15Ramune - Yuri Writer

Title color for rating on AO3: Explicit・Mature・Teen And Up

Chainsaw Man

Control is Comfort - AO3 | Tumblr ch1 Makima x fem Reader [Includes Smut Scenes]

Digimon

Couple's Sweet Time - AO3 | Tumblr ch1 Monica Simmons x Shiroki Asuna

After Work - AO3 | Tumblr Monica Simmons x Shiroki Asuna [Smut]

In the Server Room - AO3 | Tumblr Monica Simmons x Shiroki Asuna [Smut]

Fate

For My Beautiful Queen - AO3 | Tumblr Morgan x Britomart [Smut]

Found You - AO3 | Tumblr Kishinami Hakuno x Tohsaka Rin

Nostalgia - AO3 | Tumblr Kishinami Hakuno x Tohsaka Rin

Petrichor Series - AO3 (Series) Tonelico x Castoria

First Raindrops - AO3 | Tumblr ch1 | CW: Non-Con・Major Character Death brief Morgan x Castoria

Fire Emblem

Would You Stay? - AO3 | Tumblr Byleth x Edelgard von Hresvelg

Sweeter Than Chocolate - AO3 | Tumblr Byleth x Edelgard von Hresvelg

Madoka Magica/Magia Record/Exedra

The two faces of Tonelico (rain witch) - not even a full page between them. Gosh, I just lover her so much. She's so damn cute.

Tonelico (savior) actually transforming Gudako in a gem (as she says she's thinking about in a My Room line) is peak, too.

She's so perfect in every form hnnngggghhh. I feel so motivated to write more fic with Tonelico again!

11 - Respite

If it weren’t for most movements causing discomfort at the very least, Tonelico would roll her eyes. This oblivious fool… Artoria would know that mana is found in bodily fluids and can be transferred that way between two individuals if she’d read more books.

Too often did she find Artoria spaced out, or even asleep on top of a tome. Drooling on the precious pages. At least the sight was cute.

“It’s not what you think. Nngh—” Tonelico groans lowly at the pain she feels when she readjusts her position. “You can have some of my mana that way.”

“Really?” Artoria’s face lights up at this easy fix. “Right! Your spit contains mana, so if I… drink it…”

As the realization sinks in, Artoria’s face flushes. Kissing is one thing. Still embarrassing, but something she’s growing comfortable with. But actively drinking another’s saliva? That’s… too lewd. No way Artoria would do that!

… but is there a choice?

Artoria tells herself it’s for Tonelico’s sake. Only so they can get back to the lakeside faster, and rest properly. That’s all. She’s not at all curious about this. Having made her decision quicker than she’d like — a total 180 from her initial reaction — Artoria clears her throat.

“Well, that— that sounds like the most sensible solution. So, if I may…”

Artoria leans in to brush her lips over Tonelico’s. She’s trembling. Nervosity, anticipation, or a mix of the two takes hold of her; but Artoria manages to push them aside.

The little spark generated by the brief touch of their lips provides easily enough motivation for Artoria to keep going.

She tries to ignore that sensation in an attempt to convince herself that this isn’t an intimate gesture for the sake of it, but merely something done for practical reasons. As though believing that would make it easier to pull through.

Artoria shuts her eyes tightly; the last thing she wants to see while she does this is Tonelico’s eyes, in which she can imagine the amusement. The familiar glint saying ‘You’re way too cute’ all too clearly.

‘It’s for Tonelico… Just for Tonelico…’

When Tonelico parts her lips, Artoria’s tongue reluctantly enters her mouth. Artoria cups Tonelico’s face to steady herself — emotionally more than physically — as her tongue tentatively explores Tonelico’s mouth. Rubbing her tongue over Tonelico’s, Artoria finds herself surprised at how rough a texture a tongue turns out to have.

Even more surprisingly, the contact feels awfully good.

Each brush of her tongue against Tonelico’s sends a warm shiver down Artoria’s spine, delicately and slowly. A faint tingle, barely noticeable, appears to spread throughout her body, encompassing every single nerve ending, whenever this pleasant shiver makes its way downwards.

It becomes addictive quickly.

Artoria feels her entire being grow warmer by the second; like the comfort of a campfire that risks turning into an all-consuming blaze if careless.

These embers, fueled by each almost-leak of Tonelico’s voice that catches in Artoria’s throat, flush any second guesses out of her mind, along with other thoughts she may have been able to form if not for the feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

Until Tonelico’s tug at her sleeve reminds Artoria why she’s doing this. Her face grows steaming hot at the realization of how quickly she’s lost herself to those pleasurable sensations and forgotten the important part. The whole reason they’re doing this.

More composed — and ashamed — than before, Artoria now focuses on recharging her mana rather than on Tonelico’s addictive being.

Any bit of saliva Artoria finds in Tonelico’s mouth, she laps up. The subtle taste of iron doesn’t go unnoticed. It reminds Artoria of the blood Tonelico has coughed up. As if to soothe wounds that aren’t found here, Artoria tenderly runs her tongue over every centimeter in Tonelico’s mouth.

She’ll clean up all the blood and its remainders from the inside of Tonelico’s mouth.

It doesn’t take much for Artoria to feel her mana levels rise, once she pays attention to it. With how much Tonelico appears to have to spare — thanks to the bells she’s rung — this method is more than efficient, despite the concurrent distraction of building arousal.

An all too delicious drawback to the practicality.

Artoria’s hand finds its way back to Tonelico’s side, casting a healing spell sustained by the mana she drains directly from the spell’s target. It takes an incredible amount of concentration to simultaneously heal injuries as severe as those Tonelico suffered from the battle against the calamity while recharging in this manner. But Artoria manages.

Some flicks of her tongue against Tonelico’s seem to work like a charm; making Tonelico involuntarily salivate. More fuel for Artoria.

Artoria soon finds a rhythm that comes to her easily, leaving her in a trance as she occasionally sucks on Tonelico’s tongue, continuously lapping up the mana-filled liquid that’s long since lost the taste of iron. Cleansed by Artoria’s meticulous efforts; not that they are entirely altruistic.

Eventually, after a moment in which time has lost all meaning, Artoria pulls away. Her breath is hot and labored, and so is Tonelico’s, whose cheeks have taken on a rosy-red color.

Half-closed eyes with the faintest hint of a tear at the corner, the crystal blue pupils focused intently on Artoria, yet not fully present in the current moment. Lost in the all-consuming distraction of primal desire.

The mere sight gives Artoria the urge to crash her lips down against Tonelico’s once more — to ravage her right here, right now.

Thankfully, a moment of clarity allows her to reconsider. Artoria clears her throat before losing herself to primal instincts she hasn’t even been fully aware she possesses. Especially not to this degree. She’ll blame this corruption of herself on Morgan.

“Thanks.” Tonelico’s voice is raspy. She clears her throat, allowing her mind to find its way back to their present situation.

“Sure. Anytime.”

‘Stupid… Idiot… Why did I say that!?’

“We should get moving.”

Artoria helps Tonelico up, despite her own legs being a bit wobbly by now. It takes a few steps, the clear air of the forest, and a moment of silence penetrated only by the soft rustling of leaves on their way, to recover mentally and allow the strength to come back to their limbs fully.

Not that the stoked embers inside of the two fairies would cool down any soon, though. Merely smolder, waiting for the next spark to reignite the fire.

Once the lakeside comes into view, Tonelico and Artoria relax. This is their safe haven — for now — where other fairies wouldn’t find them. Not with Tonelico casting a barrier around the area, making sure to keep every living being outside and grant the two a much needed and well-deserved breather.

Tonelico looks at Artoria, only to avert her gaze quickly once she recounts the all too passionate kiss they’ve shared mere moments ago at the sight of Artoria’s lips, smudged blood clinging to them. She feels as though she can still taste them on hers.

It was a surprise to see Artoria so forward, so lost in whatever came over her — but a very welcome one. Stirring feelings in Tonelico that make her wish to see more of this side of Artoria that she’s never noticed. While she still has the chance.

Though with how Artoria very intently avoids meeting Tonelico’s eyes, fiddling around with her hair, this assertiveness is gone by now. Perhaps it requires the right push. Back in Orkney, in the bath, it was similar, after all.

But that’s nothing to dwell on right now. That’s a matter for later.

“These really need to be cleaned,” Tonelico says to herself after a quick look at her clothes.

It doesn’t take much of an assessment for that conclusion. Dried blood seeped into the white fabric, dyeing it dark red in multiple places. A grim reminder of injuries sustained, of a battle that may have gone awry with fatal consequences had things gone differently. Had Artoria not stepped in.

“Same here.”

Not as sullied by blood — mostly Tonelico’s — but Artoria’s clothes are in a similar state. With that and the accumulated sweat of travel, the lake provides too convenient an opportunity for washing their clothes to pass it up. It doesn’t require any further consideration.

Tonelico removes her garments, one by one. The glances Artoria tries to steal aren’t as sneaky as she hopes. It brings a smile to Tonelico’s face.

Artoria is plain adorable, trying to hide what Fairy Eyes would see through easily. Not that Tonelico blames her. Wanting to look at the body of the one you love is only natural, after all. Wishing to touch it even more so.

“What are you waiting for?”

The amused smile carries into Tonelico’s voice, a light chime that reaches Artoria’s ears. Her face flushes upon being clearly caught in the act of ogling the undressing Tonelico. If only Tonelico were less observant, or at the very least didn’t let the endearment show. It’s absolutely on purpose, Artoria is sure of that. Only to fluster her further.

“N-nothing.”

Artoria follows suit and undresses, almost tripping over her own feet when she removes the black leggings. Together with Tonelico, Artoria places the garments into the lake. Instinctively, Artoria covers her chest with her arm, the other shielding her privates from view. Not that anyone but herself or Tonelico is here, so she knows it shouldn’t bother her, but…

‘How can she be so calm and unabashed? Must be nice, having such a body…’

That sulky pout isn’t new. Tonelico can tell what goes through her silly companion’s head, but she won’t comment on the envy sparked by the apparent inferiority complex. Instead, she takes her staff and casts a spell that would use the lake’s water to thoroughly clean the fabric of all that should not be there — blood, dirt, and sweat, among other particles.

While Tonelico uses magecraft to wash their clothes, Artoria retrieves a blanket from their shared frugal luggage and sits down on it near the shore, hugging her legs to her chest. There’s nothing for her to do after all.

It’s not that she’d prefer to keep Tonelico in her view, or so Artoria tells herself.

“Don’t you think you abuse your magecraft sometimes?”

‘Must be nice being able to do everything with a quick spell instead of by hand.’

Tonelico chuckles.

“I’m a witch after all. Isn’t that to be expected?”

Artoria rolls her eyes. She has no words for this fairy sometimes.

“Hm? What’s this?”

From a pocket in Artoria’s dress, Tonelico pulls out an object she hadn’t expected to ever see again: her glasses. The lenses are smudged, but otherwise they’re in perfect condition. Tonelico holds the glasses in her hand.

The nostalgia of familiarity washes over her; for a moment she feels as though she’s back in Orkney. When her life knew less pain and her days were spent in her study, more recently most of them with Artoria.

“… you kept them?”

“Ah… Yeah.” Artoria pulls her knees close. “You threw them away, but I— I couldn’t leave them behind like that.”

“Why?” Tonelico’s thumb brushes over the cold, flat surface of the lens.

“They’re a part of you. Of the old you.” Artoria nervously chews on her lip. “I thought— Well, when you threw them away, I was afraid that you’d be gone. You were different after… after that happened.”

“I see.”

With a swing of her staff, Tonelico materializes a magical string between the branches of two trees and swings it again to let the clothes find their way onto it to dry. It would be faster to dry them with a different spell instantly, but they aren’t short on time.

Rather, Tonelico wants to make the most of the time she has with Artoria while she can. This is better done without clothes.

“I missed the old you,” Artoria mutters.

Tonelico takes a cloth, soaks it in the lake’s clear water, and then warms it. When she joins Artoria on the blanket, she gently wipes off her own blood from Artoria’s lips and hands. A more proper bath can wait for later.

Artoria returns the gesture, careful to not put too much pressure on places that might still be sore. With Tonelico’s magecraft, even using a lake to wash up isn’t accompanied by cold discomfort.

Once they’re cleaned up, the cloth is discarded to the side. Washing it can be done tomorrow, it’s not that important. Not as important as what Artoria said just a moment ago.

Tonelico retrieves a handkerchief from their small luggage and wipes the glasses properly clean, with no smudges that would impair her vision left, before she puts on her glasses again — for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“You sure are careless, aren’t you?” Tonelico’s smile is warm and gentle as her crystal blue eyes look at Artoria’s emerald green through the lenses. “All those smudges. I’d see better without the glasses at that point.”

“I tried my best! How do you even get them so perfectly clean just like that? Must’ve been a spell, too.”

Artoria pouts. But the relief and happiness at seeing the Tonelico she originally fell in love with again, just the same as back then, makes her heart melt.

Tonelico is Tonelico, no matter what. But those round glasses simply make her even more Tonelico. A feeling that cannot make sense by logic, but Artoria’s heart understands this as irrefutable truth.

“It only takes practice.” Tonelico leans against Artoria, then rests her head on Artoria’s shoulder. “Although I really don’t need them anymore.”

“Isn’t it better to wear glasses if your eyesight is bad? Or did you correct them with some spell?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m only a little farsighted. It’s straining to look at very near things for long periods, so I needed glasses to read without a headache. That’s all.”

Artoria already knew that Tonelico’s eyesight isn’t that bad. But hearing it from Tonelico herself is a confirmation that stings. Tonelico doesn’t have to add that reading is a pleasure not granted to her anymore.

She hardly has the time to delve into books, and by the looks of Orkney’s castle on that fateful day, the entire library must’ve burned down to ashes anyway, so she has no books left to read either.

Artoria wishes that someday, Tonelico can lose herself in countless words written on pages once more. Truly be who she is, not what she needs to be.

“I see.”

Artoria leans her head on Tonelico’s. There is a faint breeze, though it doesn’t feel cold, even as exposed as the two of them sit there at the lake. A moment of true peace, tranquility. Shared quiet proximity between the two Fairies of Paradise who take in each other’s company.

Until the sun starts to set, and they realize they have yet to make camp.

Although neither wants to separate just yet, instead bask in the warmth of each other’s body heat for what could be an eternity, they know this shouldn’t be put off further.

With coordinated teamwork, they get their modest tent set, and a small campfire started within no time. The blanket finds its place on the ground inside the tent that shields them from the weather, and another blanket is added to disappear under for the night later.

“It took way too long to get this stuff,” Artoria laments with a sigh. The fact that they originally started the pilgrimage with nothing but the clothes they’ve worn at the time fills her with dread.

“I miss sleeping under the stars sometimes, though.”

“You can always just leave the tent to me. I wouldn’t complain about more space.”

Artoria sticks out her tongue, though it doesn’t take long for her to eat her words and regret the cocky suggestion.

“Wouldn’t you get lonely all alone at night?” Tonelico leans closer, until her breath tickles Artoria’s ear. “I, for one, can’t wait to hold you in my arms tonight, but if you’d prefer to sleep alone…”

“N-no, that’s— I mean—”

Artoria’s head is spinning at the insinuation. Clearly, clearly, Tonelico is implying something here. It doesn’t take more than this to stoke the embers from their earlier passionate kiss, starting the fire inside of Artoria’s core back up.

She can tell Tonelico feels the same.

“Now, what will it be?” Tonelico asks, standing at the tent’s entrance.

She knows the answer. Tonelico is acutely aware of Artoria’s eyes wandering over her naked form; the envy that usually flares up upon the sight having no chance against the desire that’s already burning Artoria up inside.

If seeing the one you love longing for your body is arousing, then Fairy Eyes can only amplify this effect.

Artoria’s mouth won’t cooperate, so she simply disappears into the tent and pulls Tonelico after her. Tonelico lands on top of the two blankets, surprised by the sudden action, and by Artoria on top of her, leaning down until their noses nearly touch.

“You don’t need to ask,” Artoria mutters. She’d never choose to sleep alone if having Tonelico with her is an option.

“I know.”

Tonelico smiles, before crossing the distance to meet Artoria’s lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. Her arms wrap around Artoria to hold her close.

The lack of clothes is convenient and appreciated; Tonelico loses no time before letting her hands roam over Artoria’s back. The smooth surface is almost hot to the touch, a clear indication of the fairy’s state. Not that Tonelico fares any better.

“It’s been too long,” Tonelico mutters against Artoria’s lips as she pulls away for a moment.

“Yeah…”

Way too long, in fact. So much time has passed since the downfall of Orkney, since the time they’ve gotten intimate with each other in the bath. Tonelico hadn’t asked for permission then, though Artoria didn’t mind.

Only by now does Artoria know why: She’s loved Tonelico ever since then.

At the time, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but once it became clear over the course of the pilgrimage, all the pieces fell into place. A life without Tonelico feels utterly wrong. Empty.

Artoria wants Tonelico — all of her. A feeling akin to hunger wells up inside of Artoria, and she closes their distance once more.

In no time at all, Artoria grows uncharacteristically bold. As though there’s no room for thought, consideration, or patience in her mind; Artoria only follows the overwhelming intuitive feeling Tonelico stirs inside of her.

If there be shame and regret, that’s of no concern now.

This carelessly passionate desire is a flavor of pleasure Tonelico has yet to taste. She feels Artoria’s sharp canine drag across her lip, making her wonder how it would feel to be bitten.

The sweet pain mixing with the heat is what Tonelico can only imagine enhancing this encounter further.

If only because it would feel perfectly like Artoria to do so.

“Nnnh—”

Tonelico’s startled voice leaks out when the small canine comes dangerously close to breaking skin. The sudden reaction makes Artoria pause and pull away, glad to see no wound. She brushes her thumb over Tonelico’s bottom lip, assessing the invisible damage and expressing a gentle apology.

“Sorry,” Artoria mumbles. “Does it hurt?”

The tender worry with which Artoria gazes at her makes Tonelico’s heart swell; it feels as though it could choke her with guilt.

A feeling that threatens to overcome Tonelico any moment should she not try her hardest to swallow it whole; unable to fully erase it from existence. Artoria cares so much about her in the smallest ways, and here Tonelico lies, keeping secrets still.

Artoria deserves better. She, at the very least, deserves to know. There’s a limit to how much time you can buy.

At this moment, Tonelico makes up her mind. Tomorrow, she will tell Artoria everything. What it means to be a Fairy of Paradise, and what fate awaits them and Britain.

Ignorance may be bliss, and it would be so much easier not to share the harsh truth. But Tonelico doesn't want to lie to Artoria any longer. She’s promised to share her plans with Artoria once she’s certain.

This feeling of guilt shall no longer separate their hearts like a barrier that can only be shattered from one side, yet felt by both.

The determination alone allows this unwanted, regretful feeling to dissipate, if only for this moment. It would return should Tonelico go against her own decision, but she won’t.

There’s no way Tonelico would go back on her word. She will face this tomorrow, properly, as the Fairy of Paradise. As Artoria’s lover.

And for tonight, she will indulge herself; letting go of all things burdening her, sharing this special moment with Artoria. This time, truly, it would be the last chance.

It shall make up for all the encounters they will not have in the future, and for those they didn’t have in the past.

“I'm fine.” Tonelico caresses Artoria's cheek, who swallows. The soft, smooth skin feels hot to the touch. “Don't stop.”

‘Let me truly forget everything for just one night, please. Nothing but us should matter until sunrise.’

When Artoria still seems unsure still — her assertiveness is too fickle — Tonelico lowers her voice to a sensual whisper. She lazily runs a finger down Artoria's spine; leaving a tingle in its wake that's so much more potent than any shiver traveling the same path ever could be.

“I'm yours, Artoria. All yours.”

Something about this — Tonelico offering herself up, using this wanton voice, the genuineness of it all, maybe the combination of them all — flips a switch in Artoria.

Self-restraint goes from active to nonexistent in one second flat.

Artoria sees the desire in Tonelico’s glazed eyes, and feels her own overwhelming any remainder of rationality with ease. Whatever seemed to bother Tonelico just a moment ago is nothing but an afterthought now.

Artoria can’t be bothered to worry about that anymore either.

She dips down, sinking her teeth into the delicate spot where Tonelico’s shoulder meets her neck. A soft bite that communicates possession and desire, the willingness to consume whole, unabashedly so. If Tonelico is hers, then Artoria will claim her love all too willingly.

Tonelico bites back a whine, which only motivates Artoria to try harder. To make Tonelico unable to keep her reactions in check; to see this raw side she’d never show, too concerned about being this perfect Fairy of Paradise.

Artoria sucks on the sensitive skin; the salty taste mixes with the faintly sweet scent that's purely Tonelico, intoxicating Artoria further.

When she sees Tonelico covering her mouth with one hand, Artoria pouts. She grabs Tonelico’s hand and pins it down beside her head. Her gaze meets Tonelico’s head-on — no doubt or shame in her eyes. Not a shred of reluctance.

This is the Artoria whose mind is set; any debate is futile.

“Don't keep your voice down.”

Tonelico nods, filled with anticipation. She gasps when Artoria cups her breasts. Her hand twitches, instinctively almost reaching to cover her mouth again before reminding herself to follow Artoria’s whim.

Finally, for what must be the first time in her life, embracing the freedom to openly express herself with no regard for how it would reflect on the Fairy of Paradise. Allowed to be just Tonelico. Her hand clenches into a fist, as if to hold on to a sliver of rationality as the pleasure surges higher steadily.

“Hahh…”

A sigh of bliss escapes Tonelico between hot breaths. Artoria’s small hands are gentle, contrasting with the rough texture of the countless calluses. Feeling them is nice, sending a surge of heat straight to Tonelico’s core, and from there directly to her head, slowly turning her brain to mush.

Thoughts and the capacity to formulate them are gradually replaced by a pleasant warmth.

The way Artoria caresses the soft mounds carries a deep devotion she’d fail to express in words if she tried, and a simple, if somewhat amazed, enjoyment of feeling the soft breasts yield beneath her touch.

Every light squeeze is a foreign experience for Artoria, who’s less blessed in this regard but finds not a single care for such inferiority in this moment.

If anything, her blessing is Tonelico having these supple breasts, just for Artoria to love.

Like a magnetic pull, Artoria’s lips find their way to Tonelico’s breast. Tonelico tenses when Artoria’s breath faintly tickles her skin in between quick kisses. There’s not much time to build anticipation until Artoria lightly bites the nipple, already stiffened by the previous nearby attention.

“Aahh! S-so sudden— Nnmmh…”

Artoria’s lips curl into a smile as Tonelico’s voice reaches her ears, caught off-guard and clearly feeling good. Her teeth graze the sensitive flesh as she suckles on the hardened peak, drawing a long moan out of Tonelico, followed by careless leaks of that sexy voice mixing into the quickening breath.

Tonelico’s right hand moves to the back of Artoria’s head, keeping her in place to continue the stimulation Artoria isn’t planning to stop any soon. Her left hand tries to find purchase on Artoria’s back, unsuccessfully on the smooth skin.

Feeling Tonelico’s nails almost desperately cling to her spurs on Artoria further.

She lets her tongue flick over the tip in between suckling on it; the alternation and partial mix between the two sensations drives Tonelico crazy. Tonelico’s hand grips Artoria’s hair, pulling to signal the need for a break.

But Artoria isn’t deterred.

Contrary to what Tonelico’s overstimulated nervous system begs for, Artoria instead squeezes the neglected breast, rubbing the palm of her hand against the hardened nipple in the process.

“Hyaahh— Wait! Just a— a second, nnhh… Please!”

The desperate, overwhelmed whine is music to Artoria’s ears. Tonelico curses those damn calluses; their rough skin scrapes against her nipple when she least expects it, only to be met with a soft patch of skin where no callus lies the next moment.

Never before has Tonelico felt stimulation so intensely, much less when it comes to her breasts. Artoria’s hands are a force to be reckoned with, drawing a pitch out of Tonelico she hasn’t known she is capable of.

Artoria lets go of Tonelico’s nipple, not before giving it another playful lick. Tonelico shudders at the new sensation. The unexpected but much-needed respite leaves her breathing heavily.

An annoyingly persistent feeling of missing Artoria’s ministrations soon washes over her.

But it’s not as though Artoria is giving Tonelico a break. Slowly but sloppily, she kisses her way down over Tonelico’s stomach — each brushing of Artoria’s soft lips is like a butterfly’s flutter, matching those in Tonelico’s stomach.

She holds her breath in anticipation without noticing, involuntarily spreading her legs as a silent but clear invitation.

Artoria loses no time — her mouth finds Tonelico’s folds with ease, making Tonelico jump at the sudden contact. Forward as ever, though in this situation it’s a first for Artoria. It’s really been too long. Patience has no place here.

‘You’re wet.’

The observation brings a smile to Artoria’s lips, proving how right she’s doing this. But it’s not nearly enough; she needs more. Her tongue darts out to give a slow lick up the slick folds, lapping up the juices for a first proper taste.

A taste that Artoria quickly finds she won’t get enough of. Much better than the experimental little sample she got in the bath back in Orkney.

She grabs Tonelico’s hips to hold her in place before letting her tongue run across Tonelico’s sex. Exploring with great curiosity, taking note of which spots make Tonelico tense up, jump, or even leak out more of her sweet juices for Artoria to lap up.

Mapping out Tonelico’s petals with each stroke of her tongue.

“Hahhh… Mnnh~”

Both of Tonelico’s hands hold onto Artoria’s head, but Artoria pays it no mind. Tonelico may be feeling good already, but Artoria will make her feel even better.

Almost playfully, Artoria licks over Tonelico’s clit. A long, slow lick from bottom to top draws a whine out of Tonelico, and makes her arch her back, pushing her hips up to meet Artoria’s mouth in a desperate plea for more.

Quick flicks with the tip of her tongue from left to right, right to left, make Tonelico’s hips shiver, and her breath catches in her throat, before hot moans leak out of her mouth.

As much as Tonelico tries to gyrate her hips — seeking more friction than Artoria is providing to chase after the pleasure, or desperately trying to escape the stimulation for a break — Artoria’s grip holds her hips perfectly in place.

Defenseless against Artoria’s ministrations, who’s enjoying her buffet of desire at her own pace.

For another change, Artoria lets her tongue circle the hardened, throbbing nub with her tongue. Once, twice. Slowing her pace, increasing Tonelico’s thirst for more.

“Nnnh… Please, just—”

Until she sucks on Tonelico’s clit. The suction and Artoria’s warm mouth feel incredible enough, but Artoria additionally lets her tongue flick over the defenseless nub again. Her jaw is getting sore, but Artoria has no mind to pay such details.

Not when she has Tonelico practically melting for her.

“Hahhh! Wait! N-not there. Not like— not like this! Ahhhnn..!!”

Tonelico’s thighs are shaking. She’s so unbelievably close. Tonelico can feel the pressure in her lower abdomen, all her muscles starting to tense. Every bit of lava that seems to pool inside of her flows to that one point of contact, just waiting to erupt and spread through her entire being.

Her grip on Artoria’s hair tightens, and she pushes her closer against her crotch. This level of stimulation, feeling that sharp canine drag against her skin occasionally, is driving Tonelico crazy; her only chance of not fully losing her sanity is finally reaching the climax that will surely bring her to new heights.

“Hahh, please— Artoria, I’m—”

Luckily for Tonelico, Artoria isn’t in the mood for little games. With fervent ardor previously unknown even to herself, Artoria loses herself entirely in this act of consumption.

“Hyaaaahhhh…!!”

It only takes a few more flicks of her tongue, and Tonelico comes with a beautifully arched back; the hot pleasure pooled in her abdomen spreads through her body in warm, tingly waves.

She absentmindedly thrusts her hips towards Artoria to the best of her limited abilities — riding out this high as Artoria finally slows down.

Artoria pulls away and licks her lips, tasting Tonelico on them. She almost wants to dive back in once more, but when she finally meets Tonelico’s gaze again, the glazed blue eyes magically draw Artoria in. She moves back up to meet Tonelico’s lips in a passionate kiss.

Although initially surprised by the taste of herself on her lips, Tonelico quickly melts into the kiss. It prolongs this blissful, fuzzy feeling in her head, as the waves of warm tingles slowly abate. Nothing could compare to the bliss of this moment that shouldn’t end just yet.

Artoria jumps when Tonelico slightly raises her leg, pushing her thigh against Artoria’s neglected, sopping wet crotch.

“Someone’s got all hot and bothered.”

Even between hot, breathless gasps, Tonelico’s voice manages to carry this amusedly teasing tone. Artoria hates Tonelico for this, and how it always straight up sends butterflies to her stomach. Tonelico is plain unfair.

“Like you’re one to ta—aaahhnn!”

As if waiting for a retort, Tonelico shifts her leg for sweet friction at just the right moment to let Artoria interject her own rebuttal with a shameful moan. This voice is music to Tonelico’s ears; something she can’t get enough of. Artoria is too cute.

“Y-you’re cheati—nnngggh…”

Yet again, even unprompted, Artoria falls into this trap. Like in heat, Artoria can’t help but grind herself against Tonelico’s thigh. Now that Tonelico has started this, Artoria can’t help but chase her own pleasure.

“Quite eager, aren’t y—nnnhh… W-wait, that’s…!”

Two can play this game — so Artoria reaches her hand down between Tonelico’s legs to caress the slick folds with her fingers.

Not that she can manage accuracy, not while shamelessly riding Tonelico’s leg like this; but it seems to work well enough, if Tonelico’s quivers and whimpers are anything to go by.

Maybe if Tonelico hadn’t been such a bully, Artoria would’ve let her rest a bit more to recover from post-orgasm sensitivity. But apparently this isn’t a night for consideration, but one for unabashedly losing oneself in pleasing one’s lover.

Perfectly fine with Artoria.

The night is long; they have all the time to test the limits of their endurance, then go beyond.

Neither of them remembers how long they’d been going at it until they finally fell asleep, fully exhausted and perfectly content. Covered in sweat, zero distance between the two fairies. The blanket only haphazardly thrown over the two of them with half a mind to spare at best; not like either of them remembers who did so.

When Tonelico wakes up, Artoria’s soft breath tickles her nape. Artoria’s arms are wrapped around her waist, holding Tonelico tight. As though if there’s just any chance Tonelico could disappear, Artoria won’t let her go; not even in her sleep.

Tonelico’s heart swells at how much Artoria cherishes her, yet…

“Mmnh…?” Behind Tonelico, Artoria stirs. “C’mon, a few more minutes won’t hurt…”

Her speech is slurred. She’s never been a morning person, even if it’s probably much closer to noon, if not afternoon.

Tonelico fondly thinks back to every single morning they’ve shared. Maybe Tonelico hadn’t appreciated these simple moments enough, not until now. But regret isn’t something she can allow herself to feel at this moment.

“Tonelico?”

Artoria raises an eyebrow. Drowsiness doesn’t dull the unfair Fairy Eyes that will reliably see through any lie, through every wall one tries to build around the truth their heart cries out. There’s no hiding it anymore. Tonelico takes a deep breath.

10 - Calamity

Near a lake, Artoria stands at the shoreline, a couple of flat pebbles in her left hand. Without noticing, she sticks out her tongue a little, as though that could help her focus, and throws one of the stones at the water’s surface.

“One… two… Aww, come on!”

Artoria pouts. She glares at the spot where the pebble submerged itself after skipping only twice. Her record is five skips; not that she’s managed to hit it today. It must be these pebbles that are broken somehow, or this lake is cursed.

She picks another stone — flatter than the last, almost triangle-shaped, with round edges. With all the force of frustration, Artoria throws the poor pebble at the water’s surface, counting with amazement as it skips.

“One… two… three, four, five, six, seven, eight!?”

Artoria wouldn’t believe it if she didn’t see it herself; her eyes sparkle in amazement at this entirely useless skill she’s developing. With child-like enthusiasm — her frustrated anger disappeared once success kicked in once — she throws stone after stone.

Though they never skip more than twice at best, most no more than once.

Once Artoria has run out of stones, she leans down to pick up a new one, hardly minding its shape or size. She gets set for the throw, tongue darting out a little—

When out of nowhere, two hands cover Artoria’s eyes. The pebble drops out of her hand, making a little splosh sound when it breaks the water’s surface.

“You ruined my throw!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Tonelico removes her hands, and Artoria turns around to face her with a highly irritated glare. If not for the adorable pout, Tonelico would regret disturbing Artoria’s concentration.

But this face is worth the mild ire.

Tonelico pulls Artoria in for a kiss, which Artoria returns. Artoria’s expression softens once Tonelico pulls away; the rosy cheeks are a more than equivalent replacement for the pout.

“I’m still mad.” Kissing Tonelico is nice, but it doesn’t make up for a messed up stone skip.

“I didn’t know you’ve gotten that much into this new hobby.”

After taking a few steps along the shoreline, Tonelico takes up a pebble of her own. She’s seen Artoria skip stones the last few times they’ve been near a body of water. Never tried it herself; her pleasure has been Artoria’s adorable complaints about the water being broken, or the stones refusing to skip just to spite her.

So irrational, and she knows Artoria is perfectly aware of that herself.

“Mind if I give it a try?”

Artoria’s expression immediately sours. She’s just celebrated her newest stone skipping record today, and now Tonelico wants to skip stones, too?

It’s Tonelico, this annoyingly gifted genius of a fairy. If it’s her, the stone probably skips at least fifty times right away. The mere idea annoys Artoria to no end, and she sets her mind on practicing until she’ll skip at least a hundred times, if not more.

“Sure, go ahead.”

She can’t hide her irritation and brooding competitiveness from Tonelico either way, thanks to Fairy Eyes. It feels even more liberating to clearly put it all into her intonation as well. Not that Tonelico minds.

So far, there’s been nothing about Artoria that Tonelico hates. No matter what, the worst feeling Tonelico ever directed at Artoria was some variation of annoyance, maybe a bit of disappointment.

It’s comforting to be by the side of someone who whole-heartedly accepts you.

Artoria feels the same way about Tonelico. She can be so infuriating sometimes, with how perfect and flawless she is, too good at everything — but genuinely disliking anything about Tonelico? That feels utterly impossible. Artoria can’t even imagine it.

Tonelico trains her gaze on the lake’s surface. Immediately shifting into full focus, and throwing the flat stone the way she’s seen Artoria do it. It skips once—

No, it sinks immediately once it breaks the water’s surface.

Artoria blinks a few times. She rubs her eyes, in disbelief at what she’s just seen. Did Tonelico really mess up completely? That wasn’t a dream, right?

“… what…” Tonelico is as surprised as Artoria at her immediate failure.

She turns around with a reddened face when she hears Artoria snort once the reality sinks in like the stone sank to the lake’s ground.

Artoria breaks into full-blown laughter when she sees Tonelico’s flustered and frustrated face. This is a first. Too good, too funny. She’s always hoped to see Tonelico like this, and now she does over stone skipping, of all things?

“I— I’m sorry, just… Pffft.” Artoria tries her best to stop laughing, to no avail. “Fwahahaha, you should see your face!”

“T-this— It’s harder than it looks!! I’m sure I’ll get it the next time!”

‘The pebble must’ve had an unfortunate shape… No, I threw it at a bad angle… Maybe it was both?’

Confident that she’ll make Artoria eat her cockiness in a moment — make her regret that undignified ugly laugh on top of it — Tonelico scans the shoreline for the perfect stone.

Once she finds one that matches her standards, Tonelico picks it up, gets ready, and gives it her all with the next throw.

… only for it to break the water’s surface and propel forward further below it, until it inevitably sinks to the ground again.

Tonelico’s record stays at an impressive zero.

Artoria drops to the ground now, holding her stomach, which hurts from laughing too much. Normally a sound that would be soothing music to Tonelico’s ears, but right now it adds insult to injury.

Salt into the wounds she’d rather lick in peace, like an injured animal.

While Tonelico is seething, Artoria eventually calms down, sitting up cross-legged. She wipes the tears from her eyes. This has probably been the first time in her life she’s laughed this much, and it being at Tonelico’s expense makes it feel even more cathartic.

“Are you done yet?” For once, it’s Tonelico’s turn to sulk and pout over her inadequacy.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry.” Artoria clears her throat. “It’s just… I never saw you fumble anything this hard before. You’re plain awful at stone skipping.”

“You really just said that to my face, huh?” After a brief moment of surprise, it’s now Tonelico’s turn to chuckle softly.

She sits down next to Artoria, watching the small ripples on the calm lake with her. Her sulky irritation is replaced with a gentle but faint smile, an almost melancholic expression.

Artoria wants to ask what’s with that reaction, but she doesn’t have to for Tonelico to go on.

“I never had anyone tell me I failed, or that I’m bad at anything before.” Tonelico leans back a little, propping herself up on her arms. “It’s kind of refreshing.”

“Of course. You pretty much nail anything you try right away.” Artoria’s expression sours again at the mere idea. She rolls her eyes. “That’s the most annoying thing about you.”

“I suppose it is. I don’t think anyone would be as… bold as you are, Artoria.” Not just anyone would speak so rudely to Tonelico, lacking any respect.

“Someone has to take you down a peg and remind you that you’re just a fairy once in a while.”

Artoria puffs out her chest proudly. Even though Tonelico has long reached a level of magical prowess that she wouldn’t be able to match, even though Tonelico knows so many more spells than she’d ever be able to learn, even though Tonelico is all that Artoria will never be — at the end of the day, Tonelico isn’t some incomprehensible being.

She’s a fairy like Artoria.

Knowing how lonely and difficult life is as the Fairy of Paradise — being othered, used, taken advantage of, abused, loathed — Artoria knows that a sense of normalcy and being understood is balm for a hurt soul. Glue that keeps the pieces of one’s heart together, preventing it from shattering under the pressure of adversary.

She’s learned that back in Orkney. She’d only gotten a glimpse of that back in Tintagel.

There’s no one but Artoria who would bother to stand up to Tonelico as an equal. And there’s nobody but Tonelico who would do the same for Artoria. In the whole world, possibly in all worlds, the two of them are one of a kind. Understanding each other comes so natural. For the most part.

“That was the last bell, huh,” Artoria says.

“Mhmm. I’ve rung all six now.” Tonelico’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes anymore when she stares off in the distance like she’s avoiding to look at the present.

“What’s next?” Artoria carelessly throws another pebble into the lake. “… are you going to tell me?”

“Please let me think about it for a bit longer. I’ll tell you once I’m sure.”

Artoria isn’t satisfied with the lack of an answer to this crucial question. But this is a plea from Tonelico; she’s genuine, and desperately hopes that Artoria won’t pry further.

For now, for Tonelico’s sake, Artoria will settle for this. Ever since Tonelico promised to be honest with Artoria, she indeed hasn’t lied nor hidden any truth from Artoria.

This one time, Tonelico requests the privacy of pondering over her course of action by herself. Artoria understands she’d be too demanding if she wouldn’t respect that, just this once.

“Fine.” With a deep sigh, Artoria leans towards Tonelico until her head lands in Tonelico’s lap. “I’m not happy you’re still keeping me out, but… It can’t be helped.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

It pains Tonelico. She knows there’s no real solution. All she does is buy time; time for Artoria to stay blissfully unaware of their fate, the inevitability of it all. Eventually, Tonelico will have to tell Artoria, but… She can’t. Not today, not now.

‘Please, let me enjoy this dream for just a little bit longer…’

Artoria closes her eyes as Tonelico caresses her cheek. She nuzzles into the gentle touch, wishing this simple moment could last forever.

Maybe, once Tonelico brings peace to this land, it can. As fairies, their lifespans aren’t really limited. If anyone can turn this wretched place into a peaceful kingdom, it would be this Tonelico by Artoria’s side. No doubt about it.

Suddenly, a tremor; Tonelico and Artoria feel the ground shake beneath them.

Before even knowing the source, both of them instinctively know this is bad news. Dangerous.

Immediately, they jump into action. Artoria leaves the comfort of resting her head on Tonelico’s lap and gets onto her feet; Tonelico takes her staff and leaps up, trying to pin down the direction at the very least.

“It’s coming from there,” Artoria says, pointing east.

Tonelico nods. It’s not a surprise Artoria notices before her, she’s got finer senses. In a different situation, Tonelico would call them ‘animalistic instincts’ that Artoria possesses in place of proper manners. But now isn’t the time for banter.

“Stay here.”

Once she’s said that, Tonelico takes off towards the source of the ground’s tremble. This isn’t a matter Artoria should get involved in; Artoria shouldn’t endanger herself like that. Much to her dismay, Tonelico can tell that she’s on her tail, though.

‘Why can’t this fool just listen…’

Gritting her teeth, Tonelico has to think fast. She decides to let Artoria follow. In the worst case, she can use a Water Mirror to send her back to the lake still. Beats losing time to a futile argument with a stubborn Artoria.

Not that Tonelico is any less stubborn herself.

After a long dash through thick woods surrounding the lake, Tonelico’s eyes widen in shock as she comes to face with what may as well be a nightmare — in the center of a clearing that hasn’t been one until very recently stands a gigantic reptilian creature.

It’s pitch black. Instead of scales, its body gives off black dust-like particles. Almost seeming as though this beast is made of a combination of coal and shadow. It stands on four thick legs, three claws on each foot. Each one almost as long as Artoria is tall.

The beast’s tail is fairly short, but at this sheer size still gives it a big range. Its hind legs appear sturdier, hinting at its ability to at least temporarily stand on them only.

Upon Tonelico’s arrival, it lets out a low growl that reverberates through one’s soul, instilling an instinctual fear into one’s heart. It’s loud enough that Tonelico wouldn’t doubt it’s heard in all of Britain.

“W-what the hell is—”

“A calamity,” Tonelico mutters.

Although she doesn’t truly know why, Artoria simply understands.

Neither of them has heard of them before, much less seen one. But now that they come to face with this being that feels as though it’s made of pure hatred, its only purpose murder and annihilation — they intrinsically know what it is. Maybe because they’re Fairies of Paradise.

The next thing they understand: This beast has to be taken down.

“Stay back.” The look Tonelico gives Artoria doesn’t leave room for arguments.

“But— I can’t just let you go up against that by yourself! I feel it too, you know!”

“Artoria, please.” Tonelico puts her trembling hand on Artoria’s shoulder. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

With a click of her tongue, Artoria turns away. The raw hurt in Tonelico’s eyes is plain unfair. It’s like looking at Tonelico after Orkney; there’s no way Artoria would be able to put Tonelico through such pain. Never again could she bear seeing Tonelico like that.

Grateful for Artoria’s compliance, Tonelico takes off towards the reptilian shadow beast of hatred, leaving Artoria to step back into the woods, out of sight and earshot. Frustrated about being a useless burden in such dire situations.

“… then you should’ve let me ring the bells, too,” Artoria mutters.

Tonelico charges at the beast, transforming her staff into a spear for both range and sharpness. She catches the calamity’s attention immediately and has to leap to the side to avoid getting stomped, but then pierces its stomach. Scaled animals tend to have softer scales and less protection on the bellies, after all.

Not that such logic would apply to a calamity.

The spear’s tip easily stabs the creature, meeting little resistance — but the calamity appears entirely unaffected. Tonelico pulls her spear back out, using a Water Mirror to change her position, spawning over the beast’s back. She turns her spear into a sword, gripping the hilt with both hands tightly.

Gravity pulls her down, adding more force to the swing when Tonelico cuts the calamity’s back. Yet again, there is little resistance to the attack, and no reaction. There’s no injury, nor does blood flow. Tonelico considers that this thing might not be able to feel pain.

In which case, it wouldn’t halt until it’s killed.

From the corner of her eye, she sees its tail coming at her — but in a split second, another Water Mirror brings her to the calamity’s nape. Right as she uses her magecraft to transform the sword back into the spear, the beast turns its head 180 degrees and looks straight at Tonelico. Its empty eyes seem to pierce her soul directly.

Tonelico feels as though she can hear its thoughts.

Kill. Kill them all. Sinners. Destroy. Kill. Punish. Destroy Kill Destroy Kill Kill Kill them all. KILL.

Tonelico shudders at the concentrated hatred that this calamity exudes. It won’t stop until it falls, or Britain does. The icy shiver that runs down Tonelico’s spine at this is enough of a distraction to break her concentration.

She only barely casts another Water Mirror in time to avoid her limbs getting caught in the calamity’s mouth, snapping shut with sharp teeth right where Tonelico used to be.

But with her imperfect focus, the Water Mirror isn’t as accurate as usual and drops her onto the ground at an unfortunate angle. After half a roll, Tonelico lands back on her feet, frantically running through all the options she can think of, in way over her head.

Are there any possible weak spots she didn’t try yet? Is it worth looking for them? Head, tail, and feet are lethal weapons. Getting too close to them is a high risk with no reward.

Does it have a heart? Would piercing that kill it immediately? With how there’s no blood running through its body, the absence of a heart wouldn’t be surprising. And Tonelico has no idea where it would be anyway.

The last option is to continuously strike it, accumulating so much damage that it cannot keep its body intact anymore. This works on any living organism, phantasmal beings, and objects. A straightforward and blunt course of action, but the most promising strategy.

‘But how can I inflict that much damage to it…?’

At most, Tonelico could create three clones of herself. They are as powerful as her original self, but she only has enough mana to keep them active for about five minutes. If that’s not enough, that would leave her wide open for retaliation. It’s a high risk. Too high.

There’s no saying that four Tonelicos could finish the job within five minutes. It’s not worth it.

Instead, Tonelico takes her spear and charges at the calamity’s left hind leg. If she can cut a leg off, that would limit its mobility. That’s the edge she needs. She transforms the spear back into a sword and cuts away at the leg.

If only Tonelico would’ve learned proper swordsmanship, she’d be more efficient. Luckily, technique isn’t as crucial as raw power in such a battle.

And yet, as easily as the sword’s blade slides through the calamity’s leg, no cut remains. Like this, it’s simply impossible to sever the limb.

Unwilling to give up on this approach this soon — it’s not like she could transform her staff into a gigantic axe, or wield one in the first place — Tonelico keeps cutting at it.

“Watch out—”

When Artoria’s cry reaches Tonelico’s ears, she sees a shadow in the corner of her eye. She casts Water Mirror, but it activates too late. The calamity’s tail slams into Tonelico’s side at full force, knocking the breath out of her as it throws her into the Water Mirror.

The momentum tosses Tonelico out of the delayed Water Mirror roughly, at a safe enough distance at least. Flung like a ragdoll, Tonelico tumbles over the rough ground, until she eventually catches her movement.

Standing up proves difficult. Tonelico struggles to get up on her knees, holding her right side. At least two of her ribs are definitely broken. The pain is almost numbing.

When Tonelico reaches up to wipe her nose, she sees blood. She casts the minor healing spell she knows on her nose while she holds it closed to stop the bleeding. Injuries can be taken care of later when she has the time; not bleeding out before the calamity is down is the highest priority.

When Tonelico looks back at the calamity, she can’t believe her eyes: Artoria is charging at the wretched thing.

‘This foolish girl…!!’

Tonelico immediately transforms her sword back to its original form, a staff. This isn’t Artoria’s battle. As the Fairy of Paradise, the one who rung the six bells and completed her pilgrimage, it’s Tonelico’s duty to protect Artoria.

Right when she wants to cast a Water Mirror to send Artoria away from this, she feels a piercing pain in her chest. Tonelico flinches, almost sinking to her knees. Maybe it’s not only two broken ribs. No, that can wait.

“Artoria, don—”

Once she tries to raise her voice, Tonelico feels an unbearable irritation in her throat, swallowing up her speech. She covers her mouth with her hand, and coughs up blood.

In this moment, Tonelico curses herself for not having delved deeper into healing magecraft. With the sharp pain in her chest, and the blood still lingering in her mouth, Tonelico is in too bad of a shape for close combat.

Artoria can tell. Seeing the speed at which the calamity’s tail crashed into Tonelico, she’s surprised Tonelico can even stand up anymore. It must be the boost from the bells. That was enough force to knock the wind out of anyone, if not outright kill them.

At that sight, Artoria couldn’t stand still and watch anymore.

‘As if I’d let you hurt Tonelico like that!!’

Pilgrimage or not, Fairy of Paradise or Child of Prophecy — none of that matters. Who cares about duty and role?

All that matters is saving Tonelico’s life; that’s what Artoria’s heart is screaming at the top of its lungs. This oversized lizard isn’t that scary to an Artoria filled with the anger and frustration of seeing Tonelico get injured while she motionlessly stands by.

Artoria tightens her grip on her simple wooden staff and casts one of the spells she’s learned in her magecraft studies with Tonelico in Orkney — boosting her physical capabilities. She leaps onto the calamity’s foot with ease.

Her jumping power is enough to even cover the distance to its shoulder, from where she charges towards its head.

Unlike Tonelico earlier, Artoria already knows now that the thing can turn its head by 180 degrees at least, if not full 360 degrees. It does, aiming to take a bite of Artoria, who jumps up in time to swiftly evade the fatal attack, then she uses all of her boosted strength to ram her staff into the calamity’s left eye.

Surprisingly, it lets out a low growl, as if wincing in pain. Before Artoria could even think to retrieve her staff — not that she planned anything about this attack in advance, she’s simply acted on nothing but intuition and instinct — she’s hit by the calamity shaking its head in a futile attempt to dislodge the staff stuck in its eye like a thorn.

Artoria casts a spell, boosting her durability just in time before she hits the ground. It still hurts like hell and knocks the breath out of her. Magecraft without a staff is weaker and less focused, but it’s better than nothing. Without the boost, this fall would’ve broken some bones at least.

The calamity raises to its hind legs, shaking its head left and right to remove the foreign object. To no avail.

This is the missing puzzle piece: attacks don’t leave any mark on it, but objects stuck in it permanently are a different matter. That’s the information Tonelico needed.

With Artoria still in the calamity’s proximity, Tonelico’s concern overshadows her pain.

She puts all of her concentration into this spell. One Tonelico has never used before, only theorized about conceptually. There has never been an instance in which this would’ve been necessary. But holding back is the wrong move against this calamity.

Dark clouds accumulate above the beast’s head, while Artoria scrambles onto her legs. A little wobbly from the fall still, but she can slowly get some distance between herself and the calamity, while the clouds above thicken.

Once Artoria is out of range, Tonelico takes a deep breath to steady her aim. The preparation is done, her strongest spell is ready.

“Clouds of Orkney!!”

Instead of the gentle rain one would expect hearing ‘Orkney’ in the spell’s name, lightning crashes down relentlessly. Artoria’s staff, stuck in the calamity’s eye, turns out to be a perfect lightning rod, drawing in every single of the countless surges of pure energy.

The calamity shakes at every lightning that hits it, each strike looks as though it pulls apart the shadow particles the beast is made of until they pull themselves together again.

Its movements slow down gradually.

Until eventually, it drops to the ground. Stray lightning keeps raining down on its lifeless body. Each strike of lightning now dissipates a chunk of its body. Eventually, nothing remains of the calamity. No trace of the creature consisting of hatred and an overwhelming desire to annihilate the land.

“It’s over…” Tonelico’s voice is a mutter.

She coughs up blood again, finally sinking down to her knees — but Artoria is there to catch Tonelico in her arms.

“Why did you—” Another coughing fit disrupts Tonelico.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead by now, you idiot!” Artoria holds back her tears. “What were you planning there!?”

As that question leaves Artoria’s mouth, she remembers Tonelico asking her that exact question back in Orkney, in one of their sparring matches. It only frustrates her further.

How could Tonelico act so high and mighty and criticize Artoria in a mere Magi-Match, just to pull off the same foolishness in a serious situation!? When it really counts!?

Tonelico remembers the same instance, realizing her hypocrisy. It was easy to criticize and chastize when there were no stakes, when there was the thought to spare on such trivialities.

Now? Tonelico understands she’s lucky to be alive. No, she knows she has to thank Artoria for that.

“You’re right.” Admitting this hurts, Tonelico winces at the pain in her throat.

“H-hey! You shouldn’t talk. Wait, I’ll heal you—”

When Artoria looks around for her staff, she finds it gone. Decimated by lightning, same as the calamity. Without it, her healing magecraft would struggle against Tonelico’s injuries.

Artoria grits her teeth. It’s not like she has a choice; she’ll have to cast a healing spell anyway.

Right when she’s about to put her focus into it, there are voices in the distance. Tonelico startles immediately. Her gaze flicks between Artoria and the source of the voices. Fairies are heading towards them.

The panic in Tonelico’s eyes says enough; Artoria doesn’t have to ask. Not right now.

They’ll have to leave before they’re found.

For a lack of better options, Artoria heaves Tonelico onto her back, planning to carry her piggyback. At least until they reach the woods, where it’ll be easy to keep their presence concealed.

Tonelico is heavier than expected — in her mind, Artoria blames Tonelico’s stupidly more developed body and especially her boobs for it. Artoria casts another spell, enhancing her physical strength once more. Less potent than in her battle against the calamity, but it should be enough.

The forest isn’t that far away, but with the additional weight on her back, despite the strength boost, Artoria trips every few steps and almost loses her balance. She feels Tonelico hold on to her more tightly, allowing Artoria to focus more on running, worrying less about not losing Tonelico.

Just barely, they manage to cross the bushes, getting further into the thickening woods. From behind, they can faintly make out fairies wondering if there wasn’t just someone here, and what happened to the monster they saw.

It doesn’t matter. Nobody seems to follow them.

Artoria lets Tonelico down against a tree, sitting cross-legged in front of her to catch her breath. The adrenaline pumping through her veins only helped as long as the threat was immediate; now that she’s calmed down and both Tonelico and herself are safe, the fatigue catches up.

This isn’t the right spot to make camp, but Artoria holds her hand over Tonelico’s ribs and casts a healing spell. If Tonelico can at least walk on her own without a risk of worsening her injuries, that would make the trip back to the lake a lot easier.

But staying focused is difficult. Artoria starts to feel a little light-headed after a moment, signaling that she’s already running low on mana. Unlike Tonelico, her reserves are much smaller and don’t recharge as quickly either. Ringing the bells is such an unfair cheat for a Fairy of Paradise.

“Ugh…” Artoria breaks off the spell and holds her head. She feels a mild headache approaching.

“Artoria?”

“Sorry, I’m— I’m just running low on mana. Give me a moment…”

Tonelico’s pain is somewhat numbed by now. Ignorable, as long as she stays mostly still. But getting up and walking to the lake in this state would overexert her, that much is clear.

There’s something that could be done to get back to the lake earlier, without having to wait here in the middle of the forest for Artoria to recharge.

“Kiss me.”

Artoria turns to Tonelico with an utterly confused look. Scandalized even.

It was early in the morning, when dew still decorated the grass blades outside. A faint fog draped over Garreg Mach before the sunlight would eventually clear the atmosphere of these remains from a cold night.

Byleth walked into her classroom a good half hour before the first class would start, as any responsible teacher would if they prepared lessons more spontaneously, right before holding them.

The four students she found present at this time — ready for class before it would start — came as no surprise.

Though it would be more accurate to speak of three students when it came to whether they were ready for class. Linhardt was present, but visibly asleep with his head resting on his desk, so he would sleep through any lecture that would start about now. He might wake in time, or he might not.

Not that Byleth minded much; not as long as his academic performance didn’t suffer. As a mercenary, she knew that completing a job was what mattered, not how one went about it. Nobody ever asks how one achieved the results as long as they were evident.

Unlike Linhardt, Edelgard was seated in the front, lost in a tome she was reading — either preparing for a lecture she assumed to be upcoming, or deepening her knowledge of a lesson that lay in the past.

As studious and driven as Edelgard was — with results that matched the efforts — she would be at the top of the class if Byleth made a ranking.

Next to her sat her looming shadow and retainer, Hubert, who appeared to almost never leave Edelgard’s side. He often eyed Byleth with a suspicion that she was all too familiar with — he didn’t trust her. Rather, Hubert saw Byleth as a threat.

Byleth didn’t know nor care what she was supposedly posing a risk for. This wasn’t a battlefield on which they would become enemies, after all. If baseless suspicions were to cause friction someday, that was when she would deal with it. Before then, it was of no concern.

This indifference Byleth had for Hubert’s distrust, Edelgard shared for Ferdinand’s one-sided competition with her. She paid it no mind, simply because it wasn’t a problem, and if one would arise one day, that was when it would start to matter, and when it needed to be handled.

The poor, overzealous boy had no idea that his battle was not only lost before it started, but entirely irrelevant to the other party. He wrote notes and worked with a book that he surely saw Edelgard with another day. Not wanting to fall behind, when in reality he was nothing but an inexperienced knight poking a dragon with a sword that hardly tickled the hardened scales.

At the very least, Ferdinand was motivated. The reason mattered little.

As Byleth made her way towards the front of the classroom, she halted in front of Edelgard’s desk. It only took a moment for Edelgard to look up from her book once she’d finished reading the current sentence.

“I’d like to see you after class today, to discuss your performance,” Byleth said.

It wasn’t a mere request that could be denied, but a statement. A teacher’s demand left no choice. Not that Edelgard would have objected; an amicable relationship with Byleth mattered to her. For diplomatic reasons and her education, of course.

With a glance at Hubert, whose eyes narrowed at that request, Byleth had a condition to add for clarity’s sake.

“Alone.”

She couldn’t risk Hubert tagging along as he often would; this would be counterproductive to her intentions.

“And for what reason?” Hubert asked. No surprise that he wasn’t too willing to give in — he would be a bad retainer otherwise. He had surely prepared more arguments than were needed already, ready to wage this battle of words for the sake of his liege.

“Such matters are between a teacher and student alone,” Byleth explained.

It inspired more questions than it answered — from Byleth, who had never before done such reviews, nor formal private meetings with students — and this lack of explanation didn’t alleviate Hubert’s suspicions. Though with Byleth’s stoic nature, he couldn’t pin down his distrust on any give-away that would give reason to doubt.

A lack of information can be as much of a weapon as an abundance of data; what matters is how one wields this blade. And in Byleth’s hands, it became an impressive sword whose strikes could pierce any armor and overwhelm any attempt at a counter.

“It’s fine,” Edelgard interjected before Hubert could pry further, much to his dismay. “There is no reason to mistrust our teacher. And I’m sure it is important if she demands my presence.”

“It is,” Byleth agreed.

Hubert was clearly displeased, but he followed Edelgard’s word loyally, so he begrudgingly retreated on this matter. Also, he was all too aware — more so than the princess herself — that Edelgard would love to spend more time with Byleth, especially so if they would not be disturbed by another person.

And he had faith that Edelgard would not fall victim to a mere mercenary, even if she was the Ashen Demon. So, in his liege’s best interests, Hubert could not stand between them; not when it wasn’t necessary.

Not with that glimmer Edelgard’s eyes only carried when she spoke of Byleth, or when she spotted the professor. This much indulgence was allowed.

“I will meet you in your room,” Edelgard promised.

Byleth nodded to end the conversation, then walked towards her desk at the front to prepare for the upcoming lesson.

——————————

In the afternoon, Byleth was seated at her desk to go through some notes for tomorrow’s lecture, when a knock on her door caught her attention. There was no doubt as to who this was; unannounced guests were a rarity.

“Come in,” Byleth said, just loud enough that the visitor would hear.

Edelgard entered, closing the door behind her. Judging by the time, she was quite early — Edelgard must have come immediately after her final lecture. A diligent girl like her lost no time.

“Thanks for coming.”

Byleth stood up from her chair and stretched her back; sitting for long periods wasn’t her forte. Being a teacher and forging bonds that would last for longer than a mission was a blessing of a change of pace, but Byleth wasn’t used to the lack of physical exertion.

Perhaps she should consider adding more activities to the curriculum. More combat experience wouldn’t hurt for the students either. But that was a deliberation for another day.

“Of course,” Edelgard said.

She scanned Byleth’s room, though nothing stood out. It didn’t show much personality, which was suitable for the mysterious Ashen Demon.

“Say, my teacher,” Edelgard started, and put a hand on her hip. “What is the real reason you asked me here?”

From the very beginning, Edelgard had seen through Byleth, much like Hubert surely did. It wasn’t that Byleth had no skill in lying, but rather that an imperial princess of Edelgard’s caliber wasn’t easily fooled.

When it came to such a private meeting between teacher and student, it had to have a good reason — for which Edelgard, with a perfectly clean record, provided not a single incentive.

The conclusion was that this meeting being of an academic nature — of a teacher wanting to discuss private matters with her student — was an excuse behind which another intention lay.

Edelgard wasn’t concerned in the slightest, but she couldn’t deny being curious about the inner workings of her mysterious teacher.

“I wanted to see you,” Byleth said.

Although that much was clear from the invitation that was a demand, it made Edelgard pause. The ‘why’ that was born from this assertion was swallowed by the smallest flutter in Edelgard’s chest at this straightforwardness that came at her with such an honest gaze that entirely lacked shame at uttering such careless words.

Nothing could defend a heart against a strike like this.

“Remember our talk lately?” Byleth asked, opening a drawer in her desk to rummage for something that turned out to be a small bag, tied with a blue ribbon. “These were given to me yesterday.”

She handed the bag to Edelgard, whose heart was calmed by the confusion as to what this was that Byleth wanted to show her so badly in private. Her mind was racing with options, yet came up empty with no proper idea as she opened the ribbon to inspect the contents of the bag.

Byleth watched with her arms crossed in front of her chest while Edelgard looked inside the bag. She looked even more puzzled than before when she met Byleth’s eyes again.

“It’s… chocolate,” Edelgard stated.

“I thought I’d share.” Byleth smiled.

Last week — after Edelgard had confessed to her sweet tooth, and her desire to indulge herself in that regard — Byleth had consulted students from other classes whom she knew had a culinary talent.

She was all too aware that while she was capable of cooking, making sweets required a much higher proficiency, which Byleth simply didn’t possess. Luckily, Mercedes was very willing to do this favor for her favorite teacher.

And just yesterday, she had delivered the chocolates to Byleth. In exchange, the girl merely asked to feed one of them to Byleth herself, to which the teacher obliged. It was a small price to pay, and helped confirm the taste.

This was something suitable to offer to Edelgard, who wasn’t normally allowed such luxury. Nobody could’ve made more refined sweets.

However, this gesture alone hadn’t jogged Edelgard’s memory. Although Byleth had promised Edelgard that a day in which she could enjoy sweets would come, it appeared that only Byleth truly remembered this short conversation.

“Thank you, but Hubert would not—” Realization finally flashed over Edelgard’s face when it clicked, and she remembered this insignificant little talk. “You remembered?”

No wonder Byleth insisted on this being private between the two of them; in any other scenario, they would not be as undisturbed. What Hubert did or didn’t approve of mattered not when he wouldn’t know.

“Your wish to indulge yourself in sweets just once?” Byleth repeated.

“… yes. That. And Hubert not being fond of this idea for my own good, as well as you promising me such a day despite that.”

Edelgard sighed. Much sweeter than this chocolate in Edelgard’s hands was the consideration of Byleth, who went the extra mile for such a minor pleasure. Her heart swooned, and yet—

“However, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Edelgard closed the bag again and reached out to return it to Byleth, who made no movement to accept it.

“Why not?”

“For one, they were made for you, not me, weren’t they?”

Edelgard didn’t need to be told to understand; as skilled and capable as Byleth was, she couldn’t picture a battle-hardened mercenary hand-craft such delicate chocolates. Much more believable was the idea that the most popular person in the monastery would be given small presents as a gesture of kindness.

After all, Byleth herself went around making small gifts tailored to everyone’s preferences as though it were the most natural thing. For the rare smile of such a selfless, capable, and admirable person, most would go out of their way without a second thought.

This was only natural for a person who shined like the only light in the dark.

“And even if that were not the case, I really shouldn’t,” Edelgard added, as though it could shield her from further discussion.

Maybe it would’ve, if not for the all too evident longing for cocoa-flavored sweetness that lingered in her eyes, which glanced back to the small bag held out to get rid of the temptation — a fleeting display of weakness for the shortest moment.

Such an opening could not escape Byleth’s senses, honed by years of practice on the battlefield. All she needed was the right strike to hit a vulnerable spot, and it was her victory.

“Would you rather let them go to waste?”

Edelgard’s brows furrowed as she bit her lip; she was too kind a soul to let someone’s efforts be in vain if it could be helped. Not that this amount was so vast that one person couldn’t finish all the chocolates on their own, but…

Byleth accepted the returned bag finally, while Edelgard warred with herself. Absorbed in an inner conflict she refused to make space for, Edelgard held onto the chocolates for a few seconds longer than she had to.

“I suppose that would be rude,” Edelgard finally admitted.

It was nothing but a small step forward, but Byleth needed no further concession. This was more than enough of a crack in the firm denial that hadn’t been genuine from the very beginning.

If it were about changing Edelgard’s mind, Byleth knew it would be a futile endeavor. Aligning outward expression with internal desires, however — this was doable.

“Mhmm.” Byleth reopened the bag in her hands. “Which kind do you want?”

Discussions weren’t Byleth’s forte, so instead she circumvented further arguments in favor of proceeding as though Edelgard had fully conceded rather than allowed her stance to weaken.

With the wide selection of chocolates — at least one piece of each kind in the spectrum from dark to white was available — there was no doubt that no matter Edelgard’s preference, Byleth would be able to oblige.

Edelgard sighed, and her features softened. Almost as though she was relieved to have the burden of choice removed from herself, Edelgard was able to relax in this defeat. Not that she would admit such outright.

Byleth was an opponent that Edelgard realized once more she couldn’t overcome as she was now, try as she might. Perhaps she would never be able to.

“… if there happens to be any white chocolate,” Edelgard muttered, not meeting Byleth’s gaze.

She had briefly considered asking for dark chocolate, as the most classy choice would befit an imperial princess. But in her teacher’s proximity, it felt as though Byleth would’ve seen through Edelgard regardless; as uncomfortable as the thought could be, it was just as disarming.

When truth felt like the only path, lies and deceit held no point, and subsequently didn’t come easily.

It made it so much harder not to let slip what would destroy this relationship should it be known to Byleth; Edelgard knew she had to be the most careful around her teacher, whom she almost found herself trusting.

Even when it was only a matter of time as those ambitions and her efforts could not be concealed forever, Edelgard couldn’t bear to let this temporary peace shatter too soon.

Unknowing of the true extent of Edelgard’s inner conflicts, but aware of the existence of troubles that the imperial princess didn’t allow to color her outward expression, Byleth picked a rose-shaped piece of white chocolate from the bag.

It was a near pure white, reminiscent of Edelgard’s platinum strands — a beauty that reminded of purity, when in truth it was the representation of a core characteristic’s absence.

White chocolate lacked cocoa — that which made chocolate chocolate — while Edelgard lacked the carefree innocence a young girl should know.

Edelgard accepted the beautifully crafted chocolate and brought it to her mouth with lingering reluctance. The elegant yet hesitant bite she took was enough to almost immediately curve her mouth into a smile that rivaled the sweetness of the treat.

This rare indulgence was savored as Edelgard let it slowly melt in her mouth, allowing its surprisingly layered saccharine taste to spread throughout before she swallowed it.

“It has been so long since I’ve had a taste of this,” Edelgard admitted in near unguarded bliss.

The genuine smile turned into a frown that could almost be mistaken for a pout when Edelgard noticed the way Byleth looked at her — the stoic teacher’s smile was rare, and now it reminded of a smirk even.

“What is it?” Edelgard asked.

“I just didn’t expect this,” Byleth said.

Edelgard was normally the image of a perfect facade — she wasn’t one to lose her composure, nor express herself too openly. Even when such indulgence was her wish, such genuine happiness came as a surprise that Byleth enjoyed seeing. If only it had lasted longer.

“Is it so wrong for me to enjoy something very sweet once in a while?”

“Not at all.” Byleth shook her head. In fact, it suited Edelgard — what girl didn’t enjoy chocolate? “I can relate to that taste.”

From the bag in her hand, Byleth picked up a tulip-shaped piece of dark chocolate and plopped the bite-sized treat into her mouth whole — enjoying the refined taste of near pure cocoa caressing her taste buds as the chocolate melted almost immediately.

“Dark chocolate isn’t very sweet,” Edelgard pointed out as her brows furrowed.

“I’m aware. I wasn’t referring to chocolate.”

The moment Byleth’s gaze met Edelgard’s, the princess understood, as though their communication needed words less than eye contact.

Nothing is sweeter than the honest smile of a beautiful girl — it felt as though Byleth’s eyes communicated this universal truth.

Edelgard averted her gaze as her cheeks flushed, raising her hand in front of her mouth as though it could hide the fluster. The flutter in her chest was not so easily discouraged, and the delight Edelgard felt deep inside at such thoughts directed at herself wouldn’t allow itself to be pushed down once it bubbled up.

It would mean nothing, would be an annoyance even, if it came from anyone else — from anyone less straightforward, less disarming, and less genuine.

“… I’m afraid Dorothea may be a bad influence on you, my teacher.”

There was no other way to explain such smoothness carried out like second nature; flirtations were Dorothea’s forte like no one else’s, who often didn’t truly mean what she said in words laced with honey that could warm the heart of anyone unfortunate enough to be caught off-guard by a beautiful songstress.

‘Sweet’ was certainly the least fitting word to describe Edelgard von Hresvelg; it was nothing but a playful whim of the teacher who showed a rare mischievous side. That had to be all there was to it.

“I wonder,” Byleth hummed. “I was just stating the truth.”

The stoicism did not give any hint as to how serious Byleth truly was in this regard. But Edelgard was not one to stay on the defense when she could call a bluff.

“So, would you say you would prefer me over a piece of chocolate?”

Confident that such bold forwardness rendered her teacher speechless, Edelgard put the remainder of the white chocolate piece into her mouth to celebrate catching the Ashen Demon off-guard with such ease.

Surprise attacks were not to be underestimated.

A lesson that Edelgard had to learn when Byleth took hold of her wrist to pull her close in a swift motion that left no time to compute the events before Byleth’s lips met Edelgard’s as her other arm wrapped around Edelgard.

The bag of chocolates was carelessly dropped onto the floor in favor of holding Edelgard — who received the answer to the rhetorical question meant as a tease.

Byleth wasn’t the most verbose person. Whenever she could, she let actions speak for themselves; a unique allure that was near impossible to ignore. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise at all.

Byleth didn’t have to say which she preferred when she could express it with such vigor.

But for Edelgard, who felt as though she herself melted faster in Byleth’s embrace than the white chocolate did in her own mouth, this kiss proved to be the most lethal surprise attack. Byleth’s lips felt warm and soft, like a gentle caress that carried a determination only an experienced mercenary could call her own.

Before Edelgard could hope to collect her thoughts, Byleth snuck her tongue into Edelgard’s mouth — who had parted her lips in invitation subconsciously. Both their saliva mixed with the tooth-decay-inducing flavor of the completely molten chocolate, creating an intoxicatingly sweet taste that no sugar could hope to match.

The playful battle of tongues inspired a heat in Edelgard’s chest that threatened to not only thaw the heart she forced to freeze, but spread throughout her entire being like the gentle kiss of sunshine on a pleasant summer day.

If only such mindless bliss could last a lifetime, or at least a moment longer.

Byleth broke the kiss to catch her own breath and allow Edelgard to do the same, who hadn’t even realized just how long she had held it. The sweetness that lingered on their lips was a not too subtle reminder of the intimacy they had just shared, inviting them to go further.

An irresistible temptation that left little room to consider consequences or propriety.

“My teacher,” Edelgard breathed with flushed cheeks.

She felt Byleth’s hot, labored breath against her skin, and even the stoic teacher’s cheeks took on a rosy color. A rare sight that nobody else could’ve known.

A confusing mix of feelings fought for dominance inside of Edelgard’s mind and soul — anticipation with hesitation, enjoyment with guilt, longing with righteousness. The anxiety over questions Edelgard didn’t dare ask bubbled up, only to be drowned out by the wish to remain blissfully unaware of answers she didn’t want to hear.

There was only one thing Edelgard was certain of: She felt comfortable. Warm and content.

It was a feeling she hadn’t known in her life, and a mere taste was addictive enough to almost lay ruin to carefully crafted plans and priorities immediately.

Passion that lay dormant in one so calm and collected as Byleth was the strongest weapon, and it required no crest to wield.

Byleth picked up Edelgard, who instinctively held onto her teacher’s shoulders to steady herself when nothing about her felt stable in this moment — and yet, it felt as though those arms could not only hold Edelgard but carry the burdens of the world.

“You can tell me to stop if you don’t want to,” Byleth whispered in a low voice that was nothing but unfair.

How could Edelgard tell Byleth to stop, when every fiber of her being longed for the opposite? When, right now, Edelgard wanted Byleth in every way possible?

“I am… not sure,” Edelgard admitted.

She felt ridiculously attached to Byleth, and she wanted all that Byleth would give her, even when Edelgard was the last person to deserve any of it. This was a fleeting moment of escapism at best, a selfish fantasy that was best not indulged in.

For this bridge would have to be burned eventually as well.

There was no other way, no alternative to such an outcome. Not for Edelgard, not for the imperial princess with ambitions that had to stand above everything and everyone.

A happiness that she would come to taste only to certainly lose it in the near future, and subsequently be doomed to never again experience it for the rest of her life, was best unknown. It only risked Edelgard faltering when it came down to it.

Edelgard knew this; she knew the consequences, had already laid out a plan to reject these advances. Byleth would not hold it against her, she would understand, and the way she looked at Edelgard would not change in the slightest.

The right path was so obvious. The choice couldn’t be more clear. And yet…

Maybe, just this once, maybe it was worth giving in to the warmth of another person — not anyone, but the one person who shone bright like the sun in the darkness that was Edelgard’s life. Perhaps it was fine to let this happen.

And maybe there was a chance that even once Byleth would learn the truth, she would not reject Edelgard, but stand with her against the world.

“Please, my teacher,” Edelgard muttered, unsure of her own resolve, only because she wasn’t one to trust her own heart. “Continue.”

It felt like the right decision when she looked into Byleth’s eyes — nothing could feel wrong when faced with that gaze.

“Understood.” Byleth planted a gentle kiss on Edelgard’s cheek that carried a promise to protect and embrace, and an assurance that this would not turn into regret.

Byleth carefully lowered Edelgard onto her bed, as though she was handling the most fragile being in existence, too cherished to risk any damage to the delicate flower that certainly needed no such consideration.

Straddling Edelgard’s hips, Byleth leaned in once more for a kiss — this time, Edelgard was not caught off-guard, but invited it with open arms that wrapped around Byleth to hold her close.

Neither their roles nor their positions mattered; in this moment, they were simply two women who longed to bask in each other’s warmth.

Before Edelgard knew it, most of her clothes were haphazardly thrown onto the floor, right next to where Byleth’s discarded armor pieces and coat had found their place. What remained was a white undershirt that covered her torso and white underwear.

The moment Byleth’s hand tugged at the undershirt, Edelgard snapped back into reality with fervor — she immediately grabbed Byleth’s wrist to hold it still. Byleth was taken aback; she didn’t want to force anything on Edelgard. If this were as far as they could go… well, it would be a shame, but no trouble.

Edelgard forced her lungs to fill with air against the pressure that lay on her chest the moment she realized that Byleth would come to see her body — see marks that she wished to show to nobody.

Ever since that one night weeks ago, Byleth had known of the past days Edelgard burned into her mind lest she might falter in preventing repetition of such cruelties in the future.

Yet, knowing and seeing were entirely different matters. This was something Edelgard couldn’t bear to share with her teacher; anything but this.

“Leave this on,” Edelgard said, training her eyes on an irrelevant spot on the wall to avoid meeting Byleth’s gaze.

Byleth let go of the undershirt, which allowed Edelgard to lessen her grip on the wrist that threatened to uncover what shall remain unseen.

When Byleth’s lips touched Edelgard’s forehead, lingering for a moment, the princess couldn’t stop tears from welling up in her eyes. It was a promise of respect for what Edelgard wanted to protect from sight, and a reassurance of such trivialities mattering not to how Byleth saw Edelgard.

A small gesture that said so much without a single word — most of all, that this affection was genuine and unconditional. It wouldn’t waver; Edelgard could not sow doubt in Byleth’s feelings.

“Thank you… my teacher.”

Edelgard wrapped her arms around Byleth once more to hold her close, lest her teacher might see the stray tear making its way down her cheek. Maybe this would let Byleth know that Edelgard still longed for her proximity, too.

“You can use my name,” Byleth whispered into her ear.

Feeling the warm breath against the shell of her ear while the low voice tickled her eardrums made the hair on Edelgard’s nape stand up. Her lips curved into a smile.

“Byleth,” Edelgard breathed.

Foregoing the title was nothing when this moment was already steps ahead in inappropriateness, and yet, it felt deliciously wrong in a way that awakened a longing for more. Perhaps there was no turning back.

Not when Byleth’s hands snuck beneath the fabric of the clothing Edelgard insisted on keeping, roaming skin with a touch so gentle that it almost betrayed the determination that normally shone in Byleth’s deep blue eyes.

Byleth’s hand felt cool against Edelgard’s heated skin; calluses born from a life of holding the sword were rough enough to cause more friction, not gliding as smoothly as unblemished skin would.

Just like Edelgard herself, Byleth had a body marked by the life she’d led. One day, Edelgard would love to hear the story behind every single scar that decorated Byleth’s skin.

For now, it was enough to caress the imperfections that only enhanced Byleth’s beauty further — enough for Edelgard to brush her lips against those spots that spoke of stories untold.

Eventually, Byleth pulled away momentarily to rid herself of the black top that still covered most of her torso, presenting Edelgard with more skin to adore, more marks to worship.

But first, Edelgard’s hand brushed over the toned abdominal muscles. Of course she’d seen glimpses of her teacher’s physique occasionally before — none of that compared to this intimate display up-close.

Spurred on by this display of appreciation, Byleth caught Edelgard’s lips in another heated kiss. The taste of chocolate had long since disappeared, but this only made the somewhat clumsy dance of tongues taste so much sweeter.

Edelgard’s voice caught in Byleth’s mouth when Byleth’s hand moved lower, slipping beneath the underwear that had already grown soaked by this point.

It was almost unfair how collected Byleth could be, even now, when Edelgard felt herself both melting and falling apart. And yet, this powerful gaze that accompanied the focus Byleth managed regardless of circumstances was too stunning to complain.

For such a woman, it was worth disregarding the world and everything that mattered for a fleeting escape into a wrong that felt too right to be denied.

Edelgard broke the kiss, and her breath hitched when the pad of Byleth’s finger brushed over her clit — an experienced mercenary needed no clearer sign of a weak spot.

She let her fingers slide lower once more, caressing the slick folds, and collecting more of the lubrication that flowed almost freely. It allowed Edelgard a moment of respite after the sudden surge of stimulation, lulled into a sense of security.

The very moment Byleth dragged her fingers back to rub the bud more purposefully, she caught Edelgard’s lips in a hungry kiss that swallowed the princess’s voice so it would not echo to ears that should never catch such a beautiful sound not made for them.

Edelgard hooked her legs around Byleth’s hips as currents of pleasant electricity coursed through her body, seemingly discharging in her heart, which pumped as though her life depended on it.

Her mind had no space for anything but her teacher — Byleth’s lips sealing her own shut, Byleth’s fingers striking her most sensitive place without mercy; not with force or lack of care, but with a dexterity that was unmatched.

Tears once more welled up in Edelgard’s eyes, closed shut, as though her body found no other means to deal with the overflowing sensations and emotions, of which most were foreign yet welcome.

Byleth paused the kiss for a moment, during which Edelgard had to bite her lip to keep herself from letting a pleased voice leak out. She gave Edelgard’s cheek a peck — a kiss for the tear that expressed what Edelgard couldn’t openly speak of.

Her lips returned just in time to where they were needed — catching moans and sighs not meant to spill — when Edelgard arched her back as the culminated pleasure spread throughout her body in a moment that made her see white.

Disconnected from the world and everything that was bleak and heavy for a blissful moment, no longer than mere seconds — peace that was otherwise unknown.

With heavy breaths that betrayed her stamina, Edelgard opened her eyes to ascertain — through watery-blurred vision — that Byleth was still with her. Only to notice that even Byleth’s face was flushed, and her breath labored even more than before.

Having such an effect on the stoic teacher was a surprise; one that made Edelgard swoon. They affected each other greatly, their hearts were aligned.

This time, Edelgard pulled Byleth in for another kiss, unwilling to let this encounter end already. They still had all evening to bask in each other’s proximity, sharing an intimacy no one else shall know of.

——————————

Once the sun had long since set, Edelgard straightened out her uniform, which she had just put back on. Her legs felt a little shaky, but she would manage her way back to her dorm room.

As much as she’d love to linger in Byleth’s presence all night and more — Edelgard knew better than to give in to yet another selfish whim.

She had been fortunate enough to receive all of Byleth and monopolize the popular professor all afternoon. It had to suffice. If Edelgard were to grow greedy, it would risk weakening her resolve after all.

“Thank you, my teacher,” Edelgard said as she reached for the doorknob. “I mean it.”

“For the chocolate?”

The kiss marks that remained as proof of today’s encounter, littered all over Byleth’s skin where clothes would hide them, spoke of a delicacy that made sweets irrelevant.

Edelgard smiled at the implied question, though she would not humor Byleth.

“I wonder.”

Once she bid her teacher goodnight, Edelgard closed the door behind her. Perhaps it was nothing but youthful foolishness, but her chest felt a lot lighter than it had before — as though her heart knew she could count on Byleth to remain at her side.