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Chapter Text

Miriam Marchand of Alsace, mage of Kabbalah Tower and formerly of southern Livadon, knew three things for certain.   

One- grand-mère made the best bread.  

Two- she loved magic and wielding the element of fire with every fiber of her being.  

Three- her morning runs were easily the best part of her day.   

In the pre-dawn light when the sky gave over to a peachy glow and the air retained its slight chill, Miriam could breathe and be at peace before her frantic days began. It was, she thought, a sacred time where nothing could possibly disturb her, regardless of the circumstances; even considering the dire straits of being stationed in Eth Lene Castle.   

It was with some consternation that she was proven wrong.   

The trouble began innocently enough; Miriam had settled into a comfortable pace and began her usual route along the castle walls. As a fire mage and accomplished duelist, she felt more than capable of protecting herself, and anyways there was almost never anyone up and about this early in the morning.   

Until she unexpectedly found herself with a running partner. One with an unruly mop of chocolate brown curls and a muscular, broad back who was making a nuisance of himself and prattling on while Miriam tried to enjoy her peace and quiet.   

“Enjoying the morning, my lady?”  

“How long have you been running, my lady? I’ve never seen anyone out this early, let alone a woman.”  

“Are you with the mage tower? You don’t seem like a servant, and I think I’d remember a pretty girl like you.”  

At that last remark, Miriam pursed her lips and put on a burst of speed, doing her best to ignore the idiot. It’s too early for murder, it’s too early for murder...  

Irritatingly, the man not only caught up, but started jogging backwards and continued the questions like it was the easiest thing in the world.   

“Not much of a talker, are you?”  

“No, I’d rather concentrate on my run, thank you very much.” Miriam finally replied tersely. The man gave a lopsided grin and continued “Ah, she does speak! Forgive me, madame, but I cannot help myself when it comes to lovely ladies!”  

“Mademoiselle, not madame. You misspoke, monsieur.” More annoyed than ever, Miriam ran even faster, trying to escape the ridiculous conversation. Madame? Madame!? Do I look like an old hag? Rude!  Alas, she was only afforded a moments peace when she heard a cheerful voice shout from behind “forgive me again, mademoiselle! I assumed that you were already married, since it seems a sin that such a lovely lady such as yourself should be single! Please, tell me how I can atone for my rudeness?” Doggedly, the stranger continued to press his luck.   

“You can leave me alone.” Miriam replied angrily, ready to blast the man with a fireball and be done with it, consequences be damned. Surely Master Calto would understand, right?  

“Oh no, we’ve spent too much time together to leave it at that. How about we make things interesting with a little wager? If you beat me to that bush around the corner, I will leave you be. If I win, you’ll have to offer up your name. Fair enough?”  

Miriam paused in her jogging to consider the offer. Really, she didn’t have anything to lose and if this was the only way to get rid of the pest, than so be it. With an air of resignation, Miriam agreed. “Very well. On the count of three than?” With a flash of that crooked grin again, Miriam and the stranger got into their starting positions, and began the count off together, tension permeating the air.  

One...  

Two...  

Three...  

GO!  

Miriam lost by a good twenty seconds. Dismayed, she turned and bobbed a quick curtsy to the stranger, mumbling in an annoyed tone “Miriam Marchand, monsieur.” She raised her head and finally got a good, long look at the man who had disrupted her morning. Eyes the shade of warm coffee danced in amusement, framed by the longest lashes she had ever seen. A full mouth and a strong, handsome face grinned back at her as Miriam's unwanted partner reached for her hand and bowed over it, with a rich baritone voice replying “Sir Sejour Aren at your service, mademoiselle.”  

Chapter Text

Miriam was convinced that fate was laughing at her.  

For three consecutive mornings, Sir Sejour had turned up for every single one of her runs. Every time, he would begin with a loud booming, “Good morning, mademoiselle!” followed by a barrage of (mostly ignored) questions, which would inevitably end with the same wager. They would race to the same bush around the corner of the path, and the loser would have to answer a question of the winner's choosing. So far, Sir Sejour had learned that Miriam's favorite flowers were daffodils, that she was, in fact, a fire mage, and that her favorite food was her mother's beef stew. 

Miriam Marchand did not appreciate losing. Especially when the so-called-winner had a stupid smirk, with stupid dimples to match. Not that she cared about his dimples, or the fact that it was easy to coax them out. No, I just want to teach him a lesson, that’s all. I absolutely refuse to lose for four days in a row!  

“Ready...Set...Go!” 

Faster and faster they both sprinted, Sejour pulling ahead by several feet and within a stone's throw of the finish line when... Pop! Pop! Pop!  

“What in the seven hells is this?!” 

Sparks and tiny explosions coupled with loud bangs nipped at Sir Sejours ankles and heels, causing him to stumble just enough for Miriam to pull ahead and cross the line. “I won! I won, I won, I WON!” Miriam jubilantly exclaimed with the brightest smile Sejour had ever seen on her face; an odd flutter of warmth spiraled through his body at the sight.  

“Only because you cheated, mademoiselle! I suppose though that chivalry demands I answer your question, since you did technically win.” And I would love to know what thoughts are in that head of yours. How long were you planning that little surprise? Sejour couldn’t even bring himself to be irritated with her. Miriam paused in her celebration, a small pucker furrowing her brow; Sir Aren found himself longing to bring her smile back.  

“Why do you bother at all with this game? Why do you insist on asking me all these questions? Do you not have anything better to do with your time?”   

“That’s actually three questions, which one do you want answered?” 

“Fine, tell me why you insist on asking me anything at all then.” 

With a studied nonchalance, Sir Sejour replied after a brief, internal deliberation, “Perhaps, mademoiselle, I simply wished to pass the time with conversation whilst running.” 

“Oh.” A small flicker of disappointment flashed across Miriam's face. Of course, it was all simply a game. What else should I have expected; that he was genuinely interested? Why do I even care?   

“Although now I would like to become better acquainted with my running partner.” Sejour continued, warm coffee eyes piercing Miriam's startled gaze. “That is, if she will allow it. Will I see you again tomorrow, mademoiselle?” Miriam felt her heart rattle against her ribs, and before her brain had a chance to consider the ramifications, she heard herself blurt out “Of course, Sir Aren. I look forward to it.”  

There was a flash of dimples and a warm smile.  

Miriam did her best to ignore the heat swirling through her core.   

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Shortly thereafter, the Baltonian army arrived and there was a pervading fear of harassment against the mages. Sir Sejour made the decision to have the wizards escorted whilst on castle grounds for safety reasons; selfishly, he couldn’t bring himself to halt his morning runs with Miriam. Increasingly, his thoughts would stray to a long, raven black braid bouncing along a toned body, and green eyes that flashed at the slightest provocation.  

Turning down a corridor and going up a flight of stairs one early morning, Sir Sejour stopped at a door and smirked to himself; it had become his daily mission to goad Mademoiselle Marchand just to catch a glimpse of those flaring eyes. Although, he mused to himself, that smile of hers was quickly becoming his favorite feature. There was a small beauty mark at the corner of her mouth, and when she smiled just so...not even the sunrise could compare. Good lord, I’m becoming positively maudlin. Since when have I ever paid a woman this much attention?   

Any further thoughts on the subject quickly departed when the door suddenly flew open and the lady in question was staring him in the face. Sejour was about to open his mouth when he realized what she was wearing, which...was not her usual outfit. She was clad in a loose nightgown whimsically embroidered with little daffodils and violets, with a warm woolen wrap around her shoulders. Dainty little slippers with more daffodils sewn on them warded the chill against the stone floor, and her hair fell in disheveled waves against her back. The nightgown, Sejour noted, was thin enough that he could make out lush curves against an hourglass figure.  

It was impossible to tell whose face turned redder.         

“I... I never pegged you for the floral type.” Sir Sejour internally winced. Flowers, Sejour? Really? Surely you can do better than that.  

Miriam raised her eyebrow mockingly “A bit early for reductive stereotypes, isn’t it? I was going to say good morning and ask politely what you were doing at my door, but I do believe we’re a bit past that now, don’t you?” 

Sejour barely choked back a laugh and replied “I do apologize chérie. It was my intention to escort you to our morning route, but it seems that I’ve arrived...ahead of schedule.” 

Miriam shook her head and gave a little mischievous smile. “Sir Sejour, whatever would your mother say if she heard that her precious little boy was lurking at a guests door at all sorts of unsavory hours?” 

Sejour really did laugh at that, as his heart gave a small flip at her smile. “Mother would likely clutch her pearls and swoon onto the nearest convenient couch. I’m afraid that my manners are still sorely lacking. Will you forgive me, chérie?” 

Miriam's smile broadened as she gave a little curtsy. “How can I refuse a plea like that? Very well, for the sake of your mother's pearls you are forgiven. Please, give me a few moments to get dressed and join you shortly.” With that, the door closed behind Miriam and Sejour was left in the hallway grinning like a fool.  

On the other side of the door, Miriam’s face flushed beet-red.  

She didn’t miss how he had called her sweetheart.      

Chapter Text

Later that morning, even though Miriam was supposed to be hard at work translating records from the Pamela Plateau expedition, she felt her mind drift to the predawn encounter outside her door.  

Chérie.   

It was such an innocuous word, yet for Miriam it held all the vastness of the ocean and twice the danger. Only once before had someone ever called her by that nickname, and how badly had that ended? How long had it taken for that particular heartbreak to mend?  

“Chéri, how long did you think our little dalliance would last? Didn’t I warn you not to expect anything beyond flowers? Besides, we are not...well suited for each other; my family insists that I find a woman of higher status. Surely you understand?” Philippe spoke in a such a carefree manner, like he was ordering delicate pastries at her parents bakery and not casually taking a sledgehammer to her heart.  

“Not suited? Not suited!? Even if we are not, why are you only bringing this up now? We’ve been seeing each other for at least three seasons!” Miriam cried out loud, the remaining shards of her patience fracturing like a broken mirror.   

“Mon Cher, please try to understand. I need someone who is less...tempestuous. More refined and genteel. Take our relationship for what it was; a bit of fun.”  

“Ah yes, it was fun, wasn’t it?” Miriam slowly sidled up to Philippe, and gave a lazy, almost feral grin. “In honor of our past, please have a small token to remember me by. For old times sake.”  

SLAP!  

The force was enough to turn Philippe’s head, and the mark promised to stay red and swollen for a long time afterwards.   

“Enjoy your refined woman.” Miriam angrily bit out, as she stalked home trying to hide the tears cascading down her cheeks.  

Miriam recoiled at the memory. It had been a painful lesson, and one that she had nearly forgotten. A man might be pretty to look at, but to give your heart away to one was sheer folly. Sir Aren is different a little voice whispered. He’s acted nothing like Philippe, not to mention that he insisted on a personal escort. Perhaps it’s safe to trust him.  

  A memory of his booming laugh and how he insisted that wearing a short sleeved tunic in the middle of winter was perfectly comfortable sprang to mind, followed by a small swarm of butterflies in her stomach. His laugh was infectious, and she loved how he threw his whole being into it. It was physically impossible for a person to be that good natured, she decided. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps... that little voice kept insisting. 

Maybe that little voice was right, and Miriam had finally found a man she could trust. Was it worth the risk though? What if he, too, wanted a “refined and genteel woman?” What if she was just another dalliance, another way to pass the time? Sejour is not Philippe... that little voice insisted again.  

It was in the midst of these musings that another mage entered, one that Miriam was unfamiliar with. “Master Calto has requested that Miss Miriam and the other offensive line mages attend the strategy meeting this afternoon. He is unwell and will be unable to participate.” Miriam gulped and nodded, realizing that Sir Sejour would be present as well. Unbidden thoughts of strong, absurdly muscular arms scooping her up and throwing her onto a bed, and a dark baritone voice whispering sweet nothings while nibbling on her earlobe surfaced, and Miriam quickly banished them back to the depths where they belonged. 

It promised to be a long afternoon.  

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Under normal circumstances, Sir Sejour enjoyed strategy sessions. There was something to be said for undermining the enemy, and he liked hearing his men debate and argue possibilities. For all of his playfulness, he prided himself on his focus and dedication to the task at hand. Why then, oh why, was he so distracted by ebony black hair, and how did he never notice just how slender and tempting Miriam's neck was?  

Would the rest of her skin be just as smooth if he ran his calloused hands over it? A sudden vision of wrapping those silky, raven strands around his wrist and gently pulling her down to trail soft kisses down the column of that oh-so-tempting throat, while a husky voice breathed his name arose. Catapults, Sejour. We’re discussing catapults. Not what you want to be doing to a certain mage. Which you shouldn’t.   

Reluctantly, he brought his attention back to the matter at hand. “Not only would we need an ungodly amount of wood for the siege towers, but we also need to remember that there aren’t many resources available on the Plateau. There is also the fact that we would have to haul the siege towers up the mountain paths, which will only serve to slow us down” Sejour stated to the assembly. He watched Miriam out of the corner of his eye, who was softly drumming her fingers on the table.   

Lady Calypse spoke up, looking nervously at Lord Calypse. “We are currently working on magically fortifying the siege weapons. However, at best the range is currently one thradion.” Sir Riftan frowned and said “that’s not nearly far enough. The catapults have to be placed closer to minimize casualties.” “What if we altered the terrain?!” Lady Maximillian exclaimed.  

“How would that work?” Sir Riftan gruffly replied. Sejour would have loved to say he was surprised at the tone Sir Riftan took with his wife, but he was never sure if he would stumble on a tryst or a brutal stabbing with those two. The tension and outright hostility between them on certain days was borderline unbearable. However, Sir Sejour was rather fond of Lady Calypse as a sort of little sister, and as for Lord Calypse...he was just easy to goad.  

“We place an earth barrier under the catapults and elevate them, which would allow for further distance without straining the weapons” Lady Maximillian explained, warming up to the subject. Miriam spoke up in response “but the mana concentration is low, which would mean that twice the amount would be needed to maintain a barrier. We would need all of the mages focusing on the task.” Ah, I see mon chéri is intelligent as well. What other delicious secrets are you hiding, my dear?  

Lady Calypse smugly replied “it actually doesn’t take that much mana for a barrier, and they wouldn’t be up all day...just while we attack. Furthermore, offensive magic is ineffective against the walls, so it makes more sense for mages to bolster the weapons and attacks!” Sejour was offended on Miriam's behalf; there was no need for Lady Maximillian to be rude when all Miriam had done was point out a potential flaw in logic. However, it was also currently the only solution to the wall problem.  

What was even more critical, however, was destroying the rune that protected those walls, and to do that... 

“We’ll have to infiltrate the monster city and take it down from the inside” Sir Riftan grimly opined. Sejours mind raced with the possibilities. With that being the case, the mages will most likely be divided into offensive with the front lines, and defensive and healers with the rear. Since Miriam is a fire mage, that means...she’ll be right in the middle of everything. He inwardly groaned, already trying to figure out how to get her attached to his unit.  

For the extra offensive capabilities, of course. Absolutely not because he was worried for her safety.  

Now, Sejour just had to convince himself.  

Chapter Text

It was past midnight, and all Miriam could do was toss and turn restlessly. Earlier that evening Master Anton, head of the offensive line of mages, had gathered the wizards and divided them into their respective roles. As expected, the fire and wind mages would serve on the front lines, while earth and water mages, along with the healers, would protect the rear unit with Maximilian as the lead. Her things had been packed, and come morning the troops would depart for the plateau and battle. 

 Nerves fluttered in Miriam's stomach while her mind raced non-stop, flitting through every spell and combat strategy she had ever learned. Enough, Miriam. Stop thinking and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long enough day.   

Fifteen more minutes of maneuvering blankets and several grumbles from her roommate later, and Miriam decided that she had had enough. There was only one thing that could settle an uneasy mind, and it certainly wouldn’t be found in her room.  

It was high time for a midnight snack.  

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was late; extra meetings that really should have been simple messages had gone well into the night, and Sejour was tired and hungry. Normally, he would have asked a servant to bring a meal to his room, but he didn’t have the heart to wake the exhausted staff when morning would arrive all too soon. Instead, Sejour settled on raiding the kitchens. 

The sounds of rattling cupboards and mild cursing greeted Sejour upon entering the kitchens, with his unknown guest turned away from the door.  

“Où diable est le pain ? Pourquoi est-ce que je ne trouve rien?”(1) 

Sejour smirked and leaned against the wall at Miriam's outburst, silently admiring the view. There was that adorable nightgown again, and regardless of the blanket she had wrapped around herself it did nothing to hide her curves. He idly wondered if he should thank God for the vision, or manually blind anyone else who happened to see her on the way down. It was a serious consideration.    

“Cet endroit est un désastre, et grand-mère aurait une crise.”(2) Miriam now stood on tiptoes whilst rummaging through a too high cabinet, fingers stretched and grasping at an unknown snack. “Merde, je n'arrive toujours pas à atteindre!”(3) Miriam fumed, bouncing on her toes and still desperately reaching into the cabinet.  

“Here, chéri . I believe you wanted this?” Sejour was rewarded with an audible gasp as a very startled Miriam almost lost her balance, nearly crashing into his chest as he reached up and plucked the offending snack. Sejour leaned down with Miriam still caged in his arms, snickering in amusement as he said, “although I can’t promise not to report your complaints about the state of the kitchens to the chef. He’d be offended that you consider the place a mess.” 

Miriam blushed and muttered almost to herself “I didn’t think anyone else would be here.” Sejour grinned as he finally released her, taking note of her food selections. “Cheese, pickles, and...dried figs? I didn’t even realize that we still had figs. Chef has been holding out on me this entire time! By the way, the bread is right here. How did you miss it the first time?” 

“Oh shut up,” Miriam mockingly replied. “I’m surprised that anything can be found in these blasted cupboards. Was a child in charge of organization?” Sejour laughed and reached for a piece of cheese, narrowly avoiding getting his hand slapped. “Chéri, please, I beg you, take pity on a starving man!” Sejour raised an eyebrow questioningly as he added, “and why are you here so late? Did you not eat dinner?” 

Miriam swallowed her food, and hesitated before responding, “I...I couldn’t sleep. As much as I know that the monster city needs to be brought down, I can’t help thinking...about all the things that could go wrong.” “Ah, I see,” Sejour said softly. “I wish, chéri, that I could tell you that all will go to plan and that there is nothing to worry over. Battle is nothing but chaos, and there will always be something that fails or goes wrong. The only advice I can give is to breathe and remember what it is that you fight for.” 

Miriam looked up and said, “May I ask you a question? Why did you become a knight?” Sejour steadily gazed at Miriam’s face, coffee eyes peering into a forest glen.  

“When I became a knight,” he slowly began, “it was because I was a second son and was expected to serve. I foolishly thought that battle would be glorious and the bards would sing my praises.” Shaking his head, he continued, “foolish, like I said. Battle is mud, death, and chaos. It is watching the innocent die, and fearing that you will be next. It is seeing a village razed to the ground, and praying that your home won’t be next. But, it is also seeing a family reunited with their loved ones, and hope restored to a burned countryside. I fight to protect those that cannot protect themselves.” 

Miriam closed her eyes, and Sejour felt a pang of regret that she would have to throw herself into hardship and blood. Oh Miriam, I wish that I could make everything better. I wish that I could take your fear away.  

“Come, chéri, let me escort you to your room. You’ll need your rest.” 

~~~~~~~~ 

At her door, Sejour bowed over Miriam’s hand and wished her goodnight. Safely tucked back into bed, Miriam pondered over Sejours words and realized that while he hadn’t offered the usual platitudes, he had nonetheless been oddly comforting. She summoned a vision of his handsome face and expressive eyes as she drifted off to sleep, briefly wondering if anyone had ever brought Sejour a moment of calmness like he had to her.  

Miriam was at ease for the rest of the night.   

Chapter Text

During that first expedition to the Pamela plateau, Miriam had had the opportunity to observe both the Remdragon and the Temple Knights. While both were equally impressive in terms of combat, she couldn’t honestly say that she particularly cared for either one. The Temple Knights were cold and overly conservative, while the Remdragons reminded her of all the gossipy village girls in her hometown. Needless to say, Miriam was also thoroughly unimpressed with all the cliche dramatics between Commander Riftan and Maximilian.  

The Bolose Royal Knights, on the other hand, were a different story.  

Every single knight and squire carried themselves with the pride and confidence that was born of serving an upstanding order. They treated the other orders with courtesy and respect, while still refusing to bow down to ridiculous whims. Amongst themselves, they treated their comrades warmly, and were patient with the squires. Although to Miriam, the most impressive thing of all was how well Sir Sejour wore his title of Commander.  

Sejour was like a velvet glove over an iron fist, and she couldn’t help but notice whenever he gave orders. He was authoritative but not overly dominating, charismatic but not foolish, and he was incredibly decisive. Sejour had the respect and unwavering loyalty of his men, and he, in turn, had an unquestioned devotion to them. Her traitorous body kept sending shivers down her spine whenever he spoke in that tone of voice, and on top of everything else, he had the gall to look ridiculously handsome in armor.  

Idly, Miriam wondered to herself if the Royal Knights had an opening for a mage. If Sejour was the Commander, then Miriam thought that she could very easily serve such a man. There were worse fates, she decided.  

~~~~~~~~~ 

“I fight to protect those that cannot protect themselves.” 

Miriam’s thoughts kept drifting back to that midnight conversation during the long trek. About how Sejour was more than just the flirtatious, playful nobleman that he always projected. That night had shown him with an unexpected depth of feeling and wisdom that Miriam had never thought to witness.  

The warmth of his chest as she leaned against him. The strength of his arms as he gently held her. The faint scent of musk and something vaguely spicy on his tunic. The simple look of delight over finding figs, lighting up those warm coffee eyes. The conviction in his tone as he gave his advice. His ridiculous questions and the exact timbre of his voice as he called her “chéri.” 

She sighed and briefly patted her horses neck. It was getting harder and harder to deny that she felt anything beyond friendship for Sir Sejour. The question before her now was, was there any point in pursuing the matter? 

Suddenly, Miriam was certain of nothing. Only that her inner voice was increasingly insisting yes. Yes, yes, yes!   

Perhaps it was time to start listening. 

~~~~~~~~ 

“Why won’t you just LISTEN, you stubborn woman!” 

“I’m stubborn? You are the pettiest man alive!” 

“How many times have you almost died because you didn’t listen to me? You need a nanny at all times precisely because of this! Dammit Maxi, you can’t just do as you please!” 

“Hah! Would you tell Princess Agnes the same thing?!” 

“What in the seven hells does Agnes have to do with anything? This is the third time you’ve brought her up!” 

Another day, another screaming match between the Calypse couple. From Miriam’s position serving dinner rations, she had the perfect vantage point. Besides, it was impossible to miss the argument; both were screeching like banshees and over half the encampment knew it.  

“Ooh, what did I miss? I was in a meeting and didn’t hear the beginning of today’s fight.” 

Startled, Miriam whipped her head towards the voice, which belonged to none other than Sir Sejour. He looked at her expectantly, amusement and mischief sparkling in those coffee eyes. Miriam smiled back and answered primly, “It’s rude to gossip. Didn’t your mother teach you basic manners?” 

Sejour arched a brow. “As you are well aware, chéri, my manners are still a work in progress. Now out with it, or I’ll have to use my full authority as Commander.” 

“My goodness, Commander Aren, I certainly wouldn’t want to offend you! If you must insist, it seems that Maximilian went off on a little jaunt with Sir Kuahel, which Commander Calypse took offense to, especially since it appears her assigned guard was absent. Moreover, she keeps bringing up Princess Agnes for some unknown reason, even though as far as I can tell she has nothing to do with this particular argument.” Miriam shrugged.  

Sejour nodded, looking at the still arguing couple. “Oh that’s easy enough. Lady Calypse is jealous, pure and simple. Her emotions are easy to read; she practically gives everything away. I like her well enough; she’s a lovely woman, but she matches Sir Riftan well in terms of stubbornness. I worry that she’ll do something she’ll regret.”  

Miriam’s heart sank. He cares for Maximilian? Of course he would, all she has to do is flash those doe eyes of hers and every man crawls to obey. She felt her own envy flare up at the thought of Sejour cozying up to Max, and wondered if he, too, preferred someone who was sweet and lovely. Refined. Less prickly and aloof. Stop it, Miriam. You have no claim on Sejour, even if you want to. Nothing was promised. She felt her heart shrivel up even further. 

Almost as if he heard her thoughts aloud, Sejour turned to face Miriam, pinning her with his gaze. “Some men favor sugar and sweetness in a wife. As nice as that is, I personally prefer a bit of tartness; keeps me on my toes. Besides,” he flashed those adorable dimples, “how else will my manners improve if there’s only insipid praise?” 

Nothing else was said, but Miriam gave Sejour an extra piece of meat as thanks. 

Chapter Text

All throughout the long march, Sejour had done his best to keep a careful eye on Miriam.  

The woman puts in long hours, even by my standards. In addition to the daily slog, she assisted with helping her fellow mages set up camp, cooked and served meals, did heavens knew what as her mage duties (often until long after sundown), and in the evenings before bed she would wander around to every possible camp and made sure the fires were lit and blazing. She was the only fire mage to do so. 

“It’s about time; you can finally do something useful!” 

“Says the child who can barely seat a horse.” Miriam bit out. “Do shut up and go to bed, by the look of your face, you need all the beauty sleep you can get. Although I suspect even that won’t help.” 

 Following her with his eyes, he noted that almost every mage practically insulted Miriam, and most of the soldiers simply ignored her as she fueled braziers and fire pits. Back straight, head held proudly high, and with a confidence filled stride, she gave sharp tongued retorts to every single barb.    

He also didn’t miss how those beautiful, flashing eyes that he so loved fluttered closed as she sighed, proud head wearily slumped as she stared at the forest floor before opening her tent flap. They treat her as a servant, and don’t even realize how much she does for them. Sejour felt his heart twist at that thought, remembering how vulnerable she was during their midnight snack, and her disappointment when he mentioned Lady Maximilian.  

Sejour suspected that it was rare indeed for Miriam to open up to anyone. A smile slowly crept up his face; he would just have to continue to be worthy of the privilege. A voice whispered softly in his mind you wish to be worthy of more. And damn him if that voice wasn’t right; he wanted to be the one to safeguard her heart, to wipe away her tears, and to bring joy to her beautiful face. Sejour wanted to be the only one to hear that chiming laugh, and suddenly he understood Sir Riftan’s constant possessiveness a little better.  

Merde. (1)   

~~~~~~~~~~ 

During the final strategy meeting, it was agreed that the forces would be split between the  Remdragons and Bolose Royal Knights, with support from Dristan and Arex, who would take control of a wyvern farm and use that as an entry  point to the city. Balto, Whedon, Sykan, and the Temple Knights would surround and lay siege to the walls, whilst providing protection for the rear. Now, the only remaining decision was how to distribute the offensive line mages. Sejour glanced at Masters Calto and Anton, clearing his throat as he spoke.  

“Of the remaining mages, I would like at minimum two with my forces. Preferably at least one fire mage.”  

Master Anton hummed in thought. “Alberico or Lillian might do. I believe either one to be a good fit with your men.” Sejour’s eyes widened marginally, while still maintaining a bland tone. “What of Miss Miriam? I have a small acquaintance with the lady, and believe she will do just as well.” 

 Several of the commanding officers snickered, correctly guessing that Sir Sejour had some sort of attachment. Sir Riftan merely raised a judgemental eyebrow, while Master Anton practically choked on air. “ Miriam ? Are you quite sure? She is a gifted duelist, no doubt, however the girl possesses a rather...acerbic...personality. Any of the other mages might be better.” 

Sejour lifted a brow in challenge, “Is that all? I assure you that I have handled far worse. I do thank you for your concern, though.” Master Calto coughed and interjected, “For Gods sake Anton, let the girl go with Bolose and be done with it. There are other mages to attend to.” Sejour nodded his head in thanks, even as the others continued to smirk and make silent disparagement's. Let them. Apparently no one else realizes her worth. He was ready to leave this godforsaken meeting and greet his belle chérie (2)  with a smile.  

Leaving the tent, Sejour noticed a small, delicate object on the ground, precisely because of its frail beauty amongst all the footsteps and debris. Sejour crouched and plucked the delicate snowdrop, memories of Miriam practically glowing in that whimsical, unexpectedly dainty nightgown embroidered with daffodils and snowdrops. He smiled even as Sir Riftan slowed in passing and dryly remarked “Mage Miriam? Are we picking favorites now?”  

Sejour straightened and replied with a smile, although his tone was anything but warm. “You should be grateful that I didn’t ask for a specific earth mage. Hypocrisy does not become you, Sir Riftan. That being said, I do have a favor to ask.” 

Riftan grunted for him to continue.  

“More than likely, Miriam,” Riftan raised his eyebrows at the easy familiarity with her name, “will be with the Remdragons at some point during all of this. When that time comes, I ask that you guard her as well as you would Lady Calypse. She is...no less special to me.” 

Riftan’s face softened momentarily as he inclined his head in agreement before striding off. Sejour nodded his thanks and pocketed the flower, hoping like hell that he knew what he was doing.  

He didn’t think that he could bear the disapproval on Miriam’s face if he guessed wrongly on either of their feelings.  

~~~~~~~  

Ultimately, it was decided that Miriam and a wind mage named Patience would join the Bolose Knights. Shortly before the march to the wyvern farm, Sejour called a final meeting of his commanding officers and new mages.  

“As everyone knows, the general idea is to take the wyvern farm and use that as a base for the front lines. The Remdragons will lead, seeing as they are more familiar with the terrain as well as the layout of the farm. Bolose will immediately follow and give support as required. The rest of the troops with us will follow after and deal with any remaining wyverns and clean-up operations. Once we have successfully captured the farm, we will split up forces, once again under Sir Riftan’s lead, seeing as he was able to previously enter the city. Mage Patience will join the scouting party in order to better search the city. Mage Miriam will join the foot soldiers and give support in that quarter, as well as establish a line of communication with the scouting party.” 

Sejour took a breath and glanced at Miriam, never taking his eyes off of her somber face. “One knight will be assigned to guard each of the mages. Mage Patience will be with Sir Arsene.” A blonde knight with a jagged scar running across his cheek nodded his affirmation as Sejour continued. “Mage Miriam will be escorted by Sir Etienne.” There were quiet whispers and Sir Etienne quirked a brow at that announcement, but otherwise said nothing.  

“Any further questions?” 

Silence was the only reply.  

“Very well. Bonne chance gentlemen.” (3) 

Miriam was well on her way out of the tent when she felt a gentle touch on her fingers. Startled, she turned to face Sir Sejour, who had an unusually sober expression. Very quietly, so almost no one could hear, he said “Sir Etienne is one of my best knights, second to only my Vice Commander. Be sure to stay close to him at all times.” Holding his steady gaze, Miriam replied, “Of course, Commander.”  

Those dimples that she so loved briefly flashed as he pressed something into her hand. “For luck.” He gently said, as he further whispered, “Ma belle fille.” (4) With that, Sir Sejour strode to take his place at the front of the column while Sir Etienne patiently waited for Miriam to catch up. Miriam glanced at the snowdrop in her hand, and felt her heart race and her face flush.  

There was no turning back.  

Her heart was no longer her own.  

Good luck...mon amour. (5)  

Chapter Text

Sir Etienne was not a talkative man, which suited Miriam just fine. After the unexpected gift and that declaration that she was Sejour’s “belle fille,” Miriam felt a swirling storm of everything, everywhere, all at once, and she hated every second of the conundrum. Why can’t things be simple? Why did he have to be so damn charming and thoughtful?   

Not only did nervous thoughts of the upcoming battle (so utterly different from previous skirmishes) keep surfacing, but now she was faced with the possibility of what was to happen after all this nonsense. What if he really does care? Will he ask me to stay? What if he didn’t actually mean any of it and this is all just a passing...thing? What of all the hopeful women who wish to engaged to Sejour? What of all his past dalliances? Good Lord, what of his FAMILY?! Merde, what of MY family?!  

The only thing keeping the churning, agitating, intrusive thoughts at bay was the feel of the softly delicate flower that was now gently wrapped in her pocket. Evidently, Miriam needed to work on masking her emotions, because Sir Etienne only had to glance her way once before remarking, “If anyone can lead us to victory, it’s Commander Sejour. This is a normal Tuesday for him.”  

Everything would be fine. They would go home to Eth Lene, and Miriam would beat him in their morning race, and ask how he truly felt about her. Victory questions. Victory answers. It was a regular Tuesday and she would not be convinced otherwise...  

Miriam’s eyes widened at the thought that not only had she called Eth Lene home, but also that she genuinely wanted Sejour's answer. More importantly, she wanted it to be yes; that he honestly cared, and that she was more than a passing whim. That she would finally be enough, and fully seen, and be loved as she deserved.  

  I’ll have to doubly make sure that I beat Sejour in our next race, giving the flower another gentle squeeze. If nothing else, it was a good reason to fight and remain among the living.   

~~~~~~  

Luck was on their side as the Remdragons had mostly cleared the farm by the time that the Bolose Knights arrived. Currently, both orders were in the process of slaying any visible wyverns, although the greater problem at hand still remained the actual entry into the city. Fortunately, Mage Patience and Commander Riftan had an answer.  

“There are two possible entry points from this direction. The last time we were here, we snuck through a small side gate roughly three kilometers to the east. Mage Patience informs me that after a preliminary search, there is a small drainage gate about six kilometers to the west. For maximum effect, I propose that we divert attention to the main siege towers, and while the enemy is distracted we explode both the gate and the drain. We will be able to send small batches of units to take the city from the inside. It goes without saying that there will be rotational units to protect the base.”  

“Won’t the drain be too small?” An officer from Dristan asked.  

“No,” Mage Patience interjected. “That drain leads to a bigger tunnel that should be able to accommodate small groups of three or four. All we have to do is make a big hole in the wall.”  

Sejour interjected, “Who should take the gate, and who gets the drain? I would imagine the gate to be more heavily guarded, so I would say to concentrate more forces there.”  

“Agreed. In that case, the Remdragons and half of the Araxian troops will take the side gate. Take Dristan and a quarter of Arax to the drainage gate; the remaining troops will take first watch here until the next rotation. Move out!”  

~~~~~~  

Although the side gate was several kilometers away, Miriam could hear the distant shouting all the way from the drain, which was less of a ditch and more a grate in the wall. Miriam and several other mages readied themselves; it seemed that the assaults on the main and side gates were successful diversions. In preparation, Miriam had strapped a long staff to her back, in addition to a heavy ball attached to a long rope, draped around her shoulders. This is just a Tuesday afternoon.  

Taking a deep breath, she and the other mages gathered their mana, preparing to blast a hole in the wall and spill into the city. Flames sparked in hands, as multiple fiery jets of blistering air and searing heat scorched the stone of the wall and splintered the wood of the grate.  

Whoosh! C-CRRRACCKK.... smoke spiraled upward and outward, a sure guarantee of unwanted attention.  

“Move out!” Commander Sejour ordered, as respective units moved forward into the tiny tunnel. Hopefully, the troops stationed at the gate would be able to continue to hold off and divert any monsters from the ditch.  

~~~~~~   

There was no such luck on the other side.  

Of course the explosion garnered unwelcome scrutiny, but in all honesty Miriam felt herself a fool for hoping otherwise. Almost immediately on exiting the tunnel, Miriam’s unit ran into a group of trolls in what she felt was the worst greeting party ever. She reflexively blasted one in the chest with a massive fireball, as Sir Etienne swung his sword at the head of another.  

 The smell of charred flesh and the copper tang of blood permeated the air, even as the outraged roar of the trolls pierced through the remaining daylight. Realizing that she was only wasting precious mana with large fire spells, Miriam grabbed the rope off of her neck and infused the ball with a minuscule amount of mana, lighting and keeping the ball aflame. Windmilling her arm, she quickly gathered momentum, unleashing the now burning ball onto an unsuspecting troll nose.  

The rope partially coiled back onto Miriam’s arm on the return as she spun it back to hit a chest, and then a limb. She twisted her body, allowing the rope to snake partly around her neck before blocking it with her arm so the ball could unwind and strike again, continuously battering the enemy until they roared in frustration and pain. Sir Etienne moved in harmony with her, landing killing blow after killing blow, as if they had rehearsed for this moment their entire lives.  

Miriam quickly lost any sense of time, even as arriving units helped make short work of the trolls. As the last of the troll group thudded to the ground, there was time only for a brief squeeze of her snowdrop as Sir Etienne looked to Miriam’s group and remarked, “Lets go. Our orders are to search for the negation rune.”  

Off they ran into the vast maze of alleys, with only the guidance of capricious fate.  

~~~~~~  

Miriam wasn’t entirely sure how she made it until her rotation back to camp, but she was painfully aware that trolls were harder to kill than they looked, goblins bled a surprising amount and were annoyingly fast on their feet, and ogres really were as stupid as all the stories claimed.  

All in all, things could have gone much worse.  

For the millionth time she cursed her past self for being so eager to fight and prove herself to the world. Her current self, however, couldn’t be brought to regret any of it because it was preoccupied with wholly inappropriate thoughts of a certain Commander, and how he had looked swinging his sword, utterly fierce and proud. Max might have Sir Riftan, but even he’s not as handsome as Sejour.  

A sense of pride arose in Miriam, even as she caught a glimpse of that same Commander exhaustively plopping down by the fire, arguing some strategy with his Vice Commander. Hopefully, we’ll live long enough for me to ask those questions. I want to see those dimples again; it’s been far too long since he laughed.  

She chewed on a mandrago root to replenish her mana, and forced herself to trudge wearily to her tent for some much needed sleep. There was still a long campaign to fight.  

Chapter Text

Days and nights blurred together until Miriam could no longer discern how long they had been inside the city. As she and her unit crept along alleyways and buildings, monsters would come and go in unpredictable waves. Miriam’s temper became increasingly frayed, although it appeared that hers was the only one to do so; all the others were practically paragons of virtue.   

She had no idea how anyone did it.   

The only thing that seemed to anchor her amidst the chaos and blood was the thought of beating Sejour in a stupid footrace and asking the one question that plagued her mind, war be damned. Did he love her?   

I can’t ask anything if I’m dead.  

Miriam slogged onward.   

~~~~~~  

“Mage Miriam! Come quickly, I think we found that blasted rune!” Mage Patience’s message came on the wind, on a cold, blustery morning. Miriam’s unit was directed through a rats nest of alleyways and side streets, marked only by the occasional garbage heap or goblin, which were then quickly dispatched.   

Innocuously, the stupid rune that they had had so much trouble finding in the first place was instead a rather large device that was hung halfway up the massive city walls, rocked by the occasional siege blast. Mage Patience frantically grabbed charcoal and paper from her bag, hurriedly marking out the images as they came from her search magic. “The good news,” she said, as she examined her scrawling, “is that there is a functioning mana pathway, which means that we can destroy it.”  

“And the bad news? There’s no possible way it can be that easy.” Miriam frowned.  

“This thing is so complex that I have no idea how to do it!” Patience cheerfully chirped. “I’ve never seen anything remotely like this, and can only conclude that it was built by the Devil himself!” Everyone stared incredulously at Mage Patience, as Sir Arsene gaped at his charge in disbelief, remarking, “God’s teeth woman, how are you so bloody cheerful about all of this?!”  

“I’m so mentally exhausted that I feel dead inside!”  

Miriam and Sir Etienne snickered; although Sir Etienne would never be described as chatty, he and Miriam had developed a professional rapport. She beat enemies into submission, while he delivered the killing blow. Friendships had been forged on less.  

Another knight called Sir Renaud piped up, “Why does the complexity matter? Can’t we just physically destroy the thing?” Miriam took up the question, replying “Yes and no. Every magical device like this one is comprised of three elements. A power source, a physical frame like monster bone or something similar, and the rune or runes that tell the device what to do. What we typically see is a small set of runes that aren’t hard to disrupt.”  

She peered at the outlines again, feeling frustration. “Here though, it looks like at least...what, fifteen? Maybe twenty separate runes? No one in their right mind does this.”  

“Ok, but what does that have to do with destroying it?”  

“Think of a stream.” Miriam said. “As long as it goes in a straight path, the current flows smoothly and regularly, right? Now add a ditch. And then a water mill. Then a dam, and a waterfall, and lots of irrigation canals. Now, picture a huge thunderstorm adding lots of rain to our stream; what happens to the water? We get a flood and destroy a village, right?”   

She poked at the drawing, “The exact same thing happens when we try to destroy a device like this. If we overload the mana pathway without understanding where the flow to the runes go, then we risk major damage to anything within a eight kilometer radius.”  

Miriam continued on, “We could try to overload the power source, but that leads to the exact same problem.” Patience picked up the thread of thought, “Mana comes from either a mage’s power, or from a mana stone. At a glance, it seems that this device feeds from mana stones; lots of them, even though I don’t think the stone itself has been replaced for a long time. Unless it has a rune to absorb mana directed at it; I can attest that I feel more drained than usual from that small search earlier.”   

Miriam’s eyes widened as she had an epiphany. “The wyvern farm. All of the garbage heaps in the city have been chock full of used mana stones, but I never thought anything of it. What if the wyverns weren’t being farmed for raids, but for their stones?”   

Sir Arsene frowned as he caught on, “Then that would mean there would be multiple farms, and so far we haven’t found anything.”  

“The basilisk farm was underground. What if there are other wyvern kennels like that as well?”  

A younger knight named Sir Hugo apparently had had enough of the discussion, growling harshly, “Enough of all this! We’ve stood around for long enough, and if no one will do anything than I will!” With that, he placed a dagger in his mouth and threw a grappling hook at the stone wall, nimbly climbing upward. Both Miriam and Patience yelled for him to get down, loudly exclaiming that he would get them all killed or worse, as Sir Etienne threatened first demotion, and then expulsion from knighthood.  

Ignoring all pleas and threats, Sir Hugo continued, eventually reaching the device. Taking the dagger, Sir Hugo began to chisel away at one of the runes, those below still frantically pleading for the idiot to JUST GET DOWN! As he continued to chip away, the device began to glow, pulsing first blue, then orange, and then a sinister, ominous red. The very air radiated tension as all sound went unnaturally still, even as Miriam and Patience screamed for their unit to get out of the way. The distant sound of siege towers battering the walls had fled, reminiscent of a large hand squeezing the life out of a delicate neck.    

Finally realizing the danger, Sir Hugo began to scramble down the wall. There was one final pulse of that awful, incandescent glow when a flare of light exploded out from the device, blinding the knights and forcefully blasting Sir Hugo away from his foothold on the wall. The group below could only watch in horror as Hugo fell, limbs flailing as a silent scream poured from his mouth, frantically trying to stop his descent. Mage Patience could be seen attempting a cushioning spell in an effort to save the man, but her mana must have been too far spent.  

Miriam tried a basic levitation spell, something, anything to soften the fall, but that cursed device still worked well enough to drain her remaining mana. She found herself unable to do anything to stall the inevitable. The rest of the knights gaped and scrambled to assist, still in complete silence as Sir Hugo finally thudded to the ground, his body splayed at unnatural angles with blood pooling on the cobblestones. His head had been badly injured and was barely recognizable, broken teeth strewing the ground like spilled pearls  

 Miriam opened her mouth, but when she attempted to speak her voice was still muffled and cloaked in silence. All she could do was tap Sir Etienne’s shoulder and point to the body, miming that they should leave. Sir Etienne nodded, face hard as granite, as he picked up the battered remains of Sir Hugo and gently carried him away.   

Just like a river flooding a village.  

~~~~~~  

Much later, the unit was able to meet back at camp with Commanders Aren and Calypse to report their findings. Mage Ruth frowned as he looked over the parchment containing the runic drawings. “No wonder neither of you were able to decipher this,” he muttered. “Not only are there an absurd amount of runes, but the way these are linked are ridiculously complicated. Even I’ve never seen anything like this.”  

Commander Calypse frowned at that. “What does that mean for the mission?” Ruth shrugged, “It means that we’ll have to have several mages working day and night to figure out exactly how things are linked on this device. As poor Sir Hugo proved, it’s not safe to physically destroy the device yet.”  

“Miriam, is there anything else you’d like to add?” Sir Sejour asked. A deep furrow marred his brow and Miriam had to resist the urge to soothe it with her hand. “Yes, Commander. We also believe that wyverns are being farmed for their mana stones, and that power is being directed to the negation device. There may be more hidden kennels, and furthermore, it seems that when Sir Hugo damaged that particular rune,” she nodded at the parchment. “A sustained radius of completed silence approximately eight kilometers developed.”  

“Fuck. That could cause trouble later.” Sir Riftan groaned. Sir Sejour nonchalantly shrugged, “Then we just keep up with the plan for now. Have the wind mages continue to search for wyvern traces and destroy them as we go.” Sir Riftan nodded in agreement. “Very well. Ruth, assemble the mages and inform Master Anton. You’ll be in charge of deciphering the runes. We start the wyvern hunt on the next rotation.”  

Chapter Text

It had been a long day, and despite everything Miriam could not settle for the night. Wandering aimlessly through the campsite, she caught sight of Sejour sitting by a fire, sipping from a flask and mindlessly staring at the flames. Miriam seated herself next to him, both resting in companionable silence until Sejour remarked, “The worst part is writing the letters.” Miriam blinked in confusion.  

“Writing letters to families, explaining how their loved ones died. It’s the worst part of any battle,” Sejour continued. “As a knight, we are fully prepared to die. It’s a consequence of the job, I suppose, as much as I might wish it weren’t. As much as the families think they might be prepared for the inevitable, the reality is that they never really are. It’s bad enough that I have to say Sir Hugo died, but how do I tell a grieving mother that her son died of his own stupidity? What can I possibly say to make any of that better?”  

Sejour flashed a ghost of his usual grin, “That was a rhetorical question, by the way. I don’t actually expect an answer.” Miriam thought for a moment, and carefully replied, “Once when I was seven, I nearly burned down my parents bakery.”   

Sejour huffed a laugh as Miriam continued. “Grand-mère had just taught me how to use the ovens, and I was convinced that I could do it all on my own. One morning, I tried to get the fire going but it just wouldn’t start. No matter what I did, the stupid thing simply wouldn’t light. I finally got so frustrated that I took oil from one of the shop lamps and poured it all over the kindling. On the next spark, everything went boom!”  

Sejour chuckled and finally flashed his dimples. “Amusing, chérie, but is there a point to the story?” Miriam cheekily smirked, “Not really, I just wanted to see you smile again. I’m not used to seeing you so serious all the time.”   

“Thank you chérie. For what it’s worth, I did feel a little better.” His fingers slowly crept up to her hand, lightly caressing with his thumb. Leaning into the touch, Miriam maneuvered her hand to clasp his, as she almost inaudibly whispered, “Mon coeur (1).” Sejour felt his soul stir and his breath catch in his throat all at once, before grasping her face in both hands.   

Leaning ever closer, he paused to stare into her forest green eyes, for once not flashing but instead seeming to pierce his soul for one final, silent judgement. Apparently deeming him worthy, Miriam allowed him ever closer. As his lips reached for the beauty mark on the corner of her full, luscious mouth, she suddenly turned her head and captured his own.  

 Whisper soft at first, and then deepening to match the blazing fire behind them, Miriam felt the rising heat swirl in her gut, twisting and begging to be set free. She felt her heart stutter, and then furiously pound as it rattled against her ribs. Her fingers began to explore the strong lines of his cheekbones and jaw, committing them to memory. Even if I die a million years from now, I could never forget this moment. She felt first the outline of a dimple, and then an eventual smile against her mouth.   

Breathless, the kiss broke off sooner than either would have liked as they studied each other, eyes searching and cataloging every visible emotion. Eventually, Sejour closed his eyes and rested against Miriam’s forehead, noses gently bumping together. Sejours heart pounding and wonderfully, recklessly out of control. Mine. I am hers, and she is mine.  

 They remained in the gentle stillness for a long time afterwards, and any thoughts of asking certain questions had long since fled Miriam’s mind.   

~~~~~~     

Of all things, Miriam had not expected wyvern hunting to actually be fun.   

Until very recently, her focus at Nornui had been on research, specifically on the practical applications of alchemy. She shuddered at the memory of all the glassware that Max’s cat, Roy, had shattered. At any rate, Miriam was pleasantly surprised by how much she was enjoying these hunts and raids. Even with the fact that the situation was rather...dire, she found pleasure in the challenge.   

Not only was finding the kennels a showcase of magical skill, but she enjoyed the challenge of having to think like the monsters and discover the best hiding spots. Whoever built this city was a bloody mastermind, she grudgingly admitted. Furthermore, there was the added bonus of...  

“Mage Miriam, please send a message to the scouting party. I would like to know what’s happening up front.”  

“Yes, Commander Sejour.”  

Ever since that unbelievable, unforgettable night, calloused hands gently caressing her cheeks, his warm breath against her mouth, and Sejour pulling her against his warm, hard chest... Sir Sejour had ensured that he was at least within an easy walking distance of her unit. Under normal circumstances, she might have been peeved that he was following so closely, but she couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment.   

“Sir, Mage Patience has reported that a potential kennel has been spotted.”  

“Very well, let’s head to the site.”     

Chapter Text

Sejour wasn’t entirely sure how he should feel.  

On the one hand, every time his mind strayed to that unexpected kiss, Sejour felt like a squire who had just discovered that women existed. His palms got clammy, his chest tightened in anticipation, and memories would surface of Miriam’s full, pouty mouth and the hazy, desire filled look in her eyes.   

On the other hand, he was also overcome with the intense need to blind any other man whom so much as glanced in her direction. Practically speaking, he rather needed his troops alive and so settled with the compromise of keeping a close eye on her. And his hands, whenever the occasion allowed. Smirking to himself, he wondered how angry she would be if he pulled her close and kissed her again. The consequences, he decided, would be well worth it.   

At any rate, the sooner we destroy these wyverns, the sooner we can go home. And once we get home, I can finally convince Miriam to stay. Anything my chérie wants, she need only ask. Pleasant daydreams of how she would look at receiving daily bouquets of daffodils, roses, and... whatever other dainty things women liked were unfortunately interrupted when Sejour caught a flash of grey skin and the glint of a weapon around the corner of a building. Not today you bastards!  

~~~~~~  

Ten, fifteen, twenty goblins, trolls and other monsters swarmed, attempting to surround the unit. Far too seasoned for such a clumsy effort, the knights moved quickly, polished swords and weapons flashing in the bright sunlight. Wanting to preserve her mana for the later wyverns, Miriam drew her quarterstaff from the sheath on her back and immediately attacked a goblin running towards Sir Etienne. With a grunt, Miriam thrust one end of the staff in the goblin's gut, the other end bashing into the creature's neck.  

A sickening crunch could be heard as the goblin collided with cobblestone. Miriam pursed her lips and continued with the grim work. One by one, the attacking horde thudded to the ground until they were left with what could only have been the single largest troll known to mankind. Snarling, the monster brandished a heavy club tipped with metal. The beast meandered lazily into the unit’s midst, swinging his weapon and laying waste to several unfortunate knights on the downstrokes.  

Gathering her mana, Miriam began to chant the spell for a fireball. Her staff and fire darts would be no match for this giant, and so it would have to be magic. Small sparks and bits of flame accumulated in her palms as the spell gathered strength. The flames blossomed ever larger, burning merrily as they first outgrew her palm, and then her head, and finally her chest.  

Finally noticing the still mage, the monster roared. Taking one large stride after the other with the metal tip of his dark club glinting in the bright sunshine, he fixed his terrible attention on Miriam, barreling through the remaining knights. Miriam released her magic with a roar of her own, just as Sejour sped to the monster’s side.  

His sword flashed as quick as a thought. Blood gushed from a large slice in the trolls' side, and the smell of roasting flesh assaulted the knights' nostrils. With an outraged shriek the troll stumbled onward, hellbent on destruction. Miriam tried to gather more mana, but even badly injured, the troll moved far too quickly.  

Sir Sejours’ sword flashed again. Taking advantage of the trolls’ injury, Sejour managed another long gash to the creatures’ side, and then a hard stab to the gut. Finally, the troll lurched forward with a roar of pain. Making the most of the opportunity, Sejour growled and somehow managed to behead the monster.  

Miriam stood wide-eyed and breathless, as Sir Sejour calmly wiped the blood from his sword and mildly asked the knights, “Shall we take a quick lunch?”  

~~~~~~   

Sejour had never been more terrified than when that monster had nearly taken Miriam’s life.  

Sheer panic and instinct fueled his next actions, which were fortunately enough to take down that damn troll. How the hell do they get that big?! That can’t possibly be natural! Sejour shoved the thought down and frantically glanced at Miriam, needing to re-affirm that she was whole and intact. Ten fingers, no bleeding, no severed limbs...  

All was well. More for his sake than anything else, he called for a quick break. As the group made themselves comfortable, Sejour made a beeline for Miriam. Looking over her from head to toe, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Are you well? Do you need anything?” God’s blood Sejour, you sound like a frightened nanny!  

A small smirk graced Miriams lips, “Thank you for your concern, Commander. Aside from some mana depletion, I am perfectly fine.” Sejour released a breath he hadn’t even realized that he was holding. Turning to check on the other knights, he was startled when he felt warm, delicate fingers grasping his hand. In an unexpectedly gentle tone, he heard Miriam implore, “Be safe, mon coeur.”  

Oh, how he wished he could kiss that woman senseless! Stifling the urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her away from all the blood and death, Sejour had to content himself with squeezing her hand. In a soft, reassuring voice, Sejour muttered, “I would move heaven itself to come back to you.”  

Miriam stood breathless and wide-eyed for the second time that day.    

Chapter Text

Sejour was supposed to be hunting down the last of the bloody wyverns.

He was supposed to be killing off the remaining monsters in the city.

Instead, he had to deal with a completely fucked up timeline and screwed up orders, all because Balto couldn’t follow simple orders and instead had thrown lives away rushing the main gate to the city.

All they literally had to do was wait for word. That’s it. They literally only had one fucking job!

The negation rune still hadn’t been completely deciphered. There were still wyverns in the city. And heaven only knew how many monsters remained within the walls.

Putain. (1)

~~~~~~

Plans quickly changed, and orders were given that Miriam would accompany Mage Ruth and his group, while Bolose would offer support outside of the wyvern tunnel. As he watched Miriam and Sir Etienne leave, Sejour could only hope that Sir Riftan would remember his earlier promise to guard Miriam carefully.

~~~~~~

As a rule, Miriam hated tunnels. This one in particular was too dark, dank, and claustrophobic.

Too much of everything.

Mage Ruth led the way in silence, only occasionally remarking on certain strategies for dealing with different dragon species. Miriam gave indifferent agreement, merely wanting to be done and back with Sejour. Abruptly, the party almost stumbled into a door; oddly placed amid such a ridiculously long tunnel. The door itself was several kvettes tall, and elaborately decorated with dragons, wyverns, basilisks, and every other feral monster that Miriam could ever dream of. Pillars flanked either side, carved with stone dragons perched aloft, long, muscular tails wrapped down the full length of the pillars. Snarling mouths faced the knights, wings held out as if ready to take flight, with long talons clutching the edges of their respective perches.

Truly, they were impressive pieces of artwork.

“This is clearly a trap,” Commander Riftan quietly remarked as he observed the doorway. Picking up a decently sized stone, he tossed it towards the door. Not a single noise could be heard, save for the skitter as the rock bounced onto the floor. Silence, and then...

A deafening cacophony filled Miriam’s ears as twin jets of flame spewed forth from the dragons atop their roost, threatening to blast foolish mortals into oblivion. Just as quickly as it began, the flames died out, leaving nothing but lingering heat and scorch marks in their wake.

Putain.

~~~~~~

After much time and effort, the knights managed to discover that there were two spots on the floor that took longer to activate the flames. They would still sear any living thing to oblivion, mind you, but only after about a minute.

There must be something that we’re missing.

Miriam and Mage Ruth had scoured the pillars, looking for anything that might stop the flames or open the door. After poking and prodding several suspicious looking scales and talons, nothing had happened. Miriam’s gaze climbed upward, refusing to admit defeat. The twin jets blazed again, except as she observed the body of the dragon on her pillar...

There!

The barest metallic glimmer could be seen, cleverly tucked under the fold of a wing. “Mage Ruth! I think I’ve found something!” Unhooking a small cage from her belt, Miriam opened the door and a small fairy no bigger than her finger flitted onto her palm. “Chaldera, could you please check the metal underneath that wing?” The little fairy flew upward, and soon a mental image of a small catch appeared. Miriam rewarded Chaldera with a bit of honey, gently placing her back in her cage. Mage Ruth looked on with expectation.

~~~~~~

“If we have two men on the pressure points in the floor, and I use my magic to press the catch, that should be enough to open this door without being fried to a crisp.”

Mage Ruth was in fine form to go back to using his sarcasm. Commander Riftan grunted his approval of the plan, calling forward another Remdragon knight while he got himself into position. Mage Ruth readied his mana, concentrating on the minuscule area.

“Now!”

The Commander and his knight leaped to the pressure plates, while Mage Ruth sent a concentrated wind-stream to press the catch. The rest of the unit held a collective breath as silence reigned over the tunnel...

As the enormous door slowly creaked open...

And remained stuck not even halfway.

“Fuck!” Commander Riftan growled.

~~~~~~

Miriam was tired, hungry, and absolutely done with dark and godforsaken tunnels. While the other knights and Mage Ruth cursed and argued about how best to get the door unstuck, she cast her gaze to the corners of the door. Almost hidden in the shadows were a series of hinges. Hinges meant pins, and pins meant that they could be taken out.

Or melted down.

“FIREBALL!”

Without even glancing at the bickering knights, Miriam sent a giant gust of flame towards the hinges, startling the men back into silence as they gaped in shock. Shock quickly became restrained awe as the once ornate door loudly thudded to the ground. Miriam gestured to the gaping hole where the massive doorway once proudly stood.

“Shall we?”

Translation (French)

1. Fuck

Chapter Text

Stepping through the gaping hole, one of the knights whistled in appreciation.  

From floor to ceiling, large honey comb cells engulfed the walls of the largest chamber Miriam had ever seen. Wyverns of every size filled the room; from juveniles the size of bear cubs near the entrance, to the massive adults near the back, and what Miriam suspected were eggs stored in large chests all over the floor. Hatchlings that were the same size as large dogs rested near the floor, and every single size and shape in-between resided in the other cubbies and cells.    

This was far larger than any of the other wyvern farms previously encountered.  

“These are all...”  

“Enchanted to sleep? Possibly, but thus far I see no runes to that effect. It’s far more likely that this room was engineered to induce hibernation. Although I’m not entirely sure about those eggs.” Mage Ruth paused in his speculation, suddenly remembering that this was not an academic exercise.  

“I don’t give a shit if they’re enchanted or not, we still need to destroy these bastards!” Commander Riftan angrily snapped, as if all his current troubles were Mage Ruth’s fault. “I need solutions, and I need them now! We have little time to lose.”  

Miriam and Ruth glanced at each other. Even if the wyverns had been enchanted, slaying them one by one would take far too long. Therefore...  

“I have an idea, but it’s incredibly risky, and it will only work under the right circumstances.” Miriam looked to Mage Ruth, who quickly figured out her plan.  

“You’re thinking of a firestorm, aren’t you?”  

“Yes. I have reagents in my bag that will intensify the flames, but the air currents will have to be just so in order for this to work. In addition, the rest of the men will be in danger if they stay too closely.”  

Commander Riftan and Sir Etienne briefly glanced at each other, identical frowns on their faces. Miriam would have laughed if the situation weren’t so dire. Commander Riftan broke the silence first with a sigh of displeasure.  

“Fine, but I’m only agreeing to this because we’re out of options. Sir Aren will have my head for this, not that it will do him any good.”  

~~~~~~

With a prayer and a curse, Miriam began to gather her mana. The knights had been evacuated to the entrance; not that it would do them any good if she had miscalculated. At her side, Mage Ruth nodded for her to begin. Focusing on the tiny spark of magic she held in her palms, Miriam concentrated on slowly feeding the flames.  

Bit by bit, the energy in her hands grew, until it finally manifested as a bright flame. Finally large enough to leave her hand, she gracefully let it fly to the middle of the chamber. Miriam anxiously watched as Ruth gently fed air currents to the embers. The breeze rippled as the fire caught onto a wooden chest, growing larger and brighter by the second.  

As the heat grew and shimmered, the fire seemed to take on a life of its own. Now, as the flames greedily devoured anything remotely consumable, Miriam threw a reagent bottle at the base of a particularly large flame. In an instant, the chamber went from merely scorching to an inferno, with the conflagration turning from copper to indigo. Shields up, Miriam could only watch in apprehensive silence as Ruth continuously fed air to the twisting blaze.  

Shooting ever higher upwards, the first of the wyverns was caught by the inferno.  

It was not a gentle death.  

Shrieks of pain and rage echoed throughout as more and more of the wyverns were roused out of hibernation. Most attempted to flee, driven by instinct to hunt down or escape the danger, but by then it was far too late. With the firestorm growing ever hotter, ever higher, ever wilder, Miriam uttered her final spell. In a shimmer of sparks and heat, phoenix wings momentarily spread throughout the chamber, as the firestorm well and truly took effect.  

The stench of charred flesh stung her nostrils as a cacophony of shrieks and screams from the dying wyverns, coupled with the roar of the inferno assaulted her ears. Miriam's reward for all her effort was a deafening BOOM as an explosion rocked the chamber, nearly blasting through the mage's shields.

~~~~~~

Sir Aren hated every damned part of this plan.  

He hated that Miriam, his belle femme (1), sa raison de vivre (2), had to fight wyverns without him.  

He hated that, short of charging in like a reckless, love-struck fool, there was nothing he could do for her.  

Most of all, he hated the ear-shattering roar that had exploded from the tunnel ten seconds ago.  

Merde! Bon sang, allez en enfer! (3)  

As if summoned, a massive group of ogres, trolls, and goblins advanced towards the tunnel entrance. Sejour had no time to be concerned for Miriam, as badly as he wanted to drop everything and find her. All he could do was offer up a quick prayer for her survival as the monsters charged.  

Gripping his sword, Sir Sejour only had time to loudly cry, “C’mon you bastards!”  

He charged headlong into the fray, praying that he’d see his chérie  one more time.  

~~~~~~

Opening her eyes with a groan, Miriam realized that she was not, in fact, dead and in hell.  

She was alive and in hell.  

The blast had destroyed the chamber and the wyverns, leaving nothing but the smell of burnt flesh and smoking bones. Miriam and Ruth had been knocked untold kvettes backwards, almost to the entrance. Everything hurt, all she could do was wheeze unsteady breaths, and she was fairly sure she had a concussion.  

But they were alive.  

Sejour won’t have to face as many wyverns. That alone is worth it.  

Miriam allowed herself a moment to think of Sejour. The first thing I’m going to do is kiss him senseless. And then I’m going to rip off that stupid tunic, because I suspect his abs are gorgeous and I’ve earned a damned reward.  

On the floor next to her, Ruth wheezed as his eyes flew open.  

“Did it work?”  

“Yes, but I refuse to ever do that again.”  

“Agreed.”  

Sir Riftans booming voice interrupted them, “Are you two alive?!”  

“Yes, sir!”  

“Good. Now get up and move out!”  

Chapter Text

Weapons clanged against armor, steadily battering Sejour and his men. For every monster slain two more took its place, almost as relentless as waves that pounded the shoreline.   

Without help, they were completely fucked.   

All Sejour could do was grit his teeth and continue slicing through the horde, praying that all this quickly come to an end. Sejour briefly pictured Miriam's smile, allowing a small moment of happiness. A loud ringing thud assaulting his ears brought him back to attention.    

An axe flashed before his eyes, intent on separating his neck from his shoulders. Jumping backwards a pace, Sejour managed to dodge the near lethal blow, readying his sword to swing against his behemoth opponent.   

I WILL survive! I WILL see Miriam!   

With those thoughts firmly in place, Sejour struck, leaving nothing but a bloody gash against his opponents' chest. With one wound too many, the monster fell, leaving others to charge in its stead. Bracing for the onslaught, Sejour once again longingly thought of Miriam.   

Miriam, with her plump and beckoning mouth.  

Miriam, always quick with a biting retort that would shame a lesser man.   

Miriam, with her compassionate heart guarded by high walls that he was determined to breach.   

Miriam, with his future held firmly in her hands.   

Casting off his exhaustion like a worn cloak, Sejour began to methodically chop and hack his way through the monstrous throng. Determination settled on his brow whilst blood stained his sword.    

He would come back to his chérie.  

~~~~~~

Arrows.   

Awakening from a fugue of blood-lust and corpses, Sejour almost missed the distinctive whistle of arrows. Bewildered, he looked up to what was possibly the second-most beautiful sight he had ever seen. A small squad of Araxian archers, perched on surrounding rooftops and raining death from above.  

Deciding that he didn’t care how they got there, Sejour sighed in relief, knowing that they would live another day.   

~~~~~~    

Miriam trudged onward, painfully aware of how much mana she had lost. Fortunately, they had not run into any more wyvern chambers. Unfortunately, the tunnel eventually spat them out near the still malfunctioning wall rune.   

Where an undead horde was waiting to greet them.  

Lovely.   

Miriam placed herself near Sir Etienne, reaching for her stave. She took a steadying breath, allowing a small moment to think of Sejour.   

Sejour, with his rich laugh that never failed to make her smile in turn.   

Sejour, with his quick wit and ready smile.  

Sejour, with his steadfast loyalty and unyielding courage.   

Sejour, who was the best man she had ever, and would ever, know.   

The undead shambled ever so slowly and silently, thanks to the rune. Taking a deep breath, Miriam kept pace with Sir Etienne.   

Not today, Death. I refuse to go with you!  

Miriam gripped her stave tightly, almost hard enough to feel her fingers creak. The undead slowly inched forward, the smell of rotting flesh tainting the air. She could see bloated corpses with split toothed grins, holes gaping what bone once filled. One had flesh peeling onto the pavement below, while another lurched with a silent groan. Bracing, Miriam prepared for impact.   

She was not prepared for the first revenant to drop at her feet. Nor the second. Nor the third.   

Almost as quickly as it began, the undead legion stuttered to a halt and fell one by one. In the distance a gate creaked open, and human troops began to pour into the city.   

~~~~~~   

Later that night, after wounds were tended and meals had been eaten, Sejour found Miriam among the campfires. Without a single care for who may have been watching, he took her hand and wordlessly pulled her behind a large tree at the edge of the camp. Sejour stared into her eyes for a fraction of a second and ruthlessly pulled her close for a kiss.   

If their first kiss had been all sweetness and light, there was nothing of it in this one. Sejour flicked his tongue against Miriam's mouth, demanding entry that she happily granted. Entwined, Miriam could taste a hint of wine on his breath and feel the gallop of his heart against her palm. She could hear him groan as her own breathing hitched, as Sejour grabbed her ass and lifted her up against the tree.  

Miriam's thighs clutched against Sejour's waist as the kiss deepened. She could barely feel the bark biting against her back; nothing else existed except the feel of Sejour’s calloused hands. He paused and brought that wonderful mouth of his first to her jaw, and then to her neck. Just as demanding as before, his tongue flicked and caressed, never ceasing in his ministrations.  

It was Miriam's turn to groan and then whimper as Sejour skimmed gentle fingertips against her breast.  

“Don’t...don’t stop. Please.”  

Releasing her back to the ground, Sejour caged Miriam against the tree, his hands slowly running up and down her waist. Miriam could feel his calloused fingertips creep underneath her tunic. First dancing across her navel, then exploring her ribs and gently moving across the swell of her breasts. Biting back a moan, Miriam chose to relish the feeling of his warmth against hers.   

She gasped in surprise as a gentle thumb swiped against her nipple. Miriam's head lolled back against the tree, granting Sejour better access. Back and forth his thumbs went, as Miriam began to pant. Sejour's mouth nipped her earlobe, as Miriam finally began her own explorations of Sejour’s abs.  

Good Lord, they really ARE gorgeous!  

Bands of hardened muscle bunched under her fingers. Allowing herself to freely wander, she gently traced the dips and planes of Sejour’s stomach. One hand curiously outlined the waistband of Sejour’s trousers. Sejour inhaled sharply and grabbed her wrist.   

“That’s a dangerous game, my Lady,” he growled. “If you continue like this, I won’t make any promises for what happens next.”  

Undeterred, Miriam unblinkingly gazed at Sejour. With sure movements, she untied his waistband and freed his manhood. Miriam took a deep breath as she ogled the sight before her.   

Oh. My. God!  

Wrist now freed; she slowly crept her way down and grasped his length. Miriam swiped her thumb against the tip and was rewarded with a sharp inhale from Sejour. Smirking, she continued with her gentle movements until she at last felt droplets of moisture against her fingertips.   

This might be the only benefit of my time with Phillipe. I at least learned how to please.   

Wrapping her hand around the rest of his length, Miriam slowly worked herself up and down. Maintaining a steady pace, she took a moment to peer at Sejour’s face; those coffee eyes that she loved so were scrunched in concentration, while he bit back loud moans of pleasure. His hands had moved back to grab her ass; squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. Miriam could feel warmth in her core building as Sejour began to nip and tease her warm skin.   

Not to be outdone, Sejour removed his hand and worked his way under Miriam’s panties. It was his turn to swipe and caress her sensitive bud as she bit her lip. Wetness-streaked Sejour’s fingers as he explored her curls. One finger gently touched her dripping entrance as Sejour nudged her legs apart.   

Miriam inhaled sharply, feeling as if she were on fire. Her hand moved rapidly up and down his shaft, as he in turn pushed one finger, then two, into her core. He steadily stroked as she began to push her hips against him, demanding more. The flames in her core grew, begging release. Her pleasure spiraled up and up, until she could almost see stars behind her eyes.  

Sejour groaned into her neck, “That’s it. Come for me, love.” His own pleasure refused to be held back any long, and he was drowning in her gasps and moans. Any more of this, and he wouldn’t last much longer. His fingers were buried in her fire as he worked to bring Miriam to the edge. He could hear her moaning in his ear as he frantically sought her release.   

Sejour finally felt her clamp against his fingers as she softly cried out. Groaning loudly, he gave one last swipe to her bud; her cries of pleasure were enough to send him falling over the edge. Wrenching out of Miriam’s grasp, he sputtered his own release onto the forest floor. Coming back to Miriam, Sejour panted against her neck as he held her tightly.   

“Mine. You are mine, as I am yours.”  

His heart had never felt so full as he gazed at forest green eyes, gently stroking her plump lips.  

Sejour had no intention of ever letting go.   

Chapter Text

Somehow, Miriam seemed to hear even more gossip on the march to Balbourne than she ever did on the way to the Plateau. What was worse is that it all seemed to center on Sejour.  

“Did you hear about Commander Aren and Lady Alena?” 

“Well, it’s whispered that Sir Aren and Lady Catherine...” 

“Supposedly there was a brothel incident and Sir Aren...” 

“Sir Aren never got over his first love. His fiancée died tragically, you know, and he never took another.” 

Lady Rose. Lady Colette. Lady Victoire. Countless prostitutes and several nameless maids. For the first time in a long time, Miriam felt a prickle of doubt creep up her spine. No, he is not Phillipe. These are all baseless rumors, and he wouldn’t do that to me. Would he?  

It was true that he once had a fiancée who had died young. All Livadon knew that story. It was also true that gossip sheets loved to mention Sir Aren every other day; being the flirt that he was brought its fair share of attention. Sejour might not have officially promised her anything, but he always spoke with such passion and earnestness.  

Just like Phillipe did.   

Her heart sank, realizing that there was a very good chance that she had been played for the worst sort of fool.  

Again.  

~~~~~~  

Despite Miriam’s private misgivings, Sejour had never been happier. Every night, he made sure to spend time with Miriam, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and speaking of, “When we get home to Eth Lene.” Sejour already planned to ask official permission for Miriam to join the Bolose Knights. After the way she had conducted herself during the Monster City assault, he could think of no better candidate. And yet .... Sejour frowned to himself.  

It felt like she was slowly pushing him away. Miriam was quieter in his presence, more serious. It was as if she was returning to that aloof woman he had first met, and Sejour didn’t know what to do. In his experience with women, this was a first.  

No matter, I’ll just have to keep giving her attention. This will sort itself out if I keep steady with her.   

It had to, because Sejour refused to let go of this woman. His heart wouldn’t survive another loss like that. 

~~~~~~

Time passed, and the army finally reached the Grand Gate of Balbourne. It was a beautiful thing, meant to intimidate and impress, which Miriam felt it did wonderfully. The grand arch was decorated with colorful mosaics of flowers and animals. An onion dome perched gracefully atop the belltower, peeling a joyous welcome to the victorious army.  

Cries of, “Rosem Wigrew! Rosem Wigrew de Calypse! Rosem Wigrew de Aren!” assaulted Miriam’s ears as the Bolose Knights awaited their turn. Petals littered the avenue as Miriam snuck a glance at Sejour. She could almost see him puff up like an overgrown peacock as women threw flowers and handkerchiefs in his path. Not for the first time, she wondered if she had made a mistake in giving away her heart so easily.  

Sejour caught her eyes and gave her a wide smile.  

Her heart continuously flipped as they rode onward to the palace.  

~~~~~~

After being escorted to their rooms, Miriam was informed that beginning the next night there would be a full week of formal banquets in celebration. Digesting this information, Miriam decided to take a stroll through one of the open courtyards she had spied earlier. Settling onto a stone bench artfully arrayed next to a burbling fountain, she closed her eyes to enjoy the final rays of sunset. Miriam felt his characteristic warmth before an arm snaked around her waist.  

“Chérie,” Sejour murmured into her ear. “I have been searching this Gods-damned palace twice over for you.” 

“Would you like a pastry as a reward?”  

“No, but I would care for something much sweeter,” he grinned as he pulled her close for a kiss. Every single time, Miriam’s brain would stutter and refuse to work properly. His kisses had a habit of sticking her feet right to the floor, regardless of propriety or logic. It was equally infuriating and endearing, and Miriam made a mental note to explore that thought later. 

 For now, though, she could only gape as Sejour tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.  

“Come to the banquet with me.” 

“Excuse me?” Miriam blinked in confusion.  

“Come to the banquet with me. I want to be your escort and refuse to take no as an answer.” 

Miriam’s heart began to race. As an unmarried woman, to attend a banquet like that with a man like Sejour...it was tantamount to declaring a formal courtship. Any lingering doubt as to his intentions began to fade as Miriam gazed into his coffee eyes.  

“Are you quite certain?” 

“That I want you all to myself, and that I’m also demanding the first, last, and every dance in-between? Absolutely.” Sejour regarded her with such earnestness that she could feel her resolve weaken.  

“Meet me at the stairway before the ballroom.”  

Sejour flashed his dimples as he raised Miriam’s hand to kiss it. “Your wish is my command, My Lady.” 

Miriam felt ridiculous for ever having doubted.  

~~~~~~

The dress was perfect, even though Miriam had no clue as to how or when Sejour managed to procure it. Soft red fabric the exact shade of glowing embers with gold embroidery shot through the edges of the square neckline. The shoulders puffed fashionably, while the rest of the sleeve remained close to her arms. Even more gold embroidery graced the hem of the flowing gown, while a delicate jeweled belt was tied snugly against Miriam’s waist.  

With an uncharacteristic giggle Miriam twirled in front of a mirror, tamping down any lingering doubts about Sejour and his playboy reputation. What mattered was that he had shown such great care in his treatment of her, that he had been consistently by her side. For once, she was enough for someone.  

Except...there were rumors swirling that Sejour now had his eye on Lady Calypse. Admittedly, he had paid her attention regarding supplying the rear position, but now, Miriam had to wonder if there was more between them. She had seen the arguments between husband and wife, had heard the accusations regarding Sir Kuahel, and now wondered if Max was seeking comfort with Sejour. Miriam bared her teeth; over her dead body would that happen.  

Miriam smoothed her dress, giving herself a mental shake. There was no reason to believe that tonight would be anything short of perfect. He had demanded that he be her escort, right? He had declared that he would claim every single one of her dances, right?  

Let it go, Miriam, and be happy.   

She fussed one last time with her hair, placed her snowdrop in a pocket, and then ventured out to find Sejour.  

~~~~~~

As a noble, Sejour was used to attending banquets like these. He may not have necessarily liked them, but he was an expert at mingling and placing the proper words in the proper ears. All the better if the proper ears belonged to a pretty face. 

“But that,” Sejour mused to himself, “is in the past. The only whispering I want tonight is all the indecent things that I want to do to that woman.” He grinned to himself as he hurried towards the banquet hall and his belle femme (1).   

“Sir Sejour! What a lovely surprise!” 

Glancing towards the voice, Sejour saw Lady Calypse and one of her mage friends walking towards him. He politely responded, “Good evening, Lady Calypse.” Realizing that she had none of her usual guards, he concernedly asked, “What brings you here, My Lady? If you’re looking for Sir Riftan, he is staying...” Sejour stopped mid-sentence, belatedly realizing what she was wearing. 

Out of habit, he turned on his charm. “You are always lovely, but tonight you are simply breathtaking.” Really, it was only partial flattery; Lady Maximilian did look stunning in that dress. “Sir Riftan will throw an absolute fit.” 

Max looked slightly more reassured. “Thank you, Sir Sejour. You look quite dashing as well.” Sejour couldn’t help but preen a little at the compliment, playfully displaying his new cloak. Max’s friend cleared her throat and (too) loudly exclaimed, “Ah, Sir Sejour, you are always dashing but have clearly outdone yourself tonight! Are you perhaps on the way to the banquet?”  

Sensing a trap, Sejour took a small step backwards; he did have Miriam waiting, after all. “Indeed, I am off to enjoy a splendid evening.”  

Thanks, but no thanks.   

Either Max’s friend didn’t notice, or didn’t care. “Splendid! We were searching for a gallant gentleman such as yourself to escort my friend here!” That proclamation gave Sejour pause as he peered closer at a thoroughly embarrassed Max. She couldn’t possibly... 

“It pains me to admit, but she must attend alone tonight since the other mages, me included, must deal with an urgent matter.”     

Horseshit. Miriam would have informed me. What game is this?  

Lady Maximilian must be truly desperate if she was resorting to something like this. He looked again; Max was as red as a tomato and practically in tears. She pleaded, “I-I implore you to be my escort, just this once. I would be eternally grateful if you do.” Sejour regarded her plea, feeling his heart sink. Not only would he be risking Sir Riftan’s wrath, but he would also be hurting Miriam.  

Sejour would not knowingly place tears on his chéries face for all the beautiful women in the world. And yet, he didn’t want to further upset Lady Maximilian either. Who hadn’t seen firsthand the discord between her and Sir Riftan? Sir Sejour looked to the heavens and groaned, a lifetime of chivalry prompting him to accept her ridiculous request. “This had better not be some kind of prank.”  

Returning to his normal cheerful tone, Sejour continued, “Very well, My Lady. I shall endeavor to be the perfect escort this evening. Shall we?” Taking his pro-offered arm, Max smiled happily as they walked onward. Guilt consumed Sejour at the thought of Miriam. With luck, she would understand the situation and forgive him.  

A knight was supposed to be chivalrous, right? Tamping down his unease, Sejour continued as Max chattered.  

I am so sorry, my love.  

~~~~~~

Miriam waited for a full thirty minutes before she realized that Sejour wasn’t coming.  

Relax, Miriam. I’m sure he just got the time wrong. Perhaps he’s already at the banquet hall?  

Hurrying along the corridor, Miriam couldn’t help but overhear some not-so-silent conversation.  

“Did you see that gown? Lovely, but Lady Calypse...Sir Sejour...scandalous!” 

No. No, no, no! He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t just forget like that!  

Miriam quickened her pace and went through the doors. All daydreams of Sejour proudly walking arm in arm with her through the crowd of knights and nobles promptly vanished.  Hopes of Sejour gazing at her in pride and adoration were cruelly dashed to pieces.  

There he was. Charming, flirtatious, and handsome as always. Dancing in the middle of the thrice-damned ballroom with Lady fucking Calypse. It would have been laughable if she hadn’t been so heartbroken. And furious.  

Max was clearly flirting with Sejour, all wide-eyed innocence and hands where they shouldn’t belong. Her breasts were practically heaving against his chest, and that bastard had the gall to laugh at something she said.   

It was all a lie. He was only waiting for someone else, someone clearly better suited. How many times must I learn this lesson?  

She snatched a wine goblet from a passing tray and stalked off to a corner, making a poor attempt not to cry. 

~~~~~~

By her third goblet, Miriam was still seething in silent rage. By her fourth, numbness had taken over and her little corner had garnered attention.  

Large and imposing in the way only Northmen could be, two Baltonian knights had invaded her personal space.  

“Hello, kiska (1). What’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing all alone?” 

“Piss off.” 

“So rude for such a beauty!” 

“I warned you to leave me be!” 

A snarl curled Miriam’s lip as she gathered her mana. 

~~~~~~

It took perhaps two turns about the dance floor with Lady Calypse before Sir Sejour was finally able to extract himself. Due to the size of the crowd, it took even longer before he was able to spot Miriam, who was stealing unattended wine goblets and glaring in his general direction. By the time he was able to arrive at her corner, a small crowd had gathered.  

A very loud, very boisterous crowd, who seemed to be cheering on a beautiful woman who was currently singing incredibly off-key. 

FUCK YOU, I'M DRUNK!  

FUCK YOU, I’M DRUNK!  

AND I’M GOING TO STAY DRUNK TILL THE NEXT TIME I’M DRUNK!  

“What in the seven hells is this?! Chérie, what in God's name is going on?!” 

Miriam paused in her drunken singing and slurred out, “Well look who it is! The prodigal Commander returns!” One of the officers glared at Sejour, frostily commenting, “Is this the arsehole you spoke of earlier, kiska?”  

“Yes, Sir Maciej, that’s the arsehole.” Another officer glanced over and interjected, “We’ve heard much about you from our little kiska.” Sejour’s brain finally caught up. “Little...kitten? Miriam, please come away and let me explain.” 

Miriam smiled coldly as she polished off another goblet. “Sir Aren, please allow me to introduce you to these delightful gentlemen. This is Sir Maciej Dabrowski, and Sir Mateusz Ryba! Over there is Sir Piotr, and somewhere on that side is Sir Wojciech who was telling me all about this up-and-coming bard named Pushkin...” 

“Miriam, please...” 

“Although admittedly I don’t understand most of it. You see, we’ve had LOTS AND LOTS of time to get acquainted since my escort couldn’t be bothered to send a simple message! Imagine that! Gentlemen, what’s that called in your country?” 

“Niesamowicie niegrzeczny.” Sir Mateusz said (2).  

“Miriam, I swear, there’s a perfectly reasonable expla-” 

 Miriam interrupted Sejour’s plea. “No, I don’t think so. It was all very, very clear from where I stood. I could literally see you the entire time, dancing away with that...that...” 

“Luźna kobieta?” (3) Sir Maciej offered politely. Miriam waved her hand in dismissal. “No, that one doesn’t sound harsh enough.” “Kurwa!” Sir Mateusz exclaimed happily (4).  

“That’s it, that’s the one! That fucking kurwa!” 

Sejour wasn’t sure if he should be stunned or amused. He tried to plead again, “Miriam, please, I was simply doing a favor for a friend! Sweetheart, please, if you could just listen!” 

This was apparently the wrong thing to say.  

“Sweetheart? A FRIEND?!” Miriam continued to seethe, while Sirs Maciej and Mateusz wisely remained silent. “Do all your friends make moon eyes and have their breasts shoved in your face? While their husbands stare in silence?!” Miriam was making a full scene now, but that didn’t stop her.  

“She’s welcome to have you! I no longer wish to have any sort of acquaintance with you Sir Aren!” Fumbling in her pocket, she threw a handkerchief at Sejours feet. Sejour stood with his heart in his mouth as he vaguely heard her request Sir Mateusz for a dance. In shock, and with his whole world tumbling down, he gently picked up the kerchief and realized that it contained their snowdrop.   

What in the name of God and all that is Holy just happened? How could I have fucked up this badly in the span of less than an hour?!  

Sejour barely registered Sir Maciej slowly coming to stand by his side.  

“Kiska almost cried earlier. She does not seem the sort to do that.” 

Sir Sejour took a shaky breath as he gently fingered the snowdrop. Glaring at Sir Maciej, he practically growled, “Don’t ever presume to call that woman a little kitten again. She deserves far more respect.” 

“Respect that you were not willing to give?” 

“I-” 

“Sir Aren, was it? It seems that you are not deserving of the little kitten if you are able to play these games with other women.” 

Sejour tried to inhale, but his growing self-disgust refused to let him. He had hurt Miriam, badly, and there was no way to make it right. He should never have escorted Lady Calypse tonight. His own stupidity was to blame for every poor decision tonight.  

Sir Aren was about to finally reply to the Sir Maciej, but a sudden whiff of smoke stopped the thought. Glancing about, he quickly snuffed a small flame that had begun to burn through his new cloak. Whipping his head towards Miriam on the dancefloor, he didn’t fail to notice a smug look on her face.  

Sir Maciej loudly laughed as he slapped Sejour on the back and boomed, “The little kiska has claws! Try not to die so soon, yes?” Sejour wearily sighed in response.  

It seemed there was groveling in order. Lots and lots of groveling.