Work Text:
Lune:
Camp was winding down for the night.
Gustave sat at his usual evening perch, writing in his journal. Today had been a busy, productive day for their mission, and he wanted to chronicle the experiences both large and small. He believed that all details held significance.
Sciel washed the group’s dirty clothing in a nearby stream.
Lune snuffed out the fire and put away their cooking supplies.
It was quiet. It was peaceful.
But the youngest Expeditioner had something to say.
Maelle shuffled up to Lune. Hair in messy lopsided pigtails, she looked as if she had either just woken up from a nap or was about to take one. “Lune?”
Lune looked up from where she was cleaning a canteen. “Nice hair. I’ll mark this in my notes as the most picturesque sight this side of the Continent.”
“You’re not funny.” Maelle rubbed her eyes. Tired as she was, she couldn’t go to bed without telling Lune an important message.
“I wasn’t trying to be. I was stating facts.” Lune’s tone dropped into something softer, something more private. “What’s the matter, little one?”
Maelle sat down opposite Lune and looked her directly in the eyes, a chilling feat for someone so exhausted. “When I grow up, I want to be you.”
Of all of the testimonies that this sleepy girl could have given, Lune did not expect that specific one. She froze in place. “What?”
“I’m serious. You’re smart and pretty and you always know what to do.”
“Thank you, Maelle, but I don’t always know what to do.”
“Then you’re pretty good at faking it.”
Lune had to snort softly at that but sobered up upon Maelle’s next words:
“You keep everyone in line. But you don’t do it in the mean way.”
“The mean way?” Lune was almost afraid to ask. She knew the less-than-stellar treatment that Maelle had received growing up in Lumière.
Maelle looked down at the ground, sheepish.
Lune snapped her fingers to get Maelle’s attention. “Eyes up here, love. You’re not in trouble. This is your space to say whatever you want to say.”
Slowly Maelle lifted her head, returning her gaze to Lune’s face.
Satisfied, the woman nodded her gratitude. “Thank you. Now I can see those lovely icy blue eyes.”
“You know my eye color?” Maelle asked cautiously, a baby animal dipping one paw in snow to gauge how sharply it stung.
“Yes. Why do you sound surprised?”
“People don’t usually pay that much attention to me,” Maelle admitted, fiddling with her fingers.
Lune brushed her thumb against the top of Maelle’s hand in slow soothing motions. “You’re my friend and my teammate. Of course we’re going to pay attention to you. Now back to my question. What, pray tell, is ‘the mean way’ of keeping someone in line?”
“Yelling at me,” the child replied readily, too readily for Lune’s liking. “Calling me useless, no good, too flighty, too much, too loud.”
Lune expected an answer like this, but it did nothing to stop her heart from breaking. “Is that what they called you?” There was no need to specify who ‘they’ referred to; she doubted that Maelle would ever forget how Lumière’s smaller-minded townsfolk treated her, those cruel youths or impatient foster families who were too blind or foolish to see Maelle for the shining gold mine that she was.
“No, I make up these insults in my head to help me sleep,” Maelle bit back.
Ah, the classic Maelle bite. Lune set her hands on Maelle's shoulders to placate the child. “Stand down, soldier.” She swallowed, throat suddenly dry. She took a moment to gather her voice, and when she next spoke, it was with purpose and clarity. “They’re wrong. Don’t give them that power. If they want to think that of you, it’s their loss. You’re not too much. You’ll never be too much for us.”
Maelle leaned into the touch. She didn’t trust these sweet words coming from many other people, but she trusted Lune.
“Their words don’t get to hold weight. Yours do,” Lune emphasized. “Your words are important. Whenever you have something that you need to share, I want you to come to me or Gustave or Sciel.”
“I’m not the best at that,” Maelle disclosed, voice distant. “But I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask. Even if we can’t fix it right away, you’re not to keep it yourself. That’s a good way to self-destruct. Thank you for telling me everything that you’ve told me tonight.”
“Thank you for never being mean to me.”
Lune removed her hands from Maelle’s shoulders. She lightly undid one of Maelle’s already loose pigtails and began to restyle it. “And what do they know, anyway? You’re not too loud. You’re just loud enough. We need someone to boss us around here and we both know that Gustave isn’t going to do it.”
The high-pitched giggle that Maelle emitted made her sound every bit of her 16 years. “Gustave’s the worst boss. Don’t tell him I said that. Wait, do tell him I said that. I want to hear his reaction.”
“That’s my girl.” Lune’s heart tugged with fierce respect.
The atmosphere settled down. The tension dissipated. Even the faint evening breeze seemed to calm.
Lune made quick work of restyling Maelle’s other ponytail. “Now it’s my turn to return the favor. Can I tell you a secret?”
This seemed serious. Maelle folded her hands in her lap and looked intently at Lune. Once again, that striking look appeared in her piercing blue eyes. “Okay.”
“When I was your age, I wish I was half as resilient as you. You shouldn’t need to be. Not under these circumstances. But you carry it so well. You’re stubborn and determined and you don’t let anything get in your way. A lot of people will tell you that stubbornness is a bad quality, but I’m here to tell you that it’s one of the most admirable traits a person can have.”
She rested a hand on Maelle’s knee before continuing.
“None of us asked for this. None of us want to be out here risking our lives and shouldering the weight of the world.” Least of all a child, she added silently. “But here you are. You amaze me every day. I see how hard you fight and how fiercely you refuse to give up. That’s a lot more gumption than most adults have.”
Maelle placed her palm over Lune’s hand. Small, warm. “Really?”
“History is lucky to have you as part of this expedition, but more than that, we’re lucky to have you here in this camp.” Lune meant every word. A complete stranger could tell that. “All of that to say, I suppose I want to be you when I grow up, too.” An echo of Maelle’s words.
Scooting closer and hanging on to every word, Maelle looked at Lune as if she had just hung the proverbial moon after which she was named. The admiration that she held toward Lune was mutual? “You mean it?”
“Chouchou, you know me. Would I say something that I don’t mean?”
That got another little laugh out of Maelle. “No.”
“You’re everything I wished I could be and everything that you should be. All that you are is perfect.”
“Now you sound like Sciel.”
Lune shook her head, mirth in her eyes. “That is a patented Lune-ism.” She surveyed the girl she had come to regard as a sister or daughter. (No wonder Gustave hadn’t yet decided what exactly he was to her.)
It was so easy to love this girl.
Pride surged through Lune’s veins as she concluded her little speech. “Your life is only just beginning. If this is what you are now, I can’t wait to see who you’ll be in five, ten years’ time. And when we defeat the Paintress, you’ll have your chance. I look at you and I know that you are going to change the world.”
Maelle, before she could reply with any words, let out an adorable little yawn resembling that of a baby kitten.
“And you can’t change the world on zero sleep. Let’s get you to bed.” Lune helped Maelle up. She took the young girl’s hand and shepherded her back to their bedrolls. “Down you go.”
Maelle yawned again. She gladly settled under the blanket. “I’m going to change the world but first I’m going to sleep.”
“That’s exactly right.” Lune tucked the blanket more snugly around Maelle. “Thank you for delivering your important message to me tonight. You never stopped being a good courier.”
Sleepy blue eyes blinked expectantly up at Lune.
“Yes?”
Maelle tapped her own forehead, a silent plea.
Oh, this sweet silly girl. Lune pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Sciel returned from the washing in time to see this. She smirked knowingly. “Do I get a kiss too?”
“You already know the answer to that.” Lune pecked Sciel's lips, then wrapped an arm around her waist and whispered something that Maelle could not quite decipher.
Maelle giggled and covered her eyes. “Get a room.”
“Goodnight Maelle.” Lune put an end to the discussion.
“Or a… rock or cave or something,” Maelle clarified.
Lune’s repeated command, a smile in it: “Goodnight Maelle.”
Sciel:
“Am I going to die?”
Normally, an Expeditioner would be well within their right to make such a claim. Years of journal entries cataloged the piercing Nevron claws, razor-sharp Nevron teeth, poisonous wildlife, blinding snowstorms, and an infinite number of other perils to be found on the Continent.
However, this time, the question fell from the lips of one fevered 16-year-old, in no peril whatsoever. The biggest danger was her own mind.
Sciel placed a wet rag on the girl’s forehead. “No, sweet pea. You’ll get all better. It’s just a fever.”
“It’s annoying.”
“I know. But it’s not forever.”
“I’m slowing us down.”
“You’re resting. That’s your only job. Let us worry about everything else.”
Maelle tried and failed to lift herself up onto her elbows. Her body simply felt too weak. “But I don’t want to do that! Everyone’s always saying that. I’m a part of this crew too! I’m not a child!”
Lune passed by in time to hear this last declaration. “Objectively you are,” she offered coolly as she walked toward the other side of camp.
“Thanks, chérie. Wonderful insight as always!” Sciel blew Lune a kiss and turned back to Maelle. “Now about our patient.”
Maelle’s response was a groan, elongated and dramatic. “This is the worst.”
“Let’s get through this set of 24 hours, and then we’ll deal with the next set of 24 hours,” Sciel reminded her with all of the patience and tranquility of a schoolteacher. Or a saint.
Another groan. “This set of 24 hours is the worst.”
Sciel tapped Maelle’s nose. “What will help you feel better? What can I do for you?”
“Can you braid my hair?”
“I’d love to.” Sciel removed the wet cloth from Maelle’s forehead and carefully helped her change into a sitting position. “Sit up. Easy now, darling, there you go. One braid or two?”
Maelle couldn’t even get a lone syllable out without coughing. “Two.”
“Two it is.”
Things were quiet as Sciel’s deft fingers weaved long red hair into the first braid. Then, Maelle’s small voice: “What if I have a nightmare?”
“Then I’ll hold you. Or Gustave will. Or Lune will.”
“I don’t think I want them tonight.”
Sciel didn’t bother to stifle her giggles. “Wow, don’t let them hear you say that. I must say, I’m touched.”
“I just want you,” Maelle elaborated. “When I’m sick, I want you. When I’m scared, I want Gustave. When I need to learn the mating patterns of a warbler, I want Lune.”
“Touché.”
The peaceful silence resumed.
Maelle rested her sore throat.
Sciel finished the second of the two braids. “Tada! You’re all done. You’ve never looked better, if I do say so myself. Minus the cough and the flushed face, oh you poor thing. Lie back down, now.”
Maelle gracelessly slumped down onto her back on her bedroll. “Why are you you?”
Sciel blinked. “Come again, sweetling?”
“You’re so…” Maelle floppily gestured to all of Sciel. “You’re so warm. What’s your secret? Were you born like that?”
Sciel thought about her answer for a moment, wanting to phrase it correctly. “Listening. Meeting people where they are. Everyone has a story, and sometimes all they want is someone to listen to it.”
“You do a good job.”
“Of listening?”
“Of all of this.” Maelle curled into herself. “I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with or raise or anything.”
“Gustave doesn’t seem to mind. And neither do I.”
“I’m dramatic and skittish.”
“You’re also courageous and witty,” Sciel instantly countered with the ease of a lapping tide. She pressed her lips to Maelle’s forehead, partly to check her temperature but mostly to give a gentle touch of affection. “I, for one, like what makes up Maelle. If you changed anything about yourself, you wouldn’t be you.”
Maelle was certain that she would appreciate this little pep talk even further when her body did not feel like it was on fire. “That makes my head hurt even more. But thank you.”
“Thank you. There’s not a hair on your little red head that I would change.” Sciel gently tugged the end of Maelle’s new braid to emphasize her point.
“All of me is red now!” Maelle interjected. “I’m burning up over here. Have you felt my cheeks?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. Go to sleep now, darling. The world will still be here when you wake up.”
The poor girl truly must be weakened by the fever, because she did not fight back. None of Maelle’s usual vigor was present as she closed her eyes and let herself drift toward the tempting calls of slumber. One arm was curled to her chest, the other sprawled with an open palm toward Sciel.
The fire still burned in her body but her heart felt soothed.
Having finished her various tasks, Lune glided over and knelt down to check on their fevered companion. “What are we going to do with her?”
“We’re going to love her,” Sciel replied simply.
“That question was rhetorical, ma belle.” Lune took Sciel’s hand and Maelle’s hand and held her two girls close.