Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hilda sighed. She crossed her arms. She stared at the ceiling. She sighed again. She considered placing her head on the counter in front of her and going to sleep.

Claude poked his head out from the prep kitchen where he was preparing the pastries for the next morning.

“I’m happy to swap jobs if taking orders from all the customers getting coffee at midnight is tiring you out. Plenty of dough waiting to be rolled out back here.”

Hilda stuck her tongue out at him.

He winked and ducked back into the kitchen.

This really was the stupidest job ever. Her brother had pressured her into getting some kind of job in college. To learn “financial responsibility” and “work ethic.” 

The coffeeshop a two minute walk from her dorm was the logical choice thanks to the easy commute. She had said she was only available for night shifts when she applied so that she could avoid the nightmarish morning rush of droves of rabid caffeine-deprived college students. But night shifts were soooo boring. Unless it was exam season, the number of students pulling all-nighters was always low, and they all preferred the coffee place closer to the libraries.

The bell above the front door tinkled.

A girl with blue hair was now standing in front of the register, a dead look on her face, a sagging backpack hanging limply off her shoulder. The circles under her eyes were dark, so dark Hilda almost thought it was some kind of weird makeup choice at first. Her bun was one stiff breeze away from giving up on life.

The girl continued to stare, eyes apparently glued to the menu. But they weren’t moving… clearly not reading the menu…

“Um, I’d like a coffee please…”

“Well, we are a coffee shop. Just tell me what you want and I have to make it, y’know.”

The girl stared. 

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what I want…”

Hilda sighed. The girl looked like she was going to turn around and leave in shame. Normally Hilda would be happy to let it happen, less work for her. But the girl looked so… pathetic. Like a kicked puppy.

“I’ll just make you my favorite then. It’s impossible to not like it if you have good taste.” Claude thought it was an abomination. She hoped he was listening.

“O-oh… Thank you. Sorry to trouble you…”

Hilda huffed. “It’s literally my job. You’re hardly putting me out.”

Okay, for any other customer, she would be complaining. But she didn’t have to admit that. 

Hilda got to work.

The drink had raspberry and rose and espresso and cold foam and chocolate shavings. Hilda thought for a moment, and added her best attempt of an espresso art heart. The girl clearly needed some positive energy in her life right now.

Then she made herself one, because it was midnight and she still had two more hours of this and she got unlimited free drinks during her shifts.

She was about to hand the first one over, but a genius idea came to her.

“I need a name to put down on this.”

“Marianne…”

Hilda wrote it on the cup in cursive with a flourish.

Marianne stared at it. 

Hilda held up her identical cup.

“You won’t even taste the coffee. Chug away.”

Hilda demonstrated with a generous swig from her cup.

Marianne slowly mimicked her. Her eyes went wide.

“It’s good. Thank you, uh.”

Hilda pointed at her stupid name tag that Claude had made for her.

“Hilda. I’m stuck here every Tuesday and Thursday night.”

Marianne didn’t seem to know what to say to that. She just nodded, and hesitantly made her way to one of the tables. Out of the sagging backpack she pulled a pile of textbooks that ended up taller than she was, sitting all hunched over as she was.

Hilda squinted. Anatomy, chemistry, animal behavior, calculus… This girl clearly hated herself for choosing whatever major involved all of that .

She sat back down in her chair and went back to staring at the ceiling before it got weird.

Claude poked his head out.

“A name? Really? So you wouldn’t mix her drink up with the dozens of others?”

“Shut up.”

Chapter Text

Chloé held her fake spear with a delicate grip, placing her feet carefully in front of her, one by one, the spear helping her balance as she walked the tightrope. She was in full costume for today’s practice, in her white and black leotard with its blue ruffles and feathers, with matching blue eyeshadow and lipstick on top of ghostly white foundation to make her face stand out to the audience despite the distance there would be between them.

As she crossed the tightrope, she followed the musical cues of her routine to a tee, starting simple and moving on to flourishes and jumps and cartwheels and flips, sparring with an invisible foe, pretending to slip more than once only to catch herself dramatically at the last second.

It ended with her suspended from a single leg, the rope around her thigh the only thing keeping her aloft. Her spear jutted straight downwards, the spotlights moving (a second late, though!) to reflect the jewels embedded in it,  emphasizing the dazzling finish.

A single person’s clapping rang out. Chloé giggled. She hooked her spear on the tightrope so it would stay put, and then twisted her leg out of the rope, free-falling.

She landed safely in Merrin’s arms, of course, in a perfect princess carry.

Merrin was in her costume, too, waiting her turn to practice. Her costume was accented with fake fur, and her makeup highlighted her sharp features. It made her look right at home among her tigers and wolves.

“Careful now,” Merrin said coolly.

“I don’t need to be careful when I know you’re here! You would never miss a chance to rescue someone.”

Merrin’s cheeks flushed, visible beneath her makeup.

“Heh… you know me well, huh?”

Chloé sadly couldn’t stick around to watch Merrin practice. She was always so dashing and handsome when surrounded by her carnivores, her suave manor all the more impressive in front of the wildness of the beasts. The beasts, admittedly, were actually sweethearts, if a little excitable. Merrin had introduced her to them many times. But it was the appearance that counted for the audience!

Luckily, a few hours later, the whole cycle of rehearsals began again. She would see Merrin once more soon enough.

This time around, the tech crew didn’t fumble the finish. When the lone clapping came once more, Chloé dropped again.

However, this time, instead of a perfect catch, Chloé found herself with a face full of fake fur as they tumbled to the ground. Merrin still had it in her to brace Chloé’s fall, taking the brunt of the damage. Chloé pushed herself up on her elbows, frowning as she stared down at Merrin.

She put one painted fingernail on Merrin’s chin and tilted it upwards.

“Merrin? Are you okay?”

Merrin was frightfully pale under the makeup.

“I’m sorry, Chloé. I thought I could pull it off again. So embarrassing…”

Chloé sat back on her thighs, tugging Merring to sit up with her. She pulled Merrin into a hug.

“Don’t be silly, I’ve seen much worse falls around here. Especially from myself.”

She leaned in to whisper into Merrin’s ear.

“Your wolf accidentally bit you again, didn’t she? I won’t tell. Just let me bandage it up tonight, okay?”

Merrin smiled, that sparkling, bishie aura back in full force.

“It would be my honor to be tended to by you, Chloé.”

Chapter Text

Ivy stood at the far end of the training field, hand axe in, well, hand. She hefted it over one shoulder, slowly. She had already torn her dress more than once during this endeavor.

Across from her, Jade was in her casual clothes, a book held in front of her. It was a charming look, jade bare off her defensive armor, one Ivy saw and admired often around the Somniel. However, instead of a tome of humor, it was a tome of Thunder that she held. And she was gripping it unnecessarily hard with both hands, definitely bruising the leather of the cover. Good thing it was from the convoy, and not from Ivy’s personal collection.

Jade counted down from three, and the bout began anew.

Ivy stumbled forwards. The hand axe was throwable, technically. Her and Jade had both done a brief demonstration of how to use their respective weapons. She had seen Jade throw it plenty. But for her, it was a miracle that she hadn’t dropped the thing on her toes yet.

Jade allegedly had the advantage, given the more impressive range of Ivy’s Thunder spell, but she was unfamiliar with the tome.

Jade fumbled through the pages as Ivy approached. Jade had wanted to keep her armor on, but Ivy had refused on the grounds that it was unfair. It’s not like she was on her wyvern right now, not to mention the metal fingers of her gauntlets would do her no favors in gripping the fragile pages to turn them.

Ivy was going to be faster this time around, she could feel it. The distance between them closed.

She took one last step and swung, putting her entire body weight into the blow.

Jade blinked, armorless, vulnerable to her very own axe!

And then the axe missed Jade completely and tore right through the book in her hands instead. The papers, torn in half, drifted to the ground. Ivy was off-balance, the axe dragging her in its wake through open air, no more resistance to slow its arc. She tumbled forwards. Strong hands caught her by the shoulders even as the axe fell from her aching fingers, mercifully missing both of their toes.

“Thank you.”

“You almost had me.” Jade told her stoically.

Ivy smiled weakly. “I think my arms are going to fall off if we keep going, I’m sorry to say. Holding a weapon is much easier when I have Lyn at my side.”

Jade patted her on the back. “You’ve been a great help. I’ve gathered plenty of material to work with for this scene.”

“As long as you remember your promise to make the character based off me be graceful in other parts of the book.”

“I always present my characters fairly. Without respect for the characters, it wouldn’t be comedy, it would just be bullying. A character based on you has to be beautiful and charming, cold with a tantalizingly  good heart underneath.”

Ivy didn’t let herself blush at the praise.“That’s something I always appreciated about your works. The humor was undeniably cheesy, but always in good taste. Hortensia loved them, but I could never bring myself to tell her I liked them too.”

“I understand. Image is important. I don’t go around advertising my hobby to just anyone. So thank you for agreeing to assist me.”

“It’s been my pleasure. But for our next date, we’re doing something much less physical, alright?”

Jade saluted, and then crouched down to gather the scattered paper. It would be rather rude to leave litter around the Somniel, wouldn’t it?

Ivy bent down to help, and then noticed something.

“Jade… were you holding the book upside down this entire time?”

Jade frowned. “I know how books work.”

“Evidently not.” Ivy held up the evidence: the fallen cover of her tome, the position of the thumbprints making her words undeniable, and smirked.

Chapter Text

Robin stared at Tharja.

The woman was standing in front of her, silent, staring back at her through dark eyes, just as she had been for the last ten minutes.

This wasn’t that unusual of a situation to be in these days, to be honest. At the very least, Robin much preferred seeing her face. Tharja had been… weird at first, to put it politely, but Robin knew now that she was simply poorly socialized. She had seen her, in her own way, try to help out other Shepherds like Nowi and Lon'qu. Through dubious magical means of course, but what other means did Tharja have?

Her fumbling attempts at showing affection and building friendships were rather cute.

What she was up to now, Robin wasn’t sure.

“Did you need something?”

If Tharja was merely in the mood to brood and observe, she would be doing it from a distance.

“Yes.”

Robin waited.

“What I desire… Robin, the situations you find yourself in… Whether on the battlefield or off it, I desire to be by your side in all of them. I have realized that to become closer to you I cannot simply observe. I must experience what you experience. I must take action. I wish for us to be linked together, to share an unbreakable connection.”

It was the most Robin had ever heard her speak at once.

A marriage proposal? Without even dating first? I mean, I did ask her to take care of me…

Robin smiled. “Tharja, I’d be honored. I-”

Dark magic spawned into the space between them the moment the agreement was out of her mouth. It twisted itself into a long, black tendril. One end wound itself around Tharja’s right wrist, the other around Robin’s left.

“There. Now we will be inseparable.”

Robin lifted up her arm to stare at her wrist. Tharja’s arm was dragged upwards alongside it.

“Oh. Is this hex a creation of yours?”

Tharja smiled at her, unblinking.

“Indeed. A mutual curse, rather than a single-target one. It doesn’t have to be consensual, but if it wasn’t there would instead be pain involved. This rendition lasts a mere 24 hours, but I can easily recast it, worry not.”

Robin’s brain shorted out a little at the thought of that in a, ahem, different context.

They were interrupted by the ringing of the dinner bell, courtesy of Frederick.

Robin found herself seated on a bench at one of the wooden tables with Tharja right beside her, pressed to her side, her chin propped up on her free hand as she watched Robin. Her own food was untouched, the woman content to watch Robin and her one-handed food eating endeavors.

She was technically ambidextrous, using her tomes in her left hand and her sword in her right, but because of that she much preferred her right hand to hold the knife and do the cutting instead of doing any kind of plate-to-mouth funneling.

The mashed potatoes fell from her spoon for the third time.

“Robin… allow me.”

Tharja abandoned her pose and tugged the spoon from Robin’s fingers. She dipped it into the mashed potatoes and brought it up to Robin’s mouth.

“Now… beg.”

“Pretty please?” Robin tried, cheeks flushing. The other Shepherds had taken one look at them earlier and chosen tables far, far away. They were now all staunchly pretending to be blind and also deaf.

Tharja smiled her evil smile and slid the spoon between Robin’s lips.

With meals figured out, next up was sleeping.

Tharja wanted to stay sitting up so she could have a good angle to watch as Robin fell asleep. Robin wanted to be comfortable. And so they settled on Robin’s head in Tharja’s lap, their connected hands resting on Robin’s chest, Tharja half-embracing her.

The next morning, it was time to get ready for a skirmish with the Risen. It was a good thing neither of them wore armor. Robin had been forced to sleep in her coat, so at least that wasn’t an issue. They did have to take turns doing each other’s hair, though.

The battlefield was another matter.

“We can share my tome.” offered Tharja, since they found no comfortable angle that would allow their shared hands to hold Robin’s without risk of soreness or dropping the thing.

“Right.” said Robin. “If you see me going to draw my sword…”

“I left your sword hand free on purpose.”

“But the holster is on the other side. So if I draw it…”

“It would be no ill fate to be cut by your blade. There are many hexes that make use of the blood of a caster such as I…”

“I’d rather leave that kind of thing as a last resort. I don’t want to see you bleed if I can help it. Tell you what, I have the perfect strategy prepared for this.”

Robin intertwined her fingers with Tharja’s and pressed their palms together. The band of dark magic hummed around her wrist.

“This way, I can just move your arm when I need to. And it will make moving in sync easier.”

It definitely wasn’t just so she could hold hands with her.

Objectively, tactically, they really couldn’t do this forever. But Robin could admit she would kind of miss the curse once it wore off.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” Ivy pinched her nose. 

She was standing at the door to her room, dressed in her sleeping gown and cap. Timerra stood before her, hair down, wearing characteristically gaudy pajamas, a loose pair of pants and an oversized shirt. She even had a pillow tucked under her arm, a cheery yellow fabric matching the beaming woman carrying it.

“Well, I still owe you a weakness don’t I? And I looked into this. I know what happens at slumber parties. We’re going to braid each other's hair, share secrets in the dark of the night, talk about boys…” Timerra winked.

Ivy wrinkled her nose.

“Kidding! Come on, I took you camping, so it’s only fair that you have to reciprocate. In the name of diplomacy.”

“Ah, you’re right. If word got out that I didn’t invite you to a slumber party, it would be quite the scandal. The heartless Princess Ivy turns away the princess of Solm, cruelly leaving her to the elements.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Timerra said sagely. “Now let me in!”

Ivy acquiesced, stepping aside.

Timerra hummed as she stepped into Ivy’s chambers, those cunning eyes of her eyes immediately scanning everything there was to see as Ivy closed the door behind her.

It was rather bare, which Ivy thought was fair given the circumstances. Timerra commented on it, of course.

“Chalk it up to another one of our differences. I have no interest in collecting enough clutter that I then resort to selling it.”

It came out sharper than she meant.

“Pardon my words.” she said stiffly, trying to think of how to apologize.

“I know what you mean. But think of it like this; it keeps me talking to people. And when people talk to you regularly, see you out there running a booth regularly, they trust you, and then you learn things.”

Timerra plopped down onto Ivy’s bed, feet kicking up as she flopped her back onto the mattress and looked up at the ceiling.

“Wanna know a secret, though?”

Ivy edged closer.

“At the end of the day, I really do just like collecting stuff. I treasure every object, not because it’s all actually valuable or nets me some political gain, but because I enjoy the memories, the stories around them. Everything else is just a bonus. Every teddy bear came from somewhere. What’s the point of inheriting a big old castle if I can’t fill it with things I like?”

Ivy sat down beside her.

“I must admit, that does seem like a respectable reason. I have a few knick-knacks that I keep around for a similar reason.”

Perhaps showing Timmera a bit of herself would suffice for an apology.

She pointed to the front of the bed, where there was a misshapen pink pouch. It had a lopsided, five-petaled flower clumsily embroidered on the front. It was meant to be a pillow, but it was small enough to fit in one’s palm.

“It was the first thing Hortensia ever sewed together. She was over the moon when she finished, and insisted I should have it as a gift. If she saw it now, I’m sure she’d beg me to get rid of it. Not ‘cute’ enough to be associated with her.”

Timerra reached out and picked it up gently.

“That’s exactly what I mean by memories. Do you have so few possessions because you have so few happy memories?”

Ivy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe I’m just not overly sentimental. I’m honestly not sure. Perhaps the former caused the latter.”

“Heh, you’ve exposed four weaknesses just now. You’re weak to Hortensia.” Timerra held up her free hand and counted off. “You’re weak to being happy. You had a weird childhood.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “And the fourth?”

Timerra threw the sack at her, hitting her square in the chest. It plopped gently into her lap. Before Ivy could react, Timerra was standing on the bed, her yellow pillow raised to strike once more. Ivy knew she was forgiven, if Timerra had ever been truly offended at all.

“A weakness to a surprise attack! Pillow fights are mandatory at slumber parties!”

All she could do was reach for a pillow of her own to defend herself with.

Chapter Text

Hilda groaned and flopped onto the couch. It was large, and soft, and situated right in the middle of the living room. The ideal place to plop down after a long day.

It was right after five: the benefits of an apartment right above your workplace could not be overstated. It was a little harder for Marianne, since she split her time between working at her father’s political whats-it and helping Hilda with the business side of the small accessory shop that was downstairs.

Today was one of the days where Marianne had to catch the train to get to her father’s office, so on top of having to handle customers by herself today, the apartment was empty, and would be until well after 6 pm when Marianne finally made it back. Technically, that made it Hilda’s day to produce dinner.

But the sofa was so comfortable… she could get up after just thirty minutes more… and there had been one customer in particular today who was just too rude for words. Some people didn’t like that custom orders cost more, and would try to ask for changes to be made to the on the shelf items. Resizing was IT!

She should really hire a part-timer just to yell at people. Daydreaming about getting to sic someone annoying like Caspar at customers without taking the blame, she soon dozed off.

“Hilda… I’m home.” Someone shook her shoulder gently.

Hilda jerked away, definitely not wiping any drool off her face.

“Welcome back!” 

Marianne was still in her fancy office clothes, long pencil skirt and white collared shirt and ironed blazer. Her bun was sagging now, though, evidence of a harrying day at work. Ah, shit, she was supposed to have dinner ready by now.

Marianne gave a weak smile at Hilda’s antics. “Another post-work nap?”

“Naps are important! It’s a scientific fact. Proven by many, uh, nap scientists. It’s important for my beauty sleep.”

“Yes… esteemed scholars like Linhardt would agree…”

“Hey! Your beautiful girlfriend is gonna make dinner, you shouldn’t bully her!”

She would never admit it, but it always made her happy when Marianne was mean-spirited enough to laugh at her. She would never feel comfortable enough to do that to her adoptive father, or to any customers.

Hilda glanced at the ornate clock on the wall that had been an apartment-warming gift from her brother when she moved out. Because she “would just laze around without something to remind her of the time.” It was well past seven.

She stood up to press a kiss to Marianne’s cheek, absent-minded. And then she had to grab her by the lapel of her blazer when she almost fell over from Hilda pressing into her.

“You forgot to take your heels off.”

Marianne looked down and blinked.

“Ah, sorry. I’m tracking the mess in, aren’t I?”

Hilda hustled her back to the entryway and let her balance on her while she pulled her shoes off. Ah, shit, she had been at the big conference today, hadn't she? That’s why she was back so late. She was going to be all ready to welcome her back with a warm dinner and a warmed up bath, but it was a little late for all that, wasn’t it?

“Don’t worry about it, chores are for the weekend.” Hilda grabbed her by the shoulders and practically threw her into the bathroom. “Go take your bath. Use one of the bath bombs. And stay in for at least thirty minutes!”

Marianne was too tired to protest.

Hilda scoured the kitchen for an acceptable meal. They were both busy, and Hilda was often less than motivated, and Marianne was often too low on energy to cook, so the good news was there was plenty of food for situations like this. She still wanted to make up for the whole forgetting the major stressful event thing, so she pulled out the teapot.

She considered the fancy tea set that had been yet another apartment-warming gift, this one from Lorenz. Too high-class for a Wednesday night, she decided. She opted for the pair of cups and saucers that she and Marianne had painted together on a date night at a ceramics shop. Something about handmade dishware with good memories associated with it was supposed to make mealtime feel more special, compared to paper plates, and thus be more inspiring to keep meals regular, or something. Marianne’s therapist had recommended it and it was a cute idea, so they had done it.

By the time Marianne emerged from the bath, smelling like roses and wrapped in Hilda’s favorite fluffy pink bathrobe, their little dining table was ready with sandwiches and hot floral tea.

Hilda pulled out the chair for Marianne with a flourish and a bow, eliciting a snort.

“Sorry, uh, about today. I hope your conference wasn’t terrible.”

Marianne picked up one of the crustless sandwiches to nibble on. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it… My father kept me behind afterwards to lecture me on what I could’ve done better. He was right… I wasn’t prepared enough…” She sighed, abandoning the sandwich in favor of the tea.

“Psh, that guy’s just never happy with anything! Much like my customers today… you won’t believe what this one lady said to me!”

Hilda sent Marianne straight to bed after dinner, and then she actually cleaned the dishes and swept the floor between the entryway and the living room, because she wasn’t immune to the gnawing guilt of being a bad girlfriend, even as opposed to chores as she was. The fact that Marianne rarely complained, no matter how messy the apartment got, just made it worse. The therapist had recommended doing chores together, since it was hard for Marianne to do them when they were framed as “only for her” with no one to “let down,” as opposed to in college when the dorm leader assigned tasks for the sake of the whole dorm’s cleanliness, but they rarely had the same days off.

Sure, Hilda made her own schedule, but she was trying to do the whole financially independent thing here, which meant staying open on weekends, because weekends were when the average office worker looking for cute gifts for themselves or their girlfriends had off.

Whatever. She flipped all the lights off, stripped her clothes away and threw them into the hamper, shoved on a loose pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and then crawled into bed beside Marianne.

Marianne shifted, barely conscious, as Hilda wrapped herself around her like a horrible pink octopus. Tomorrow would be another day, even if this one had sucked. She snuggled her face into Marianne’s neck. It was worth it, she reminded herself, to get to come home to this, instead of to her stinky brother and a house that she had no say in.

Chapter Text

Panette peered into the pond and frowned, tugging at one strand of her fiery hair. Long hair was of course the style that was “in” for noble ladies, for the graceful look it gave. However, her hair was becoming rather unruly. The time to wrestle it back into what was appropriate for fine society was approaching.

“Is there a fish you’ve taken a particular disliking to in there?” A dry voice interrupted her musings. She snapped to attention, back straightening. It was Princess Ivy, a perfect example of a noble lady with that striking long-haired refined look.

“Your Highness, I apologize for my sour face. I simply realized my appearance is a little lacking as of late.”

Ivy tilted her head. “You look as dashing as you ever do.”

Panette blushed a little, at such high praise coming from one such as Ivy.

“You’re too kind. You see, my hair…” She gestured at the offending pieces. Ivy raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, of course, I see now. It’s simply so out of hand you have no choice but to shave it all off, hm?”

Panette gasped. “I would never!”

“Oh? Perhaps something more like Pandreo’s then?”

“Now you’re just being cruel. I ought to clobber you for that.”

Ivy waved a hand. “Alright, alright, jokes aside, I’m afraid I still don’t quite see what the problem is.”

“It’s time for a trim, that’s all. I couldn’t bear it if I were to bring shame to Princess Timerra or the Divine Dragon because of my sloppy appearance.”

“Ah, I see. I know your composure means quite a lot to you.”

“Precisely. And since we’re friends, I say this meaning to perhaps purposefully cause offense to you: You may want to consider the same.”

Ivy blinked, and came to stand beside her, looking down at her own appearance as it was reflected in the water.

“You have a point… my choice of accessories and the winds while wyvern riding certainly aren’t kind to hair. But I have always dreaded haircuts…”

“Whyever so? Are there no court stylists for you to enlist?”

“That’s exactly the problem. In Elusia, enlisting one of them would be paramount to political suicide. Showing weakness by looking too messy, giving a possible enemy an excuse to stand close to my neck with sharp objects? Not a wise decision. Usually Hortensia or Zelkov can manage what I need completed.”

Panette bit her tongue, but well, she had already come so far. “Those are very unique choices for the position of stylist…”

Ivy sighed. “Indeed. Better than nothing, and better than some court snake, though certainly risky in their own way. Nothing they’ve ever done is worse than what my own styling and a hat can cover up, thankfully.”

“If you are willing to trust me with a sharp object near your person, perhaps I could be of assistance. I’ve been cutting my own hair since long before I met Princess Timerra. There weren’t many barbers roaming the desert.”

Ivy considered her. “As long as it can be done in my chambers and not in a sandstorm.”

And that was how Panette came to be standing behind a seated Ivy in her room, a cloak draped around Ivy’s shoulders to keep the victims of Panette’s scissors off her clothes.

“Is there anything in particular you would like done?”

“How it usually looks should suffice. Just take off the dead ends and tidy any burnt bits up.”

Panette considered.

“Would you mind terribly if I washed your hair first? I find wet hair to be easier to cut.”

Ivy agreed after only a moment's hesitation. Panette deposited Ivy’s chair in front of a wash basin, hooked up to the mysterious water system that the Somniel ran on.

She made sure the water was a suitably warm temperature so as to not shock Princess Ivy before tugging gently to signal to Ivy to lower her head. 

Panette ran her hands through her hair gently, teasing out any tangles. The Princess shivered.

“Too cold?”

“No, no, keep going…”

Panette reached for Ivy’s shampoo next. She was thorough as she distributed it, taking special care to massage Ivy’s scalp. Being the closest to the skin, the hair up there tended to get the worst of the oils and dandruff produced. Not to mention she was sure that Ivy had much going on in her life that would be headache-inducing.

“Oh!” Ivy made a startled noise as Panette pressed her thumbs into her temples.

“I’m not being rough, am I?” She usually performed the same steps on herself when tending to her own hair, though her pain tolerance was bound to be higher than Princess Ivy’s was.

“You’re doing nothing wrong,” Ivy’s voice was a bit strained, likely due to the angle of her neck.

“I’m almost done,” Panette assured her. She suspected Ivy’s hair would take better to a leave-in conditioner applied after drying, so after washing out the shampoo she moved Ivy away from the basin and brandished her scissors.

She moved Princess Ivy’s head around carefully, using the lightest of touches to guide it to the necessary angle for the trims. Snip, snip . Soon, all that was left were the pieces that gramed her face and her bangs.

She moved to the front of Princess Ivy and bent down, leaning in so that she could judge the length right.

Princess Ivy’s face was red, a scant few inches from her. Perhaps she found the ambient temperature of the room too warm? She was from Elusia, after all.

When she judged the job to be complete, she pulled away. Ivy let out a long breath, springing to her feet and moving to the mirror, lighting up a fire spell to speed up drying her hair.

“Was the experience not up to par with your expectations?” Princess Ivy hadn’t said a word since the hair washing.

“To the contrary, you performed admirably. I’m afraid it is my own failings that have me a bit on edge.”

Panette approached with the hair brush, holding it out hesitantly. The Princess snatched it from her.

“I usually keep a distance between myself and others. It was… more overwhelming than I anticipated to have one such as yourself so close.”

“Apologies for offending you yet again, Your Highness.”

Ivy turned to her.

“No, no, you were perfect, Panette. I just found it, well, to feel a bit intimate. Not in a bad way. It was… nice.”

She bit her lip, and then handed the hair brush back to her.

“In fact, I would find it quite acceptable if you did me the honors of finishing the job.”

Chapter Text

Noire felt like she was going to throw up. The sick feeling in her gut was comparable to a curse. There were two more hours until everything began for real. They had practiced this so many times, but this was the real deal. They only had one chance at this. She went over the plan in her head. Severa was going down the aisle first, flanked by both of her parents. Noire was up next, with just her father. The Shepherds, including the freaking ruler of the country, were all going to be in attendance, watching their every move.

And oh, there was so much she could mess up. When Severa had proposed, she had spilled the entire bottle of wine Severa had provided, and accidentally shredded all the roses to boot. Severa was used to it, and had smirked triumphantly as she pulled out a second bottle of wine, stain remover and a rag, and then a backup bouquet.

The planning had gone alright, especially after Severa put her foot down on arranging the whole thing alone.

“I’m marrying YOU. I want YOUR opinions to contribute. I can admit it isn’t all about me for once. I want you to have the wedding you always dreamed of, too. So like it or not, you WILL be coming with me to talk to the florist and the designer!”

Severa had insisted that Noire not see her wedding dress, though Noire had made Severa help her pick out hers. Severa had even tailored it for Noire herself. Noire loved the long train and her veil, but she was worried she’d trip over it…

She wished she could see Severa. She knew it was bad luck for either of them to see each other on the day of the wedding in their dresses. Two brides meant twice the chances for things to go twice as wrong. Superstition wasn’t something she took lightly with a dark mage for a mother.

Still, it would sure help her feel better.

She was just sitting here alone, waiting.

“Hey!” A harsh whisper broke her solitude. “It’s me! I just knew you’d be in here crying like a baby all alone, so I came to comfort you like the awesome fiancée that I am.”

Noire jumped and looked around, then stopped herself and threw her hands over her eyes. “Severa! You can’t!”

“I’m just outside! I’ve got a blindfold on. Cover your eyes and promise to keep them like that, and I can come in just fine. It’s not like we’re banned from talking. We just can’t look at each other in the dresses.”

Oh. That… was a good loophole.

Noire obeyed and then called out. “Okay, you can come in now.”

Her heart was thumping even though she couldn’t see anything, but she would know those footsteps anywhere.

“I’m going to hold your hand until you’re done crying. And then I’m going to hug you until you feel better. Then I’m gonna go back to my side and then we’re gonna have the best wedding ever. I wouldn’t let it go any other way, you hear?”

Noire smiled as she reached out and found Severa’s hand, with its familiar calluses and the smooth chill of her painted nails.

“I hear you.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t easy growing up with Cordelia, famous flying-type Elite 4 member, as your mother. It was even worse when she for some reason had you grow up in the same town as the kids of all her Elite 4 and gym leader buddies. And the kids were all only a few years apart. Who did that? It couldn’t have been an accident, right? Was it planned? Coordinating birth dates with her pals to alternate maternity leaves and cover for each other during battles?

Their humble little town was home not only to Severa, daughter of Elite 4 member Cordelia, but also to the children of the rest of the Elite 4… the kids of Frederick, Lissa, and Sumia… and a handful of gym leader’s kids too, and the freaking kid of the Champion Duo: Lucina. 

The town was like an endless buffet for bored reporters. Gossip coming from the going-ons in town was endless. Every little misstep or accomplishment was huge news for the future of the competitive training scene of the region. The one time she had gotten a C in school, the papers hadn’t shut up about it for weeks. The only saving grace was that all the other kids got the same treatment she did when it came to the media, Lucina especially, given the whole two parents who were both the standing Champions thing.

Severa knew the only thing she could do to shut them up was to do her best to blaze a path across the region that outshone everyone else’s. Easier said than done. She couldn’t take more than two steps without a comment about her mom. It got even worse when she realized she had more in common with her mom than she had initially thought: she was also a woman… When she transitioned, the resemblance only grew stronger. Stupid genetic red hair.

The crazy thing, though, was that once again she didn’t go through the media frenzy alone. Lucina transitioned around the same time she did. And damn, did she make it look easy. She wasn’t even into makeup or fashion in the painstaking way Severa was, and yet! Her grace and composure, presumably inherited from her dual Champion parents, lent to people taking her seriously and respectfully, in a way Severa envied.

She was also, of course, a natural when it came to battling. Chrom and Robin must’ve raised her with Pokédex factoids instead of storybooks or something, because she was always one step ahead of the rest of the class when it came to type charts, battle strategies, movesets…

Severa knew without a doubt that Lucina was going to be the trainer to beat when it came to her generation’s challenge to the League. So it was only a matter of course that Severa would declare herself as Lucina’s rival.

On the day they graduated from Trainer School, she stood outside the old school building where they had spent so much of their youth, and challenged Lucina to their first real battle.

They stood across from each other, the wind blowing across the field dramatically, rustling the grass and both of their hair. It was the perfect place to begin the greatest rivalry the region was ever going to see.

Severa had come prepared.

“I won’t go easy on you, princess.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. If I’m to become Champion, I need to be able to take anything anyone throws at me.”

Severa sent out her starter, a lovely little vulpix. Her mom had almost given her a Galarian ponyta, but Severa had flipped and drawn the line at getting the same starter her mother had started with, even if it wasn’t the ace she was known for in the present day.

Lucina had been carrying around an egg for all of senior year, so Severa knew exactly what she was up against.

“It’s up to you, partner.” 

Lucina calmly released her own starter, a tiny blue dog on two legs that immediately yipped back at its trainer. Nowhere near as cute or composed as Severa’s starter. The little riolu bounced on its heels. It was probably the thing’s first ever combat experience, and it was going to be a short one.

“Vulpix, you know what to do!” They had been over this.

“Riolu, defend yourself.”

Her little vulpix unfurled her tails and shook her fur. She opened her mouth, a tiny spark of flame forming. Heh, Lucina would probably think it was merely an ember.

The ball of fire, rather than shooting out, swirled out in a spiral, controlled by a little of vulpix’s latent ghostly powers. It wasn’t an ember, but a move Severa had gone out and bought a TM for, a move no normal vulpix at this level would know: Will-o-Wisp. It would totally ruin the riolu’s hopes of hurting her once it hit and halved the thing’s already pathetic attack stat!

The riolu grunted as it saw the wisp coming, and raised its little paws. An unnatural light glinted in its eyes, and moments before the Will-o-Wisp connected, it flipped into the air and deftly avoided it. It couldn’t be…. Detect?!? An egg move?!?

Her plan in ruins, Lucina proceeded to wipe the floor with Severa.

The pattern continued as they both journeyed through the region and collected their badges. Lucina always seemed to be one step ahead of her, and she always ended up dragged into tougher and tougher fights, against an evil team that had dark plans for the region. Lucina’s heroic spirit wouldn’t let her leave anything of the sort alone, and soon she tore through the evil team’s plans with her lucario at her side, blasting Aura Spheres around like nobody’s business.

Severa wasn’t a fan of obnoxious criminals either, and she often found herself fighting alongside Lucina. She always challenged her to a proper rival match afterwards, of course.

Things stayed like that, until they didn’t. It was the night after Severa’s match with the eighth gym leader, the final badge she needed. She… had lost.

Humiliating. Lucina’s appointment with the leader wasn’t until tomorrow. This had been her chance to finally one-up her, and she freaking blew it. Her mother had had a perfect win record on her way to the top. Not a single loss against gym leaders, against any of the other trainers in her crowning Pokémon League tournament, not even a loss against the Elite 4 as she swept through them after her win at the League won her the right to challenge them.

She retreated to her room back at the Pokémon Center. Her ninetales was going to be recovering for a while, so she released her guilty pleasure catch, her little skitty, and cuddled her in her lap and played with her to take the edge off. It didn’t really help, but.

A knock came on her door.

She jerked it open, ready to shout the head off whoever had dared interrupt what was definitely not a sulk-fest.

It… was Lucina.

“I saw your match.” She told her.

Severa sneered. “Here to rub it in, then?”

“Of course not! Severa, how many times have we fought alongside each other now?”

“I don’t keep count.” That was a lie, but she didn’t have to admit to anything.

“I came to tell you I thought you did well. Luck just wasn’t on your side.”

“Luck, or fate? Sometimes I think I’m cursed to never be as good as my mom is.” It just slipped out. Okay, maybe they had more of a rapport than she wanted to admit.

“There’s no such thing as a fate that can’t be changed.” Lucina said firmly. Behind her, her absol nodded seriously. “I know just how hard you work Severa. I’ve learned so much from you as my rival. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t let this be what makes you give up.”

“And what if it did? You can find other strong trainers to be your rival.” There was the whole generation from their whole town, Inigo and Owain and Laurent and even Cynthia…

Lucina stepped forwards and grabbed the door from Severa, closing it behind her.

“Severa, no one could replace you. I wouldn’t want them to. I know we’re both going to make it through the League and theElite 4 someday. If I do end up Champion, I would want you right there with me in my Elite 4 as my vanguard.” 

Lucina’s cheeks were dusted with pink. Severa blinked. Wait…

“So you’re saying you want me by your side in the foreseeable future? Through thick and thin? For better or for worse? In sickness and in health?”

Lucina was properly blushing now. “I… I suppose you could say it like that.” 

Her absol knocked into her then, and Lucina stumbled forward, right into Severa’s arms.

“Heh, you’ve already fallen for me, huh? Then, don’t mind if I do.” She leant in for a kiss. Losing a match didn’t seem quite so bad now if it had won her a girlfriend!

Chapter Text

“Lady Corrin, you may exit now.”

The screen door slid open, and out stepped one of the most beautiful sights Kaze had ever seen. Lady Corrin was dressed in a floral yukata, purple and white, the flowers dancing across the robe like they were falling through the sky. Her hair was done up in a simple bun, loose strands framing her face.

She smiled at his speechlessness, and stepped closer. 

“M-my Lady…”

“Kaze, it’s okay. We’re alone now. That’s the whole point of this retreat, right?”

She was right. He still found it painfully improper for him to be involved with a princess, but he couldn’t stop how he felt about her, not when she felt whole-heartedly the same way. She insisted that she wouldn’t sacrifice their happiness for the sake of something like “properness”, so they had compromised with a relationship that only existed behind closed doors.

The cover story for this little trip of theirs was that Princess Corrin had fallen ill and needed to recuperate, naturally taking one of her trusted retainers along with her. And of course the location couldnt be disclosed to many in case any with ill-intent sought to attack the Princess during her bout of “illness.” 

In truth, Kaze had wanted desperately to take her on a trip for their anniversary. Despite her birth in Hoshido, she had never had the chance to experience some of the luxuries of the country. So he had arranged for this trip, to take her to a private ryokan, rented out for just the two of them.

He leaned forward and took her hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“You’re right. I was just mesmerized by your beauty.”

“Aren’t you always?” She teased. “I could say the same for you. Though the view of your chest isn’t anything that exciting, considering your usual outfit.”

She reached out and stroked his cheek, her other hand poking at the v of his yukata playfully. Her eyes ran over his outfit, the green-striped yukata he hadn’t had the chance to wear in many years. Her lips met his, soft and sweet.

He pulled away. There would be time for that later. What he wanted to do most now was spoil his princess. He wanted to escort her through the garden. He wanted her to let him feed her the dinner he had prepared from his own chopsticks, to give her a massage in the onsen with her back pressed against him.

“Shall we go?” 

He held out an elbow that Corrin happily took. She peered around curiously. Leisure had been far and few for her between her childhood and the war, but now that things had settled, she could enjoy it fully. 

She was barefoot, of course, flinching not one bit as they stepped outside. He supposed if she could fight a war like that she could enjoy a stroll through a well-tended garden like that. Just another one of the quirks that made her so unique in her special, silly and endearing way.

Warmth overflowed in his heart. This vacation had hardly begun, yet he might just perish any moment now.

“It’s so peaceful here. I can feel my worries melting away.” The Zen garden was small but carefully curated, thought put into every placement of stone and pond and tree. The koi in the pond were even graceful, their fins trailing behind them in the clear, cool water.

Corrin smiled down at them, a little sad. “Heh, they remind me of Lilith. We should visit her soon.”

“I’d be delighted to escort you to her. She has a gentle spirit, much like your own.”

Corrin suddenly broke away from him, striding ahead of him then twirling to face him, yukata twisting with her through the crisp air and settling back gracefully around Corrin’s form.

“I want this to be happy memories only. So you better work had. I’ll race you over to the onsen.”

“Corrin! It would be-”

“Don’t you dare say improper!”

“In that case, I must warn you to prepare to lose. My ninja skills are far more suited to this than yours are. I will of course offer you comfort when you lose.”

Her laughter tinkled out like bells as they took off, and he knew he would treasure the sound for as long as he lived.

Chapter Text

“Morgan. You’re not busy doing anything important at the moment, right, dear brother?”

That tone on Severa could only mean one thing: trouble.

He glanced over to the entrance of his tent nervously. Severa had on thick mitts, and nestled in her hands was some sort of pie. Was she still mad about his cooking comments? 

He could admit, he had gone a bit far when telling her her food didn’t taste like she loved him. But with his missing memories, scattered as they were, he had to selfishly admit he had been hoping that the food would stir memories of, well, something. Or at least taste like she cared. The fact that she put in effort a bit of goading didn’t mean anything, she was just too easy to goad. The effort wasn’t the real test. Instead, her food had just tasted like food. He may have taken out his frustrations about it out on her, just a little.

“It’s not full of chili powder, is it?”

Severa huffed. “No. In fact, I decided to take your advice to heart.”

“You… did?”

“Yes.” That sickly sweet voice again. “So you better taste test this for me and tell me that it’s the most delicious pie you’ve ever had in your life.”

Well, if this was the only way she wanted to spend time with him…

He tried it. It… well… let’s just say his review ended in Severa throwing the thing onto the floor.

She showed up again a day later. This time it wasn’t dessert at all, but three entire roasted chickens on a single skewer.

After that, it was shepherd’s pie. Burgers. Protein shakes. Porridge. Then she was back on desserts, ridiculous cookies and tarts and even a try at macarons.

She never said more than a few sentences to him, all scathing remarks and huffing about him not approving of her food.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Severa… you know you can talk to me about anything, right? You don’t have to keep feeding me. You can tell your brother what’s wrong. I won’t get mad. Family is stuck together forever, remember?”

“Is it so hard to believe I just value your feedback?”

“Um…”

Severa sighed. “Okay, fine. All those recipes… Well, some were what Cordelia used to make. I didn’t want to say anything so you wouldn’t feel bad if you didn’t know what I was doing. Not all memories from the past are good ones, but the meals we all had together… I think you would be happy if you could remember them.”

Morgan blinked. “Sis… I knew you had a heart!” He pulled her into a hug. “But, hold on. Are those really all recipes mom made?”

Severa coughed. “You think I would lie to my precious little brother?!?”

He hugged her tighter, but nodded. “I know how you get about things you’re sensitive about…”

“Fine. They were all recipes from her cookbook. But some of them I didn’t make just for you. I was… wanting to use them to woo someone. But if you couldn’t taste the love at all, then it would’ve just been useless.”

“You wanted to woo someone with… protein shakes? And hunks of chicken?”

“There were cookies in there too!”

Right, the cookies. Wait. The cookies had been shaped kind of funny… they had come out long and burnt due to their thin shape. Had they been… lances? Lances and protein?

“You’re wooing… Kjelle?”

“SHUT UP! You’re obviously wrong. I take it all back. You’re the worst sibling ever! Say a word to her and you’re dead, I don't care if it makes me an only child! Dead, you hear me?!?”

Chapter Text

Hilda had freaking HAD IT with the annoying guys in Marianne’s advanced biochemistry class. They had the stink of frat bros on them, presumably only in the class for the alleged pre-med degrees their daddy’s were funding them through.

Hilda valued peace and quiet and naps in the library. She valued Marianne sitting across from her and silently doing her homework, where she could easily keep an eye on her and cheer her up if needed.

What she didn’t want was the annoying frat bros trailing after Marianne, loudly chatting with each other with what were clearly poorly veiled attempts at impressing Marianne. However, direct confrontation wasn’t Hilda’s style. She wanted the solution with the least effort. So, she came up with a plan.

If they saw that Marianne was taken, and that they were all being annoying third wheels, surely they would go somewhere else to get their fart jokes in.

The next time Marianne joined her after class, Hilda grabbed her hand and tugged her into the seat next to her instead of letting her sit in the armchair across from her. She asked her how class went, cooing and leaning in to Marianne, listening attentively.

She fawned and blinked her eyelashes. Marianne seemed to take it as Hilda joking around, like the time she had dressed up as Marianne for Halloween and made a fool of herself to make her laugh.

The frat bros were silent. But they soon picked back up with their usual banter, choosing to ignore Hilda’s contributions. She would have to up the ante.

Next time, she brought Marianne homemade sweets that she insisted on feeding to her by hand.

“You’re so clumsy, I don’t want you to spill them everywhere.” She excused, glaring daggers at the guys over Marianne’s shoulder as she popped a cookie into Marianne’s mouth.

After that, she “accidentally” spilled juice on all her clothes, and insisted to Marianne she needed to borrow hers. She also “accidentally” sat in a spot in the library she knew was too cold for Marianne’s tastes, and brought with her a bright pink hoodie that said “HILDA! HILDA! HILDA!” on it.

Hilda was wearing one of Marianne’s most iconic dresses, light blue with a darker shawl. Marianne shivered when she sat down, and Hilda valiantly offered her the hoodie. Marianne was slipping it on when the frat bros arrived. 

“Girls love sharing clothes, huh?” One of them said, and then they were all back to laughing.

It was time for drastic measures.

The next week, Hilda was ready. When Marianne sat down, Hilda waited for her classmates to arrive. Then she leaned in and kissed Marianne. On the lips. With tongue.

When she pulled back, Marianne was bright red. 

“Oh!” 

While Marianne was too flustered to say anything, Hilda snuck a look at the frat bros.

They winked. “Haha, say no more! We’ll give you ladies some ‘alone time’.” Plan success!

Marianne tapped her pointer fingers together. “Hilda… are we dating?”

Hilda huffed. “I was pretending we were so those guys would stop being so loud in here. But they wouldn’t back off, so I was forced to do this.”

Marianne wilted.

“I mean, obviously I like you. Why else would I clean up after you all the time and live with you and make you food? I just hadn’t gotten around to thinking of a good way to confess. But dating can’t happen unless we both agree to it.”

And with this, she had killed two birds with one stone. Solution with the least effort, just as planned.

“Hilda… I’d be honored to go out with you. Please, put up with me for a while longer.”

“No negative self-talk! I get to decide when I get sick of you! And that time hasn’t come yet!”

She squeezed herself into the cozy armchair beside Marianne and leant her head on her shoulder.

“Now, be a good girlfriend and let me nap on you. Coming up with schemes is exhausting.”

Chapter Text

Charlotte strode through camp with the energy of a tiger on the hunt, but there was no jungle she was hiding in. She was out for blood. People whispered as she passed, wondering what had driven the sweet Charlotte into such a state. From the outside, she hopefully looked more focused, determined, purposeful, anything other than truly angry. But oh, was she angry. Angry enough that she couldn’t bring herself to care what people thought of her right now. She could deal with whatever the fallout was later.

She barged into where she knew Camilla was, hosting a class where she instructed some of Nohr’s wyvern battalion soldiers on the finer aspects of mounted combat.

“Lady Camilla,” she called, voice honey sweet. “It’s time for your break. I’ve prepared some of your favorite refreshments for you.”

Camilla took the interruption with her usual grace, waving her trainees off with a smile. “Don’t slack on what I told you to practice, dearies. I’ll know if you skip even a single minute of the training I assigned.” 

She joined Charlotte, smile still in place, though it turned all smarmy and knowing and freaking annoying when she was alone with Charlotte.

Charlotte knew exactly what kind of woman Camilla was, and Camilla had sussed out exactly what kind of woman Charlotte was just as easily.

“I take it you aren’t actually going to give me any refreshments?”

“You’ll feel plenty fresh when I’m done with you.” Charlotte snapped. “The training ground behind the glade. Now.”

It was rarely used and private, surrounded by thick trees, with most who were looking for a field stopping at the glade and not continuing further into the back of the woods.

Camilla merely raised an eyebrow. “Lead the way then, sweetheart.”

Charlotte did, her angry strides through camp garnering even more attention on the way back now that Camilla was tromping around right beside her.

When they reached the training ground, Charlotte threw down her axe.

“No weapons.” She told Camilla. Then she ripped off her pauldrons, leg armor, and shoes. “I suggest you do the same. Unless you want me to smash your face in with your own armor after I tear it off of you.”

Camilla giggled as she obeyed. “I see. You’re in one of those moods, hm? I do love it when you’re rough with me.” Camilla practically purred out the last phrase.

Without the armor, the bulk of her body was all the more apparent. It took powerful thighs to ride a wyvern, a core of steel to balance on one, and thick arms to wield an axe with the ease Camilla did. All her training showed in her muscles.

Charlotte couldn’t help but grin a bit evilly in anticipation. She was no slouch in that department, either. She licked her lips.

“Broken bones are the limit.”

“Fine with me. Shall I count down for us?”

Charlotte shrugged.

Camilla cooed out the numbers, and when she hit zero she was on Charlotte like a rabid dog.

She went right for an elbow to Charlotte’s solar plexus, aiming to drop her to the ground in a single blow. That was where Charlotte wanted to go, so she let it hit, bracing herself and stepping slightly away to soften the blow. She locked her arm over Camilla’s elbow and then heaved over backwards, spine bending in a crescent shape, as she slammed Camilla’s head into the ground.

Camilla brought her down right alongside her of course, a nasty ankle lock ensuring Charlotte couldn’t keep her balance.

“Falling for me, are we?” She said as Charlotte tumbled on top of her.

Charlotte growled and punched Camilla in the face.

Camilla retaliated by headbutting her. Charlotte’s head rang, vision blurring, but she attempted to roll back onto her knees nonetheless, sure Camilla was planning a brutal follow-up.

The advantage of sight wasn’t so easily overcome. Camilla managed to flip them over, pressing Charlotte’s front into the dirt. The taste of soil and blood mixed in her mouth. She grabbed her by the white ribbon that was miraculously still in place, and yanked.

“I must not be going hard enough on you if you aren’t crying out,” Camilla observed before yanking again. “I’d hate for you to think I’m taking pity on you.“

Charlotte bucked her hips in an attempt to dislodge her, but Camilla had her knees in a vice grip around Charlotte’s waist.

“I’m not that easy,” Camilla breathed into her ear.

“And neither am I.” Charlotte took the chance to surprise her, arms bending behind her head at an uncomfortable angle to catch Camilla’s neck in a chokehold. The only way to get her to let go would be to shift her position, which would free Charlotte.

They went back and forth for a long while, until at last Charlotte let Camilla pin her.

Charlotte growled one last time, just on principle. Camilla patted her cheek as she leaned over from her position straddling her. Her purple hair was an outrageous mess now, framing her face as she looked down at her.

“Do you feel better now?”

“You know, when you called me out for my act, I totally thought you were going to fire me and send me home for duplicitous actions or something. I didn’t think you’d tell me I was doing a good job and to come to you if I ever needed to let off some steam.”

“I admire any woman who can fight like you do on the battlefield. That your personality is what it is, I just consider that a bonus. I respect you for doing what you can to get by. Supporting your family is an admirable goal.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a secret softie, you’ve said it all before.”

Charlotte huffed, averting her gaze from Camilla’s eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what upset you this time?”

“No.”

“Alright then.” Camilla stood up. She offered Charlotte a hand to help her, which Charlotte grudgingly accepted. They were both battered and bruised, covered in dirt and blood and sweat and who knew what else.

“Let me clean you up then. And get you a new ribbon.”

Charlotte was supposed to be the one doing the spoiling to royals, but it was too late for that. “Fine. But I really am going to bring you refreshments next time. Handmade ones. Sandwiches with the crusts cut off and everything.”

“I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

Chapter Text

Faye tended the fields, her eevee trailing behind her. It was just the two of them now, Alm and everyone else long gone. Alm had swept them all up in his determination to start his Pokémon journey, to see the world and compete in the first joint League Tournament between the regions of Rigel and Zofia.

He hadn’t given her a second look when talking up the importance of leaving. She had asked to go along, and been rejected.

It wasn’t that surprising, she supposed. It was an open secret that Sir Mycen had to be some kind of former professional trainer, whether an Ace Trainer or even a Champion who hadn’t wanted to keep the title, no one was sure, but the Pokémon he had with him, his breadth of knowledge, and the bond he had with his team all painted an undeniable picture.

He had trained them all over the years, teaching them more than they ever would have learned without him, trapped in this small town with nothing but pidgey and rattata as far as the eye could see. She had always known Alm would find a way to follow in his footsteps. He was different from the rest of them, the kids from nowhere who would never become legends. Him and Celica, they were just destined for greatness. There were Pokémon everywhere, but that didn’t mean there were pro trainers everywhere.

Sir Mycen had told her he thought she had talent once. The eevee was a gift from him, an egg he had left with her shortly before he disappeared. She surmised that the tension between Rigel and Zofia in the wake of the announcement of the joint tournament had drawn him back to whatever important world he had come from.

She wondered why he had picked an eevee. It was known for its many evolutions, the branching paths that with the right grit and money to achieve the right conditions, could turn a plain, unimpressive normal-type into something amazing. It was never going to evolve into anything with a trainer like her who couldn’t even leave her hometown.

So it was just her and eevee and the same people she had always known, minus Alm and friends. Gray, Tobin, Kliff… they had been ready to challenge their destiny as nobodies from a small town. With Alm’s awkward rejection of her joining them, she hadn’t able to bring herself to insist on going along. He was the bright one, the one sure to be a winner in the end. It was silly to think she could travel and fight with him as a rival.

That’s what she told herself, but she still ran her eevee through drills every evening. The praise Sir Mycen had given her meant more to her than she wanted to admit, and she couldn’t bear to sit in her stuffy house with her parents and siblings and their pitying looks. 

It was during one of their training sessions that something odd happened. Something darted out of the bushes, running right into eevee.

“Vee!” Her eevee cried, rolling the attacker onto its back and placing a paw on its chest to hold it down. It was a little yellow fox with big ears, tufts of red adorning it. She ran through the list of Pokémon she knew and frowned.

“What’s a fennekin doing out here?”

The answer came barreling out of the woods next. 

“Fennekin! You can’t run off like that!”

The voice gave Faye pause. The figure who had burst from the woods was all too familiar with that shock of red-pink hair. 

“Celica?”

“Faye?”

They stared at each other.

Then two more people emerged, bumping into Celica’s back one after the other.

“Ow!”

“Watch it, Boey!”

“You stepped on my foot, Mae!”

Faye ignored the peanut gallery in favor of the more important thing.

“I can’t believe you’re back! How long has it even been?”

Celica smiled wryly. “It feels like ages, doesn’t it?”

“You’re on a quest, aren’t you?” 

This Mae and Boey had Pokéballs of their own, and were surely her traveling companions.

Celica nodded, a steel in her eyes that Faye had never seen when they were children.

“Alm is, too. He just up and left. I thought about challenging him when he left, but he’d probably win, and on my own I figured a raticate or something would just get me, heh.”

Celica looked like she wanted to say something, but before she could, Faye made up her mind. She continued, forging onwards.

“Battle me! If I win, let me come with you.”

“This chick’s got guts!” The Mae character cheered. The two had been watching her like she was some strange new undiscovered Pokémon.

Celica blinked, taken aback. “We’re friends Faye, even now. You don’t have to beat me to come along. If that was the case, I would’ve left these two behind on the island.”

“Hey!” Mae took offense to this. 

“Oh shut it. You won what, once? Out of five hundred?” Boey seemed far more reasonable.

“At least I can beat you!”

“That’s not the point.” Faye interrupted. “I just… I need to prove I can. It’s not worth leaving Ram Village if I can’t even do this.”

“Okay. If it’s important to you, we can battle.” Something about that seemed to eat at Celica. “I always need more practice.”

And so they fought. And, somehow, Faye won.

Celica took it in stride, insisting on following proper battle-end protocol by shaking her hand and handing her a few bills.

“Though if you’re coming with us, it’s all shared anyways.”

Faye closed her hand around Celica’s. Celica was different. Stronger, but a little sadder. If Celica could change, maybe Faye could too.

“Are you guys planning on spending the night?”

“Will we get to see Celica’s old room?” Mae asked, eyes sparkling.

“Um, it would be in Sir Mycen’s house. He’s not here right now…”

“That’s fine! You guys know him, so we can just walk on in, right?” Mae cracked her knuckles. That set Boey off on another rant, trying to shake sense into his companion.

Faye looked at Celica. What kind of crazy people had Celica made friends with after moving away?

Celica seemed to know what she was thinking and just smiled. She put a hand on Faye’s shoulder.

“You’ll get used to them. When I first moved to their island, I didn’t know anyone, but they were my first friends there. They accepted the strange new kid without a second thought. Without them, I can’t even imagine how lonely I’d be after losing Alm and all of you.”

Faye half-smiled back at her. “Well, as long as they don’t cry as much as Kliff did…”

“Just don’t let Boey near any ghost-types.”

“I heard that!”

Her eevee followed right at her heels as they made their way back to the village, trotting proudly. Maybe she would manage to evolve him one day after all.

Chapter Text

The café was cozy, tucked into the corner of a block within walking distance from the local college. Satomi had heard all kinds of good things about it. The decor inside was warm and homey, infused with spellwork to keep the lighting dim, the smells always that of pleasant roasted coffee, the illusionary hearth in the back wall lit up with a crackling, just as illusionary fire.

Satomi had walked right by it plenty of times, but never gone inside. But, she had been told it was the best place to look for a job if you had less than stellar control of your magic. The owner was apparently very kindhearted. Or stupid. Or so rich that they didn’t care if the employees lost them money. So she had maybe heard some bad things about it, too.

When she gathered the courage to push open the door, she immediately understood all the rumors.

The entire place was on fire, purple and yellow flames on every surface. Satomi looked down. She had stepped right into one. It… didn’t hurt. Which was good? It was just pleasantly warm.

Behind the counter was a blonde woman in a purple apron. She flinched as the light from the open door behind Satomi shined into her eyes.

“It seems my most recent experiment is a failure. I should have known…” She sighed. The flames began to lose color, desaturating like they were turning into a special effect for black and white movie or something. They coalesced together and shot upward, reforming into dark clouds. There was a low rumble of thunder, and then it began to rain.

Instead of the warmth from before, the rain seemed to seep into her bones, chilling her to the soul despite how it wasn’t getting anything wet.

“You’re blocking the door, shrimp.”

A low voice said as a hand descended onto her shoulder and pushed her forward. She stumbled into the room. The person behind her let the door fall closed. She walked forward, evidently not caring a bit about the uncomfortable feeling from the rain.

Her red hair was messy, like she had just taken a nap, and in her hand was a paper bag.

“Coco, look what I’ve got.”

The blonde behind the bar looked up with interest, seeming to shake off her former dour mood.

“How many times must I say it, you really shouldn’t be bringing food from the competition here, Hapi!”

Hapi plopped the bag on the counter and leant forward, her elbows on the surface as she opened the top. A delicious, fragrant smell wafted out. Satomi could smell its delicacy from all the way at the entrance.

“Guess I should just take it and leave then… Even though I waited in line for 2 hours to get their newest seasonal donuts… shame I can’t even rest my feet after all that.”

“Don’t joke with me!” The blonde glanced around. “As long as Byleth doesn’t find out. Last time, you scattered so many crumbs everywhere that I couldn’t clean them all and they caught on!”

“You scattered plenty of crumbs yourself, you know. I didn’t get two donuts because I was feeling greedy.”

Slowly, surely, as the smell diffused into the arm, so too did the storm clouds diffuse, disappearing entirely, leaving only the faint oppressive feeling of some kind of looming magic behind.

“Do you want a coffee to go with them?”

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t believe it took me so long to learn about the stuff.”

Satomi finally felt ready to approach as the blonde disappeared to fiddle with the coffee machines.

“Uh, so where’d those come from?”

The redhead turned to look at her. She didn’t seem impressed.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, I guess not. Just trying to make conversation, you know. Haha.”

“Hapi, be nice to our customers! Can I get you anything?”

The blonde peered back out, and this time Satomi was close enough to see a nametag pinned to her apron.

“Miss Constance! I’m hoping to apply for a position at this lovely establishment!”

The blonde beamed. “My oh my! I could have an underling of my very own! What are your skills? Myself, I’m a whizz at all kinds of charms and enchantments.”

“I have customer service experience!”

“And magic-wise?”

“Um, well. Nothing I can really control reliably or anything like that.”

“A late bloomer! Well, it would be my honor to act as your mentor. I come from a long line of mages, you know. Well, the name isn’t as well-known as it once was, but I’m going to invent a new magic spell so wonderful we’ll be a household name! Like the Roomba!”

The world’s most famous cleaning spell!

“That’s so cool!”

“She’s even a business major,” Hapi chimed in.

“Do you work here too, Miss Hapi?”

Hapi shrugged. “Mm, kind of. It’s not really my speed. But I scout out the nearby pastry shops.”

“Like a secret food critic?”

“Yeah, let’s call it that.”

“Here’s your coffee, Hapi. I’m going to go to the back and get an application for you!”

Satomi stayed through Hapi’s entire cup of coffee, enraptured by Constance’s sparkling aura and her tales of all the spells she had invented.

“Here’s one of my favorites!” She turned to Hapi and winked. A little pink heart appeared in the air and drifted over to Hapi, bursting when it hit her cheek with a loud “MWAH” sound effect.

“So awesome!”

Even Hapi, who had kept a straight face for most of their conversation, let her lips quirk up at that.

Eventually, Satomi’s alarm for her next class went off, so she had to run out the door in a flurry, leaving her application behind with Constance, who promised to hand it over to Byleth as soon as possible.

After she left, Constance turned to Hapi with a quirked eyebrow.

“I thought you would’ve been mad at her for interrupting our plans during my break.”

It was the sort of thing that could easily have teased a sigh out of Hapi, an occurrence that would beckon some sort of magical disaster. Just as Constance’s mood could turn her spells from sparkling to somber, Hapi’s sighs seemed to fuel something in her own magic.

“It was actually pretty cute. It’s like you got a puppy or something. Hard to be bored watching you be so excited about your new toy. The shrimp ain’t so bad if she makes you smile like that.”

Constance flushed. “I value you too, you know that don’t you? I won’t break my promises for any of our future dates. This was a one time exception.”

Hapi smirked. She reached out and brushed her thumb across Constance’s face.

“Missed a crumb.”

Chapter Text

Tharja had exhausted all of her options. Try as she might, nothing she did seemed to have the desired effect on Robin. Expressing concern for her sleep schedule… Trying to act normal for her… Even tending to her when she had a fever…

Robin had seemed to come to understand that she held no ill intent. She had let her take care of, even felt comfortable enough with her to fall asleep on her. But that was not all that Tharja wanted to convey. Not all she wanted from Robin. If possible, she wanted affection from Robin, not just from her to Robin…

She knew it wasn’t particularly becoming of a dark mage to have such a soft and simpering feeling like love, but here she was. There as no point in pretending she wasn’t feeling this way. She was at a loss as to what what to do. There were love potions, charms, sure, but those were fleeting, not real. If all she wanted was the illusion of love she could simply conjure up mirages for herself every night and never talk to Robin ever again. But that wouldn’t make her happy.

To think through her plan, she decided to go watch Robin. It was a favored pastime of hers, would do her well to get outdoors and clear her head. She stayed where Robin could see her face, knowing it would make Robin feel more comfortable if she wasn’t “lurking” and “looming”.

Robin gave her a small wave when she noticed her arrival, then went back to haggling with the armorer in town. She parted with him with a friendly pat to his shoulder, clearly proud of the discount she had managed to wrangle out of him. Next, she headed to arrange crates of supplies to be delivered to camp by one of the local general stores.

She shook hands with the owner and picked up one of the smaller crates herself before walking back out the door. Shaking hands… nA pat on the shoulder… She had also seen Robin hug certain members of the army before...

“Should I lighten your load?” She rasped from the shadows, ready to cast a reverse gravity charm on the crate in Robin’s arms.

“Don’t waste your spells, Tharja! It’s good for my muscles!” Robin flexed one of her biceps. It unfortunately wasn’t visible through the sleeve of her coat.

Robin paused near an alleyway, head tilted, one pigtail dangling downwards.

Robin crouched and fished out a small piece of dried meat from the crate.

“Here kitty, kitty!”

From the alleyway emerged a small tabby cat, looking rather worse for wear. It hissed at Robin, but soon grew mild when Robin waved the jerky in its face. Robin rubbed its head and scratched its ears before it scampered off.

That… gave her an idea.

She watched Robin get back to camp safely, and then returned to her tent with a dark smile.

She spent the night toiling over her cauldron, until at last one final puff of smoke burped forth and disappeared into the air. A thick, purple sludge remained at the bottom of the pot.

With a twirl of her finger, the sludge lifted out of the pot and nestled into the glass vial in her hand. Without hesitation, Tharja chugged the potion.

It coursed through her veins, thrumming with magic.

She knew without a doubt that it had worked.

She pulled a cloak over herself and made her way to Robin’s tent. It was still early in the morning, meaning not many were yet awake. It would have done a number on Tharja’s reputation if any of the others caught her doing this.

With a silent hand she let herself into Robin’s tent. She threw the cloak aside and knelt by Robin’s sleeping form.

“Robin… Wake up. I have a surprise for you.” 

She couldn’t stop the dark chuckle that escaped her lips. Her plan was coming to fruition. Robin would soon not be able to resist smothering her with affection.

Robin blinked awake slowly, not at all alarmed by Tharja’s presence, frequent as it was these days.

But when she sat up and looked at Tharja clearly, she did a double take.

“Tharja!?!”

Tharja smirked, little fangs peeking out of her mouth as she did. On top of her head was a pair of black cat ears, fur silky smooth. Behind her, curled on the ground, was a long black tail.

“Were you a cat Taguel this whole time?”

“It is one of my creations, a potion that has the power to warp one’s physical form to inhuman results.”

Robin leaned in and raised a hand, slowly reaching for Tharja’s head.

“Not just a headband or something?”

“I would not dare lie to you.”

Robin’s hand descended, carefully pinching the tip of her ear between her thumb and pointer finger.

“Velvety…”

Tharja’s tail lashed instinctively at the strange feeling, but she calmed it. This was what she had craved, after all.

Robin traced the back of her ear before finally fully giving in to her desires.

She scratched behind Tharja’s ears, just as she had done to that cat in the alleyway. Her other hand came up and stroked Tharja’s chin, lightly scritching there, too. Tharja closed her eyes and leaned into the warmth, pressing her head into Robin’s fingers.

A rumble emerged from her throat; her vocal cords had shifted, too. She was purring.

Her glee was interrupted by a familiar smell, one the normal Tharja was well-acquainted with, all the more detectable with her temporarily enhanced feline senses.

Her eyes snapped open, pupils narrowing to slits as she hissed.

“Blood? Who hurt you, Robin?” She tore away from Robin and turned around, tail lashing from side to side, searching for the perpetrator.

“Um… It’s really just me in here, Tharja.”

She turned her gaze back to Robin, frowning.

There was a trickle of blood coming from one of Robin’s nostrils. Tharja tugged a dark handkerchief out of a mysterious pocket realm and passed it to Robin.

“You’re sure you are not hurt?”

“No, no, quite the opposite. Say, how long does that potion of yours last?”

Chapter Text

Faye wondered if she had made the right choice. Alm and the other kids from her hometown had all decided to attend the same college, one on the other side of the country. Faye… hadn’t applied. If she had, she probably wouldn’t have gotten in anyways. Not to mention the money side of things. Alm had a trust fund, she knew vaguely, and Tobin and Gray had secured scholarships.

The college Faye had chosen, a mere two hour drive from Ram’s village, was a safer choice in all regards. Higher acceptance rate, in-state tuition, and solid all-rounder programs. She didn’t exactly know what she was going to major in yet. Sir Mycen had recommended community college as a first step to her privately, but she didn’t want to only have two years to squeeze in all the classes for her major after transferring.

Yet another way this college was a middle-ground.

It was all wiser than insisting on continuing to follow Alm, she told herself. She admired him, painfully so, but was she going to go as far as to follow him to college and copy his major? There had to be a breaking point, and this was it. It had felt like her heart had shattered when Alm had dragged everyone into applying to the same school without saying a word to her about it.

It made it feel like every dark thought she had tried to push away about her thoughts on Alm had been right all along. That she was making excuses, that was pathetic, that he didn’t care about her.

Maybe being away from Ram’s Village was the right choice. She couldn’t stand the thought of her parents or grandma trying to console her. Her mom would be way too happy about her moving on, since she had decided that a proper marriage was going to be important for Faye’s future, and knew marriage to Alm wasn’t in the cards.

Having a dorm room was going to be a nice change of pace. She would have one roommate, but that couldn’t be any worse than growing up in a small town. No one ever locked their doors, so it wasn’t just parent family members who barged in on you at all hours, but everyone else in town, too.

However, the roommate she met at the door, both of them carting crates stuffed with clothes and school supplies, made her reconsider all her carefully compromised decisions.

“Celica?”

“Huh? Wait… Faye?”

They stared at each other.

Celica broke the awkward moment first.

“It’s good to see you again. I’m surprised you were able to recognize me.”

Celica had certainly grown taller, though not as tall as Faye herself. She felt a bit off-kilter, not just at the deja vu of a Celica right in front of her, but of being next to another girl that was shorter than her. She was used to being the only the girl their age in Ram’s Village. She felt like a gangly giant.

“Your hair is pretty distinct.” Faye half–joked. She wondered if she should be embarrassed about recognizing it, if it said something about her thinking about Celica too much.

“I could say the same thing.” Weird thing to say to someone with sandy, dirty blonde hair. “You even have the same hairstyle.” Celica reached out, like she was going to tug at one of Faye’s pigtails, but stopped herself.

They stood a moment longer, in the summer heat with all their bags.

“Well, go on in,” Faye said at last.

Celica ducked in first, pausing momentarily as she first entered.

“It’s a bit different than the one I stayed in while touring.” She commented.

“You did the overnight version?” Faye had been close enough that they just drove. “Just how far away did you move, anyways?”

Sir Mycen had always been vague with the details, just saying that a different family was going to adopt, that his fostering wasn’t needed anymore. She couldn’t blame him for not staying too much in touch in 2006, but as she grew up she had always wondered what it would have been like if Alm and Celica had been able to stay in touch with emails or text messages. 

Celica rattled off a name Faye had never heard of before. “An island,” she clarified. “Off the coast.”

“Wow! So you’ve really come a long way, huh?” Celica did look a little tired now that she thought about it, probably because of the jet lag. “It’s kind of funny, I always thought you’d probably run into Alm again someday, but instead you ran into me.”

Celica’s smile faded, the tired look taking over. She turned away to start unpacking her things. Faye followed suit.

“We did actually talk a bit in the last few months. Mr. Mycen contacted Mr. Nomah and we swapped emails. Colleges came up.”

“You didn’t want to go to his? Reunite with the old gang?” Celica had been a shy kid, but a bright one. She wouldn’t have had any trouble getting in.

Celica shrugged. “Some things are more important than old friendships. This school works much better for what I want to do.”

“Oh…” Faye once again felt awkward, very aware that she was undeclared right now. “And what’s that?”

“Politics.” Celica sighed. 

The conversation faded. Faye was happy to see her, happier than she expected, but that didn’t mean she was going to be amazing socially. She was used to being a follower, to trading sharp barbs with Tobin and Kliff. That wasn’t the kind of friendship she wanted to have with Celica. She wasn’t sure what kind of friendship she wanted, honestly. But they were roommates, so it was going to have to work.

As it turned out, it did work.

“We shared rooms in Mr. Nomah’s house. If you ever think you’re being annoying, just ask me for my best Mae story.”

Celica had made friends of her own, as it turned out, and they went here, too. Mae was in a residential community, on the other side of campus.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to live with her again anyways, to be honest. She was a big fan of pranks, especially pranks to wake you up. She’s a great friend, but as a roommate…” Celica confided in Faye one night. Faye wondered if she was going to be a great roommate to Celica, but a poor friend.

The thing about being roommates, and roommates in college especially, was that you saw a lot of each other late at night, when it felt so much easier to confess to the weight of the world that was on your shoulders.

Celica would often collapse beside her on her bed, or sit on her desk while she worked.

“That’s not homework,” Celica mused, peering over Faye’s shoulder.

“It’s a letter,” Faye explained. “To my grandma.”

“Not in touch with the 21st century, huh? Mr. Nomah is the same way. We had flip phones and one desktop that we all shared until two years ago.”

Faye smiled. “Yeah, last time Gran tried to send an email she ended up with so many viruses that she was banned from trying ever again. I don’t even know if she has Internet anymore.”

“Does she write back?”

Faye shrugged. “It’s hard for her. Usually my mom just passes the message on when we talk on the phone. I think she reads her the letters at this point too. But I send photographs, postcards sometimes. Easier for her to see.”

“That’s a great idea! Especially when sometimes you can’t find the words to say.” Celica looked pensive, a little sad, like she sometimes did. Faye had gathered that her family situation had become complicated, some kind of brother that the foster system had illegally separated her from.

“We could take pictures together sometime,” Faye suggested on a whim, feeling like she was jumping headfirst into a cold, scary ocean. “I hear the hikes around here have gorgeous scenery.”

“I’d be delighted, Faye.”

She still didn’t have a major, still didn’t know why she felt so awkward around Celica, still didn’t know why she truly hadn’t decided to follow Alm, but maybe she could have a friend, could take it one day at a time.

Chapter Text

Someone tore open the flap to Rinkah’s tent, unleashing a way too bright beam of sunlight right onto her face.

Rinkah groaned and pulled her blanket up over her head.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” A sickly sweet voice cooed. “I promise seeing my face will make you feel better!”

Rinkah knew exactly who was behind a line like that, even through her muddled thoughts courtesy of her killer headache.

“I’m not one of your airheaded men.” Rinkah grumbled. “You pretending like that may actually make me throw up.”

“Tch. Just don’t get it on me. I can’t go around camp stinking like vomit. But if your pathetic sick self needs to throw up, so be it.”

Rinkah sighed.

“If you’re just here to make fun of me you can leave.”

“Make fun of you? Come on, you can’t really expect me to pass up an opportunity to see Miss Unstoppable Warrior brought down to her knees by a little thing like a cold, can you?”

“I don’t care how sick I am. You have five more seconds before I throw you out of here myself.” Rinkah growled, tossing aside the sheet. She was halfway to trying to swing her legs out of her cot when Charlotte caught her by the shoulder and pressed her back down.

To her surprise, Charlotte actually looked a little concerned. And she had brought soup with her.

“You didn’t have to do all that.” Rinkah said on instinct, frowning. “We in the Flame Tribe prefer isolation to handle this kind of thing. My body will burn out the illness soon enough. Anyone else coming into contact with me just risks contracting the disease. It’d be a disaster if the whole army got sick at once.”

Charlotte sneered. “I know I look delicate, but I’m not going to catch a cold. I’m from up north. Besides, we were just training together yesterday. If I’m going to catch it, I already did.”

She slammed the tray with the soup on it down beside Rinkah’s cot.

“I’m going to spoon feed you the soup I labored over using my mother’s ginger chicken cure-all soup recipe. And you’re going to eat every last drop. Gratefully. The sooner you recover, the sooner I get a competent training partner back.”

Rinkah snorted. 

“Don’t expect me to baby you back when it’s your turn to be sick.”

“I have swathes of men who would be tripping over their own feet to rush to my side if I got sick.” Charlotte replied primly, tying back her hair before leaning down with the first scoop of soup. It put her chest right in front of Rinkah’s face.

Rinkah wrinkled her nose and tried to grab the spoon herself. Charlotte slapped her hand away with force that would’ve bruised a lesser woman.

“You’re a hapless, weak little patient right now.” Charlotte tutted, that evil smile back on her face.

Rinkah resigned herself to her fate and opened her mouth. Charlotte wasn’t going to go around gloating in-depth about this, she knew. Her tentative friendship with the strange Rinkah would hardly endear her to the rank and file soldiers of Corrin’s army. But Charlotte would certainly be using this as fodder to taunt her with in all of their future spars.

“I’m gonna get you for this,” she mumbled under her breath after swallowing the proffered soup.

Charlotte just blew fake kisses at her and winked, all the while forcing a relentless amount of broth down Rinkah’s sore throat.

Chapter Text

“Out of the way!” Shouted Corrin. With a deer slung over one shoulder, she barely fit out the back door of the little hut Mozu had built for herself in her old village. Why she hadn’t circled around the building instead was anyone’s guess.

The backyard was set up for cooking, with a charcoal fire burning, a wooden picnic table, various pots and pans sitting around the fire, and cutting boards and knives set out as a makeshift prep station. There were even buckets to collect food scraps so that Mozu could compost them. She was dedicated to restoring her village in all ways with such earnestness that it made Corrin swoon. She never would have found a deer if Mozu hadn’t worked so hard to restore the forests around her village.

Kaze looked up from where he was peeling vegetables as she passed. He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got something on you, my lady.”

Okay, so Corrin had opted for the easier way of hunting. It came more naturally to her than using a bow. But, it was… messier. It maybe meant there was a little blood on her chest and neck and mouth. Her dragon form had many uses.

“Then come clean it off for me!” She teased, sticking her tongue out at him as she set the deer down at the place Mozu had set up for skinning and breaking it down.

Kaze’s eyes sparkled with mirth, and something more suited for after dark. “If I did that, I fear we would become distracted. Then we would never have this feast ready in time for Silas’s arrival.”

Corrin laughed, waving a knife at Kaze. “Well, we’d also be able to blame Mozu, since you and her spent so long fighting over who got to do the peeling. He can’t be annoyed at all of us. We outnumber him.”

As if summoned by her name, Mozu came out of the back door next, a bag of rice over one shoulder and a pot so large it deserved to be called a cauldron full of stew under the other arm.

“I reckon he’d sooner apologize for taking too long to get here than ever get mad at any of us.” Being a knight of Nohr, and unofficial ambassador due to his time spent in Hoshido during the war, he had the furthest to travel compared to the others. Mozu’s village was still the best place for them to reunite though, situated right on the border of the two countries.

“That might serve our purposes well,” Kaze mused. “He could offer some of those sweets only made in the capital as penance.”

“I’m gonna figure out how to make those myself one of these days!” Mozu was amazing at rustic, savory food, but the delicacy needed for sugar-spun candies wasn’t something she had mastered yet.

“Which is why Silas has to give them to us as samples, apology or no apology!” Corrin agreed. She had been banned from doing anything in the kitchen other than cutting a long time ago, so she would never have the chance to try making them herself.

Kaze opened his mouth to reply, but something caught his attention. He cocked his head.

“I hear hoofbeats. He must’ve left early.”

Mozu and Corrin cursed. Dinner wasn’t quite ready yet.

“Kaze, you have to stall him!” Corrin whisper-shouted, speeding up her butchering. Mozu was hurriedly pouring the rice into a pot and taste testing the stew.

Kaze smiled and bowed. “As you wish, my lady.”

It was a wise choice, as Mozu would be more than able to swiftly finish preparing the vegetables in his stead. Silas had long since voiced his dislike of Kaze sneaking up on him, but Kaze knew these days it could be done for the fun of the game. Silas knew him well enough to tell when a disturbance in the atmosphere was from Kaze as opposed to an actual threat to his person.

The horse he had heard had been trotting, but Silas would have to slow to a walk soon enough. Mozu had improved the infrastructure of her village greatly, but a rural village was still a rural village. The road out to Mozu’s house was really just a dirt path once you got far enough down it.

Kaze pulled on his ninja training, swinging himself up onto a tree branch and disappearing into the canopy as he scaled higher. He was quite familiar with the woods around Mozu’s abode, and he had just the place for an ambush in mind.

Kaze placed himself close to the path, a few yards off the ground, and crouched to wait.

It wasn’t long before Silas came into sight, still in his armor, bags hanging off either side of his horse’s saddle. One of those bags was sure to contain the sweets that would be their dessert.

Kaze counted down the seconds until the time was right and then leapt from his perch, landing light as a feather behind Silas, on top of his horse. He balanced a hand on Silas’ shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Welcome home.”

To his credit, Silas didn’t panic. He merely froze, stopping his horse on instinct. Then he snorted.

“Was that really necessary?”

“It is my duty.”

Silas grinned. “You’re on housewife duty today?”

Kaze flicked his ear and then settled down to sit properly behind Silas, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“Perhaps I have ulterior motives.” He subtly moved his other hand lower, looking to swipe up one of those sacks.

Silas caught his hand and craned his neck backwards to press a kiss to Kaze’s cheek.

“You’re going to ruin your dinner.”

“Appetite for sweets is quite different than an appetite for other kinds of food, I assure you.”

He calculated that he would need to set Silas back by 5 more minutes to give their partners enough time to finish up the feast.

He wouldn’t dare cause physical distress to Silas’s loyal steed, so he have to rely on more conniving means of distraction.

This strategy proved appropriately fruitful.

Silas, hair messy, finally caught on.

“Is there a reason we can’t do this anywhere other than on a horse?”

“Of course not.” Kaze replied evenly. Enough time had passed, so they were free to continue now.

Silas dug his heels into his horse and they began to move once more.

When they arrived at the front of Mozu’s humble abode, Mozu and Corrin were there waiting, the blood now wiped from Corrin’s skin, and Mozu’s apron nowhere to be seen.

“Welcome back!” They chorused innocently.

Kaze vanished from the horse and reappeared on the ground. Mozu swept Silas off the ground in a bear hug as soon as he stepped down from the stirrups.

“Heh, you haven’t been slacking on your training, huh?” Silas wheezed as she lifted him high into the air.

“Wouldn’t dream of it! Ain’t no excuse to slack when there’s so much work to be done out here. Lugging lumber around ain’t easy.” She set him down carefully, and Corrin took her own turn to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Do you need help getting out of your armor?” Corrin was practically vibrating with eager energy, excited for Silas to go out back and see the fruits of their labor.

“I’ll take Betsy over to get some water. I can untack her and take your things inside.” Mozu greeted the horse she had had the honor of naming with a gentle pat on the neck.

Silas was a little overwhelmed with all the attention, as he always was, but he acquiesced easily enough. 

Kaze took the chance to slink to the back, making sure the picnic table was set. The food was all ready to go, pickled vegetable salad and stew and deer meat and of course a generous bowl of rice, as was necessary for meals served to any Hoshidans.

Corrin was ushering Silas out soon enough, the man now blindfolded, unable to resist any of Corrin’s suggestions, as was often the case.

“Okay, you can open your eyes as soon as it’s off.”

Mozu had returned and was standing beside Kaze with a ladle for the stew.

Silas obeyed, a bit taken aback by the scene in front of him. 

“Happy birthday!” The other three chorused dutifully.

“A home-cooked meal for the city boy,” Mozu declared proudly.

“And after this, you get to open presents!” Corrin added, wrapping Silas in a hug from her place behind him.

“Th-this is all for me?” Silas blinked. 

There hadn’t really been time for celebrating much during the war, and he honestly didn’t know how they had figured out when his birthday was. It was on his official record, but that belonged to the head of Nohr’s knights. Well, it wasn’t like between Corrin’s status and Kaze’s spy skills that it would be impossible for them to figure it out. Still, it was unexpected.

“Thank you.” He said, voice a little wobbly.

It was the best birthday he had had in years.