. He’s way too uncouth.”

“Ignatz.”

“No! They’ll both live in indecisiveness for the rest of their lives.”

“Leonie?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Sylvain?”

“NO!”

Byleth looks at her for a long moment before sighing and leaning back in her chair, swiveling slightly from side to side, deep in thought. “…Dimitri?” she asks eventually, and Hilda frowns.

Dimitri is a nice boy. He’s regal, polite, and most of all… rich. Technically speaking, he is the Ideal. But something still bothers Hilda about him and Marianne together, but she can’t quite figure out how to express it. Also, now that she’s sitting here thinking about it, doesn’t Dimitri have a thing for Byleth? She’s seen the way he watches her when he thinks that no one is looking. As much as Hilda loves a messy love triangle, this is not where one needs to happen. Maybe she should meet up with Claude later and try to pull some strings here… Then again, who hasn’t had a crush on the Professor at some point? It feels like a rite of passage more than anything. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“So who does Hilda Valentine Goneril actually approve to be Marianne’s one true love?”

Oh Gods, not her full legal name. She can hear the faint sound of Claude hysterically laughing somewhere in the back of her mind. Byleth is either tired of her shit, or this is her way of making fun of Hilda. “I don’t know! Just… not any of them, okay? Ugh, Byleth, I came here for advice.”

It’s a good thing Byleth has the patience of an actual Goddess, because she doesn’t scold Hilda for being as bratty as she is right now. “I think you should be a little honest with yourself, Hilda.”

“Honest? I’m always honest!” At Byleth’s pointed look, she squirms a bit. “Okay, well. I’m usually honest! …I mean, I don’t always lie, okay? Is that what you wanted me to say?”

Byleth’s phone goes off then, and like the polite, respectful friend that she is, just reaches back and puts it to silent, and that makes Hilda feel kinda bad. She really did just storm in here, scream into Byleth’s pillow and throw a temper tantrum, and still Hilda gets her undivided attention. Ugh. If only she could have Marianne’s undivided attention like that.

Ah.

Whatever expression is on her face must be obvious enough for Byleth, because she actually smiles and turns her chair back to her desk. “I have to finish grading these papers before class.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says after hopping off the bed, head held high, because yeah, she is Hilda Valentine Goneril, and everything she does, she does it well, and with style. Even when she very much does not feel that way. “Thanks Byleth!”

The problem is that Hilda’s always been aware of the fact she’s loved Marianne, but never bothered to actually think about it more than that. Like, yeah, diamonds are beautiful and all, everyone knows that, but it’s different when you’re holding it under the light and admiring the way it sparkles. It’s physical and right in front of you, and impossible to ignore.

Now that the threat of Marianne not being so close to her is looming over her head, the reality of the situation dawns on her.

“Hilda?”

“Huh?” she frowns, then jumps in her seat.

Right. She’s still in the student center, in a small study room with Ferdinand, who’s been diligently trying to teach her calculus for the past twenty minutes. “You’ve been spacing out a lot,” he says. “You usually are, but you’re not hiding it very well this time.”

“O-Oh…!” She’s not used to being called out like this so easily. “Sorry Ferdie, I just have a lot on my mind recently. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Ferdinand nods solemnly. “Honestly, I can’t blame you. The Gloucester merger news is absolutely baffling. I mean, the Edmund portfolio isn’t all that impressive, but clearly there must be something there if they decided to take it over.”

“What did you say?”

“Hm?” Ferdinand leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. “The Edmund takeover? They’re being managed by the Gloucesters now.” He watches her expression carefully, then tilts his head in confusion. “Did you… not know?”

“Gloucester— I thought Lorenz went to Ailell?”

“He did, but Margrave Edmund and Count Gloucester met in Derdriu afterward. I don’t know if Lorenz went with them.”

Ferdinand gets to watch the blood drain from Hilda’s face as she realizes why both Lorenz and Marianne were absent from the last Golden Deer board meeting. “I…”

“Is everything okay?”

No? Is he stupid, of course everything is not okay. It takes all of Hilda’s willpower not to yell this in Ferdie’s face, and somehow manages to fix a polite but strained smile on her face as she says, “Yeah, just surprised. Sorry, I’ll pay attention. What question were we on?”

“Are you sure? You should’ve really known this,” Ferdinand insists, facing her properly. “I mean, you of all people should know, Hilda! That’s not something the Goneril heir should be slacking on! I implore you to pay attention when your business especially is at stake. What if—”

“Really caring would mean not flunking out of calculus,” Hilda cuts him off, the tips of her ears burning hot. Hopefully the message is clear: this conversation is over.

Ferdinand watches her carefully for a moment before scoffing and turns the page in her calculus textbook, pointing to the example problem on the top of the page. The rest of the tutoring session goes by in a blur.

The smart thing to do would be to go somewhere and cool down, but the dry Pegasus Moon air is already doing that for her as she trudges around campus looking for Marianne. So far she’s checked the cathedral, the cafeteria, the dorms, and the greenhouse. 

There’s only one other place Marianne would be, and Hilda’s suspicions are proven correct when she approaches the stables and sees sky blue hair through the window of the barn.

“I thought that I’d find you here,” Hilda calls out as she gets closer, watching Marianne pause from where she’s carrying a pail of water and turn to face Hilda. She must’ve been here for a while if she’s wearing her riding gear, and Hilda takes the opportunity to admire her athletic build, something she rarely shows. 

“Hilda! Hi, what are you doing here?” 

“You missed the Golden Deer meeting,” Hilda says, entering the barn as well. Dorte neighs in what Hilda assumes is probably a greeting. While she’s not bad with animals, she can’t really say that she’s… good either. It’d taken a very long time for Dorte to warm up to her, and many, many sacrificial snacks. “Hi, darling,” she greets, but doesn’t come any closer.

“Oh… I’m so sorry, Hilda, I didn’t realize—”

She laughs. “It’s okay, silly. Everyone gets to be bad and skip once in a while. I just thought maybe something happened… although maybe something did happen? Since it seems like you’ve been here a while.”

Marianne freezes, a nervous sweat breaking out on her forehead. “Oh, nothing that important. I just needed to be alone for a bit.”

“You’re usually alone,” Hilda points out, taking a cautious step closer. Maybe if she finds a vegetable or something, she won’t have to worry about Dorte being upset. “It’s the coldest day of the month and you’ve been out all day in nothing but your riding gear. What happened, Marmar?”

At her nickname, Marianne sighs, deflating quite literally as the bucket of water is placed on the ground. They both watch Dorte lean down and start to drink gratefully. “Sorry Hilda… I spoke with my stepfather this morning.”

“Ah.”

That explains a lot. Honestly, Hilda doesn’t know much about Margrave Edmund, but in her defense, nobody else does either. From the very few times she’s encountered him, he’s been curt, brash, and aloof. No one is allowed in the Edmund compound, and he rarely leaves it himself. Marianne was shut up there, too,, until she came to Garreg Mach Central Church University. Even good news is delivered with a frown, so Hilda can’t imagine what happens when there’s bad news.

“It’s good timing,” Marianne says, mainly to herself. “We’re going on a date soon anyway.”

Of course. Lorenz. It makes sense. The merger is probably just the Margrave consolidating his gains while using his stepdaughter to recuperate for the loss. What’s lost will come back to him eventually, whether it’s through business or through marriage. The lines get blurred a little too often in these circles.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Hilda replies carefully. “As annoying as he is, Lorenz wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to.”

Marianne doesn’t say anything to that, which means it was definitely not the right response.

“Hey, worst case scenario, you make the date as awful a time for him as possible, and he gets so weirded out by you that everything is called off and you just open up a farm by yourself and live happily ever after.”

Hilda gets a weak smile in return, which is good. That’s probably the first time Marianne has smiled in days. “Only if you’re there.”

She watches Marianne go and get a bale of hay and drop it into Dorte’s stable. “Well, duh. How am I supposed to know what kind of bird is rudely making a nest on my balcony without you? And who’s going to clean up after you when you’re out by yourself? That can’t be good for the horses.”

This time she gets a giggle, which makes Hilda’s heart flutter in her chest. “Are you more nervous about the date with Lorenz or your father?” she asks, knowing that her hard work in bringing up Marianne’s mood might have been for nothing.

Another bale of hay is picked up, except this time it’s thrown haphazardly into the corner of the stable. “…Both,” she replies eventually. “Business… will come and go. Marriage will not.”

Technically… Hilda thinks about her dad’s multiple marriages, but decides not to comment on it. “You think a life with Lorenz will be unhappy?”

Marianne hesitates, nails biting in the skin of her palm. “No, I don’t… But— I don’t know.”

She’s clearly about to say something else, something important, but a strong gust of wind blows through then, leaving both of them shivering and Hilda’s teeth chattering, even though she’s wearing a big winter jacket and Marianne is still only in her riding top.

“We should g-go,” Marianne stammers. “I just need to f-finish locking up the stables.”

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Hilda says, wrapping her hands around herself.

“N-no, I have to clean up and replace all the food troughs too. It will take a while.”

Even though the stables are mildly warmer than the rest of the outdoors, it’s not enough to convince Hilda to stick around for that much longer. “Okay. Then… I’ll come to you? How’s tonight? We can watch a movie together.”

“Let’s do that,” Marianne agrees, and Hilda takes her leave then, opening her phone to decide on what to watch later on.

Nearly an hour after Hilda reaches her apartment, snow starts to fall from the sky in thick clusters, and the forecast shows it only getting worse. Marianne texts her and says that she got home while the sky was clear, but Hilda doesn’t buy that. She’s notoriously bad at looking after herself.

Lying down on the sofa, Hilda sighs, watching the clouds darken.

A life with Lorenz really wouldn’t be bad. Like Hilda, he’s more perceptive than he lets on, except unlike Hilda, he actually acts on it. That’s probably a good thing, now that she thinks about it. That means noticing when Marianne’s uncomfortable, and actually removing her from the situation. It means he wouldn’t tease her, even though her blush rivals even the most plush bouquet of flowers. It means he would probably notice the days she doesn’t get sleep and actually do something about it.

Shame wafts over Hilda bit by bit, until it drops on her all at once. She’s been a bad friend, hasn’t she? Always dragging Marianne around where she wants to go, tormenting her with jokes until she’s red in the face… Hilda’s always been selfish, sure, and honestly, it’s never bothered her. But maybe…

Maybe Lorenz is the better choice. The choices are already spread so thin, frankly, and most of them are horrible. It’s better to leave it this way, with Marianne’s happiness in the hands of someone who can actually put her first.

She sighs.

By the time Hilda reaches Marianne’s apartment, the storm is starting to pick up, and snowflakes stick to her hair in thick, white clusters. Her fingers are slightly numb, the last remaining guard against the cold being these two coffee cups and gloves that are made for style and definitely not function. Ugh. These ones are new too. She should have just used the ones she knit herself - stores skimp so bad on quality these days! The ones she made are pink with little red patterns, and they’re double lined. How’s that for quality? Gods, Hilda hates when her hard work pays off! Maybe she should knit Marianne a pair too. Hers could be pale blue with white circles! Or maybe she could do something to bring out the hues in her taupe eyes, like a dusty lavender, or— 

The door opens before she can finish the thought, revealing Marianne shivering as the cold wind blows into the apartment. The apples of her cheeks flush a deep burgundy, and she looks so cute that Hilda wants to squeeze her. “Finally! I thought I was going to freeze to death out here.”

“Sorry,” Marianne mumbles, stepping out of the way so Hilda can come in and take her boots off once she’s unloaded the coffee cups onto Marianne. “I was trying to clean a bit.”

Hilda looks at the absolute chaos that is Marianne’s apartment and makes a mental note to help her actually organize this place one day. “Aw, no worries! I’ve been here so many times anyway, it doesn’t bother me. Anyway, I was thinking we should help you pick an outfit for your date tomorrow! Ooh, did you think of anything yet?”

Cherry red blooms across Marianne’s face again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, jealousy rages at the fact that this will be a sight for Lorenz to behold. She peels off her boots one by one, then her jacket and scarf, until she’s finally just wearing an oversized sweater and leggings. “Um, no, not yet… I thought we were going to watch a movie together.”

“We’ll do that too! Unless you want me to leave early?” Hilda asks, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger, pleased as Marianne shifts uncomfortably. People are so easy. That’s probably why Holst and her father want her to take over as COO after she finishes her MBA, but that’s just so boring. There are at least ten other things Hilda would rather do than sit in an ugly chair all day and read contracts for hours. This is also why Hilda knows she’s selfish.

“No! Gosh, Hilda, never. I just…”

“It’s okay, Marianne, we can just watch the movie if you want.”

“No! We’ll do both.”

“Great!” Hilda takes back one of the coffee cups and strolls right into Marianne’s room, plopping down on her unmade bed. Gosh, Hilda’s no interior decorator, but this place could use a little life. Aside from the things that Hilda has gifted her, Marianne’s room is as bare bones as it can possibly be. No pictures, no decorations, not even a second pillow. “Show me outfit number one!”

Marianne enters the room a moment later and places the coffee cup on her desk, then turns to the closet to pick out a couple of items and lay them out on the bed next to Hilda. “I wasn’t sure what to wear, so here are some options…”

Hilda’s eyes graze over the multiple dresses and skirts on display with pursed lips. The outfits Marianne has picked for the occasion are… dull, for lack of a better word. They’re plain and spark no joy. Thank the Goddess Hilda is here. “It’s a good start,” Hilda begins, and sees Marianne visibly deflate out of the corner of her eye, “but I think we can do better.”

“I don’t know…”

“Hush now!” Hilda grabs Marianne by the shoulders and pushes her onto the bed, on top of one of the dark purple skirts she pulled out earlier. “I know you have plenty of cute things somewhere in here, let me just take a look…”

As much as Hilda likes to make other people do things for her, it’s different when it comes to things like this. The key is that the outfit needs to have personality, and most people have no idea how to do it. But Hilda knows Marianne better than anyone else, and most of all, she wants the best for Marianne more than anyone else, even if it’s at her own expense. When it’s for Marianne, Hilda finds herself wanting to do things.

A familiar baby blue cardigan falls out of one of the many piles of clothes on the top rack of the closet, and Hilda manages to grab it before it falls onto the other pile of clothes on the floor. She’s not sure if those are clean or not, so she’ll just consider them off limits. “Is this… I made you this, didn’t I?”

Marianne cranes her head to see the article of clothing in Hilda’s hands, then stammers out, “I-, uh— Yes, I just— Sorry, it… I thought I lost that.”

Hilda remembers knitting it for Marianne back in their final year of secondary school, deciding to take up a new hobby instead of studying for their final exams, and also because no one knew where Marianne would be going for university. It was a flimsy thing, not at all crafted well, with low quality fabric and mismatching shades of blue. Marianne had never actually worn it, but the fit was so horrendously big that it never bothered Hilda anyway. She folds it neatly and reaches up to put it back in its place, then goes through the rest of the clothes that are actually on hangers. “I’m happy you still have it though. Not my best work, but— Oh! What’s this?”

On one of the very last hangers in the corner is a silver dress, simple in design but clearly made from high quality Adrestian silk. For a plain dress, it’s surprisingly heavy, but the metallic threads shimmer like water even under the gross fluorescent lights.

“I’ve never worn that before… My dad got it for me a while ago.”

“I can’t imagine the Margrave buying you something like this,” Hilda remarks casually, laying it gently on the bed.

“Oh, not my stepfather. My dad.”

Marianne doesn’t speak about her birth parents much, so Hilda is honestly never sure what to think of them, but she always has this soft expression when they come out, so it couldn’t have been all that bad. Perhaps it’s more bittersweet than anything, especially considering the Margrave is so strict about basically everything. “Ah, then maybe you should wear it?”

She frowns. “I don’t think so… A-and anyway, it’s too thin in this weather.”

Well, Hilda can’t really argue with that (she absolutely can, but she’ll allow Marianne this victory). “That’s okay, let’s pick out a few other options!”

In the end, Hilda pulls out three different outfits, ranging from a formal black dress with golden accessories, an informal purple dress with blue accents, and a white sweater and pants. All options that Marianne ends up agreeing to wear, depending on the type of date it is.

“Perfect!” Hilda says, nodding to herself proudly as all the outfits are neatly organized in their own hangers in the very front of the closet. The accessories are all separated in small bags in her dresser, and the shoes are right at her front door, so she has no excuse to forget anything. Truly, there’s no one who can organize like Hilda. Gods, sometimes Hilda wishes she could clone herself and make clone Hilda do all the work. Ahem, anyway.

While Hilda was running around the apartment, Marianne ordered them food and picked out a movie to watch, which will most likely be some animal-related movie, but Hilda’s used to it by now. What she’s really excited for is the seafood stew and milkbuns, something she hasn’t eaten in a really long time. As nice as it is to eat in penthouse restaurants with five-digit receipts, the corner store soup is better than anything a world-class chef could come up with.

“Come sit on the floor!” Hilda says, motioning for Marianne to join her. “You don’t want to accidentally spill fish sauce on your couch, right?”

After Marianne is seated next to her, the movie starts, and Hilda realizes with mild amusement that it’s the new romance movie that Hilda was telling her about a few weeks ago. She’d been planning on watching it herself, but forgot after the whirlwind of midterm exams came and went. Aw, Marianne is so sweet. Hilda loves that about her.  “You don’t mind watching this?” Hilda asks.

“With you, no,” Marianne says, a soft smile on her face as the movie pans over a metropolis.

The movie turns out to be, for lack of better words, a shitshow. The acting is bad, the music sucks, and the plot is as dry as stale bread. The good thing is that Hilda loves this, as it’s truly nothing but pure mindless entertainment. Marianne, on the other hand, is clearly trying her hardest to pretend to watch and not be shifting uncomfortably every ten minutes when there’s another raunchy scene.

“Is it really that bad?” Hilda finally asks, as the male lead puts his fancy sportscar in park and watches the romance lead take their top off.

“Huh!” Marianne nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of Hilda’s voice, face bright red. “Oh, n-no… It’s not bad!”

Hilda’s conflicted as to whether she wants to make Marianne comfortable or tease her more until her blush deepens. “Not bad? Is it good then?”

“Hilda…”

She laughs, throwing her head back as Marianne pouts at her. “Sorry, sorry, I can’t help it! Aren’t you as cute as a button, Marmar? They should put you in one of these movies, it’d be a hit.”

“These?” she squeaks, and despite the obvious disgust, it’s the most she’s seen Marianne emote all day. “W-what would that even be about?”

“Ohh, I don’t know,” Hilda muses aloud, wondering how far she can push this. “Maybe it’s about a cute blue-haired girl who moves into a new neighborhood and meets the love of her life! But she doesn’t know it, and they don’t know it yet either, all they know is that they can’t stop thinking about her about the way she talks to the birds every morning.”

Marianne turns her head away and laughs into her shoulder. “I wouldn’t do that where someone can watch.”

“But Mar! That’s the whole point, you’re not supposed to know. It’s about the unrequited yearning, the longing gazes, the buildup!” Hilda dramatically drops herself into Marianne’s lap, winking at her. “It’s not supposed to be believable, it’s just for enjoyment. “Like… um… Give me a scenario!”

“Me?”

“No, the soup,” Hilda pouts. “Of course you.”

Marianne giggles and pushes a piece of hair out of Hilda’s eye. Thank the Goddess, it was actually really bothering her. “Okay, um… They… are in a flower shop.”

“Imagine this then, we’re far past the beginnings of the story where the hero and heroine dance around each other. We’ve got a bad boy who’s always breaking the rules and the girl who’s sweet but tells him off. The last customer just left for the day and she’s trying to tidy up so she can go home, but the bad boy just has to know why she always leaves him feeling shaken up.”

Maybe Hilda should become a filmmaker. She can see the movie before her so clearly, she’s already back on her knees, slamming her hand on the couch next to Marianne’s head. “He corners her by the door to the greenhouse, demands to know what spell she’s cast on him to have him so obsessed with her. And she says…”

After a beat where Hilda doesn’t say anything, Marianne, now intrigued by this impromptu story, asks, “What does she say?”

Hilda pouts. “It’s your turn, you tell me.”

“Oh… Um… I didn’t cast a spell?”

Dropping her voice an octave lower, Hilda continues, “Then why do I always feel this way around you? Like my heart is going to burst out of my ribcage, like I want to steal you away from the rest of the world.”

“Uh—”

This is probably one step too far, but Hilda finds that she’s already too deep into those doe eyes to turn away now. She lets her fingers step their way up Marianne’s arm, tracing along the lobe of her ear, until her index finger catches the bottom of Marianne’s chin and lifts it up to her own face.

“Hilda—” Marianne whines, her breath hot against Hilda’s lips. Marianne glances down at her lips once, then twice, and they’re close, so close that if Hilda just leans down the tiniest bit, she could…

Marianne’s eyelashes are much darker than the rest of her hair, nearly cobalt, fanning over the tops of her cheekbones as they flutter shut. Reality dawns on Hilda at the same time the heroine in the movie behind them screams.

They both jump, Hilda nearly toppling over backwards at the sound of movie gunshots behind her.

“Aaand that’s the appeal!” Hilda announces with a small flourish of her hands as she slides backwards to where she was sitting before. It’s a pathetic attempt at recouping the situation before her, but it might turn out to be a net loss anyway. Marianne’s face is flushed a bright pink, and from the way Hilda’s cheeks feel like they’re steaming, she can’t imagine she looks any more put together.

What a dangerous situation Hilda just put themselves in. She knows better than to pull shit like this.

“I… guess I get it,” Marianne mumbles, eyes directly trained on the floor in front of her. “Kind of.”

“That’s okay!” Hilda says, except it comes out way too high pitched, her voice strained at the edges. “Everyone has their own preference.”

“Yes...”

The rest of the movie goes by in an uncomfortable silence, and Hilda all but jumps to her feet and leaves almost immediately after it’s over.

“Tell me how the date goes!” she says right as the door closes behind her.

Thank God she texted her chauffeur before the movie ended, because he stands at the bottom of the apartment complex with the door to the car already open.

“Ugh,” she moans, climbing into the backseat of the Bentley. “I can’t tell if that was the best night or the worst night ever.”

“Sorry to hear that, Lady Goneril.”

Hilda’s already texting Claude to meet her for a late lunch tomorrow, whatever meetings he has be damned.

Claude does Hilda a solid and offers to hang out the entire day, which mostly consists of them going to the airfield and taking Claude’s plane for a spin. He doesn’t have clearance to go cross-country yet, so they end up in Remire Village.

Remire Village doesn’t have much to offer, mostly residential, but there’s a cute little downtown she likes to peruse sometimes. More importantly though, the land here is very flat, leveling out after the Oghma mountains end, so the biggest racetrack in Fodlan is here.

“I can’t believe you got pistachio again,” Hilda says, watching Claude take a bite (a BITE) out of his ice cream. He’d already complained that eating ice cream during Pegasus Moon was an insane thing to do, but look at him now! Biting ice cream like a crazy person.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, pistachio is peak.”

She lets him have this, just once, as they watch the racecars go around the track.

If Marianne’s thing is horseback riding, and Claude’s thing is flying, then Hilda’s all about cars. Holst and her dad like to joke that her interest in cars is the reason why she can lift things three times her body weight, but there’s just something about going fast that excites her.

Her first car was an Audi R8, something she had way before she was ever legally allowed to be behind the wheel, then skyrocketed into a Lamborghini Huracan when she did finally pass her driving test, and now, many different cars later, her main baby is a McLaren Elva. She’s wrapped in pink and sits here at the Remire Track most of the time.

Hilda licks her raspberry swirl ice cream cone, then asks, “Are you going to get into the car with me this time?”

Claude grimaces. “Fuck no, you’re on your own, babes. I will happily watch and talk shit with you through the headset.”

She purses her lips, shooting him a glare. “I stepped into your metal cage death trap to get here, now you can’t come into mine?”

“There are no walls to crash into and break your body in ten different ways, and if something does go wrong, you can just parachute out!”

“Please?” Hilda asks again, fluttering her eyelashes for effect.

“No.”

Ugh. Hilda doesn’t like to be manipulative with Claude of all people (which is ironic, considering it’s Claude), but… “Fine… But while we’re waiting… what do you think Marianne and Lorenz are doing now? Do you really think they’re going to spend the whole day together?”

Claude frowns, head turning as he watches the purple Maserati make its final loop around the track. “Well… for better or worse, Lorenz is someone who will see something through to the end, and Marianne is someone who will stand her ground.”

“So yes.”

She leans back in her chair, watching Claude take another bite of his ice cream. “It’s hard to say. You want them to have a bad time?”

“Not really,” Hilda says honestly. That’s maybe what’s bothering Hilda the most. Everything around her will happen the way it’s supposed to happen, but the fact that she keeps flipping back and forth with what she wants is giving her this uneasy feeling. She finishes the last bit of her ice cream as the Maserati crosses the finish line. “C’mon,” she ushers Claude. “Just one lap.”

“…Fine.” He shoves the rest of the cone into his mouth (gross) and follows her down the steps to the  loading zone. They get geared up as someone drives her McLaren onto the track, and after Hilda emerges from the locker room in her racing suit, she hops into the driver’s seat. Claude wobbles in after her, pulling at his gear uncomfortably. “You’re telling me I have to wear fireproof underwear to sit in this car?”

She bats her eyelashes at him under her helmet as she starts up the car and listens to it hum to life. “You don’t always?” In front of her, the crew members do a visual scan of the track. 

“What?”

“But Claude,” she says, driving the car towards the start line. She gets a thumbs up from a crew member and revs her engine. “I’m always so hot!”

“Hilda, that’s so cring— HILDA WHAT THE FUCK— HILDAAAAAAA!”

Okay, so maybe it does kinda suck, knowing that Marianne and Lorenz are out there somewhere having a date — a probably really good, planned out, considerate date, knowing Lorenz, but at least she can take out her frustration on an eight cylinder engine going three hundred kilometers per hour. That, and catching Claude off his game always brings her joy.

It’s less satisfying in an automatic car, no gearshift and clutch to be handling as she approaches corners, but hearing Claude scream bloody murder in her ear as she drifts, the back tires smoking as they skid across the ground before the car straightens out again and she floors it–that makes up for it.

She does this a few more times until Claude finally calms down, and then a few more laps after that to really get the adrenaline out of her system, nearly topping the speedometer until someone in the headset tells her to slow down.

She gets a good final lap, then engine brakes until she finally rolls to a complete stop at the starting point. They get out of the car, and a crew member takes her place to drive the car back to the garage it currently lives in.

“I hate you so much,” Claude groans, prying the helmet off of his head. “I hated that. Every second of it.”

“I loved it,” she says, beaming at him, and skips away after waving goodbye to all the crew members. “Wow. I can’t believe that worked. I really do feel better.”

“Good,” Claude moans, hovering over the garbage. “Oh Gods, my head is still spinning.” 

Despite his protests and a very close call, Claude does not throw up, and even manages to fly them back to campus, but not before Hilda tears her way through downtown and buys enough to fill up the private plane.

Both of their drivers are waiting when they return, even if they only have to drive a few streets over to get back to their respective apartments, but that’s just how it is.

“You’re the bestest, most specialest friend there is,” Hilda says, giving Claude the most obnoxious, wet, lipgloss-filled smooch on his cheek. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

Claude, as always, takes it in stride and smirks, even as he paws uselessly at the spot where she kissed him. “Always a pleasure, Lady Goneril. Dost the madam require my services more, or shall I retire for the evening?”

“I’ll see you at the Golden Deer meeting on Thursday,” she answers, blowing him another kiss goodbye as she slides into the backseat of her Bentley. 

The week flies by fairly quickly, but Marianne seems to be radio silent, which is… fairly normal actually, but it still sends Hilda’s veins buzzing with anxious energy. She doesn’t get a reply to any of her texts, but Leonie and Ferdinand both seem to shrug off her concerns when she meets up with them.

If Hilda knows anything about Marianne, it’s that pushing her has never actually helped in any way, so she lets the time pass, and strolls into the morning Golden Deer cabinet meeting with a fresh manicure and matching pink lounge set. Lorenz sent everyone a text the night before saying he would provide breakfast, and lo and behold, there are bagels and scrambled eggs and loads of coffee waiting.

“Where’s everyone?” she asks, pushing her sunglasses to rest on top of her head as she watches Claude and Lorenz bicker over the placement of the TV.

“Hilda!” they say at the same time, then glare at each other.

“The TV looks much better here,” Lorenz states, pointing at the wall next to the food. “Right?”

“No one is going to break their necks looking over there,” Claude argues. “Just put it here next to the chairs! Hilda, who’s right?”

“Absolutely not! You want to burn my eyes with how close it is to our faces?”

She watches the two of them go back and forth before looking down at her phone. Ugh, it’s another fifteen minutes until anyone else will show up, and she’s stuck with these two. “Why don’t you two just put it away and use the projector?”

Something about Claude and Lorenz together just sends them regressing back to five year olds who pull each other’s hair and fight constantly. She’s never seen two people try to antagonize each other more for the fun of it. Whatever, it’s not her problem. She wants coffee and a bagel. By the time she turns around, the TV is back in the closet and the two boys are trying to adjust the projector lens until the image is as sharp as can be.

Hilda sits in the prime spot behind the projector, swirling the mug gently to mix the creamer when she sees Lysithea come into the meeting room, eyes stopping at each of them one by one, before she takes the furthest possible seat and opens her notebook, mumbling a greeting under her breath.

The rest of the Golden Deer make their way to the meeting, and to Hilda’s distress, both Claude and Lorenz take the two seats on either side of her, so when Marianne eventually comes (five minutes late, with pillow imprints still on the right side of her face), she sits next to Ignatz and Raphael.

It’s the first Golden Deer meeting in over a month where everyone is present, which is probably for the best, since the gala is— 

“Next week?” Leonie gasps, looking at the calendar on the projector screen. “I could’ve sworn we had two weeks to get everything ready…”

Ignatz shifts uncomfortably, flipping through pages in his notebook. “But most things are settled, right? I think we only had a few small things to discuss.”

“We should figure out the chaperone schedule,” Claude says, switching to another tab. “We should have two board members on duty per hour, so everyone else has time to enjoy the gala, and we can just switch off and update each other.”

Hilda raises her hand. “I’ll take the first hour! Then I can spend the rest of the evening having fun. Will you join me, Marianne?”

“Oh…” Marianne shifts uncomfortably in her chair, eyes darting between Hilda, Claude, and Lorenz before she eventually mumbles, “No… I’ll do the third hour.”

The room is deathly silent for a moment, only interrupted by the sound of Claude clicking away at his keyboard, typing their names down, but Hilda can see how his shoulders have gone stiff.

Um, alright then. Did Hilda say something wrong?

She blinks once, twice, then plasters a bright smile on her face as she faces Raphael. “Okay! How about you then, big boy?”

Even Raphael hesitates, looking around before he matches her expression. “Sure! You can help me tie my tie, right?”

“Of course!”

Lorenz looks past Hilda towards Claude and says, “I’ll take the second hour.”

Everyone pauses again, the discomfort nearly tangible in the air. Hilda looks towards Marianne, who is staring very intensely at her shoes.

What happened on their date? 

“I’ll join Marianne in the third hour,” Claude announces, cutting through the tension. “Lysithea, I know you want to leave early, so accompany Lorenz in the second hour. Ignatz and Leonie, you guys can take the closing hour, right?”

After everyone agrees, Claude jumps into the next topic of catering and cleanup, while Hilda sits there stunned. Marianne flat out rejecting her in front of everyone has the tips of her ears burning hot in embarrassment, and suddenly the coffee in front of her is too cold and too bitter. What did Hilda do? Did she do anything? Has Hilda been too pushy, or too mean? Sure, she can be overbearing, but Hilda’s never really thought of herself as cruel or malicious, especially never to Marianne.

Her silence doesn’t go unnoticed, because at some point she can see her phone screen light up with Claude’s name, and glances over to see him halfheartedly listening to something Raphael is saying.

She ignores the message, stares at the projector screen where everyone’s remaining tasks are listed. Hilda has to finish up the seating cards, Lorenz has to throw more money at the gala for being absent for so long, but Marianne… 

Hilda doesn’t even read what’s under her name, can’t get past the letters of her name, and the fact that she’s sitting just a few feet away. Somehow, Hilda can’t muster up the courage to actually look at her, afraid of what she’ll see.

She nearly forgets that Lorenz is there and also not in the same time slot as Marianne until he points out some discrepancy on Claude’s document, and then they start to bicker again until Lysithea cuts in with some harsh words.

“Does everyone know what they have to do?” Claude eventually says some time later, closing his laptop. “Alright, meet up again next Thursday, and then Friday is the gala. I’ll see you all later. Hilda, are we getting lunch together?”

“What?”

Claude watches her carefully, then repeats himself more slowly. “Are we getting lunch together?”

Did they plan to have lunch together? Hilda doesn’t think so. She was going to go to her pilates class and then shower before her afternoon class, but there’s sky blue hair darting out her vision, and okay, fuck it, no pilates, no class, Hilda’s just— “Oh, yeah. Of course, only if I get to pick the place this time.”

He laughs wryly and stands up, packing up his things. “Lysithea,” he calls out, right as she’s about to close the door behind her, “Join us.”

She turns around, looks incredulously between the two of them. “What?”

Hilda doesn’t hang out with Lysithea… ever, but she knows Claude loves to tease her, and fuck it, she’s down to hang out with anyone at this point. “Yeah, Claude’s paying.”

“What? I didn’t—”

“Okay!”

Hilda doesn’t talk to Marianne for the entire week.

For someone who Hilda is always hanging around, they really have no shared schedule together.

It would be really easy for the two of them to become strangers. That thought makes Hilda’s heart clench, but it’s true. Aside from both of them being on the Golden Deer board, there’s no other crossovers in their daily lives. They have no mutual classes, they live on opposite sides of campus, their hobbies are completely separate, and even their bedtimes don’t line up.

Despite all this, Hilda still wants Marianne. Wants to be with her, drag her around and force her to try out new cafes together and go on long walks by the river, watch her care for Dorte even though he smells like poop. She sighs, watches the rest of the Golden Deer file out of the meeting room as Marianne once again does not meet her eyes. 

Maybe Hilda will find some way to talk to her at the gala. If she can find Marianne while on duty, she technically can’t run away from her. And honestly, why would she? It’s not like Hilda did anything wrong. Yes, maybe this is the plan.

“M’lady,” Claude says, gently bringing her out of her reverie. He tips his imaginary hat at her, laughing at the way her lips curl. “There’s a new Dagdan lunch spot I want to try out.”

She puts the last of her things in her bag and follows him out of the building. “I thought you were going to spend the rest of today setting up the hall?”

He flashes her a lazy smile as they approach her vintage Mustang. “Yes, but so will you, after I bribe you during lunch to keep me company.”

“Claude…”

"We can invite Lysithea again,” he says, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it. “Or we could also bribe Raphael to come early since he can lift everything.”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Alright, point me in the right direction.”

The drive to the banquet hall is mostly quiet, with Claude tapping away at his phone the entire time. It had snowed the past few days, and although most of the roads have been plowed clear, there’s still pileups on the sidewalks and grass. To both of their surprises, Leonie is standing at the entrance, waiting for Claude to let her in.

“Raphael couldn’t make it, said something about his sister needing him to pick her up, so I volunteered,” she explained. “Byleth is also on her way.”

“That woman is a madman,” Claude replies, laughing as he runs his hand through his hair. “Truly, how does she manage to be everywhere and do everything all at once?”

Hilda and Leonie exchange glances with each other and both ask, “What?” at the same time.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, fishing the key out of his pocket and pushing open the grand double doors.

The hall is already extravagant enough as it is, which is why they had chosen it in the first place, but they still need to set up all of the tables and clean the dance floor and decide where the DJ is going to go and whatever else Claude decides he wants done today.

“You two go bring in the tables,” he says, throwing his winter jacket and backpack in a corner and fishing out his tablet.

They follow suit with their coats, and Hilda pouts as she watches Leonie run to the backroom without complaint. “But why? I’ll break my nails! Can’t I do something like write out everyone’s names, or—”

“We all know you’re stronger than the entire Golden Deer combined. Go.”

Well, she tried at least. After a moment of hesitation, she takes off after Leonie, who’s carefully trying to roll a table out. Together, they manage to lift it and set it up in the ballroom before they go back and do the same thing, over and over.

“Hey, I don’t mean to pry,” Leonie says after they set down the fifth table. “But are you okay?”

“Huh?” Hilda looks up, pushing stray pieces of hair behind her ears. “Me?”

Leonie shuffles uncomfortably. “Yeah, I mean. Like I said, it’s none of my business, but I’ve never heard you be so quiet. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but—”

If Leonie has noticed, then Hilda must really be walking around with her face like an open book. “Aww, are you worried about me?” she coos, pinching Leonie’s cheek. “That’s so cute! I’ve never heard you fuss over me before.”

“Ugh, stop!” Leonie cries out, smacking her hand away. “I was going to say something nice, but now I won’t.”

Hilda giggles. Between Leonie, Lysithea, Marianne, Claude, and basically everyone else in the Golden Deer, she’s learned to read in between the lines of all these emotionally constipated people. “I’m okay, but thanks for your concern, cutie.”

Before Leonie can reply with something else, the double doors swing open again, and three familiar silhouettes emerge. Claude looks up from where he’s crouched in the corner fumbling with some wires and jumps to his feet. “Finally!” he calls out, laughing. “You guys took your sweet time getting here.”

Byleth approaches him with an extremely uncomfortable looking Marianne and Lorenz in tow. “There was traffic,” she says, dropping her snow jacket and purse next to the pile of Hilda, Claude, and Leonie’s things. Marianne and Lorenz also put their things down.

So this was Claude’s plan the whole time, huh? She should’ve realized. “Hi guys!” Hilda waves her hand enthusiastically, although she’s dying a little inside. “Didn’t know we’d have so many extra helpers.”

“Extra?” Claude balks. “We have forty more tables to set up and two hundred chairs to organize. C’mon Bubblegum, even this isn’t enough.”

Lorenz crosses his arms and looks wholly unimpressed. “As expected from someone as disorganized as you, Claude! If I were the president, all of this would’ve been taken care of already. And why on earth are you wasting your time trying to be an engineer? There’s a million other things you could be doing.”

“If you were in my spot, we’d still be back on campus drinking tea!”

Byleth drags Marianne away from the two bickering boys and towards Hilda and Leonie. “Leonie and I can continue with the tables. Hilda and Marianne, I think you should start getting the chairs.”

Hilda really admires how put together and confident Byleth can appear with zero instruction or expectations. She can almost imagine the vague text messages Claude was probably sending her, with varying degrees of urgency to show up to the gala ballroom.

“You got it! C’mon Mar, I’ll show you where the chairs are. Professor, be careful, Leonie might roll the table over your toes.”

“What — I never did that! Professor, she’s lying!”

Before Leonie starts cursing her out, she grabs Marianne’s hand and starts skipping away, dully ignoring the knowing pitched eyebrow raise on Byleth’s face. One day Hilda’s gonna experiment and see just how minuscule of a motion Byleth can do to show emotion. It’s incredible how so little can convey so much.

Not like the two of them, Hilda notes, as Marianne’s hand is freezing cold and nearly trembling in her warm ones. “You okay, Mar?”

“Y-yeah,” Marianne mumbles, looking directly at the floor. 

She lets go of Marianne’s hand to open the door to the second storage room where there are stacks and stacks of chairs. “Well, we better get started.”

They spend the next hour carrying those stacks and placing them where Byleth and Leonie set down the tables. Hilda, admittedly, is faring much better than Marianne, who looks like she’s going to pass out any second now from all the heavy lifting.

“Let’s take a break,” Hilda says, dragging the two of them over to the giant mess of everyone’s bags and pulls out two bottles of water. “We can’t really do much else until more tables are set up.”

“Okay,” Marianne breathes out, taking the water. She watches Hilda slump down and follows her lead, until they’re leaning comfortably against the wall and watching everyone else run around like little worker ants. Claude and Lorenz are still arguing with each other over the placement of the lights, and Byleth and Leonie are diligently carrying the tables out of the back.

“How was your date with Lorenz?” Hilda eventually asks, hoping she sounds casual enough.

Marianne winces as she says, “It was good,” which sounds weirdly genuine. Hilda doesn’t understand all these mixed signals she’s been getting. 

Regardless, she fixes a bright smile on her face and tilts her face towards her. “See? What did I tell you? Anyone would be lucky to have you. Especially Lorenz.”

“Anyone?” Marianne echoes glumly, staring at her shoes.

“Of course. I mean, Lorenz is like… Well, he’s a good guy actually. But still! If it was good, is there a second date?”

“Hey!” Leonie calls out to them before Marianne can respond. “How long are you guys going to keep slacking for? The Professor and I only have a few more tables left!”

Ugh, didn’t they just sit down? “Alright, we can chat later,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go finish up with the chairs.”

The rest of them spend the next few hours setting up all the furniture until the moon is high in the sky and Hilda can’t wait to crawl into her bed and sleep in.

Lorenz is driving Byleth and Marianne home, so Hilda drops off Leonie and Claude.

“Golden Deer is meeting in the morning, but since you guys worked so hard today, skip and relax a bit more. I’ll see you two right after breakfast?” Claude says, opening the door for Leonie.

Hilda winks at the both of them. “I’ll do you one better, how about I grab everyone breakfast and we eat together?”

Leonie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling slightly. “You’re just saying that so you can find the highest surface to sit on and tell everyone what to do.”

“Oh, my sweet precious Leonie, you know me so well,” Hilda coos, watching her grimace. “And don’t worry, my throne will have space for one more. We can rule together.”

“Only one more?” Claude asks.

“You lead by example like a real leader,” Hilda says, pouting. “Leonie and I are here to be real tyrants. Right?”

Leonie laughs. “Sure. Alright, I have to actually go to sleep now, or else I’ll drop dead in the middle of the road. See you all tomorrow!”

“Let me know if you need a ride!” Hilda calls out as the two of them start to walk away. Once their silhouettes fade, she shifts her car out of park and heads home.

As much as Hilda wants to spend her time chatting with everyone and relaxing, the prep for the gala is a whirlwind of running from one side of campus to the other, grabbing decorations and equipment and food. The banners go up at the last possible minute, and even then, Hilda yells at Raphael to readjust them three times, because they’re always just slightly crooked on one side, and that’s just not acceptable?

It isn’t until afternoon when they finish decorating the hall, and half of the team excuses themselves to go get dressed, including Hilda. She passes by Ignatz on the way out, who’s speaking to the caterers on where to set up. 

By the time she comes back to the hall, it’s ready. “Look at it!” she says to Raphael, who is staring at his tie. “We did such a good job. It really looks so official with the staff here.”

“Yeah, all that lifting really paid off!”

"Let me help you with that,” Hilda says, taking the tie from him. “Bend down, big guy. I promised you I’d do this, didn’t I?”

There’s already a line of attendees outside waiting to be let in, she notes, as Raphael lowers his head so Hilda can slip the tie under the collar of his shirt and fold it over in the front. “Where’d you learn to do this anyway, Hilda?”

She loops the tie through and wraps it over. “Well, I have an equally annoying dad and brother with no eye for design, so someone had to do it for them.”

“That makes sense,” he agrees. “Thanks so much!” When the tie is finally adjusted and put in place, Raphael looks quite charming in his suit, even if it’s way too tight. If it were up to Hilda, she’d give him a cute olive green tie, but this boring striped one is fine too. Seeing Raphael in anything that isn’t his work uniform or gym clothes is already a treat in and of itself, so she won’t complain.

“Alright,” she calls out, making her way to where Claude and Lorenz are looking over a tablet. “Shouldn’t we let everyone in now?”

“Hm?” Claude asks, looking up, and Hilda peers down to see them looking at a live feed of a sports game. “Oh, uh, yeah—”

Hilda has half a mind to start yelling at the both of them in front of all the vendors. “Are you serious?”

“Sorry, sorry! Yeah, let’s let everyone in. It’s time. Dimitri already texted me that almost all of Blue Lions are here already.”

Lorenz goes to speak to the doorman while Hilda and Raphael take their places at the entrance table to sign everyone in, hand out drink vouchers, and point them in the direction of the coatroom. The people start trickling in one by one until the end of their hour shift when the ballroom is nearly packed.  “Wow,” she breathes after she’s wrapped an attendance band around Caspar’s wrist and sent him off into the throng of people, “Looks like most of the work is already done. The rest of the night is going to be really easy for the rest of the team.”

“That just means it’s time to let loose and eat big!” Raphael replies, grinning as he watches Lysithea approach the two of them. 

They give her a small report on what’s happened so far and bid each other goodbye as Hilda rushes off to find people to mingle with.

The gala itself goes according to schedule, not even a second behind due to Claude’s meticulous planning, Lorenz’ nitpicking, and Hilda’s negotiating, as well as the effort put in from the rest of the Golden Deer. Overall, Hilda is quite pleased and grateful for the team she has.

“Hilda!” someone calls her name, and she turns to see a boy from the Black Eagles approach her. Something about him is familiar to her, maybe they shared a class previously? “You guys did a great job with the gala, it’s really fun.”

She grins. “Yay! I’m glad you’re having fun. Music okay?”

“Everything’s perfect. I wanted to ask you for a dance, actually.”

Ah, of course. Hilda should’ve seen it coming. Then again, the dance floor is open. There’s not many people on it now, but maybe if she leads, the others will follow. “Sure!”

He presents his hand to her, and Hilda takes it, letting her glittery dress sweep across the ground as they head directly for the center of the dance floor. “Do you dance often?” he asks her, entwining one hand with hers and putting the other on the small of her back, just high enough to be respectful. How cute, she notes. It’s the little things that matter.

“If there’s an opportunity, I wouldn’t say no,” she answers honestly, wishing she could remember who this person was. “It’s all good fun, right?”

“I imagine anything with you is always fun,” he replies smoothly, although there’s a light dusting of color on his ears. They start to dance, one step at a time, and well, Hilda can’t say that she dislikes this person whose name she can’t remember for being direct and enthusiastic about being with her. It’s more than can be said about some other people.

Wait, no, she didn’t mean— 

She freezes, nearly losing her footing as the thought buzzes through her before she can take it back.

“Whoops, you okay?” the guy asks, and Hilda forces herself to smile.

“’Course,” she says, feeling herself starting to sweat. “Just missed my step.”

They dance for a little more as she thinks about what just happened. What she just thought. Not that Hilda’s one to ever police her own brain, but sometimes even she has to admit when she’s crossed a line.

“Y’know what,” she says after the song ends, “I think I might’ve put more pressure on my foot than I wanted. I’m going to sit down for a bit. I see Dorothea waving to me anyway. Thanks so much for the dance!”

She flees before he can say anything, and luckily for her, Dorothea actually is sitting alone for once, fanning herself. When Hilda approaches, her eyes light up as a smile spreads across her face. “Hilda! Sweetie, what a surprise.”

“Not as much as seeing you sit by yourself is,” Hilda replies, sliding into the chair next to her. “You’re not having fun?”

“Gods, no! Loads of fun! Too much fun, actually,” Dorothea says quickly, hands up in defense. “Feels like the party just started and I’m already exhausted from the people and the dancing and the food! It’s amazing! I know you weren’t in charge of the catering, Hilda, so who was?”

That sounds like an insult, but she lets it slide. “Raphael, of course.”

“I should’ve known. He’s made the perfect choice! But anyway, why are you sitting by yourself? Weren’t you having fun with Percy?”

Percy, that was his name. Ah! Hilda remembers now. He’s in one of her morning classes. They had a group project together early on in the semester. Usually Hilda’s good with both names and faces, but the past few days have been such a blur. “I was, but…”

The words die on her lips as her eyes drift to the entrance of the gala, watches as Lysithea waves hello to Marianne, who’s wearing the shimmery silver dress her dad got her, elegant and perfect. But on top of that dress is the blue cardigan that Hilda knitted for her so many years ago. It’s… well, it’s not atrocious, but it’s definitely not cute either.  But Marianne is wearing it, maybe for the first time ever.

Dorothea follows her gaze, a soft giggle escaping her lips. “Oh, Marianne! I was wondering when she would show up. Isn’t that cardigan adorable? Do you think she made it herself?”

“Um…”

Hilda can’t say anything to her now since she’s on door duty for the next hour, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to be preoccupying Hilda’s mind the entire time. She must have just got here, right? Is she going to stick around after her shift? She should, shouldn’t she, it’s the Golden Deer gala after all. But, knowing Marianne, she might try to escape as soon as possible. Hilda will have to try and find a way to keep her back.

Should she though? What an unfortunate situation, being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Should Hilda keep a lid on her selfishness and watch Marianne go, or does she want to pull whatever strings she can to keep her by Hilda’s side? She knows what the right answer is, however—

 “You think Lorenz made it?” Dorothea asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Lorenz,” Dorothea repeats, taking a sip of some of her champagne. “They went on a date recently, didn’t they? Sylvain told me. That sounds so sweet! They have a cute little date, he handknits a cardigan for her to wear to the gala, they dance together… You know how it goes. Noble romances, right?”

Hilda can feel her pulse in her throat, hands suddenly clammy with cold sweat. “Right,” she says hollowly.

Dorothea turns to face her fully now, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You okay Hilda?” she asks. “It’s not like you to give one word answers.”

Even though she can feel the tips of her ears heating up, she forces a laugh. “Yeah of course! I just didn’t think Lorenz would be the type to do that.”

“Right? The things people do for love… Gods, even I can’t help but be a little jealous.”

Hilda watches Marianne stand at the entrance booth until another voice cuts through and they see Annette approaching the table. “Hey you two! Can I sit with you guys for a bit?”

Dorothea pats the chair on her other side. “Join us!”

“It sure is packed on the dance floor,” Annette says as she sits. “It’s fun to see friends and couples both dancing; it’s usually one or the other. It’s a really well put together event, Hilda. Great job!”

Hilda eventually gets swept up in the conversation that follows, always one to chatter away, especially when she’s at the perfect vantage point to glance over ever so often and watch Marianne’s back from across the hall. The time flies like that, Marianne and Claude nursing a revolving door of patrons while Hilda’s table grows with more students who choose to sit with them.

She’s sandwiched between Dorothea and Caspar, and as much as she loves the boisterous energy, finds herself longing for both of her calmer counterparts by the door.

“Go away, Sylvain,” Dorothea snaps as Leonie cackles. 

“Don’t be so mean,” Sylvain jests, clutching his hands to his chest. “All I’m asking for is one dance.”

“I don’t know how you all still have the energy to dance,” Caspar says. “It’s been hours.”

Hilda laughs and nudges him in the side. “You say that, but I bet you could spend all day at the training grounds.”

Caspar’s face flushes berry red. “Well, yeah! But that’s because—”

Whatever he says falls on deaf ears when Hilda glances past him to the entrance, finds Ignatz and Leonie standing at the front table, both signing in a couple of students. Where is—

“She’s so cruel,” Sylvain complains. “Y’know you can’t just wait for someone to come to you forever, sometimes you gotta take the lead.”

Annette scoffs. “I think that applies to everyone except for you, Sylvain.”

“Annette! I expect that from Dorothea, not you!”

Laughter rings throughout the table. Hilda’s eyes roam through the hall, desperate, until they find their mark. Marianne’s standing next to the dessert table, nursing a glass of water as Lorenz says something to her animatedly. They must have gotten over whatever it was that had them being uncomfortable with each other.

Hilda sighs. She wished she could just talk to Marianne. Technically they spoke when setting up the venue, but really it was more like Hilda talking at her, which… is probably how it usually goes, actually. Maybe Hilda really is the problem here. Has she been looking at this from the wrong angle the whole time? 

Someone taps her shoulder, and Hilda looks up to see a familiar deadpan face looking down at her.

“Professor!” a chorus of voices all cry out happily. Byleth stands above her, wearing a low cut black dress that reaches her calves and an oversized jacket draped over their shoulders. Hilda’s got a pretty good guess who the original owner of that is.

“I’m surprised you came,” Sylvain says. “You said no when I asked you last week.”

Byleth pokes Hilda’s cheek next. “I said no to you.”

“Professor! What is this, make-Sylvain-feel-bad day?”

“They’re all making up for Ingrid not coming,” Caspar says with a laugh.

Hilda grabs Byleth’s hand before she can poke her again. “Do you need me?” she asks as the group around her continues bickering.

“Maybe,” is Byleth’s vague response, except she pulls Hilda’s chair out for her anyway.

Hilda stands up and waves everyone goodbye as she follows the professor to the bar. “Do you actually need something from me?” Hilda asks curiously. Byleth isn’t one to waste people’s time for no reason.

“Yes. A dance.”

“What?” Hilda watches blankly as Byleth holds their hand out to her, looking at her expectantly. “You want to dance with me?”

Usually it’s the other way around. Students and staff alike are clamoring over each other for the Professor’s extremely limited attention, and although Byleth isn’t particularly keen on humoring anyone, she also never says no. “Is it a no, then?”

“You know I could never say no to you,” Hilda says, intertwining their hands. “I didn’t expect my night to go like this though, if I’m being honest.”

The music has slowed down to an easy ballroom dance, fit for all the heirs and socialites to show off their nobility before the DJ decides it’s time to remind everyone that this is still a college party. From behind them, she can hear Caspar whooping and Annette cheering. “How did you expect it to go?”

“Dancing and gossiping away with friends, then getting absolutely drunk out of my mind at the afterparty,” Hilda replies honestly. They take measured steps with each other: front, back, side, back, front, side, side. She remembers the first gala Byleth went to, confused about what these dances were. She and some other Black Eagles students had taught her the more well known steps. Here she is now, basically a pro. Hilda’s such a good teacher!

“You’re still on track.”

Hilda laughs, taking the opportunity to use her height advantage to spin the Professor around. “Wow Professor, you’re right! But I’m more curious about your plans for tonight. How many people have you danced with?”

Byleth’s eyebrows furrow just slightly as she thinks back. “A couple of students. Another Teaching Assistant. One of the cooks.”

“No one memorable?”

“Not until you,” Byleth says, completely serious, and Hilda can’t help the giggle that escapes her.

“Professor,” Hilda mock gasps, then spots a flash of blond hair from her peripheral. Perfect timing. “Don’t say things like that, or you’ll get my hopes up!”

Byleth looks genuinely confused as they spin around each other, one hand coming to gently place itself on Hilda’s waist. “What kind of hopes?”

“The hopes a certain Prince has for you,” Hilda winks, and for the first time in a long time, she sees Byleth’s eyes widen just a fraction as the song comes to an end. “Thanks for the dance!”

She flees in whatever direction the door is closest to, right as she hears a deep masculine voice call out, “Professor! I haven’t intruded, have I?”

Hilda loves playing matchmaker. It’s so cute to watch people fumble around each other and discover each other’s feelings, like a flower unfurling its petals after winter. One thing Hilda does not appreciate is being outsmarted. She gets it all the time from Claude, which is already horrible enough, but she realizes with a startle that the direction she just oh-so-happened to run in just oh-so-happened to be right into Marianne. What a sneaky little tactician the Professor is.

“Marianne!” Hilda stops abruptly right in front of her, taking in the wide eyed girl before her. She can smell Marianne’s light floral perfume wafting in the air around her, dainty and soft just like her.

“Hilda,” Marianne greets. “I saw you with the Professor.”

That cheeky woman, a tactician through and through. “She asked me to dance. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Did you dance a lot today?”

“Not really,” Hilda answers honestly, surprising even herself. “Just some boy in my class, then the Professor. Wow, I’m really losing my touch, aren’t I?”

Marianne laughs shyly. “This might be a record.”

“I know, right! We have to rectify this, Mar, two is just too little.”

Marianne suppresses another giggle behind the oversized sleeve of the cardigan Hilda made for her. “Who’s your next victim?”

It’s so endearing how clueless she is. Hilda will rectify that. “Well, it’s not good to look too far. Soooo, how’s your next ten minutes looking, cutie?”

That stops Marianne in her tracks. Her eyes widen, just like the Professor’s from before, except her voice trembles a bit as she asks, “A-are you really asking me?”

“Is there anyone else in front of me?” Hilda offers her hand, bending a bit even though they’re more or less the same height.

She looks conflicted for a moment, which rattles Hilda a bit, because what is there to be conflicted about? They’ve danced before at previous galas, and even if Marianne and Lorenz were now official, this wouldn’t put any strain on that as friends. The moment drags on, Hilda’s composure wavering until she goes to retract her hand. “Yes!” Marianne squeaks suddenly, reaching forward to clutch Hilda’s hand. “Sorry, I— Yes, let’s dance.”

Better late than never, maybe? Hilda’s not sure what to think, but she leads them both onto the dance floor, tucked away in a corner where not too many eyes will be on them.

“We’re lucky,” Hilda comments as they step to the last few beats to the song before it ends and a new one begins. “They’re probably gonna finish the fancy schmancy music in the next ten minutes.”

“Do you remember the schedule?” Marianne asks. Despite her reclusive nature and disorganized brain, her dancing is effortlessly graceful.

“Nope! I don’t remember who’s on the last watch, but it’ll be entirely their problem. And Claude’s, but that’s what he gets for being president.”

Marianne says nothing to that, and they continue to dance in silence. Hilda has so much that she wants to ask - they haven’t had a proper conversation since the date with Lorenz, and it’s killing her. Sometimes she just wants to cut open Marianne’s head and pull apart her brain, look at it under a microscope and dissect each and every crevice. She wants to understand Marianne until her skin feels like Hilda’s own.

From behind them, Hilda can see the Professor and Dimitri dancing together still, the difference in height stark against the other couples around them, including herself and Marianne. 

“Aren’t they cute together?” Hilda asks, nodding towards the pair. Marianne follows her gaze.

“Yes, they are.” They step around each other smoothly, the dance coming together as easy as breathing.

“Do you think one of them will say something tonight?”

Marianne hums. “I hope so. It would be nice to see.”

“It would,” Hilda agrees. “Do you think one of us will?”

Both of their eyes widen at the same time as Hilda’s sentence strikes through her like a pulse of lightning in a clear sky. Did she really just say that? Oh Gods no, that was not—

“Hilda—”

“I’m sorry,” Hilda breathes out quickly, stepping away from Marianne. Panic floods through her, fingers trembling. Why did she say that? Why can’t Hilda ever just keep her stupid mouth shut? Gods, she was right, she’s way too selfish to be with someone like Marianne. Lorenz would have more tact than her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I just— I know you and Lorenz— Fuck, that was so stupid of me. Sorry Marianne.”

“No, Hilda, wait!”

She didn’t even realize she was moving until she’s a couple of steps away from Marianne now. “I think I should go. I’m sorry again.”

Hilda, bright, cheerful, stubborn Hilda, spins on her high heels, grabs her clutch from the table, and darts out of the ballroom before she potentially says something else that ruins her life.

By the time she gets home and has completely washed the day away, only then Hilda allows herself to look at her phone. She has multiple missed calls from Claude, as expected, and a handful of texts from Dorothea, Sylvain for some reason, Leonie, and even Raphael.

The trek back to her apartment was spent in an embarrassed silence, too strung up to grab her coat from the check-in desk or even turn the radio on in her car as she sped through the snow covered streets. At least now she can rest, all cozied up in her fuzziest pajamas, contacts out and her oversized glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

She can think about what happened, what she said, sure, or - hear her out - she could ignore it all and watch a shitty murder documentary and drink some tea and fall asleep right here on her couch, and deal with it all in the morning. Yup. That’s the plan. Hilda’s never one to leave people on read, but as her phone continues to chime, this can be her one exception. 

The TV flickers to life as she browses through the options and selects the first vaguely interesting thing. If Hilda closes her eyes, she can still see Marianne’s shocked expression behind her eyelids, and a small groan escapes her. How could she have said something so stupid? Did she really have to do that? There were so many other ways Hilda could’ve gone about it. Maybe start off with asking about her date with Lorenz, how she feels about him, what she plans to do next… literally anything else.

The narrator in the documentary has a frustratingly annoying voice, and before long, the TV is turned off and Hilda finds a book lying around in her room and settles with reading for the rest of the night.

She doesn’t get too far though, because halfway through the second chapter comes a loud knock at her door, and Hilda nearly jumps from the force of it. “Coming!” she calls out.

Maybe it’s Claude, Hilda wonders as the book is closed and set on the coffee table. He did text an annoying amount of times, and if there’s one thing he hates, it’s being left on read.

She clutches her cardigan tighter around her in anticipation of the cold gust of air and opens the door.

“Hilda,” Marianne gasps, face flushed a bright pink.

“What the— What are you doing here? Did you run here?”

Hilda’s never seen Marianne look like this before: her eyes are wild, blazing, and her hair is tousled all around her, messy waves flowing down her shoulders and back, a braid on the one side of her head hanging by a single bobby pin. “Did you mean it?” she asks - no, demands, huffing. How far did Marianne run to get here?

“Mean what?”

“Did you mean it-” Marianne stops to take a deep breath, trembling. “You told me I was smart and pretty and that anyone would die to have me. Did you mean it?”

Hilda’s mouth opens and closes like a fish flopping around on land. She does vaguely remember saying this to Marianne a while ago. How long had that been in the back of her mind? Maybe this wasn’t about what Hilda had said at all. Maybe someone else had said something in between when Hilda left and Marianne ran here. “Of course I meant it, Mar. Now, come on, what happened?”

“Who’s anyone?”

“Anyone is anyone! Anyone you can think of. Did someone say something to you?” That was possible. Hilda can imagine someone trying to rile her up on purpose, elicit some kind of reaction out of Marianne. She’s always been like that, teetering on some kind of edge. But that wouldn’t warrant such urgency to speak to Hilda now. Was it Lorenz? Did he say something?

Marianne brows are pinched together, looking like she can’t decide if she’s angry or tired. “Does anyone include you?”

Silence.

They stare at each other as Hilda’s brain spins around inside her skull erratically. Did she hear that right? Is she hallucinating? This must be some sort of post-gala fever-induced dream that she’s going to wake up from any second now. Marianne doesn’t falter, her heatsunk eyes staring right into Hilda’s.

“…What?” she eventually croaks.

“Does—” Marianne begins to repeat, the tops of her cheekbones bright red, then cuts herself off again. Her shoulders heave like a popped balloon, slumping forward in defeat. “I— Forget it. Forget all of it. Sorry, Hilda.”

Hilda watches with an almost morbid fascination as the powder blue of her eyelashes darken with dampness, before the reality of what that means washes over her like a tidal wave. “Wait!” she cries out as Marianne turns away. “Don’t leave,” she begs. “Please.”

“Hilda—” She sounds hollow now, her voice cracking on the last syllable.

“Come inside. Let me explain,” Hilda begs, stepping out into the cold. The frigid wind whips around the two of them, but Marianne takes the brunt of it as her shoulders tremble under the dusting of snowflakes that dance around her delicate frame.

Her hand finds its place in between her shoulder blades, pressing gently, leading quietly, as the two of them find sanctuary in the heat of Hilda’s apartment.

Hilda doesn’t say anything for a while, just has Marianne sit on her couch while she putters around the kitchen, reheating the kettle she had out and brewing another pot of cinnamon tea. When she sees Marianne pulling the cardigan closer around her, Hilda turns on the fireplace.

Eventually, when she can’t find anything else to do to keep her hands busy, she hands Marianne a steaming mug and takes her spot on the other side of the couch. “Are you still cold?” Hilda asks.

Marianne looks up at her miserably, but shakes her head. “Not anymore.”

“Good,” Hilda says, then watches her take a sip.

Explain. Hilda said she was going to explain, but honestly, Hilda doesn’t exactly know what she’s supposed to say. All she wanted was for Marianne to stay, and now she’s here, knees tucked in, her silk dress riding up slightly at the calves.

“I said it,” Marianne says after a beat of silence.

“Huh?”

The tips of Marianne’s ears are still bright pink, whether from the cold or the heat or something else, Hilda doesn’t know. All she knows is that she can’t stop staring. “You asked earlier,” Marianne explains, “who was going to say something. If someone would.”

Hilda’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry—”

“I did. I said something.”

When Hilda meets her eyes, that same blaze from before has returned. That gaze that sears right through her soul, that sets Hilda on fire, that confuses her. “I don’t understand, Mar. You and Lorenz are—”

“We’re not,” Marianne says, then pauses. “We were, but… now we’re not.”

Hilda waits for her to elaborate, and when she doesn’t, presses, “So, uh, what’s the current situation then?”

Marianne frowns. “Can you answer me first?”

“I want to,” Hilda says, thinking it over, “but I can’t. I… was really hurt when you ghosted me, Mar. I tried to understand, but then there were all these mixed signals, I just need to understand first.”

She doesn’t know if Marianne understands where she’s coming from, if Hilda even understands it herself, all she knows is that today has been a whirlwind of feelings and it all needs to come to a resolution. “We tried,” Marianne begins, “on the date. It was nice, actually… but he knew from the start that my heart wasn’t into it.”

“I assume he didn’t take it well,” Hilda mumbles.

“Better than you think,” Marianne says, her fingers tapping against the glass of her mug. “But he told me it was mean of me to even go when there was already someone else, and he was right, honestly. I was upset because… it was mean. I was hurting so many people and I knew I was doing it.”

“Mar—”

“But eventually he came around and was the one who pushed me to leave the gala tonight. To see you.”

Ah. Now that she thinks about it, she hadn’t seen Lorenz all night. Marianne was also nowhere to be found until her mandatory Golden Deer shift started, so they must have talked either then or after Hilda left. “So all is good between you two?” she asks, curious. 

Marianne puts the mug down on the coffee table, having barely drank any of it. Its purpose seems more suited to hand warmer than beverage, apparently. “I think so. For now. I have to give him another real apology.”

“Then in that case…” Hilda slides her way over to the other side of the sofa, towards Marianne, and holds her heated hands in her own palms. “Then while you do that, I’ll just have to send him a thank you card. Because when I said that you’re spectacular and amazing and everyone should be head over heels for you, yes, I most definitely meant me as well.”

There’s something to be said about the fact Marianne’s eyes widen, like after all this bravado and vigor, she wasn’t actually expecting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. “But—”

“No buts,” Hilda insists. “I think we both spent a lot of time already overthinking this as much as we possibly could. So let me say it very clearly, Mar: I am head over heels for you, and I’ve loved you ever since I knitted you that cardigan so many years ago that you’re wearing now, even though it’s absolutely horrid. Even when your apartment looks like a nightmare, and even when you ignore me to go hang out with stinky horses, I think you’re incredible.”

Marianne’s face flushes with the sweetest cherry red, a laugh high on her lips. “But it’s really comfortable,” she says, letting go of Hilda’s hands so she can wrap them around her instead, nuzzling her head into Hilda’s chest. “And Dorte likes you.”

“I don’t believe either of those things,” Hilda grumbles, running her hand through Marianne’s tangled, windswept hair. “Ugh, wait here for a second.”

As much as Hilda would love to stay on the couch and cuddle Marianne to death and wax poetic about how in love she is, she can do all that while brushing out all the knots in Marianne’s hair. Also, she needs a small break to step into her bathroom and scream silently into her hands because ohmygoditsfinallyhappeningafterallthistimeholyshit. She really does have to send Lorenz a thank you card. And maybe Claude too, who, now that she really thinks about what he’s been up to these past few weeks, has probably known this entire time. That asshole.

She grabs a brush and makes her way back to the living room and orders Marianne to sit cross legged on the floor in front of her. “Thankfully your hair is so silky, these should come out in five minutes,” she says, and pinches Marianne’s cheek for good measure.

“I feel like you take care of me all the time,” is the response Hilda gets. “Don’t you get upset about it?”

Hilda hums, picking out multiple bobby pins and starting to untangle her hair from the bottom. “But I like taking care of you. And I could say the same about you. Don’t you think that I’m always pushing myself onto you? Forcing you to do whatever I want?”

Marianne’s giggle is soft, even as Hilda has to brush over the same knot multiple times. “Is that how you’ve been feeling, Hilda?”

“You sound like you’re making fun of me,” she huffs.

“It’s rare to see you being vulnerable,” Marianne admits. “But no, I don’t get upset. In fact... I like it a lot. I like it when you drag me out, and I don’t think you force me to do anything. You’re very good at seeing those kinds of things.”

“That makes me happy to hear that, Mar.” The brush catches again by her ears, and this time she can hear a small hiss of pain. “Sorry, sorry!”

When Hilda’s finally able to run the brush from the top of her scalp to the ends of her fallen curls, Marianne eventually says, “…This went too simply.” Hilda laughs.

“Did it? Do you want to recreate that movie we saw last month? Y’know, where they parked the car on the side—”

“No!” Hilda laughs harder, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of Marianne’s forehead. She can feel Marianne pouting, and then movement as she tilts her head up to look at Hilda from below. “I… love you too.”

“Yeah?” Hilda asks, and puts her hands on Marianne’s cheeks so she can squish them together. “Well, MarMar, I love you moooooooooore!”

Marianne cries out, hands attempt to reach upwards to push at Hilda as she lavishes her temples and cheeks in wet kisses. “Eek! Hilda, stop!”

Hilda lets Marianne push her off to climb back on the sofa, giggling. “You’re the cutest in the whole world—”

Hilda only stops teasing when Marianne leans forward, eyebrows furrowed, and presses her lips to Hilda’s, effectively shutting her up.

Holy shit.

Marianne’s lips are chapped and brittle, but she tastes sweeter than any wine that Hilda’s drank, and she thinks that this must be what heaven feels like. She can’t hide the goofy smile on her face when they separate, feeling her own cheeks burning hot. “Again,” she says, sliding a hand onto the nap of Marianne’s neck and leaning in.

“I can’t believe you have the audacity to be calling me arrogant,” Lorenz snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at Claude. “There was no reason to drag me along for all of that. You could’ve just told me what your plan was this whole time!”

Claude shrugs unapologetically, reaching over to take one of Ignatz’ french fries. They all watch Hilda and Marianne walk through the university courtyard together, holding hands while Hilda animatedly gushes about something. “You would’ve made it obvious in the first ten minutes.”

“I would not,” he snaps, pulling the half eaten fry out of Claude’s mouth. Gross? Yes, but Claude’s irritated expression more than makes up for it. Lorenz knows he’s above all this nonsense, but sometimes it feels really good stooping down to someone’s level, especially if that someone is Claude. “I got my heart broken three times in the same week!”

“Give me my fry back or it’ll be a fourth,” he says, reaching for it.

It’s a good thing Lorenz is almost an entire head taller than him. “Apologize to me, you scheming, scumsucking asshole!”

“Fuck you!”

Ignatz sighs and pushes his boat of fries in their direction. If he was even half as clever and motivated as Claude, he would try to set these two up.

Alas.