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"His fever has broken," Castti said to Agnea as they stood at Osvald's bedside. "He should rest more easily now."
"I'll stay with him tonight," Agnea replied.
"You need rest too." Castti fixed Agnea with a firm stare. "But I understand - I'll allow you to stay with him half the night, and then someone else will relieve you for the second half."
Agnea opened her mouth to protest - she'd be fine on her own - but then closed it. Castti was being lenient, she knew. Truth be told, they all needed rest. To save Elena from Harvey, they had pushed themselves to their limits, and now, in Canalbrine's inn, they could finally rest. "Thank you, Castti," she said softly.
Castti smiled and patted Agnea's shoulder. "For his daughter's sake, I'll spare him a lecture when he wakes."
Despite herself, Agnea let out a faint giggle. "She's safe now. I'm so happy…"
"As am I. I only hope that Osvald can begin to heal now."
Agnea said nothing more in reply, instead turning her gaze toward Osvald's sleeping form. His skin was still pale and beads of sweat lined his brow, but his breathing had calmed. Gently she touched his hand, and he didn't even stir. He appeared unusually vulnerable, and Agnea couldn't imagine all the suffering he had endured, still endured. "Osvald…" she whispered.
"There's no need to worry," Castti said. "As his friends, we will help him."
Friends, Agnea thought. Yes, they were friends.
Castti left the inn room, leaving Agnea alone with Osvald. So focused on saving Elena, none of the group had noticed the pain and exhaustion Osvald was hiding from them, and he pushed himself hardest of all. He'd finally collapsed just outside of Canalbrine, frightening the rest of them. Agnea bit her lip; still he bottled up his pain, but even she knew habits from prison were hard to break.
However, she thought, and she knew unfairly, after all the time they had spent together, did he still trust them that little? But that was a thought both unfair and selfish, and Castti's comment about being friends had only reminded her of that like a reopened wound.
Friends. It was the best she could hope for if he didn't mistake her for his daughter again. She let out a heavy sigh; he wasn't the only one suppressing his feelings.
She let her fingers curl around his. In the Wellgrove tavern, when he had gotten drunk and mistaken Agnea for his daughter and Castti for his wife, she'd hated him, only for a moment, and that intensity had frightened her. But when he smiled at that memory of his daughter and wife, she remembered why she loved him so much.
Her chest ached. She was twenty years younger than him, and only eight years older than his daughter. What else did she expect?
Osvald moaned softly, drawing Agnea's attention. Carefully she dried sweat from his face and chest, and the group had removed his tattered scholar's coat to help keep him cool. However, she froze as her eyes fell upon the heavy shackle around his throat. Normally he hid it beneath a dark scarf, but weak and vulnerable as he was now, it was plain as day. She let her fingers brush against a link in the chain, and her stomach lurched with guilt.
Sometimes Osvald did allow her to embrace him or hold his hand, and even if only briefly, she wanted to savor his warmth.
She touched his cheek, feeling the bristles of his beard against her palm. When had she begun to think of him as handsome? He was tall and broad in stature, but there was also a gentleness to that strength of his, and little by little he had begun to look upon her and the others with less ice in his gaze. A strand of pale hair fell against her hand, and idly she remembered how ratty and tangled Osvald's hair had been when first she and Partitio rescued him from the snow. A smile tugged at her lips; he really had come a long way since then.
Her thumb brushed over his lips; if only he knew how she fantasized about him, and that guilt grew stronger.
"Ri… ta…" Osvald moaned, and Agnea's blood ran cold. His eyelids fluttered, half-opened, and he clamped a heavy, calloused hand over hers. "Rita…?"
Agnea swallowed dryly; now he was mistaking her for his dead wife? But immediately she hated herself for that cold thought. She tried to smile and forced out, "Rest, my dear. You've had a long day."
(My dear. That was what the horrible golem had called Osvald, that mutation of his wife's blood, all because Harvey wanted Osvald to suffer. Agnea hated Harvey, hated him as his own darkness consumed him, and still his screams—)
"Rita…" Osvald said again, weakly, and his fingers tightened around Agnea's, and she couldn't help but notice how rough and scarred they were. "Our daughter… she's… she's…"
"She's resting now too," Agnea said gently, hoping Osvald didn't hear the hitch in her voice. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she laid her other hand on his hair to soothe him.
He turned his face toward her touch, and his eyes were unfocused and glassy. However, a faint smile graced his lips, holding warmth she'd never seen on him before. He was seeing Rita now. This was how he looked at his beloved wife. How she wanted him to look at her, and it hurt, it hurt so much.
"Osvald—" Agnea tried to say, but he seized her arms to pull her closer, their faces only a hair's breadth apart. His hand crept to the back of her head, and his breath was warm on her lips.
"Rita…" he murmured, and she could just barely feel the brush of his lips against her own. "I…"
Agnea laid a finger on Osvald's lips to still him. "Os—" she began to say, and paused to inhale deeply. "Osvald, dear," she said again as she pulled herself from his desperate grasp. "When you're feeling better, I promise."
Osvald let out a deep breath and smiled again, weakly, at Rita in a way he'd never smiled at the others, and Agnea's stomach coiled. "Rita, I love you," he whispered, so quietly Agnea almost hadn't heard him.
But she had, and she shut her eyes a moment to stop the sting of tears. "I… love you too," she said clumsily, and bent to touch her lips to his forehead. She could allow herself that much, at least.
His eyes fell closed, and his breathing grew slow and steady. She took his hand between hers, kissed his fingertips. A selfish part of her wondered if she should have let him kiss her. "When you're feeling better," she had promised. But she couldn't keep that promise. No matter how he looked at her, she wasn't Rita.
He didn't remember mistaking her for his daughter. She chewed her lip; likely he wouldn't remember mistaking her for his wife either.
Agnea's eyes hurt, but no tears fell. She couldn't cry now. She had no reason to. Elena was safe. Osvald would recover soon. He had a reason to live again. As they left Conning Creek after leaving Elena in Lady Clarissa's care, Agnea reassured Osvald he was a good father, and he had smiled faintly at those words. A day would come when Osvald taught his daughter magic. She was sure of it.
Her fingers balled into fists, and she tried to keep her breath steady as she sat at Osvald's bedside. A fire raged within her, longing to break free. He slept soundly, unaware. But perhaps that was for the best. He didn't need to know about her feelings. They would still travel together, to the Grand Gala and beyond, and she didn't wish to hurt him. But still her own heart ached.
How long she sat beside Osvald, she didn't know. Color returned to his skin, and his breathing was even. She'd rarely seen him rest so peacefully. As a slight relief washed over her, she managed a smile as she touched his cheek again. However, that treacherous thought struck her again; what if she had allowed Osvald to kiss her?
"Agnea, how are you faring?"
It took all of her willpower not to yelp at that unexpected voice. Hikari stood beside her, and her heart raced; she hadn't heard him enter. She quickly drew back her hand and said, "Oh, um, is it your turn already?"
Hikari nodded. "I apologize if I startled you. I will remain with Osvald, so you can rest now."
Yet Agnea remained still. "Hey, Hikari…" she said quietly.
"Hm? What is it?"
"No, never mind," she muttered as she quickly stood and brushed past Hikari, ignoring his surprise as she left the room. She couldn't stop her shoulders from quaking, and her eyes ached even more strongly now. She couldn't break down now, she had to keep smiling…
As she didn't yet want to return to her own inn room, she headed down the stairs, hoping no one else would be awake this late. Her vision blurred, and she didn't notice Temenos at the bottom of the stairs until she bumped into him.
"Agnea?" he said, catching her shoulders. "What's the matter?"
She looked up at him and tried to speak, but no words came. Worry was clear in his gaze as she watched her, unhidden by his usual impassive mask. Thus tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she could not help but sob into his chest. She felt him tense - he was never much for physical affection - but otherwise he didn't protest as he put his arms lightly around her and let her cry. He said nothing, and for that she was grateful.
When Agnea finally calmed, she and Temenos said at the table in the common area, gently illuminated by small candles. For a bit, neither spoke, and Agnea had never felt so hollow. When Gil's tavern had been attacked or the slums of Sai threatened, she'd been angry and had been able to put that anger to use. Gil and Laila had then bid her farewell with a smile. Now she felt like a starless night.
Temenos broke the silence first. "Did something happen with Osvald?"
Agnea shook her head. "No, he's just resting," she replied, and her voice sounded small even to her own ears. "Castti says he'll be fine."
"He gave us all quite the scare, collapsing like that." Temenos rested his chin on the back of his hand. "But we were all pushing ourselves hard to save his daughter."
Agnea twisted her fingers in her skirt. That dazzling magic Osvald had summoned, the total opposite of Harvey's dark magic, was proof of how strongly he loved. Despite how lowly he thought of himself, that he thought himself unfit to be Elena's father, Agnea saw the newfound warmth in his eyes when he looked at his daughter. And how he looked at Rita…
She clenched her teeth. She was being unfair again. She'd grown fond of Elena too. She was happy for Osvald. That was all that mattered now.
"Agnea?" Temenos said carefully, his voice cutting through her dark thoughts.
"He mistook me for his wife," she blurted out quickly.
Temenos blinked in surprise, then smiled weakly. "With such a fever brought on by exhaustion, I suppose delirium isn't too surprising." His smile vanished as he noted Agnea's expression. "Did it bother you to be mistaken for his wife…?"
"Of course it did!" Agnea exclaimed, louder than intended. "First he mistook me for his daughter, and now his dead wife!"
Rare surprise flashed across Temenos' face, and immediately Agnea regretted her cruel words. His expression soon morphed into that familiar look of calm and knowing, and said, without judgment, "My goodness, Agnea."
"Sorry," she muttered, sinking back into her chair. "It's just that… I know he's twenty years older than me, so when he mistook me for Elena, I thought I could live with that. But when he looked at me like Rita, like his wife, I… I wished he would look at me like that."
Temenos was silent a moment, and Agnea recognized that look in his eyes, a gaze that refused to allow the truth to hide. "You're in love with Osvald, aren't you?" he said, not as an accusation, but simply as a statement of facts.
Yet those words, spoken so plainly, felt both like a blow to Agnea's chest and like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Is it so strange…?" she asked with an awkward giggle.
"Well, perhaps one of us falling in love with another of our group was bound to happen sooner or later," Temenos said with his usual unreadable smile. "Admittedly I would not have expected you to fall in love with Osvald of all people, but I suppose he is handsome if one likes the tall, imposing types, and he is both strong and devoted." He paused, and his smile faded. "However, as you said, he is twenty years older than you…"
Agnea's shoulders stiffened, and she willed herself not to turn away from Temenos' searching gaze. "I know he won't return my feelings, but…"
"Were it anyone else, a man his age being romantically involved with one as young as you would be… concerning, to say the least." Yet that faint smile returned to Temenos' lips. "However, I know you both, and more importantly, trust you both. Were he to open his heart to you, I would not think ill of him."
Often enough did Agnea fantasize about Osvald opening his heart to her, pleasant enough dreams to fall asleep to. She'd never expected him to look at her so lovingly, but in his delirium, it hadn't been her he saw. "We're friends," she said at last, "and I'm happy with that too."
Temenos only let out a mirthless chuckle as he reached to touch Agnea's hand. "That is easy enough to say, and I know you mean it sincerely, but you needn't hide your pain from me."
For a moment she thought of pointing out Temenos' own hypocrisy - he still rarely spoke of the pontiff's death and only once had he told her of Roi - but she'd never seen him so gentle, and despite his closed heart, he was good at listening. "I… I want to make him smile!" she said without thinking. "I want him to look at me and see me…!"
"I fear I can only offer you the usual platitudes," Temenos said. "Osvald does care for you greatly, and that is clear from how he smiles when he watches you dance. He may not be the… warmest among us, but it is not 'settling' to have him as a friend."
Osvald once told her his wife also enjoyed dancing, Agnea remembered. When she danced, was it her he saw? But Temenos was right, the way he smiled when she danced, however faintly, was sincere. "I am happy to be his friend," she said. "If I did confess to him, I'd just make things awkward, huh?"
"Perhaps," Temenos replied, and Agnea winced at his blunt agreement. "But even putting aside the age difference, after all that he has been through, he may not be willing to open his heart again. His top priority now will be caring for his daughter."
"I understand." Agnea managed a smile. "Elena will always be most important to him."
"Still—" Temenos' smile grew mischievous— "never say never, and perhaps someday he may return your feelings. He is fortunate to have you love him so."
Agnea rubbed her eyes with her arm, but though they still ached with tears, her heart felt a little lighter. "Is that really something you should be encouraging, though?" she said with a laugh.
Temenos rested his chin on his folded hands and fixed Agnea with that smile he normally wore when about to "coerce" another for information, and she squirmed in her chair. "But I must ask - of all our companions, why Osvald?"
"W-Well, it's like you said, he's strong and devoted," Agnea stammered, her cheeks flushing. "He's really kind too, despite how cold he seems at first. A-And he's handsome too, with such strong muscles, even if he does still dress in rags…" She was rambling now, but couldn't stop herself. "And that magic he summoned to save Elena was just so beautiful! He really does love so strongly, doesn't he…?"
"Goodness, Agnea," Temenos said again with a quiet chuckle. "You two would make for a mismatched couple, but there's a certain sweetness in that too."
Agnea's blush deepened. "You're the one who asked, you know," she muttered.
"That I did." Temenos chuckled again. "You love strongly as well." He stood and smiled at Agnea. "But perhaps we should retire to bed before Castti scolds us."
"Yeah, you're right," Agnea agreed as she also stood. "Thank you, Temenos, really."
"Just as it is a star's job to help others smile, it is a cleric's job to guide wayward sheep," Temenos said with a smirk.
The following morning, Osvald was well enough to travel, although Castti cautioned him yet again not to overexert himself, and she was rather more lenient than usual, Agnea noticed. Osvald still spoke little to the other travelers, but he carried himself lighter as they left Canalbrine together. Agnea was glad to see that, and her own heart didn't ache as much either. Maybe someday she would tell him. But not today. Not yet.
As they crossed the bridge outside Canalbrine, Osvald fell in step beside Agnea, almost startling her. "Agnea," he said carefully, "you were with me last night, weren't you?"
"Well, part of the night," Agnea replied quickly, her heart racing. "You seemed really out of it, so I was worried…"
"I did not intend to worry you," Osvald muttered gruffly. He touched the heavy shackle at his throat, and sighed. "I could not think of anything but my daughter, and now she is safe. I could not have done it without all of you."
Agnea smiled softly. "We all care about Elena. I'm sure she'll remember you soon."
Much to Agnea's surprise, Osvald took her hand into his; he accepted her affection, that was true, but rarely did he express affection of his own. "I fear I may have been delirious last night, but I remember your warmth, I think," he said after a moment's hesitation. "It was familiar, and… comforting," he added clumsily.
She felt her cheeks flush; did he remember trying to kiss her, mistaking her for Rita? "Osvald…?" was all she could bring herself to say.
He cleared his throat. "I still do not understand what possessed one as kind as you to help me with a quest for revenge, but…" A brief smile crossed his lips. "I am thankful we met."
"I am too." Agnea pressed her other hand to Osvald's cheek lifted herself onto her toes to touch her lips to his jawline. "Please be happy."
"Thank you, Agnea," Osvald said, so softly that she almost didn't hear him. His fingers, calloused and gentle, tightened around hers.