Chapter Text
Steps echoed off the stone walls, empty, cold halls that lead to even emptier rooms surrounding her as Sandrone continued her nightly patrol of the castle's border.
Usually, she would demand one of her subordinates do it, but a certain angel had decided to follow her from three paces back, stepping closer each time the knight wasn't looking and therefore preventing Sandrone from stopping long enough to get someone else to take the job.
Every few steps, Sandrone would glance over her shoulder with a glare, and Columbina would act as if she weren't doing a thing, turning away, humming while observing bland paintings she had never cared for previously, slowly swinging her leg back and forth, all until Sandrone continued walking with an irritated sigh.
Columbina had taken a liking to doing such things, of smiling as if she weren't doing anything. Fortunately, Columbina maintained the five pace distance Sandrone demanded while they were in public, nodding when Sandrone loudly ranted about having a reputation to keep up and a focus to keep sharp. Unfortunately, Columbina found other ways to get on Sandrone's nerves.
Like using long sticks to lightly poke Sandrone's leg while she and Pulonia—a large grey horse—were on duty, tilting her head to the side as if nothing happened.
Each time Sandrone would make an irritated sound, gaze flickering to the angel and her twitching with amusement white wings before focusing again, all until that irritating woman disturbed her again Just like now, with Columbina following even closer, closing the distance each time Sandrone turned away.
With a sigh, Sandrone paused under a still lit lamp, turning again. Of course, Columbina turned her head to the floor, smirk hidden by her overgrown fringe, hands clasped together behind her back, standing noticeably closer than last time.
For a moment, Sandrone considered ordering the woman to go away and stop disturbing her work, but that would never work. One thing Sandrone had learned very quickly about Columbina was that she never listened when told to stop disrupting Sandrone's work.
And so, she merely turned away, focusing on her job while hoping Columbina would eventually give up.
Inevitably, though, that distance was closed in the empty hallway.
The floral scent of Moon Prayer blossoms washing over Sandrone first as a split second warning before Columbina's finger poked her cheek, followed by a soft giggle at the groan Sandrone gave at the disruption.
“I am working, Columbina.” She muttered through gritted teeth, quickening her pace ever so slightly, Columbina following like she always did like a stray puppy that got too attached.
The angel hummed in acknowledgement, wings twitching as she caught up. “It is unlike you to do such jobs yourself. Are you avoiding me again?” Hearing those words, Sandrone scoffed, adjusting her out of battle uniform—consisting of black trousers, boots, a belt with her sword sheathe attached, and a linen undershirt, all of the highest quality—back into place where it had shifted from her constant turning.
“If I could avoid you, I would. Should you not be readying yourself for bed by now?” Sandrone eventually replied, glancing at the gorgeous angel dressed in only a single pristine white dress that fell just above her knees before directing her stare forwards once more, deep blue eyes scanning the dimly lit stone hallway while that nuisance beside her once again hummed, following with long but slow strides.
“Perhaps. But you scolded me with nasty words last time I tried to sleep without my feathers preened. Something about getting them on your bed.” Finally, Sandrone stopped walking, turning to stare at Columbina without blinking.
The yellow-orange light above them cast a halo on that silky black hair, highlighting the angel's features so perfectly while doing so. And dreadfully, Sandrone felt her heart stutter. Even if just slightly, it was a reaction, one that made her jaw clench while continuing patrol, turning away from Columbina fully.
After a moment of contemplating the words she had suddenly forgotten, Sandrone placed her hand ready on her sword handle, pleading to the goddess she worked under that something gave her an excuse to get away from whatever and caused that stutter.
“I am working, Columbina.” Usually, a normal person would take her final tone as a sign to finally walk away. Unfortunately, Columbina was not a normal person.
She was an angel that had decided Sandrone, of all people in the castle daily, was her favourite after the knight had begrudgingly accepted a job consisting of caring for Columbina's injured bottom right wing and scrapes after a fall two years ago.
And so, Columbina didn't leave. She followed with slow but long steps while humming that lullaby Sandrone hated but loved all in the same confusing mix.
The remainder of the patrol was spent accompanied by Columbina, the angel occasionally questioning where certain doors led to, earning silence in reply.
Eventually, Sandrone screwed her eyes shut, finally settling her sight on the hall home to her room with a relieved sigh. Columbina had been quiet for multiple minutes, only filling her silence with the same song she always sung.
The sun outside had set almost fully, signalling that they had returned just in time. It was days like these—where Sandrone had to actually do her job instead of focusing on forging new inventions—that Sandrone despised Columbina's following stunts. By now, she would have already preened those wings and been in bed while snapping at Columbina for clinging to her.
But no, she was only just returning.
The second Sandrone pushed her door open, the knight finally turned to Columbina after acting as if the woman didn't exist, pointing at a wooden stool while that same cold air washed over her.
“Sit. Do not waste my time more than you already have.” For once, Columbina listened without question, crossing the medium-sized room in two strides to settle down on that stool, swinging her legs slowly while leaning forward. “And fix your posture. You are slouching” Sandrone added, following with slower steps, her own back almost perfectly straight.
“I do wonder how you are not a noble lady, Sandrone. You are very proper for a knight.” Instead of snapping, Sandrone merely slowly exhaled through her nose, jaw clenching as she stationed herself behind the angel. It was the first time in a long while that she didn't provide Columbina with the reaction the woman wanted, and it showed in the way that middle pair of wings twitched.
The three pairs were linked to Columbina's emotions, constantly twitching or fluttering in tune with her emotions, just like how they did just a moment ago. It was a signal of confusion, usually accompanied by Columbina's head tilting to the side or a confused hum, but neither of which followed this time.
And truthfully, Sandrone was glad. A head tilt would mean telling her to look forward again, and a confused coo would just be irritating. So she didn't make a comment.
Instead, Sandrone tilted the angel's head forward an inch, fingers finding the first wing of that bottom pair. The feathers there were soft, almost soft enough for Sandrone to forget she was annoyed. Almost.
With each feather straightened on the wing, with each speck of dirt from Columbina's time outside in the flower field, Sandrone's focus on keeping her guard up slipped, instead shifting almost entirely onto being as gentle as possible.
No matter how irritated or tired of Columbina's antics she was, gentleness was a must. The very wings she preened each morning and night were very sensitive, a single twitch, and she could accidentally hurt the angel before her. So undoubtedly, being careful wasn't a recommendation but a necessity.
“You know,” Columbina began, tone amused in that subtle way, “For a knight, you are very gentle.”
Gritting her teeth, Sandrone willed herself to stay as calm as possible. “I can change that if you'd prefer.” Immediately, Columbina softly laughed. A quiet sound, but a sound that made her shoulders shake. But even that small movement was a risk.
And so, she clasped a hand around Columbina's shoulder, holding her still until the angel returned to humming. Internally, Sandrone's heart skipped a beat, maybe multiple, at the sound. It was beautiful, addictive in the way the night watch found alcohol to be, and that was a dangerous feeling. Dangerous in the way that brought a slight tremble to her fingers as she moved onto that second wing with a shaky exhale.
Columbina didn't notice, at least, not visibly. And if she did notice, Sandrone preferred the angel stay quiet. Truthfully, it felt as if she were one tease away from letting the fluttering in her ribcage win, of letting the stifled heat threatening to rise into her cheeks win.
But instead of focusing on that, she focused on how Columbina melted against her touch. Giving a pleased hum each time Sandrone ran a thumb over her feathers to straighten them after brushing a speck of dirt away, sighing each time she cracked a mature pin feather, leaning back each time Sandrone ran a thumb over her wing looking for anything else to fix.
Eventually, it did help. Sandrone stopped focusing on staying calm, but on Columbina's reactions, her own confusing feelings were now a thing of the past as she did what made the angel react in a content way rather than discomfort.
By the fourth wing—second on the middle pair—Sandrone had stopped thinking about it entirely, only focused on Columbina and Columbina alone. Her hands no longer had that slight tremor, her heart was no longer beating loud enough that the townspeople could probably hear it, and there was no more heat threatening to rise to her cheeks. It was all just Columbina.
Before Sandrone knew it, she was already onto that specially dedicated dust used instead of the preening glands Columbina lacked to keep her feathers clean and healthy. Before Sandrone knew it, she felt completely at peace. Not a single ounce of annoyance remained in her mind as she ran her fingertips, coated in dust, over and between each feather.
By the last feather, Sandrone's own shoulders had relaxed, eyes half-lidded as she watched those subtly shimmering wings, sniffling as she patted her hands free of dust, sealing the jar it came from and storing it away for tomorrow night.
“I am going to bed. Do not disturb me.” She finally muttered, not waiting for Columbina to reply before walking over to their bed.
Sharing a bed was normal in the castle, rooms shared between knights stationed in the castle at all times. However, private rooms were reserved for those with a high rank. Sandrone was in those very higher ranks. Unfortunately, her private room became a shared one when Columbina took a liking to her, one of the many reasons that angel got on her nerves constantly.
But there was no getting rid of Columbina now. That had been proven long ago. So all Sandrone could do was make irritated sounds and huffs when Columbina followed, the angel sliding in beside her before muttering that she was cold, just like every other night Sandrone spent with that agitating woman.
Truthfully, if she could, Sandrone would try to leave her like a stray. But she couldn't. Mostly because of duty, but because something else wouldn't allow her to. So for now, that freakishly weird angel that made Sandrone want to pull her dark-blonde hair out had to stay.
Laying on her back, Sandrone stared at the ceiling, wondering what she had done for Her Majesty to forsake the knight like this.
Sighing, Sandrone put the lamp beside her bed out, Columbina shifting with her every movement. “If you are cold, warm yourself up.” She eventually grumbled, eyes fluttering shut while Columbina wrapped an arm around her waist.
Irritatingly, the angel still nudged Sandrone's arm, adjusting it to rest around her while Columbina tucked herself against Sandrone's side, cheek pressed against her collarbone, a leg thrown over the knight's hip.
And Sandrone hated it.
Hated how she didn't actually hate how it felt for Columbina to cling to her, hated how her heart thumped against her ribcage ever so slightly quicker. Columbina could possibly hear the way her pulse quickened. In fact, it was definite that Columbina knew.
That top pair of wings twitched where they were previously folded and relaxed, Sandrone could feel Columbina smile against her neck once the angel shifted closer, but she didn't say anything. In a way, Columbina's silence made it so much worse, made her heart skip multiple more beats.
No matter how much she could control expressions, she couldn't control her autonomic nervous system entirely.
Her heart would always race even if she took deep, steady breaths, her pupils would always dilate, and she couldn't stop that unless she avoided Columbina entirely, which was always impossible.
And so, instead, Sandrone focused on pretending nothing had happened, screwing her eyes shut and forcing her breathing to stay even. Inevitably, sleep didn't come easy. But eventually, it did, with Columbina's breathing evened out against her neck long before Sandrone's own.
—
The training grounds were, for the most part, empty. Ideal for Sandrone's mandatory training time, the only time she willingly touched a sword without needing to use it. The wooden sword in her hand made loud clacks with each blow to the wooden pell, boredom seeping into her bones as she repeated the same routine over and over again.
She had only been awake for two hours, exhaustion still tugging at her limbs.
Behind her, a soft but confident voice sounded.
“May I try?” Columbina shuffled closer, eyes scanning the wooden swords lining the walls before landing on Sandrone, the knight brushing her damp fringe from her eyes. “Sparring with you, I mean.” Initially, Sandrone was going to say no, was going to tell Columbina to sit so she could preen the woman's feathers. But for some reason, she was scoffing, already pushing the wooden training sword she was holding into that angel's hands whilst reaching for another from the wall.
As expected, Columbina fumbled with how to stand, lips parting as she tried to mimic Sandrone's stance from all of the times she watched the knight train. Much to Sandrone's amusement, Columbina did it atrociously wrong.
And so, she sheathed that sword with her empty sheathe, walking over with an abundance of overconfidence, sighing as she waved her hand animatedly.
“Your stance is wrong, you know.” Sandrone's eyes fluttered shut, a scoff escaping her. “I suppose I can assist you.” Without waiting for a response, she was already moving, correcting the angel's stance. “Immediately going into garde de bœuf will leave you vulnerable. Especially at your skill set,” Sandrone began, pulling the angel's arms down and adjusting them until the sword's crossguard was placed against her right hip.
“But you do that stance, Sandrone.” Columbina murmured, allowing Sandrone to adjust how she was standing, watching as Sandrone slightly bent her extended arms, lowering them and adjusting her wrists until the blade was pointed up, resting at an angle in line with the knight's throat.
“My skill set is far higher than your own. Do not be ridiculous.” Sandrone muttered, her heart skipping multiple beats from the prolonged physical contact. “Put your left foot forward. Keep your right back where it is so you don't twist anything or strain yourself. This is Garde de la charrue. Remember it.”
For a moment, Columbina merely adjusted to the stance while Sandrone watched, the knight humming in thought.
“Straighten your spine. Do not arch or slouch, assure your chest and right foot are aligned, and relax your shoulders. You are far too tense.” For a moment, Columbina looked as if she were regretting this decision, all until Sandrone scoffed, moving to adjust the angel's stance herself once again. “If you can land even a single blow on me, you win. I will exempt you from the fatal blow rule, as you are inexperienced entirely.”
Sandrone allowed her hands to linger over Columbina's shoulders, observing the woman's face for a second too long. Dreadfully, Columbina was gorgeous. Too gorgeous, gorgeous enough for the idea of training to slip Sandrone's mind entirely.
“That… is very generous of you. To give me special treatment must mean I am important to you, right?”
“Do not say such ridiculous things again.”
But she wasn't wrong. Columbina was special to her. Much more special than any trainee ever would be.
Sandrone gave a long exhale at that thought, her brows furrowing while going into la garde de bœuf. Though she wouldn't say it out loud, Sandrone only put herself into the highly unforgiving and vulnerable stance to give Columbina a better chance. It demanded complete focus and precision, one split second, and the opponent could intercept a strike.
But Columbina didn't know that. And she didn't need to.
“I believe I am ready, Sandrone.” The angel murmured, nodding.
Sandrone began a three second country down at those words, meeting Columbina's eyes, her breath hitching as she tore her gaze away, muttering a three loud enough for the both of them to hear, and then a two. Columbina looked visibly unsure, her focus slipping in a way that would be fatal. At the word one, her eyes widened.
Immediately, the sword in Columbina's hands was knocked from her grasp, those wings twitching and then fluttering in shock while Columbina blinked, lips parting. Sandrone hadn't meant to time her strike perfectly, but at the same time, she did.
A prickle of guilt began to rise in Sandrone's spine when Columbina frowned, the knight dropping her guard almost entirely.
“There is a reason you are kept in the castle instead of on any form of duty.” Sandrone eventually spoke, lowering that training blade fully with a sigh, trying her best to act as if she wasn't silently scanning Columbina's hands for any injuries. “Battle isn't for you, Dove.” The words were said with a scoff, almost mocking, to hide her guilt, but Columbina didn't flush with embarrassment like anyone else would. Instead, she smiled. Small, reluctant.
“I like it when you call me that.” The angel hummed, shaking her hand out. “Dove…” Immediately, Sandrone's jaw clenched, amusement shifting to irritation and then embarrassment. “It sounds endearing. Like I am special to you, after all, no one else gets a nickname from you.”
For a moment, Sandrone froze, pupils constricting before betraying her and dilating once more.
“What ridiculous theory is that!” Sandrone snapped, breath hitching in sync with her heart while shoving that wooden sword back onto the wall, giving a growl of pure flustered irritation as she stormed off.
Columbina watched, staring with almost adoring eyes that Sandrone was none the wiser of. Perhaps it would remain that way for a long time. But the soft smile that graced Columbina's lips wasn't meant to be hidden. It never was, and perhaps one day her dearest Sandrone would realise that