writing dump

(Archduke Joshua AU)

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On your way back to the inn, you found a fool standing still in the middle of the street under the pouring sky.

Rain wasn’t uncommon in Oriflamme. On the flipside, it was fairly normal, something that you could expect once every few days. Sometimes, during the rainy season, the downpours would be longer, more frequent—but again, that was something that was fairly normal, happening once a year in the exact same month almost like an annual tradition. Anybody could get used to it, and anybody would be expecting it at this time of the year. The rain was entirely within your expectations.

It was a particularly normal day, and a particularly abnormal sight.

The evening sky was laden over with heavy grey clouds, and you had been returning to the inn you’d been lodging at with raindrops pelting against your coat fervently, when you encountered him.

Every other person you had seen on the street toted waterproof cloaks to shield themselves from the weather, but this man was standing in the middle of the empty street, drenched to the bone, head tilted up towards the sky and unmoving. It was difficult to make out what he looked like through the rain, but you could see them well enough. Golden locks soaked and facial features that looked like they’d been sculpted with expertise, you almost thought a talented artist had finished this statue and brandished it on the street as some sort of statement. After all, there was no reason anybody would be foolish enough to be standing around under this heavy shower completely unprepared.

Then the statue blinked, sneezed, and you hopelessly realised there was someone foolish enough to be standing around under this heavy shower completely unprepared.

The street was empty, and although you could have just walked past him without batting an eye, you knew it would weigh on your conscience afterwards. And you were a little curious. So you took a few steps towards him and called out.

“Um, excuse me?”

The non-statue turned towards you. Now that you were closer, and he was facing you, you wondered how a person could look so delicately handcrafted.

“It’s raining, you know?” you continued, speaking louder so you wouldn’t be muffled by the rain. “Aren’t you going to find some shelter?”

He blinked at you slowly, like he hadn’t even considered the thought. Then he said in a voice so soft the rain almost drowned him out, “Ah, I don’t have anywhere to return to for the time being, but thank you for your concern.”

…Was he homeless? You doubted it. Although he wasn’t wearing a rainproof coat, his clothes didn’t look like they belonged on just anyone. They looked expensive. Something you probably couldn’t afford without starving for an entire year, actually.

That just made you even more confused. Surely he could afford a room at any inn?

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here for too long,” you warned.

“I suppose that’s a possibility…” he mused, like it didn’t bother him at all.

Did he not care about himself at all, or was he actually a fool?

He smiled at you. “Thank you for your concern for me, but I’ll work something out.”

It was evening, easing into the night. Oriflamme was generally a safe city, but that didn’t mean its people were impervious to danger. And it didn’t look like the rain was going to let up any time soon. On the contrary, for the past few days, the rain would thunder on throughout the night.

Now, you had to preface that you gave it a lot of thought first. You completely considered that this could be some sort of scam or ruse, but if it was one, it would have to be a damn unreliable one. No one would approach statue-looking madmen on the street. You also knew how chilly nights in Oriflamme could get, and combined with the relentless rain, if anyone stayed out on the streets overnight… you’d feel awful for days if you knew you could’ve done something but chose not to. You didn’t have that much to lose anyway. In any case, it wasn’t like you were completely defenceless. And, above all, you somehow wanted to know more about him.

Pulling your cloak tighter over you, you sighed. “If you have nowhere else to go, would you like to come with me?”

He gave you a puzzled look. “Hm..?”

The rain was so loud, you almost didn’t catch it. “What?”

“I haven’t experienced it firsthand before, but isn’t this something men with nefarious motives usually say to young women?”

Why, this rude, sophisticated-looking effigy… “If you don’t want to, then I’m leaving.” You angled yourself away as if to walk around him.

He raised his brows. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it that way—I was just surprised at your offer. Pardon me.” He took a step towards you. “If I wouldn’t be imposing too much, then I would be delighted to take you up on that. Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

Well, you were the one who had initiated the offer, so even if you were,  it was a bit too late to say you were uncomfortable. “Alright then. Follow me.”

You walked a few paces forward, towards the inn you’d been staying at which wasn’t far, then stopped, turning to the sculpture-looking man again. He’d begun to follow you, and stopped when you did.

“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself.” You told him your name.

He started, like he’d almost forgotten about introductions. “Ah—!”

He bowed his head towards you hurriedly.

“My name is Joshua.”

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As it turned out, Joshua was a bit of an oddball.

Sometimes he would make the most out-of-pocket remarks and then regard you with a placid, almost fond smile afterwards, so you couldn’t tell if he was maliciously looking down on you or if he truly didn’t know what was socially acceptable to say. After the both of you had entered the inn and he had gotten down on one knee to greet the receptionist, addressing her as my lady, you were sure it was the latter. You had to pull him away from the stunned girl and drag his confused self back to the room.

You didn’t really know what to think of his behaviour. This was definitely no way to survive. You weren’t sure how he hadn’t accidentally stepped on the tail of some ruffian and gotten beaten up and murdered from it. Judging from the way he was dressed, maybe he really had grown up as a sheltered son of some noble?

Speaking of clothes, yours had mostly come out unscathed from the rain, and his were sopping wet. He was taller than you, but not very large otherwise, so you had tossed some of your baggy clothing at him and chased him off to take a hot bath.

For yourself, you had some bread for dinner, but you didn’t know if Joshua had eaten, and you would prefer for him to stay as warm as possible so he wouldn’t catch a cold, so you headed to the small canteen on the first floor of the inn while he changed out.

You’d been staying here for a few weeks by now, so the girl at the counter greeted you with a warm smile. “Good to see you survived the rain.”

“I hope it lets up soon.” You dug around in your pocket for some gil. “Some warm soup, please. The cheapest will be fine.”

“Is this for the charming fellow that you brought back?” She smiled at you slyly.

You frowned. “Charming?”

“He’s a real looker, isn’t he? Ellie was swooning over him just now.” She sighed dreamily. “But I thought you weren’t interested in finding a partner.”

“I’m not,” you replied curtly, bringing your hand up and cramming some gil into her palm.

“Oho, sure…”

“The soup, please.”

She laughed at you, flicking the coins off her palm, counting them, then sliding back some change towards you. “So, what’s the story, then? I don’t suppose you just picked him off like a puppy off the street.”

You slid the coins into your hand and pocketed them. “Actually, that’s what happened.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“He said he didn’t have anywhere to return to, and he didn’t even have a cloak or anything to protect himself from the rain.” You shrugged.

“So you took him in…” She trailed off, like trying to process it. “What does he mean by he doesn’t have anywhere to return to?”

“I’ll find out later.”

“And there aren’t any more free rooms. You’re not going to sleep in the same room as him, are you?”

“I’ll manage.”

She huffed. “Sheesh. I know you’re a doctor and all, and you always care for other people, but you really have to take care of yourself too, okay?”

You nodded at her nagging. “I will.”

She stared at you, almost like she was trying to scrutinise your face for any traces of a lie, then sighed again, resting a cheek on her palm like she was about to start daydreaming. “Maybe I should go stand in the rain for a bit and a good-looking man will come pick me up, too…”

“The soup, please.”

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When you returned to your room, Joshua was sitting at your desk, peering over the things you had left strewn out. He didn’t look too strange in your large clothes, and his own clothes could probably dry by the next morning. He had neatly hung them over a rack at the side of the room. His hair was a little damp, understandably, but it looked like he had towelled himself off well otherwise.

At the sound of your return, he swung his head over to the door. “Oh—you’ve returned.” He gestured to the desk almost sheepishly. “I apologise. I found all this quite interesting, so I was having a look at it… I hope you don’t mind.”

You were just relieved he hadn’t stolen all your belongings and scampered off somewhere. “No, it’s okay.” You shut the door behind you with your foot and walked over to the desk where he was sitting. Guests weren’t something you thought you would be having, so you had left the table rather messy. But nothing private or confidential was there—just herbs scattered around and handwritten notes. You placed the bowl of soup on the table. “This is for you.”

His eyes were glittering. “Really?”

“I’d rather you not catch a cold.” Although… “You don’t have any gil on you?”

Joshua shook his head. “At present, I am penniless.” Then he added, “But I will definitely be sure to pay you back—please don’t worry.”

Straightening your back, you furrowed your brows at him. “How are you wandering around without any money?”

“It’s a bit complicated…” He pulled the bowl closer to him, inspecting its surface. It was some sort of vegetable stew. Any meat would’ve made it more expensive. “Before I tell you, could I ask if you’re fond of carrots?”

“They’re okay. Why?”

“Would you mind taking them off my hands?”

You gave him a withering look, wordlessly moving over to the corner with your luggage.

Whether he took your silence as a yes or no, he began stirring the soup with the spoon provided. “I came to Oriflamme for somewhat of a business trip with a few others, actually.” That made sense. The rich tended to travel. For the exact details of it, someone like you wouldn’t know. “My companions and I became separated because of a crowd, and because of the rain, I haven’t been able to reunite with them. Incidentally, my companions are the ones holding onto our gil, which is why I don’t have anything right now.”

Crowds in Oriflamme could get a little intense, but you didn’t know whether you should completely believe him. But hadn’t he just been standing around in the rain motionlessly when you found him? In a deserted street, no less.

“You didn’t look like you were looking for them,” you pointed out.

“I’d been looking for them prior to that, and I simply found the rain quite enjoyable.” Wasn’t playing in the rain something kids should be doing, not adults?

“Did you and your… companions not find a place to stay? Couldn’t you just return there?”

Joshua lifted the spoon to his lips and nibbled at the edge, as if tasting the stew carefully. “We arrived today, so we hadn’t found any lodging yet. At the time, at least. I’m sure they’ve found a place to stay for the night.” He looked over at you. “I should mention, you have my utmost gratitude for what you’ve helped me with so far—but it would be far improper to rest in the same room as a lady, so I’m willing to find another place to retire for today.”

Squatting down at your luggage, you squinted at him. “With what money?”

“...I could work something out.”

Without a single gil to his name he couldn’t, you were sure.

Even if he somehow would manage, the downpour outside was nothing short of unforgiving. You didn’t think of yourself as a saint, but you would have to be a heartless monster to send someone back out onto the torrential streets of Oriflamme now. And he had already dried himself off, too.

Joshua sneezed again, cupping the lower half of his face with his hand.

To be fair, he was polite and decently well-mannered. You didn’t suspect this was some elaborate plot to rob you. Maybe it was an elaborate plot to take advantage of you for shelter, but honestly, he hadn’t been expensive to deal with so far. Also, you were already this far in, and so you might as well just commit to your decision at this point. Before setting off on your journey, you had slept in far worse conditions than this, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. You can stay for the night.”

He brightened. “Are you quite sure?”

Not really. “Yes. There aren’t any other rooms available in this inn, and the rain…” You gestured to the window. Outside were blurry streaks concealing the view outside. “It’s only gotten worse.”

Though, there still was the problem of—

“Shall I sleep on the floor?”

You were travelling alone, so of course, you had only requested a room for one. It was cheaper. And also smaller. There was room for someone to sleep on the floor, but not a lot. In the first place, asking someone to sleep on the floor was quite inhumane.

Peering over your messy luggage, you dug around for a herb that you knew for a fact was squished in a corner somewhere. “You can have the bed. I work through the night normally, anyway.”

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“The bed will be cold and unused otherwise, so please go ahead.”

“Alright, if you insist…” He sounded uncertain.

And with that, you had successfully averted an awkward conversation.

Following that were a few seconds of quiet. You could not find this godforsaken herb, even though you knew you had it, and silently cursed your past self for not keeping your belongings tidy. From behind you, you heard Joshua softly blowing on what you presumed was his steaming stew.

To tell the truth, his story had left you dissatisfied. Business trip and companions were all very vague.

Clutching a cloak you were trying to push aside, you cast a glance over your shoulder back at him. “Where are you from?”

Mouth stuffed with soup, Joshua made an acknowledging sound before he swallowed. “I hail from Rosalith. Have you heard of it before?”

A Rosarian? You didn’t see too many of those. You had intended to visit Rosaria at some point, but not anytime soon.

“Yes. And what kind of business are you here for?”

“That…” Joshua sounded hesitant. “I’m very sorry, but I cannot divulge any details on that. It’s a rather confidential business.” As if sensing your wariness, he hastily added, “I’m not trying to trick you—if there’s anyway I could prove it, I would. And I’m very grateful for all your generosity and kindness. But I’m really not allowed to say.”

Confidential business from the more well-off wasn’t a concept that was unheard of. Not that it made you any less uncomfortable.

But you were never one to forcefully pry, so you turned your attention back to your luggage.

You heard him stir the bowl almost carefully, wood spoon bumping against wood, before he finally asked, “Are you a traveller? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Staying at an inn probably gave it away, didn’t it? “That’s right.”

“Are you working as a healer?”

…The herbs and mixtures scattered across the desk probably gave it away, didn’t it? “Something like that.”

“Is it not profitable to stay in one city as a healer?” He sounded genuinely curious; no trace of any malice. “I would imagine it tiring to keep moving around, if not.”

“I do work during the day as a healer for the gil,” you confirmed, “but my primary goal is for research, so I’ve been studying herbs from all over Valisthea.”

“Oh? What kind of research?”

“It’s confidential.”

“Really?” He sounded amused.

To tell the truth, it wasn’t, and you had no real reason to hide it from him, but you were a little petty. “If you can’t tell me yours, then I don’t have to tell you about mine, right?”

“I see. An eye for an eye, is it?” He didn’t sound offended.

“That’s exactly what it is.”

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After a promise that he would search for his companions the next day, and a few remarks about how stiff the bed was, Joshua finally tucked himself into bed and was sound asleep. Keeping the thought that the bed was one of the better ones you had slept on during your journey to yourself, you sat yourself at the desk and sifted through your notes. You didn’t normally spend the entire night examining your scratchy handwriting and the leaves you had found, only when you felt like you were about to reach a discovery, but you wanted to stay awake for your own safety that night.

Joshua was beginning to make you doubt your own doubts, with the way he was cosily swaddled up in the blanket. So much for how stiff the bed was.

Rubbing your temples, you pushed the mortar and pestle aside so you could have a better gander at what you’d been scrawling the previous nights. The flame in the lantern waved almost sleepily at you. The streets around the inn were quiet, but if you strained your ears and listened out, you could hear the distant bustle from a night market. You didn’t need to strain your ears to hear your guest mumbling in his sleep.

It was starting to sink in how unwise of a choice you had made, even if it seemed to be alright… so far. He was a polite guest, at any rate, and you knew the guilt would weigh heavy on your conscience the next day if you had just bypassed him without a word. You probably shouldn’t ever do it again, though.

A hoarse cough from Joshua snapped you out of your thoughts. You peered over at him to see if he had awoken, but he was curled up all the same.

Had he caught an illness? It would be troublesome for you if you fell sick, too. You reached over to the mortar you had pushed away, dragging it closer to you. Scraping the ground ingredients into a separate bowl, you found the water pot at the side of your table and tipped some of its liquid in.

Joshua wheezed out another dry cough, and you sighed, standing to your feet with the bowl in hand. Traipsing over to him, you knelt down by the bedside, slow and careful so as to not spill what you had prepared, and extended a hand to shake him awake—only to pause halfway, hand suspended in midair.

You had compared him to a finely carved statue when you first saw him, but still…

Weren’t genetics too unfair?

Resting a hand on his arm, you shook at him gently. “Hey, wake up.”

He groaned and wriggled, flopping to face the other side like a disobedient child.

You shook him harder this time. “Joshua, wake up.”

Courteously, he flipped himself halfway so you could at least see his side profile. “Mm… Brother?”

What? “Could you wake up already, please?”

His eyes finally fluttered open, barely, and after a few sleepy blinks they landed on you. It took a few moments, but he pulled himself up and propped himself against the wall, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Did you want to trade spots for the bed?” Sleepiness tugged at his droopy eyelids, but he seemed to be awake.

“No, you were coughing in your sleep, is all.” You offered him the bowl. “I’m not sure if you’re ill, but you should drink this.”

“Oh…” He didn’t sound surprised or fazed in the slightest. He let the hand rubbing his eye drop. “It’s not infectious, if you’re concerned. I’ve had this disease since I was young.”

…Genetics really could be unfair.

You were relieved you couldn’t be catching any flu from him, most likely, but that alone didn’t keep you from frowning at his words. People who were burdened with lifelong illnesses often needed to take medication regularly to keep them in check. There wasn’t enough time for you to observe any symptoms, and you didn’t even know if you had any of the right ingredients, anyway. Whatever the case was, the people he had come here with probably had something for his ailment. Another reason to prioritise finding them.

For now, all you could do was tend to the symptom. “This should soothe your throat, at least.”

He gazed at it with a faraway look before lifting his hands to cup them around the bowl. It felt warm where your fingers touched. “You shouldn’t have, but thank you. You are very kind.”

Kind was an adjective you heard frequently whenever you tended to people, but not something you were sure you agreed with. It was your job, and there was something in it for you—the gil, to be more precise.

Though, there was pretty much nothing in it for you by helping him.

Well, maybe, you reasoned, it was because there was something about the way Joshua looked and acted that made him seem more pitiful than a miserable kicked puppy, so maybe anyone would’ve helped him, and it didn’t take an especially kind or thoughtful person to do so.

Or maybe he was right.

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The next morning, you found yourself faced with another problem: Joshua had already proven himself to have an eye-catching appearance last night multiple times, if the ruckus kicked up by the innkeepers wasn’t enough, and that was last night. Lodgers waking up to leave for the day, workers coming in to catch some breakfast at the inn’s tavern—even more people would be crowding the path leading up to the main exit in the morning. There would be no end to the line of questioning if you left with him as-is.

You didn’t anticipate any trouble, but there was no telling what would happen if you attracted too much attention. Joshua lowered his head as you pulled the hood of the cloak over his bangs, tugging it as low as it would go.

He didn’t seem to mind that you were so wary of being spotted. In fact—

“By the way, if possible, I’d prefer if you could call me ‘Margrace’ while we are out.”

You blinked. What a strange name. “Why do you need a code name? Are you in trouble with some dangerous people?”

Joshua laughed. “My confidential business entails people not knowing of my presence here, you see.”

“Right…” Maybe you would never find out what his confidential business was.

Thankfully, the both of you managed to sidle your way out of the inn without issue. You had to thank the rainy season for that. It was fairly normal for people to leave with their hoods on in the event of unprecedented rain during this time; you might’ve garnered some stares from some patrons otherwise.

The morning was bright, sunlight stretching across every nook and cranny of the neat and tidy buildings of Oriflamme, casting sharp shadows along the ground. The calmness of the night before had been stolen away by the everyday hubbub of the streets that you had grown accustomed to, with people striding up and down the stone-paved walkways. You remembered on your first morning here you had thought you were going to be flushed out by the harsh stream of the crowd.

How was Joshua faring? You turned your head sideways, expecting him to be right behind you.

You found his cloaked figure metres back, squirming against the crowd.

Sighing, you spun on your heel and slipped back through the crowd, interleaving between the people smoothly and reaching him in a couple of seconds.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking almost pathetic when you arrived back in front of him, sturdying himself as a man elbowed past him, “I’m not used to navigating crowds, as you can see.”

Oriflamme was unlike any other place you had travelled to so far, so it was understandable. You stretched out an open hand to him. “Let’s go.”

Joshua peered at your hand curiously like he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Take my hand, please.”

“I do not require to be guided around in this fashion—”

A burly man shoulder-checked him nonchalantly like it was the most natural thing in the world. Joshua stumbled, got swept away by another group of people, and in the about twenty seconds that it took for him to return, you stood there patiently in the same spot, unmoving.

Almost begrudgingly, he reached out to your hand like a defeated child. “I’ll be in your care.”

Even with your familiarity in navigating crowds, you were certain you were going to bump into several hiccups along the way. Having an extra person tag along was always going to be difficult. Contrary to your expectations, it went much smoother than you thought. Joshua, although clumsy on his own, was surprisingly deft in matching your movements and footsteps while weaving between people—almost like he was used to carefully following people. It was intriguing, but nothing that you were going to complain about.

Thanks to that, you reached your destination without much delay. The main streets were always chock-full of people in the morning, so you usually found your breakfast in a little bread stall in one of the back alleys.

The stall owner, a man who had been sprouting grey hairs probably for a few years now, looked up and gave his usual sunshine-filled smile to you. “What’ll ya be having today, Doctor? And I see ya brought a fellow with you.”

“A patient of sorts,” you lied, scanning over what he had on display.

“Patient?” Loaf in hand, he turned to Joshua. “What ailment’s bugging ya?”

“Just a few sores from inactivity,” Joshua responded with a placid smile. “She recommended walking around for a bit, and I’ll be joining her today so she can observe my symptoms closely.”

The stall owner looked at you in awe. “I knew ya were a healer, but never pegged ya as a such a committed gal.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“She’s very dedicated,” Joshua added. Unnecessarily, might you add.

“Could I have the usual? And an extra for him, as well.”

With a loud chortle you still winced at, the stall owner shoved the loaf he’d been holding into your arms. You stumbled from the sudden impact. “Gonna need more than the usual, Doctor! On the house!”

“On the—wait—”

Your hands had already instinctively wrapped around the loaf to prevent it from falling, so when the stall owner let go and folded his arms again, almost triumphantly, you were left standing dumbfounded with a disproportionately large piece of bread for you and Joshua to share.

“And for ya, lad,” he continued, bumping his chest with a clenched fist then nudging Joshua on the shoulder with it, “get well soon, ya hear?”

“I will.” Joshua responded with a pat to the stall owner’s arm. “You have my gratitude, kind sir.”

A pause, accompanied by a frown on his wrinkled face, and the stall owner squinted at Joshua. “Don’t mean to pry, but have I seen ya from somewhere before, lad?”

Joshua chuckled without missing a beat. “This would be my first time in Oriflamme. I doubt we’ve met. Perhaps you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Someone else, eh? Ya got a brother?”

Of all things, that seemed to startle Joshua. “Yes—I do, but…”

You looked at him, then down at the loaf you had been forced into clutching, then glanced at the stall owner. In the split seconds Joshua was searching for words, the man behind the bread stand was still waiting for an answer. It wasn’t clear what Joshua was hesitant about, but it was clear to you what you should do.

“Forgive my rudeness, but I have a patient that I must see soon, so,” you took Joshua by the hand again, lifting the loaf and bobbing your head, “I’ll repay you for this tomorrow, but pardon us for now.”

Thankfully, the stall owner was never one to question. “Shouldn’t keep ‘em waiting. See ya tomorrow, Doctor!”

“Yes, see you.”

And with that, you successfully escaped what might’ve spiralled into a long, complicated conversation with the overly kind and chatty bread stall owner.

The loaf was as soft and warm as the small bun you normally bought for yourself, so you paused to loop your arm around Joshua’s instead, without breaking your stride. Tugging at the bread, it pulled apart at the middle obediently and split into two neat halves, exposing the fluffy cream clouds beneath the rough crust. The aroma wafting out smelled so sweet you had to consciously stifle a silly smile and a happy hum, instead wordlessly offering one half to Joshua beside you.

Joshua didn’t take it immediately. “Ah, we’re eating it as we walk?” His question was tinged with curiosity.

“Yes..?” Only people with enough free time could afford to take up space at a tavern and lap up some hot soup for breakfast.

“Without any spread?” He almost sounded confused.

“Yes.”

“Is eating just plain bread for breakfast normal?”

“Very.” What an odd question.

“I see.” A little puzzled, but he didn’t sound insulted. Your assumption that he was from some wealthy family was probably right, but he was much less stuck up than you thought he would’ve been. Just a little out of touch, maybe. Joshua grabbed the loaf half with the arm that wasn’t interlinked with yours, then took a nibble at it cautiously. His eyes lit up. “It’s delicious.”

Despite you not even having baked it, you felt almost prideful at him praising your go-to choice. “It is, isn’t it?”

Joshua chewed on it slowly and intentionally, and swallowed before speaking again. “I never would’ve experienced this if I hadn’t met you, Doctor.”

“You’re calling me that now, too?”

“You are nothing short of a respectable person.”

That made the edges of your lips curl upwards a little. This time, you voiced your curiosity. “What sort of place were you raised in, anyway?”

Joshua tilted his head at you, and you found yourself almost jealous at the way his lashes fluttered. “...I’ll tell you soon, if you’ll be patient.”

Another secretive reply. “Hmm. Is that a promise?”

“Of course.”

Wordlessly, you raised your free hand, curling all your fingers inwards except your pinky, and gestured it in Joshua’s direction. Mouth open and poised to take another bite from his share of bread, he blinked at your hand almost fascinatedly.

“What is this?” he asked.

Did he not know this, too? “A pinky promise?” Your words didn’t ring a single bell in his head, clearly, from his puzzled expression. “You link pinkies with someone when a promise is made. It’s especially popular with children.”

“Ah. I’ve never heard of this before.” Joshua paused, before a mirthful smile crossed his lips. “Do you think of me as a child?”

“...Oh.” You’d been so taken in by his oddly innocent charm, maybe you instinctively had. You didn’t think he was a child, though, but… Fumbling for an excuse for the time being, you said, “A lot of patients ask me to pinky promise them to help them get better, so I’m used to it.” Not exactly untrue, too.

Joshua seemed to buy it. “You’re a very kind person.” Then he lifted his own hand and linked his pinky with yours.

Or, he attempted to. “No, you should do it with your other hand.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You spent a while teaching the mysterious statue how to make a pinky promise.

------------------

“...It’s raining again.”

You were squatting in a corner that rounded into an alleyway, pulling your hood over your head to block the raindrops.

Night had fallen, and you and Joshua had spent the whole day searching, but you hadn’t managed to find his companions at all. You didn’t say it out loud, but your worry was starting to gnaw at you. It wasn’t good to leave someone separated from their group for too long.

On the other hand, this didn’t seem to bother Joshua at all, and he’d spent much of your time together being enraptured over everyday things, such as… fruit stalls. You’d eventually deduced that he really must be a sheltered son of some noble, even if he didn’t confirm it. Even then, his ignorance was way off the charts.

A while ago, in the crowd, he had suddenly perked up, more alert than he ever had been the whole day, then took your hands in his and urgently but politely requested that you wait for him somewhere. Somewhere where he could find you, so you agreed to wait for him in a more deserted area. So you’d been waiting.

Then the sky had turned dark, and maybe the evening sky had gracefully let the night sky take over with its dark stormy clouds, and now you were being pelted by the rain. In the dark.

This sucks.

It had been a while. You wondered if Joshua had just decided to up and abandon you.

From the brief time you had spent together with him, you didn’t think he was that kind of person. You were almost certain that if he had found something, he would still have bounded back to you and informed you before departing. That was just what you thought of him.

Well, sometimes you could be wrong.

If you stayed out any longer, you were going to catch a cold. It was better to wait in a nearby shop with a window where you could wait and see if Joshua would return. The stores around you were closed, but there was one a fair distance down the street that still had their lights on. A bookstore, if you remembered correctly. You had treated the elderly man there before, so they were sure to accommodate you for a while.

Just as you began to stand up, a hand grabbed your arm and sharply tugged you backwards.

“Hey—”

Into the alleyway. You were in danger.

You should scream for help. “He—”

A grubby hand clamped over your mouth almost instantly, as if predicting you would cry out. You tried pulling away, but they had an iron grip on you. Probably a grown man. You chomped down on the obtrusion as hard as you could, but the calloused hand didn’t even budge. You made strangled, muffled grunts as loud as you could, although probably drowned out by the rain, until you felt something cold and sharp against your throat. A blade. You quietened down a little, even as another hand grabbed both of your wrists together behind your back.

“Good girl,” a gruff voice snickered. You had never wanted to vomit at being praised before.

The arm jerked your shoulder, foisting you further into the alleyway, blade still poised at your throat. Were you being robbed? Fine, take it. Assaulted? Disgusting, but if they left you alive without major injuries, you’d live with the humiliation.

Kill you? That would be a problem.

There were multiple men. Large, dressed in regular clothes. None of them were familiar to you.

Once you’d reached what was maybe the midway point of the alleyway, they stopped.

One of them spoke up. “You’re that doctor, right?”

It was better to ascertain their goal first. “...What doctor?” You couldn’t pretend you didn’t feel your throat graze against the blade’s edge when you spoke.

“The one that’s trying to find a cure to the curse. Ain’t ya?”

The grip on your shoulder was relentless. “What are you talking about?” But you were starting to have an idea.

There was a reason you started to keep hush about your mission. You had discovered there were people out there who weren’t too pleased about your mission, with some having tried to discourage you. If you were right, this was way more drastic than just discouraging, though.

“Playing dumb ain’t gonna work.” You had been averting your eyes to the ground, but the one behind you jerked you upright again. “Sorry, nothing personal. It’s just business.”

Business? “Hey—wait.”

Surprisingly, they listened. Just as you felt the pressure increase on your neck, it stopped.

“I know who’s behind this.” Frankly, you actually had no idea who was behind this. “You’re being played for a fool. You’ll be turned in right after you’re done with me.”

“What?”

“There are several powerful people pulling the strings, and I’ve seen it happen to my companions.” You forced your voice not to quiver through your lie. “Done away with, and then their assailants are immediately reported. It’s how they keep their hands clean.”

The rain pattered on mercilessly. You had had to raise your voice for them to hear you, but they seemed to be buying your bluff.

They were wavering. “Hey, you think she’s telling the truth?” one of them nervously asked.

“No way. She’s gotta be bluffing.” But he didn’t sound so sure.

“What if she isn’t?”

They fell silent.

Your heartbeat was thrumming loudly in your ears. You wanted to swallow, but you were worried any movement would result in a fatal scrape from the blade pressed against it.

“Ah, whatever.” Were they buying it? “Let’s just have fun with her.”

“Yeah, she’s got a cute face. It’d be a waste.”

You didn’t like the implication of that.

As the man in front of you reached for his belt, you realised the implication was very much a reality.

Well, as long as they left you alive, you’d live. They outnumbered you even if you could reach your dagger, and it was your fault for assuming you wouldn’t run into any danger just because you hadn’t before during your entire stay in Oriflamme. You’d be fine. Maybe you could even bargain your life out of it. No big deal.

…Was what you were trying to tell yourself, but your hands were shaking uncontrollably. Hot liquid started to pool in your eyes.

One of them laughed. “Her crying face is even cuter.” Why didn’t the rain blot it out? Ugh.

The one behind you chortled. “Good thing it’s raining. No one will hear—”

He cut himself off with an abrupt scream, and the blade at your neck promptly fell to the ground. The hand gripping your shoulder was gone, but your wrists were still restrained. You turned your neck, finding the man collapsed on the floor, back sizzling. Burnt?

“Ah, what a good thing it’s raining. No one will hear your sneak attacks, it appears.”

Your gaze trailed upwards. A cloaked figure was sauntering through the alleyway towards you.

It was raining, and you couldn’t quite make out their features. But from their cloak and voice—

“...Joshua?”

In your stupor, you had completely forgotten about the agreement to use a code name for him.

Joshua sauntered towards you and the men with a pace that did not convey urgency. You stiffened. He was smiling, but his eyes, that had been bright and glittery in the day, were smouldering in outrage. When his gaze fell on you, they almost softened a little.

Had he shot the fireball? He could use fire? Your breath hitched. You didn’t even realise it. There had been no traces of the curse. Not where you could see, anyway.

“Who—Who are you?” one of the men demanded.

The grip on your wrists slackened, and your instincts kicked back in the moment you felt it. You tore away from the men, hurtling towards Joshua, all but tumbling into his chest like a useless child. He caught you with one arm fastened around your back, the other extended towards the men, poised to shoot.

“No one important,” he said shortly. “I would appreciate it if you surrendered, please.”

“Surrender?”

“We outnumber you, fool! Doesn’t matter if you can use magic!” That man’s voice wavered a little.

From burying your face in Joshua’s chest, you glanced upwards to look at him. Joshua didn’t look down at you, but tilted his head at the men.

“‘Outnumber’? Have you, perhaps, miscounted?”

You caught it in the corner of your eye—a horde of soldiers, dressed in gear from a foreign land, marching up from behind Joshua.

What?

With your back facing the men, you couldn’t see their reactions. But they were silent, and they were probably wordless for the same reason as you: stunned. Even you couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation.

Then you heard scrambling footsteps behind you, splashing through the rain, and you were sure they were fleeing for their lives. The soldiers followed suit in a flurry, and everything around you was a blur, but you found yourself mystified with the fierce calm in his azure eyes.

Joshua finally peered down at you, a soft smile gracing his lips. “I apologise for making you wait, Doctor. You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“Uu—uh.” You made a stupid sound, and your voice quavered.

He furrowed his brows. “Were you scared?”

“No…” Your eyes were most definitely not watering. You sniffled just because you were cold, surely.

Joshua cocked his head down at you, staring at your face just a little too much, so you settled for burying your face in his chest. Despite the rain, it felt warm.

“There, there. You’re all right now. I’m here.” As you choked back a whiny sob, you felt his arms naturally glide around up your sides, cradling you gently.

“Sorry.” The word tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it. You had caused so much trouble just because you let your guard down. It wasn’t like you at all. Had you been too distracted? By what? By him? “Sorry, I—I wasn’t careful—”

He cut you off with a hush that sounded more like a hum. “Please don’t. I should be apologising. I’m so sorry. I truly am. It was unwise of me to leave a lady alone at night. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

You peered up at him, sniffling back a gross amount of snot. “...Thank you for coming,” you mumbled, in what you were sure was the smallest voice he’d heard from you.

He untangled one of his arms from you to pat your cheek, caressing it carefully with a gloved thumb. If you had been any less frantic, you would’ve shied away at someone unfamiliar acting so intimate with you. But something about Joshua just felt so abnormally safe. “Think of it as my reciprocation for your help, Doctor.”

The rain was cold. Joshua was warm. You dared to snuggle in closer like a child with their stuffed toy. “Who are those people with you?”

“Those men would be my companions,” Joshua said airily.

You blinked. “Those guys looked more like guards to me.”

“Oh, that’s because they are.”

… “Huh?” Out of all the things Joshua had said, you comprehended this the least. Was he really an affluent heir to his family of some sort—?

“I mean, one would have guards, wouldn’t he?” Joshua smiled at you, brows furrowed, looking down at you almost helplessly. “The Archduke of Rosaria, I mean.”

The— “You’re the Archduke of—what?” Was he pulling your leg? You jerked away from him instinctively, but his steadfast arm kept you at close quarters. “Are you playing me for a fool?”

Joshua frowned like he was hurt. “Absolutely not.” Then his hand came to rest on your wrist. “We should find some shelter. You’ll catch a cold.”

That was certainly true, but you weren’t sure how you were going to move from where you were rooted on the spot from his revelation. He absolutely had to be pulling your leg. Sure, you thought he was from some rich family, and he did seem very spoiled, and he had been very mysterious, and a lot of things were starting to fall into place with this new piece of information, but… but…

As he tugged your hood over your head further, as if that would help when you were already drenched, you stared at him, wide-eyed. He noticed and offered you a silly, beguiling smile.

A clap of thunder roared overhead. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure if he could even hear you.

His smile faded, as if he was worried he had upset you. “I’m sorry. Like I said—my business entails people not knowing of my presence here. There are some diplomatic issues that I came to resolve personally. And…” He reached down to intertwine his fingers with yours, and slowly started guiding you down the alleyway. As you timidly looked up, you saw the faraway soft glow of the streets draw nearer. “I’m not out and about often. I really did enjoy my time with you. As someone with no such great responsibility, even if it was a temporary respite.”

Your head was starting to hurt. “I…” You weren’t very good at expressing your feelings, admittedly, but, “I had fun, too.”

------------------

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

You bowed your head towards the girl behind the counter. It wasn’t your permanent home, and you surely hadn’t been in Oriflamme long enough to consider it home, but the inn had been hospitable to you, so you only felt it was right to thank them once more before you left.

She pouted playfully. “I’ll really miss you, you know. You said you were still going to be here for a little longer.”

“Hm.” You averted your eyes. “Yes, but there was a change in plans.”

“What change? You always plan way in advance,” she scoffed. Then her eyes widened. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that handsome fellow you brought back a few days ago, would it?”

You squinted. “I don’t plan that far in advance.”

She flipped a coin idly, huffing. “Could you please not dodge my question when we’re about to never see each other again?”

“Well, it is because of him.”

She gasped so loudly she drew the attention of the nearby customers. “Ah—our unfeeling doctor was finally bewitched by a man!”

You sighed. “Come on, that’s not it.”

“Oh, look at that—she’s absolutely smitten, isn’t she?” The onlookers looked puzzled. “I’d always thought it was such a waste for you to not find a partner, you know.”

“We’re not seeing each other,” you corrected exasperatedly. “He hired me.”

As if on cue, the doors to the inn opened. Even without turning your head, the practised, placid footsteps from the entryway gave Joshua’s presence away to your ears. He had that pleasant smile on his face as usual. You tilted your head to regard him.

“Hello, Doctor. Are you ready to leave?”

“Mm. Just a minute.” You turned your attention back to the girl. Prying as she was, you had grown fond of her over the duration of your stay. “I’ll come visit again.”

“Oh, will you?” Her eyes glistened with crocodile tears. “You will invite me to the wedding ceremony, won’t you?”

“Wedding ceremony?” Joshua blinked quizzically. “Doctor, are you getting married?”

“No.”

“Oh, please, you must!” she continued to cry.

You turned away from the counter and pretended you couldn’t hear a thing. “Let’s go.”

Striding towards the entryway, you found it a little surprising that Joshua caught up after a few steps. You looked up at him, only to find him staring down at you with a peculiar look you couldn’t identify.

“What is it?”

“Are you getting married?” he pressed.

“No, I am not,” you corrected, again.

“Ah.” His tone sounded lighter. “What about a partner?”

“You seem quite interested in this topic.”

“I would be interested in knowing if you’re interested in someone, Doctor.”

Another mirthful smile crossed his lips. It had grown familiar to you, and you found the ghost of a smile creeping its way to your face, too, whenever you saw it.

--------------

On your way back to the inn, you found a fool standing still in the middle of the street under the pouring sky.

Rain wasn’t uncommon in Oriflamme. On the flipside, it was fairly normal, something that you could expect once every few days. Sometimes, during the rainy season, the downpours would be longer, more frequent—but again, that was something that was fairly normal, happening once a year in the exact same month almost like an annual tradition. Anybody could get used to it, and anybody would be expecting it at this time of the year. The rain was entirely within your expectations.

It was a particularly normal day, and a particularly abnormal sight.

The evening sky was laden over with heavy grey clouds, and you had been returning to the inn you’d been lodging at with raindrops pelting against your coat fervently, when you encountered him.

Every other person you had seen on the street toted waterproof cloaks to shield themselves from the weather, but this man was standing in the middle of the empty street, drenched to the bone, head tilted up towards the sky and unmoving. It was difficult to make out what he looked like through the rain, but you could see them well enough. Golden locks soaked and facial features that looked like they’d been sculpted with expertise, you almost thought a talented artist had finished this statue and brandished it on the street as some sort of statement. After all, there was no reason anybody would be foolish enough to be standing around under this heavy shower completely unprepared.

Then the statue blinked, sneezed, and you hopelessly realised there was someone foolish enough to be standing around under this heavy shower completely unprepared.

The street was empty, and although you could have just walked past him without batting an eye, you knew it would weigh on your conscience afterwards. And you were a little curious. So you took a few steps towards him and called out.

“Um, excuse me?”

The non-statue turned towards you. Now that you were closer, and he was facing you, you wondered how a person could look so delicately handcrafted.

“It’s raining, you know?” you continued, speaking louder so you wouldn’t be muffled by the rain. “Aren’t you going to find some shelter?”

He blinked at you slowly, like he hadn’t even considered the thought. Then he said in a voice so soft the rain almost drowned him out, “Ah, I don’t have anywhere to return to for the time being, but thank you for your concern.”

…Was he homeless? You doubted it. Although he wasn’t wearing a rainproof coat, his clothes didn’t look like they belonged on just anyone. They looked expensive. Something you probably couldn’t afford without starving for an entire year, actually.

That just made you even more confused. Surely he could afford a room at any inn?

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here for too long,” you warned.

“I suppose that’s a possibility…” he mused, like it didn’t bother him at all.

Did he not care about himself at all, or was he actually a fool?

He smiled at you. “Thank you for your concern for me, but I’ll work something out.”

It was evening, easing into the night. Oriflamme was generally a safe city, but that didn’t mean its people were impervious to danger. And it didn’t look like the rain was going to let up any time soon. On the contrary, for the past few days, the rain would thunder on throughout the night.

Now, you had to preface that you gave it a lot of thought first. You completely considered that this could be some sort of scam or ruse, but if it was one, it would have to be a damn unreliable one. No one would approach statue-looking madmen on the street. You also knew how chilly nights in Oriflamme could get, and combined with the relentless rain, if anyone stayed out on the streets overnight… you’d feel awful for days if you knew you could’ve done something but chose not to. You didn’t have that much to lose anyway. In any case, it wasn’t like you were completely defenceless. And, above all, you somehow wanted to know more about him.

Pulling your cloak tighter over you, you sighed. “If you have nowhere else to go, would you like to come with me?”

He gave you a puzzled look. “Hm..?”

The rain was so loud, you almost didn’t catch it. “What?”

“I haven’t experienced it firsthand before, but isn’t this something men with nefarious motives usually say to young women?”

Why, this rude, sophisticated-looking effigy… “If you don’t want to, then I’m leaving.” You angled yourself away as if to walk around him.

He raised his brows. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it that way—I was just surprised at your offer. Pardon me.” He took a step towards you. “If I wouldn’t be imposing too much, then I would be delighted to take you up on that. Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

Well, you were the one who had initiated the offer, so even if you were,  it was a bit too late to say you were uncomfortable. “Alright then. Follow me.”

You walked a few paces forward, towards the inn you’d been staying at which wasn’t far, then stopped, turning to the sculpture-looking man again. He’d begun to follow you, and stopped when you did.

“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself.” You told him your name.

He started, like he’d almost forgotten about introductions. “Ah—!”

He bowed his head towards you hurriedly.

----------------

You sighed, leaning forward and bumping your head against the book in your hands.

Opposite you, Joshua gave you a curious look. “Is something the matter?”

This had been going on for a while: you often spent your free time scrawling down children’s stories in blank notebooks, and when you had finished, put them up in a quaint corner in the library for the children to peruse. There weren’t many books suitable for the young ones at the Hideaway. You would never have dared to initiate something like this yourself, but with Harpocrates’ kind, homely encouragement that you would almost accuse as manipulative, your hobby had found meaning in one of the lowest shelves that any child could reach.

Then you had an unexpected patron—the younger of the Rosfield brothers, no less—and he was somewhat of a busybody, and he’d become particularly sticky to you after finding out you were the author of those stories in the tattered notebooks. But if anybody asked you if you minded it, you wouldn’t say you did.

You turned the closed book over in your hands. It was a random book on the history of Valisthea that you’d picked off the shelf in hopes of finding an answer. “I’m looking for a word, but I can’t remember it…”

“Have you consulted the dictionary?”

“I don’t remember what letter it starts with, so that’s not helpful.” …You hadn’t come across as rude, had you? “Um, but thanks.”

Joshua didn’t look ruffled in the slightest. He slid his own book shut and propped his elbows up on the table. “Then, would you like to describe it to me? I might know what word it is.”

He most definitely did. Although you’d done your own fair share of reading, it was hard to deny that Joshua was much more well-read than you, or anyone else at the Hideaway. Sometimes he’d dive into a monologue patterned with flowery sentences, but maybe you’d given him one too many confused looks, because he had pretty much stopped doing that with you. But those alone were enough to prove to you he had picked up far more books than you—although that was to be expected, considering he had been raised in royalty.

You let the book in your hands slide down onto the table, chewing on your bottom lip. “Well… it’s part of a castle.”

Joshua nodded attentively. “I grew up in one.”

Oh, you’d forgotten that. “It’s something like a tower..? I think? They’re usually along the walls—at least I think they are.”

“Are you thinking of a turret?”

Right—that was the word. “That’s—That’s the word. Thanks.”

“Delighted to be of help.” He leaned forward. “What did you need it for?”

“Are you asking for spoilers?”

He puffed his cheeks indignantly, almost like a child. “It’s been a fair while since you’ve published anything, so you will have to pardon me for being curious.”

Published was far too fancy of a term for you.

You glanced down, turning your wrist over experimentally. “Tarja said my wrist hasn’t been good, so I haven’t written much for a while.”

“Oh?” Faint alarm was tinged in his voice, despite him usually trying to keep a composed facade, something you had picked up on yourself. “What happened?”

Apparently, you’d been writing too much. It had prompted a cramp in your hand and after paying a visit to Tarja, who had suggested the most probable cause was your extended periods of time jotting away at your desk. Which you had initially found weird, since it had never happened before. Then after some reflection, you had realised in the past few weeks, particularly after a specific someone discovering your secret of writing those books, you had been feeling too motivated to settle down; sometimes you’d even forego a good night’s worth of rest to spend the time whittling away at words.

Not that you would ever say any of that out loud, so the long and short of it was: “I wrote too much—so my hand hurts.”

Joshua frowned. “Is it an injury?”

“Something like that… I think.” You hoped you weren’t wrong.

“I could heal you, if you’d like?” he offered.

Injured hand darting in front of your chest reflexively, you shook your head. “I couldn’t—you should save your powers for other… stuff.”

He didn’t seem to agree. “What better stuff would prevail over this?”

“People who are actually being useful on the field?” you tried.

This time he frowned at you. “Perhaps you don’t think your contributions are befitting of any reward?”

That wasn’t… “I don’t mean that, but…”

You weren’t sure what you were trying to say, either, so you trailed off. For a long moment, there was a stuffy silence between the two of you. Although you were terrible at conversing with others, Joshua always seemed to know what to say at every moment, so stretches of quiet didn’t happen with him often. Now that there was one, it felt gut wrenchingly nauseating and you contemplated excusing yourself to the toilet so you could retreat back to your bunk and shut the door and wither and die in a corner.

When he finally spoke again, it was soft. “I won’t do anything that you aren’t comfortable with. But as for your implications that your writing and your work aren’t important, those I can’t agree with. Reading your stories holds more importance than just a moment of respite for the children, and myself, as well—and if you allowed the others to peruse them, I’m sure they’d come to the same conclusion.”

Joshua held out his hand across the table.

“So, please don’t think any less of yourself.”

You stared at his outreached hand.

Slowly, from in front of your chest, to over the table, to the palm of his hand, you reached back out to him.

(AU where Rosaria is somehow defended and that bitch Anabella dies too. god I hate her so much)

-------------

The room felt oddly cold, for one that housed the Warden of Fire.

“I must apologise, but I cannot accede to your request at this point in time.”

You’d seen the man knelt before Joshua many times before. His silvery hair was styled rather asymmetrically, braided on the left and loose on the right, so his appearance particularly stood out to you. Not that you quite remembered his name or who he was, apart from being a representative of Waloed. Joshua always treated him dismissively, and so did you.

His demeanour was usually placid, but you observed the way his shoulders were much too tense. Without raising his head, he slowly said, “I implore you, Lord Rosfield—my master grows weary of waiting. Surely you could entertain a single meeting with him?”

Right, the King of Waloed had been wanting to meet Joshua for a while now. In the past year, this man whose name you did not remember showed up like clockwork every month, bringing the same request every time and going home with the same rejection every time. You recalled that in the beginning these requests had been sent via mail, but after one too many times of Joshua putting it aside on his desk and saying I’ll respond to him later nonchalantly, this nameless man started showing up at Rosalith Castle’s doorstep.

“Please understand, Sir Harbard—I would love to speak with your king, but my duties as the Archduke have my hands full.” Oh, his surname was Harbard. Joshua clasped his hands on his lap. “As I have mentioned before, at the earliest opportunity, I will be more than happy to arrange something with him. But now simply isn’t a good time.”

Your neck felt a little itchy, but you resisted the urge to rub it for the sake of looking professional.

This time, Harbard raised his head, brows creased. “Forgive my saying so, but this cannot wait any longer.”

“And you must forgive me as well, as my answer would have to remain the same.”

Harbard’s once composed gaze morphed into something resembling a glare, but not quite yet. “I must warn you that my king is not above the means of using aggression as a form of communication—”

He didn’t get to finish speaking. In the next second you were in front of him, sword unsheathed and the tip of its blade prodding his throat, almost provoking him to continue speaking. For the first time he looked up at you, meeting your blank gaze.

“Commander, please…” Joshua called placatingly from behind you.

Your retreat wasn’t explicitly ordered, but you knew that was what he meant. Of course, you’d only been following what you were taught—subdue all imminent threats before they become a real danger—but following the Archduke’s words preceded that, so you wordlessly sheathed your sword and backed away to your original position behind Joshua.

Joshua just waved a hand to signal the end of his audience. “Thank you for your warning, but I suppose this concludes our meeting. Please relay my words to your king.”

Harbard looked like he was biting back a retort, but he pulled a graceful smile taut on his lips and rose to his feet. “Of course. I thank you for your attention.”

He turned to the door to leave. The two guards standing by the exit stepped forward to flank his side, escorting him out of the room. You wondered if you should follow in the event that he caused any trouble, but your assignment was to stay by the Archduke’s side, so your eyes trailed after him as the doors shut on their backs. He’d be back, evidently, be it in a peaceful or hostile manner the next time.

With the guest gone, you finally took the opportunity to stretch your stiff limbs, before glancing over at Joshua. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep ignoring him?”

Joshua looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I have yet to ascertain their goal, so it’s best to refrain from doing anything with him for now.”

“He just threatened you with war, though.”

“If his goal was conquest, then his loyal servant wouldn’t be here every month to beg for an audience.” He leaned forward, palm cradling his cheek. “And he has yet to turn up personally. He seems to want to meet elsewhere—anywhere but Rosaria. Is he looking to create a distraction? Or could he have another goal?”

You snort. “He sounds rather annoying.”

“Better annoying than dangerous.” Joshua stood up from his seat, and you toddled along to his side. “I’ve ordered investigations on it, but it’s still too early to say anything.”

That was a first. “Investigations by who?”

He regarded you with a coy smile, which you had learned he did when he was about to feed you a half-truth. “Secret subordinates.” Then he raised a hand and pinched you on the cheek. Not enough to hurt, but you winced in surprise. “But I must say, threatening one of our guests’ life at the first provocation? You could stand to be a little less protective.”

It was against the regulations to defy the Archduke, and you assumed pulling away from him counted as that, so you settled for a grumble. “It’s my duty…”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Joshua made for the doors, and you followed him closely to exit.

By tradition, the First Shield was the one who was always by the Phoenix’s side. That would be his brother, Clive, and not you, a regular commander. And it would’ve been so if Clive hadn’t awoken as Ifrit, which had led to Clive often being dispatched to all over Valisthea instead. You weren’t privy to the exact details, but he’d been investigating the Blight and the Mothercrystals and also settling some scuffles as a sign of diplomacy. He’d become just as important and prominent as the Archduke himself, and he was also not burdened with illness, so he often took more trips out in Joshua’s place.

It wasn’t official, but you seemed to always be the stand-in personal guard for Joshua whenever Clive was gone, and attended to your regular duties whenever he had returned. Although, more and more often you would have to be with Joshua even when Clive was back, and you would see him accompanying Jill. You didn’t really mind. It wasn’t a difficult position. If anything, you seemed to be around less for Joshua’s protection and more for his entertainment.

“Did you know that these flowers used to be ground and used for cosmetics?” Joshua gestured to a row of bushes lining the corridor on the side.

“Oh?”

“Then they were claimed to cause rashes, so their purpose in recent times are purely decorative.”

“I didn’t know that.”

You felt like your duty was actually to just stand around and listen to him babble about something or other that he’d read or heard the other day. You didn’t mind it that much.

Joshua turned his head to face you. You kept your eyes trained in front so the both of you didn’t walk into something. “My brother should be returning tonight or tomorrow morning.”

Really? You felt like he hadn’t left long ago. “So soon?”

“It’s been a few weeks, actually,” Joshua corrected. Then, mischievously: “Perhaps you’ve become too accustomed to my side?”

You held his arm and guided him around a corner before he could walk into a wall, then let go of it. “No, I must’ve just lost track of time.”

“Yes, of course,” he agreed, and not sounding like he agreed with you at all. His tone soon turned sour. “We also have to discuss that ball coming up, so after he’s returned, you may return to your regular position for the time being.”

It was no secret that Joshua was not a fan of parties, but unfortunately, his ancestors must have been. They’d made it a tradition to celebrate the day of the formation of the Grand Duchy of Rosaria, which had been established by the unification of several small independent provinces. And perhaps to highlight this very undertone of strength in numbers, they usually invited people and nobles from all over Valisthea. Waloed was most likely not on the guest list, to the king’s probable chagrin. Neither of the Rosfield brothers were inclined to the idea of the grand ball, but breaking a tradition that had been upheld for generations would be alarming at best, so they begrudgingly put up with it.

Two soldiers were stationed along the corridor. Upon seeing the both of you, they saluted. You bowed your head and Joshua nodded at them.

“I had heard preparations for that were already completed,” you said idly.

“For the most part, yes. But events like these attract droves of people from all over Valisthea, and I can assure you a good portion of our men would be too lost in the sense of celebration to be on guard.” He walked closer to you, bumping his arm against your shoulder. In a lower voice, he continued, “Wouldn’t it be so tempting to break through using that window, if you were the enemy?”

You stared ahead at the nearest corner to turn at. “You said Waloed wouldn’t turn aggressive.”

“It’s unlikely, not impossible.”

Ugh. You wished you had lopped off that—what was his name again?—asymmetrically-haired man’s head back there, though more out of frustration than as a calculated move. Every time you heard about Waloed, you had to stifle a groan.

The scurrying of footsteps sounded up ahead. A servant rounded the bend, panting with a jog, envelope clutched in their hand. When he caught sight of Joshua, he lit up and straightened his hunched back, slowing his pace drastically.

“Your Grace.” He halted and then bowed, stretching out both arms to present the envelope to him. It was a little crumpled. “This is addressed to you. It says it’s urgent.”

Joshua stopped in front of him, and you mimicked his action. He peered over at the envelope curiously. It was indeed addressed to him, with a very tacky looking URGENT, and signed off by Cid.

“Ah, it’s from Cid.” The name was unfamiliar to you. Joshua plucked the envelope from the servant’s hands between two fingers. “Thank you.”

After hastily bowing again, the servant retreated the way he had come. Joshua hummed and pocketed the envelope, looking not at all ruffled by a letter that supposedly conveyed an emergency, and continued strolling down the corridor.

Puzzled, you skittered to catch up with him. “Are you not going to open it now? It’s urgent, isn’t it?”

Joshua looked down at you, gait uninterrupted and unbothered. “Oh, Cid always writes that. If it were truly urgent, he’d have sent someone.”

You frowned and cocked your head. “What kind of person is he?”

He chuckled, ruffling the hair on the top of your head. “Wouldn’t you like to know, my dearest commander?”

-------------

Clive had returned, so the next day, as usual, you were discharged to regular commander duties.

The open sky scrolled overhead, clouds dotting over them like merry sheep in an azure field. A breezy zephyr trilled its way around the castle courtyards; present enough to be pleasant, but not strong enough to mess up your hair and get in the way. Grunts and laughter from soldiers sparring, harmonised with the hard sound of wooden sword against wooden sword, echoed and bounced off the walls eagerly.

You readjusted your grip on the wooden handle of your sword and wiped away a dribble of sweat on your chin with the back of your hand.

The soldier in front of you swung down at you again, an action that you had seen from miles away, and blocked it with a parry of your own sword.

Too slow to catch you off guard, and not strong enough to knock you off balance. You opened your mouth to give feedback, but before you could get any words out, he spoke first.

“Say, Commander, is there anything going on with you and the Archduke?”

You let go of the parry, swinging away from the arc of his remaining slash and throwing his balance forward and momentum off, then completed your spin by slamming the flat side of the wooden sword at his knees. He yelped and collapsed sideways, and you had more than enough time to direct the blunt edge of the blade against his neck, stopping just short of nicking it.

He winced. “Not the prodigy commander for no reason, eh?”

“Distraction is fatal in battle, you know,” you remarked, bumping the sword against his jaw before stepping away.

He huffed, recovering from the shock and moving to sit on his bum on the dirt. “That wasn’t a real battle, y’know.”

“I should pray that you don’t think up of some rubbish like that in a real battle.”

“Grumpy as always…” But he had some sort of stupid amused grin on his face. You offered a hand and helped to pull him to his feet. “Well, what’s your answer?”

You raised your wooden sword so that it was level to your face, smoothing out the dented edges. “I don’t answer nonsensical questions.”

“C’mon, don’t pretend,” he continued drawling. “He only ever asks you to stand in for the First Shield, out of all our commanders. And he’s a nice guy and all, y’know, but he doesn’t talk even a quarter as much to any of us than he does to you. Hard to not notice.”

Tapping on your palm with the sword, you furrowed your brows at him. “That’s strange. I hit you in the knees, so why are you acting like I hit you on the head?”

“But he’s right, Commander,” some other dastardly nosy soldier piped up, obviously not busy training and eavesdropping on you two instead. You turned to the soldier who was resting by the fence a few feet away. “We can keep a secret!”

“There’s nothing going on. I know my place.”

“What about him? Don’t you think he fancies you?”

You looked at him incredulously. “What sort of rumours have been going around? Shouldn’t I report this as insubordination?”

You wouldn’t, and they also knew you wouldn’t, so the soldier carried on. “His Grace has never shown interest in anyone else, right? You’ve been with him for pretty long, right?”

A decade? Maybe a little more than that? You hadn’t actually cared to count. You’d been brought in to train as a knight after some of the adults had witnessed your spectacular talent in combat, but during the Night of Flames, you had still been a child, and had been protected from the battle like one. Afterwards, you only heard the tale via word of mouth. The battle between Ifrit and Phoenix had somehow wreaked enough havoc to force the enemy to retreat, and then the story became ambiguous from there. But Rosalith successfully defended itself, albeit suffering heavy losses. Clive had awoken after a few weeks, and Joshua after a few years, but both of them had slept through the angry mob of Rosaria, rioting against their mother’s betrayal and then burning her at the stake. Probably for the better that they hadn’t witnessed that.

By the time Joshua had awoken, you’d already clawed your way up in the ranks of knighthood. With both brothers being able to prime, it seemed unwise to have them stuck together all the time, so even as the First Shield, Clive often went off elsewhere. You hadn’t been a commander at that time, but with the sad dregs left of the Rosarian army and your outstanding capabilities, they’d assigned you to guard him anyway.

“I don’t think so… what do you mean by ‘been with’?”

Before they could spout anymore of their foolery, you heard someone call you from a distance. You turned to the direction of the source and found Joshua and Clive, standing under the shelter of the corridor, waving you over.

“Speak of the devil,” the soldier you’d been sparring with mused.

You shot him a dirty look before traipsing over to them.

Sometimes when Clive had just returned at the gates of Rosalith, he would look very tired and very haggard, so seeing him in freshly pressed and blood-free clothes was always nice. You weren’t as familiar with him as you were with Joshua, so you took care to bow first, and he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

“I hope I haven’t interrupted anything?” Joshua tilted his head at you.

“No, you came at a good time.” Saved you from them becoming more aggressive in trying to wrangle anything out of you.

He raised a hand and placed it on top of your head. “You must’ve been working hard. Have a rest.” You heard the telltale jingle, and the Phoenix’s flames of rejuvenation washed over you. The soreness in your muscles melted away and every nerve in you sparked with renewed life. “I thought I should let you know first—I’ll need you to be with me during the ball. My brother has… other matters to attend to.”

Other matters probably being that Jill had a free hand and no dance partner that night, if you had to hazard a guess. “I see.”

“This wouldn’t pose any problems, would it?” He removed his hand from your head.

If he didn’t need you, you’d probably be stationed elsewhere outside for guard duty, anyway. “Not at all.”

“Thank you for taking care of my brother all the time.” Clive’s smile always looked genuine.

You nodded. “It’s my pleasure.”

“If he’s being too pushy or causing you any problems, you can come straight to me. I’ll handle it.”

“Clive…” Joshua protested.

“Of course, I will.”

Joshua made a sulky expression, evidently displeased that the two of you had turned on him. Clive patted him on the shoulder unhelpfully, then steered him away and left you to return to your sparring. A non-issue for you, since Joshua had eased away all your scrapes and fatigue from your earlier session.

Touching the top of your head with your own hand, you stared after their retreating backs.

You’d admit to no one but yourself that you were a little curious.

-------------

Although, being curious and actually getting answers were two different things.

Having seen it for years by now, the grand ball celebrating the formation of Rosaria didn’t quite faze you anymore, but it would always be quite the sight. Joshua had once described it as a garden steeped in a myriad of colours, sprawling with diversity, and you had thought he was waxing too much poetry, but he was right. Even though they were all dressed for the same event, it was obvious even to your unrefined eye; the differences in their updos, the cuts in their garments, the way they were poised and how they interacted—they came together as an amalgamation you could only awe at from a distance. You’d never see a sight like this anywhere else in Valisthea.

Though, to you, that was just what it was reduced to: at best, a lively sight. All the guests here could enjoy themselves, but you were more attentive to how a man draped in white stumbled a little too close to the table, a woman hiding something under the fluffy layers of her skirt (it was food), a particularly rugged man lingering far too long at the utensils. No one noticed how you were watching them like a hawk, and if they glanced in your direction, their focus would probably fall on the Archduke sitting diagonally in front of you.

Speaking of him, he turned in his chair and touched your idle fingers. You glanced down at him from where you stood. “Don’t be so tense, dear commander.”

“It’d be troublesome for me if you suddenly got assassinated.”

He smiled at you, amused. “That’s very unlikely. Something like that would reward the perpetrator with nothing but hostility from the whole of Valisthea.”

In particular, you were looking out for any silver-haired man with a strange asymmetrical haircut. The Kingdom of Waloed was like a boisterous child who had no problem stirring up trouble with anyone and everyone.

You also knew Joshua was so stubborn that he put every mule to shame, so you just said, “Right, of course.”

Your gaze briefly fell on a mop of black hair amongst the sea of people, followed by a swish of cascading grey hair. Clive and Jill seemed oblivious to everything around them and had that silly drunk smile at each other despite being completely sober. (Clive had promised not to drink, should anything happen.) In the past, there would be droves of women flocking to Clive’s side—you supposed he seemed a tad more approachable without the title of Archduke—but in recent years, Jill would never leave his side at parties. The envious eyes that followed her didn’t escape your notice, but it was Jill, so she could handle herself.

Fingers grasping Joshua’s hand, you guided it back towards the tabletop. Without releasing it, you blinked down at him. “When do you suppose the First Shield is going to announce his engagement to Lady Jill?”

Joshua fixed you with wide eyes. “They aren’t engaged.”

“Why aren’t they? They behave like they are.”

“Well…” Joshua was mulling over it like trying to explain an advanced concept to a child. You definitely weren’t a child, though. “He will in due time, I suppose? There have been a lot of unsettling matters as of late. I expect he will once things settle down.”

At this rate, you thought Jill just might take the reins into her own hands. You cocked your head silently and let go of Joshua’s hand and stood up straight again.

It probably wasn’t good practice to be chatting with a Shield so long in front of guests, after all. Most of them had already greeted Joshua, so they weren’t paying much attention to either of you. If it were the time for politics, they certainly would be, but in the time of party and dancing they would much rather relax and soak in the atmosphere elsewhere. He did speak to some of them briefly whenever he got up to serve himself more food (he refused to let a servant help him with that) but you thought it was probably to distract others from the fact that he was demolishing the desserts. Even now he was delicately slicing at a gargantuan piece of chocolate cake.

Your eyes followed a lady who was regarding her dance partner with a giddy smile.

“You aren’t interested in getting engaged, Your Grace?”

Joshua coughed loudly.

“Did you not take your medicine again?” You started digging in your pocket. The healer always left you some whenever you were assigned to him.

He raised a hand, the other covering his mouth, and you paused. The look he gave you after was almost exasperated. “Why… Why are you curious about that?”

“You are of age, but you always turn down any nobles interested in talks of becoming betrothed.”

“That’s… true, but…” The well-spoken Archduke was floundering for words.

“And you don’t appear to be interested in courting anyone, either.”

“I don’t?”

“No?”

Joshua looked at you flatly.

You frowned. “Are you perhaps interested in men?”

Reaching for a napkin, Joshua dabbed at the corner of his mouth even though it was clean. “Could I ask that we table this conversation for later?” He seemed to have composed himself.

A low, outsider voice interjected, “No, no, now I’m awfully curious, too. What’s your answer? Your Grace?”

You barely had time to scold yourself for losing focus on your original task, hand whipping to the hilt of your sword. Your stance was interrupted by Joshua leaping out of his seat, eyes big with pleasant surprise at the man in front of his table. He held a hand out for a handshake. “Cid! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Then, after a brief pause, he added, “I don’t recall sending you an invite.”

Vaguely recalling that was the name of the person who’d sent Joshua a not-urgent letter, you scanned him up and down. His attire seemed entirely too casual and it was apparent that he hadn’t made any effort to dress for the occasion, and the smell of alcohol was radiating off of him, but his posture and every muscle seemed far too relaxed. He didn’t seem in a good condition to attack, anyhow.

“You didn’t,” Cid affirmed, grasping his hand back. “I’m quite hurt.”

“I apologise, but having an outlaw around here seemed less than ideal.” Joshua was in correspondence with an outlaw? “But you’re already here, I suppose. Did you come here in search of something?”

Cid waved a hand dismissively. “Not tonight, Lord Rosfield. Tonight I’ll be but a simple man luxurying in life’s simplest and greatest pleasures.” He must be here for the free ale, judging by the sloshing mug in his other hand.

Maybe Joshua didn’t catch on to that, because he looked a little confused. “I see.”

Turning his attention to you instead, Cid extended a hand for another handshake. “This young lady here glowering at me must be the Shield I’ve heard so much of.”

If you really had been glowering at him, you were sure your expression was now a perplexed one. Hesitantly, you accepted his firm hand. “You’ve heard about me?”

Cid shrugged. “Genius knight, one of the youngest ever to achieve the title of a commander, the most favoured of the Ar—”

Joshua suddenly batted at Cid’s hand like a cat did at something unpleasant, breaking the grip between the two of you. Wearing a very taut smile, he circled around the table and placed a hand on Cid’s shoulder. “It’s been a while since you’ve last seen my brother, Cid. Would you like to go greet him?”

Cid grinned at him knowingly. “I never pegged you as a coy one. But it would be my utmost pleasure to, Lord Rosfield.”

The two of them pulled off into the crowd, and you plodded after them carefully. The idea of an outlaw roaming around in the walls of Rosalith didn’t sit quite right with you, but no one seemed to be paying him any heed, so maybe it was okay? There was an unspoken rule of no conflict or violence at this celebration of unity as well, so perhaps anyone with grievances against him would hold it back just for tonight.

They located Clive, and shared a few words that you didn’t fully listen to, with your eyes trained on the surrounding people instead. You only caught whiffs of information like how this uncouth man was actually the Dominant of Ramuh, and they had some plan or other that involved the Mothercrystals and the Blight. If it was something you needed to be involved in, Joshua would tell you, so you tuned out their drones and honed in on your task.

After a while, when they had finished, Cid wandered off again outside for a smoke, and Clive and Jill retired themselves into a secluded balcony. Joshua turned to you, tugging on your hand.

“If you feel worn out, I could call someone to stand in for you.”

This was hardly anything. “I would be more concerned about yourself.”

The rest of the night passed without incident. It was a good thing all of Joshua’s concerns had been unfounded. The guests streamed out of the ballroom in trickles, and you followed Joshua as he went to bid them farewell at the castle gates. It must’ve been hours past midnight by the time they had all left, and although you were accustomed to long working hours, the same probably didn’t go for Joshua’s poorer constitution.

Unexpectedly, he inclined his head towards you. “Would you care to go on a little walk with me in the gardens?”

You sighed. “I wouldn’t be able to convince you to retire for the night, would I?”

Joshua pretended to give it some thought. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Then I don’t quite have a choice here.”

The stars behind in the sky decorated his almost cheeky smile, and you took you by the hand and started towards the empty gardens.

Servants and soldiers would be bustling here in the day, traipsing from one end to the other, tending to the plants, or simply taking a breather under the benevolent shelter of the gazebo. Somehow, after the Night of Flames, you felt like the gardens were even brighter, every stem and leaf spruced to verdant life. Stoned pathways snaked their way through the blanket of grass, but whoever had laid them out had done a good job in making them feel like decorations rather than an intrusion.

You knew this place like the back of your hand, but your interest was piqued again when you found a familiar flower, red petals curved outwards as if stretching lazily.

Slowing your pace, you gestured to it. “That’s the one you said used to be ground for cosmetics, right?”

Joshua’s gaze followed your hand, and he stifled a laugh. “Did you know you’re the only one who remembers everything I say?”

“It sounds a little depressing when you put it that way, so please don’t.”

“But it’s true.” He reached out to you, cupping your cheeks with his hands and angling your head upwards to face him. You didn’t flinch. “Also, did you know you’re a very important person to me?”

The moonlight made his golden locks glisten white.

You reached up to grab his wrists. “Of course, I knew that.”

His look softened. “Would my very important commander allow me to have this dance?”

This time, you averted your eyes. “I don’t know how to.”

The way of the sword was all you’d been taught, and fighting was nothing like the elegant and tranquil movements that belonged in a ballroom.

“I could teach you,” Joshua offered.

There was no music except for the buzzing of the crickets, but you didn’t see the harm. “Just for a short while.”

“Here, like this.” Stepping closer, he clasped both of your hands and positioned them outwards by your side the way you saw most people postured back in the ballroom. “Follow me. It’s fine if you happen to step on my feet.”

You found the motions unfamiliar, completely unlike the sharp and jarring reflexes you had during battle, but you still felt a tinge of deja vu. The way you kept your gaze locked at the ground to make sure your feet didn’t stumble reminded you much of your days when you’d first picked up the sword; untrained and uncertain. You were sure you looked nothing as graceful as the women were back there, and Joshua was probably practising extra caution to watch out for you, too.

The flowers in the garden smelled sweet.

You glanced back up at Joshua. “By the way, you never answered my question if you were interested in men.”

Joshua fumbled and trod on your boot. It barely hurt, but you huffed.

“My apologies. I…” He squinted at you like he was trying to figure something out. “I don’t understand why you could be so curious about this.”

“I already mentioned it, didn’t I? Are you not worried about finding a betrothed?”

He slowed to a halt, and you did the same. “It’s not that I’ve been avoiding it—I’ve simply been preoccupied with… other things, is all.”

You tilted your head. “I see. Then I’ll have to assume the rumours are true.”

Joshua blinked quizzically. “What rumours?”

“You must’ve heard of them. I’m talking about these.”

Your reflexes were always going to be much faster than Joshua’s—you dropped your hands along with his down to your sides, leaning forward until the tips of your noses met, sharing a breath. His pretty blue eyes were so wide, so confused, and for the first time in a while, a grin stretched itself out across your lips.

“Did you know? I’m not that oblivious.”

-------------

Author’s note: I’m not actually sure what the ranks of knighthood are, so I’m just going to say there are several commanders in the ranks and then one lord commander.

Author’s note: Joshua who loves to read and reader who loves to write has been in front of me the whole time. I have been but a blind fool

-------------

“Pardon me, but are you the one who wrote those?”

It had all started about a year ago. You had always been a daydreamer, maybe a little airy-headed, and you often found yourself penning down idyllic fantasies down into tattered notebooks since young. Growing up, you’d filled thousands of torn pages with your whimsical stories, leaving them half-complete before you began a new one, and it was a hobby that had followed you into adulthood. Now that you lived in the Hideaway, you surprisingly found yourself having more time for it. Embarrassing to admit, but you weren’t the most capable on the field, so you often had quick and short assignments.

And then one day you’d accidentally left one of your notebooks open at the library while searching for other books, and Harpocrates had chanced upon it. You had vehemently denied any relation to the notebook, and Harpocrates who had seen you walk in with it and place it on the table of course hadn’t believed you at all, but instead of mocking you or your scrawls, he had offered a suggestion with a wise smile. The children at the Hideaway, although only a few of them, didn’t have much to read. Children’s storybooks weren’t a priority to obtain, so they usually just had the same few to recycle over and over. Why not write new ones for them? Your handwriting was neater than sufficient, he had said, and your writing was pleasant.

Not knowing how to turn down his proposition, and also not being totally against it, you had agreed. Harpocrates then dedicated a row at the bottom of the shelf in one of the corners for you. It felt a little improper to you—there was no title on the cover since it was a notebook, only on the first page in your handwriting, and the books were usually worn out a little, but every time you slotted a new one onto the shelf, a few days later the children would come bounding to you with praises and enthuses of joy. Harpocrates must’ve told them it was you. You didn’t really mind.

Except, now, Joshua Rosfield had caught you sliding in your newest finished piece onto the bottom shelf.

“Uh—!” You managed a strangled noise.

You had never spoken to him before. Clive had brought him in a few weeks ago and introduced him in the Ale Hall one day, and you had bowed your head in greeting, and that was pretty much the only interaction you had with him. He mostly kept to himself, too. To be honest, he looked much too ethereal and you were afraid that if you stood too long around him you’d be incinerated to ashes just by his aura, so you didn’t try to approach him either.

Needless to say, you really wanted to run away. You stared up at him, wide-eyed.

He cocked his head inquisitively, and then you noticed in one of his hands was clutched a notebook that you’d finished writing in and put on the shelf for the children a few months ago. You hoped Leviathan would awake from its dormancy and swallow you whole right that instant.

“I’m sorry. I was just wondering if you are the author of those books,” he repeated, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

Shoving your new book into the shelf, you leapt to your feet without meeting his eyes.

“Sorry—I have to go somewhere!”

“Ah, wait—” he began, but you didn’t let him finish.

Bowing your head and staring at the floor, you bolted right past him and out of the library.

-------------

You escaped back into the dormitories, the largest common area in the Hideaway and where you figured it’d be harder for someone to locate you. Returning to your room was an option, but not one that you entertained; you’d been cooped up in there for hours in the early half of the day, revising your story before publishing it in the little corner in the library, so you were reluctant to go back again.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have run away and heard Joshua out. He had seemed curious about them, even if he completely wasn’t their target audience. It could’ve been nice hearing an adult’s opinion on your storybook, too… Or, alternatively, maybe he’d been very unimpressed by your books and was about to tell you off for wasting space in the library and to make way for some real books. Oh, god. You felt like you were going to vomit. You stopped walking through the corridor and paused to lean your head against the wall, focusing on your breaths.

“Miss!”

It was a young, chipper voice. Blinking, you removed yourself from your pathetic posture, standing up straight, and looked down. The children, your loyal recipients of your books, were eagerly jogging towards you.

“Miss!” They tugged at your long skirt. “Is there a new book yet?”

“Are you writing a new book?”

“I want to read a new story, Miss!”

“Hey, now…” You reached down to carefully pat one of the boys on his head. Children were a little easier to manage, you found. Or maybe it was because they adored you. “I just put a new one on the shelf, actually.”

They were positively beaming. “You did?”

“What’s it about this time? Is it romance?”

The girls in particular asked you that question fairly often, but you found yourself quite hopeless at it. Perhaps it was because you’d never had anything going on in your life romantically before, but the words just wouldn’t come out. How were you to describe what it felt like being in love, anyway?

Grimacing, you shook your head. “It’s an adventure story.”

“Oh, another one!”

“I wanted to read a love story, too…” One of the boys was pouting.

You laughed, gingerly tugging them off your skirt. “Maybe sometime.”

With hopeful glints in their eyes, they turned and began making their rambunctious way to the library, no doubt about to fight over the single unread copy on the shelf. You watched them leave with a faint smile, waving to their retreating backs, before frowning and sighing.

Really, how were you supposed to describe love?

-------------

Maybe some of the books in the library had an answer for you.

So, the next day, you returned with a notebook, this one used to pen down ideas rather than hold finished tales, set on finding some sort of inspiration from some book.

Unfortunately, Joshua was standing at one of the shelves.

Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be around. You usually waltzed past him, and, being too lost in the sprawling ink of the book, he usually didn’t notice you, or you assumed so. The last encounter had certainly… well, shaken things up, to put it in a crudely nice manner.

Stopping a few paces behind him, you shifted awkwardly, before clearing your throat. “Um, Lord Rosfield.”

Joshua looked up, turning his head gracefully to look at you. You were absolutely jealous. When someone interrupted you when you were deep in thought, you would always jump and freeze up like a frightened chocobo in a completely unflattering way.

“Yes?” Without missing a beat, he added, “Simply ‘Joshua’ would suffice.”

“Right, well, Joshua.” It sounded foreign on your tongue. “You see, about yesterday…”

You diverted your gaze from him to the floor, only catching the view of him in your peripheral vision. Ugh. This was so horrible.

Joshua blinked, turning to face you fully.

You moved your tongue about in your mouth almost peevishly, like you had something stuck between your teeth.

“When we met at the library yesterday…”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” he unexpectedly said. You stopped and looked back at him. He wore an apologetic smile. “I must’ve disturbed you—”

“No!” You shrank back immediately. You hadn’t meant for that outburst.

Joshua looked a little taken aback. “Ah, no…?”

“No,” you repeated, almost stupidly. Hugging your notebook to your chest, you bowed your head. “I—I must’ve come off as rude yesterday. I—it wasn’t my intention, I was just… well, I’m sorry.”

The words tumbled out of you in a rush before you could change your mind. Anyhow, that should get your message across. You raised your head hesitantly.

Joshua waved a hand dismissively. “No worries. You had something to tend to, if I remember correctly.”

No, there had been nothing to tend to at all. “...That’s right.”

“I hope you finished it with ease.” The smile he flashed at you was so brilliant you thought you might melt into a puddle of goo. “I was curious about the books in that corner. You’re the one who’s been writing them, I take it?”

In that instant, your brain fired a million thoughts simultaneously. What if you lied to him and said you were helping someone else? Then he’d ask you who you were helping. What if you said you had just finished reading it and were putting it back? No, reading a children’s storybook at your age was much too embarrassing.

Eventually, you settled on a sullen, “...Right, it’s me.”

On second thought, maybe writing a children’s storybook was worse than reading one.

But Joshua’s eyes only sparkled the same way the children’s eyes had the previous day. He took a step towards you. You uneasily took one step back, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Harpocrates told me someone had been writing for the children, you see,” he said, closing the book he’d been reading shut. You had never taken Harpocrates as a traitorous old man, but life was full of surprises. “I thought it was a wonderful idea, so I had a look at some of them. I hope you don’t mind.”

You minded very, very much. “No, it’s alright.”

“They’re very well-written,” Joshua continued, painfully enthusiastically. “The plotlines are simple, but novel. Most of the premises appear quite similar at first, but the ideas are actually all unique and fresh when you properly read into it, aren’t they? And the characters—they’re all so distinct and likeable in their own way once you really get to know them. Even when some of them come off as standoffish at first, they all have their own deeply thought out motives.”

You were holding on for dear life. “Uh… um…”

“And you took great care writing these for children, didn’t you? It’s all handwritten, but they’re all very neat. I spotted not a single mistake while looking through them. And the language used, the words you chose, your style of writing—they’re catered to the children, but even as an adult, it’s hardly painful to read. It was a delightful experience, if I had to describe it.”

“Well… thanks,” you managed feebly. Leviathan, any moment now…

“I’ll be looking forward to your next volume, too.”

“Right, thank you…”

But you had to admit: all your effort, every second of care that you had spent at your desk, hand cramping, felt like it hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. And it felt a little nice.

Joshua tilted his head at you like he hadn’t been off on a tangent praising you seconds before. “So, what brings you to the library? I don’t imagine you already have another one completed.”

You started. Right, your original purpose. “No, I don’t. I came to…”

It’d be a terribly awkward time to yank out a romance novel off the shelf and start meticulously studying it.

“...I came to research something for my writing.” Not a lie.

Joshua’s smile lit up even more, if that were even possible. “Oh? What about?”

You cleared your throat, even though it was empty. “Just… stuff.”

“Would you like me to help you find anything?” He leaned towards you.

“No… thank you.”

“Alright.” He leaned back, and you finally took that as an opportune moment to leave. As soon as you turned, his hand shot out to grab your arm. You almost flinched. “Pardon my rudeness. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Joshua, Clive’s brother.”

Yes, you knew. You introduced yourself in a mutter.

Joshua let go of your arm. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

You looked away sheepishly and mumbled something vaguely similar back.

-------------

Weeks had passed since then. Now that that embarrassing introduction was out of the way, you found it much easier to slip into the library. Harpocrates always welcomed you, and even if Joshua was there, he didn’t bother you much. At most, upon first seeing you, he would quiz you on what was upcoming in your latest story. You entertained him as best as you could, and surprisingly, you found his questions becoming easier and easier to answer, but not because he was the one who changed. You never really saw him around the romance section, so you could always read in peace.

Or that was how it was supposed to be.

One sunny day, you had arrived at the library with your notebook in tow, as usual, and Joshua began asking you questions again, both of you sat down at a table, in a way that reminded you of the children who adored your books.

And then, out of nowhere, very casually: “Are you trying to write a love story?”

You choked on air.

Joshua frowned. “I’m sorry. Did I have the wrong impression?”

You stared at him, aghast.

“It’s just that you’ve been frequenting the section where most of the romance novels are kept, so I thought…”

He’d been watching you?

Admittedly, he’d been a good friend to you. He was always considerate and never pushed to overstep any of your boundaries. He was just… nice to be around. Like being near a campfire in the freezing winter. You could forgive it.

You folded your arms and looked away. “It’s—something like that. I guess.”

With that, he wore his excited smile again. “Really?”

Restraining a groan, you nodded. You did not look at him. “The children have been pestering me about one for a while, so…”

“I see. They’re at that age, I suppose.” Really? To you, they still felt all too young. “I might be able to help you in that department. I’ve read a number of them myself.”

“You have?”

You looked at him dubiously. He looked much too eager to help, leaning over in his seat.

“Yes, I have.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. If it were you, you would’ve died of embarrassment.

He certainly had never struck you as that type. “I’ve never seen you reading one, though…”

Joshua shook his head. “Not when you’re around. You would prefer to remain undisturbed when reading those, wouldn’t you?”

You had never said that out loud, but he was spot on. Biting on your bottom lip, you looked down at the table. “Yeah, I guess so…”

“How about it? Would you like my input?”

Something about receiving a lecture about love from Joshua made you feel queasy. “It’s… It’s okay. Thanks for the offer.”

“Alright.”

The fact that he was into romance novels surprised you. He usually had his head buried in some history book, although to be fair, he had just mentioned purposefully being aware of you when you had come to do your… studying…

This felt more shameful by the second. You slumped in your seat.

Joshua reached over to grab one of your hands on the table worriedly. “Are you feeling alright?”

You straightened your posture again. “I’m fine,” you blurted out, drumming your free fingers on the tabletop. The palm of the hand under Joshua’s was starting to feel sweaty. “Could I ask you something?”

He canted his head. “Of course.”

“It might be offensive.”

He pulled his mouth to the side doubtfully. “Go ahead.”

You opened your mouth, wrangled down the hesitation down your throat, and tried to look him in the eyes, but settled on the space between his brows.

“Why are you so interested in reading my storybooks? They’re for children…” Then you immediately added, “Not—Not that there’s anything wrong, with that, of course, it’s just… a surprise? No other adults read them… except Harpocrates, but that’s him. I guess. Don’t get me wrong—I’m really flattered that you enjoy them, but I was just curious.”

Joshua blinked at you owlishly. “That must be the longest I have heard you spoken in one breath.”

“That’s not… Could you answer the question?”

Joshua retrieved his hand to rest his cheek on it, elbow propped up on the table, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. A finger on your hand that had been occupied until recently twitched. You felt like you could be honest with him. But it wasn’t too much of an invasion of privacy, was it? Maybe you should retract your question if he didn’t feel comfortable. You would hate for him to be put on the spot.

He finally looked down back at you. “Has Clive told you anything of our mother?”

Was he dodging the question? That would’ve been fine, but you didn’t know why he was bringing in another heavy topic. Word on the grapevine spread to you that their mother had killed herself in a fit of hysteria right in front of her sons, after all. Clive, personally, had said nothing to you about her, though.

“Not really, no.”

“...Of course.” Uncharacteristically, Joshua looked down at the table. Usually you were the one to be doing that. You tilted your head. “She had always wanted for me to be the best in every way. I was already sickly as a child, and she prohibited me from overexerting myself on battlegrounds. She often ordered me to stay within the walls of the castle as well.”

She sounded awful, but you couldn’t ascertain his feelings for his mother with his vague language, so you held your tongue.

“I found solace in reading. I enjoyed books written for children, of course, being one—but my mother didn’t appreciate it as much.” He was wearing a forlorn smile. “She wanted no risk of my future position as the Archduke. At her insistence, I was to read less of those ‘silly stories’ and more of educational books.”

You felt personally insulted at that one. “She sounds a little rude.”

At the sound of your voice, Joshua lifted his head, eyes almost bleary like he’d woken up from a bad dream. “Perhaps she was.” Again, vague. He was still smiling—this time, it reached his eyes. “To answer your question, I’m not quite sure yourself. If I had to guess, perhaps reading them feels like making up for the lost time I had as a child?”

And then, catching you completely off guard, he snatched one of your hands from the table and clasped it with both of his hands. You did not have time to react.

“Thank you for writing them.”

Even through the gloves, his hands felt very warm.

You were suddenly acutely aware of how softly his golden locks fell over his face, the deep lapis of his probing eyes—every ridge and feature of him was striking you with vivid clarity.

You stood up from your seat abruptly, pulling your hand away and folding your arms tightly.

“It’s—It’s no problem. Sorry, but I should really get going.”

With a brisk walk out of the library faster than ever before, you forced yourself to ignore how warm your face was getting.

-------------

“Miss, you did it!”

You had just returned from some field work, exhausted, sweaty, and generally feeling like you needed a hot bath, when the children had crowded you once again. It was right in the middle of the Hideaway, and even though there weren’t that many people around at this time, you still raised a finger to your lips to sign the children to lower their voices.

As usual, they paid no heed to you. They came and tugged at your skirt again. “You wrote about love!”

Behind, one of the boys feigned a disgusted expression. He’d grow out of it, probably.

You took turns patting their heads as always. “Did you enjoy it?”

Of course, you were in no position to write a full-blown romance novel, and that most likely wasn’t ideal for children, either. Instead, you’d just written another adventure story, like you always did, but this time dashed with garnishes of intimate feelings. Not enough to be the main focus, but enough to be visible.

“Yeah!” Then, looking a bit confused: “Why did you suddenly write about it, though?”

The sunlight streaming through the cracks of the Hideaway looked golden, too.

You inclined your head down at them and gave a silly grin.

-------------

A shake on your shoulder gently woke you up from your sleep.

Your eyes blinked open groggily. Was it already time to wake up? Before you could roll over and groan, pathetically pleading for another five more minutes, you realised the room was as dark and quiet as the night usually was. From where you laid on your bed, through the window next to you, the stars were still scattered across the sky. It wasn’t time to wake up yet. Something was amiss.

“I’m sorry. It’s still early.”

Early was an understatement. Eyes half-open, you turned your head to meet a misty blue gaze. “Mmhm,” you replied eloquently.

Joshua smiled at your reaction the way an adult would when a child did something silly—but his brows were creased. He must be worried about something.

He had been squatted beside your bed, but after you showed signs of being awake, he got up and sat with his hand pressed on the mattress, close enough to your face that you could see the fine lines and ridges along his skin.

“I had a dream about you,” he said, in a strangely quiet voice.

At that, your eyes widened a fraction. “You want to do it now?”

“I didn’t mean that kind of dream.” Oh. “...I had a nightmare.”

About you?

Rubbing the drowsiness out from your eyes, you heaved yourself up so you could look at him face-to-face. The moonlight from the window cast onto him, a perfect spotlight—for a brief moment, you thought he was an ephemeral creature who would shatter if you so much as blinked.

An ephemeral creature who’d had a nightmare about you, though. What was it? That you’d manifested into an ugly monster? That you’d died, or maybe that you’d turned on him, betrayed him and killed everyone he held dear? What should you say to him?

You slid your hand along the bed to interlock your fingers with his. “What happened?”

Joshua breathed, then fidgeting, looked away and at the opposite door like he’d done something wrong. “I dreamt that…” he was mumbling uncharacteristically, struggling to get the words out, “...you’d fallen in love with someone else.”

The stars outside were twinkling.

Your cheeks ballooned with silent laughter.

“Do not laugh at me,” he whined, even though he hadn’t even been looking at you.

“You know that would never happen, right?”

He turned his head back to look at you. Your shoulders were shaking with stifled giggling. “You are laughing at me now,” he grumbled.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant,” you tightened your fingers’ grip on his, leaning forward, “your nightmare. It’s silly.”

He rolled his eyes until they were half-lidded; you thought his eyelashes looked so long and pretty that way. Then he leaned forward, bumping the crown of his head against the front of your shoulder. “I want to hear it from you directly.”

You sighed, smiling helplessly, bringing your arms up to wrap around him in a hug. It almost felt like you were consoling a child. “I love you. Only you.”

Joshua remained still for a few seconds, and you started to wonder if that hadn’t been enough to appease him, when he slowly reached his arms out to coil around your waist.

-------------

When Clive called you over, you straightened your back and braced yourself, fully expecting another harsh assignment mandating having to travel halfway across the continent, brave the severe weather elements and bypass thirty different bloodthirsty monsters all to retrieve some rare leaf of some sort. You wished you could say this was an exaggeration, but… well, the previous assignment was leaving you a little sullen.

Jill was standing next to him, with a strange smile on her face. You liked Jill. But prior to calling you over, they’d been whispering to each other. You didn’t like that. Suspicious.

“Sorry for bothering you,” Clive began. You didn’t feel bothered, so you shook your head. “Did you know Joshua’s birthday is in a few days?”

No, you hadn’t. “When?”

“A week from now.” He judged your reaction, of which you didn’t have much of one, uncertain of what to do with this information. “Are you thinking of getting him anything?”

A birthday present.

You knew about the concept, but you weren’t terribly familiar with it. You’d never gotten one, because you didn’t know when your own birthday was; growing up an orphan tended to have that effect. As for others’ birthdays, you had a few friends from the Hideaway, but they had always insisted you shouldn’t concern yourself with it. In hindsight, it was probably out of pity for you. You weren’t sure how to feel about that. Whatever.

Joshua had always been good to you. You had a habit of injuring yourself along your line of work—not on purpose, just out of unfortunate clumsiness—and he had taken to finding you after you returned to nurse your wounds with the Phoenix’s fire. Multiple times you had told him it wasn’t necessary, but he had always waved you off.

Come to think of it, you didn’t see him doing the same for others, but you probably just were busy playing with Torgal and not around to see it.

You supposed you should get him something as a token of gratitude.

“I guess I will,” you affirmed.

Jill nudged Clive with her elbow and they exchanged funny-looking smiles. You did not pry.

…You did have a problem with money, though.

You considered something handmade, but you had discovered your fingers didn’t know how to cooperate with one another. Once you had had to sew your sleeve after it had gotten ripped in the wild, and you had poked your fingers till they were perforated.

You could probably figure something else out.

“What does he like, though?” You knew about his infamous disdain for carrots, but disappointingly you found it hard to recall what he appreciated.

Jill reached out to rest a hand on your shoulder, smile mysteriously amused. “I’m sure he’d appreciate anything you get for him.”

“...Really?” You quirked a brow at Clive. He knew his brother best, right?

Clive laughed, fingers fiddling with his earring.

You blinked.

As you watched Clive and Jill walk away, still speaking to each other in low, hushed voices, you found your hands full with a strange assignment.

…Why did they tell you this, anyway?

-------------

A week later, with your arms behind your back, you found Joshua where Clive told you where he would be—the infirmary, which was starting to become his bedroom at this point.

“Joshua?”

As usual, he was past the partition, red scarf and gloves removed as they normally were during Tarja’s treatment. When you hesitantly stepped into his view, his eyes lit up, and with the softest of smiles, he greeted you by your name.

It was supposedly his birthday, which was supposed to be his special day, from what you knew, but it felt like any other normal day—Clive and Joshua had just returned from one of their expeditions that had spanned a few days, and Tarja was tending to the leftover injuries and ills from that. (Clive too, but being much healthier and sturdier, was allowed to be up and about by then.)

You bowed to Tarja, who was on the other side treating someone else, on your way in and strode towards his bedside.

“How was your day?” he asked, eyes trained on yours. He was sat on the edge of the bed like always, as if poised to bolt out of the infirmary.

You cast your glance to the side, fidgeting. “I just had a short assignment.” You looked back at him. “Happy birthday.”

Surprise streaked across his features, brows raised. “Oh—thank you.” A pause, then he slowly continued, “How did you know? I don’t recall telling you.”

“Um, Clive and Jill told me.”

For some reason, Joshua looked exasperated at your answer.

You didn’t think too much about it. Swinging your arms to the front, you presented the small parcel that had been hidden behind your back. “I got you a present.”

His eyes brightened with a light that could illuminate a dozen cities. He extended his hands and slid them under yours, which carried the brown box, bowing his head forward until his forehead gently bumped the surface of the box.

“Thank you,” he said. With his face facing the floor, you couldn’t see what kind of expression he was making. (Hopefully, a smile.) “I can’t express with words how happy I am.”

That made you fuzzy inside to hear.

But you weren’t very sure how to respond. Joshua always had a bit of strange mannerisms—you felt they were strange, anyway, and Mid had agreed with you—because of his upbringing.

You really didn’t want to be rude, so you mimicked what you had seen Clive doing to him before: slipping a hand away from his grip, you reached up to stroke the golden locks on the top of his head. They felt silky, soft enough that you wondered if your fingers might accidentally slip in and fall somewhere.

…Was that just his skin tone, or were the tips of his ears a little red?

Joshua raised his head to look at you.

Jill had said anything would be fine, but a nagging feeling in you wondered if he would open it and hate it. Up until he was ten, he must’ve been lavishly pampered with gifts unthinkable to a normal person like you. And then being with the Undying, who had all but dedicated their entire lives to him… you didn’t really know, but whatever it was, what you had prepared for him was arguably the least impressive thing he was about to receive in his life.

All this manifested in a quiet mutter: “I’m not sure if you’ll like it.”

Joshua, wide-eyed, riposted, “Of course I will.”

“It’s a bit cheap.” Although it had cost about a painful chunk of your savings.

“And?” He waited for you to go on.

There was no “and”. You shook your head.

Joshua judged your reaction, then brought his hands over to clasp the box, retrieving it and bringing it closer to him. You weren’t touching anymore, and your hands dropped to your sides. They felt cold now. “May I open it?”

“Sure—I mean, it’s yours, so…”

His fingers deftly found the bottom of the lid, prying the top off slowly like it would rip to pieces if he went too fast. The lid popped off, and his breath hitched.

Clive and Joshua had starkly contrasting appearances; Clive rugged, firm and built for bloody battle, while Joshua with a delicate frame and enchanting features. But they were still brothers, and probably vaguely had some similar interests, and something Clive had and Joshua didn’t had piqued your interest.

You didn’t know if Joshua had ear piercings, so you had opted for clip-ons.

“They’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he said, with so much sincerity that you almost felt every other sentence uttered to you in your life was a lie.

Tension you didn’t even know you had receded, and your shoulders finally dropped from where they’d been squared. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He lifted them out with one hand with the fragility one would when handling precious stones—even though they were nothing close—and ran them over with his thumb. “I’ve received many gifts—countless, and especially extravagant before… well, during my childhood.” Before that fateful day at Phoenix Gate, was left unsaid. “Enough to be any aristocrat’s dream. But out of all of them, I think… no, I like this the most. Thank you.”

Truthfully, you were a bit perplexed. You’d bought them off a random peddler in a village close by to one of your assignment destinations, and as hopeless as you were with the finer things in life, even you could tell the material was cheap and the craftsmanship subpar. The edges were bumpy and uneven in some areas and the surface would probably completely tarnish in a few years. It was nothing to marvel at, so you didn’t know why he was looking at them with eyes full of wonder.

“I—was worried you wouldn’t want to wear them at all,” you confessed, folding your arms almost sheepishly. After witnessing Joshua’s reaction, you felt a little silly; he had never once breathed a ghost of a mean-spirited comment towards you. You shouldn’t have doubted him.

Joshua placed the box in his lap, then reached out to place a hand on your arm and squeeze it ever so lightly. “I would right now if I could.” He grinned a little hopelessly. “But I’d need a mirror. I’m not quite good at just feeling my way around my ears.”

“Oh.” Fair. “I can help you with that.”

Joshua’s stare froze on you and you wondered if you said something wrong.

“The lady who sold it to me showed me how to wear it, so I know how,” you added, hoping that would dispel some of his concerns.

It was taking Joshua a long time to process your words, even though you hadn’t said anything complicated.

After seconds that stretched on for far too long, Joshua tilted his head so you had better access to his ears. “All yours.”

You avoided looking at his eyes when you reached down for one of the clip-ons.

Your fingers found Joshua’s exposed ear, and you paused to brush some stray blond strands out of the way. Joshua squirmed.

Right, the ears could be sensitive. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Your fingertips touched the lobe of his ear—you had ears of your own, of course, but his felt so fleshy and supple compared to yours or anyone else’s. Sliding the accessory to cushion the rim of his ear, you pushed the ends together to tighten its grip, slowly hovering your hand away slightly to test its stability.

“Does it hurt?” you asked hesitantly.

Joshua lifted a hand to touch where the earring had been attached, his fingers grazing against yours.

“Not at all,” he reassured, eyes flicking to meet yours. “I can barely even feel it.”

Without pulling his eyes away from you, he angled his head the other way for his other ear. This time, you tried not to compute the finer details of his ears too much.

The second clipped on without fuss.

“All done.”

He exhaled softly, saying nothing for a few seconds. His gaze did not break away.

You drew your hands back with uncertainty. “Does it feel funny?”

“No…” he said, his voice almost a drawl. “I was wondering what I’d done to have the fortune of meeting you.”

What did he mean? You would ask, but you suspected this was the kind of question where he would give a cryptic answer.

“I think it’s because you’re an amazing person already,” you replied.

“Well—” Red dusted his cheeks. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your words. Then he leaned forward, sighing, bumping his head against your waist. “I hope no one ever claims you as theirs.”

Theirs..? As in, their child? Why was he bringing this up? Was this because he knew you were an orphan? “My parents are dead, I think, so I don’t think anyone will.”

“Hmm.”

Sometimes you didn’t understand his train of thought.

That was okay. It had turned out better than you had expected, and Joshua was humming a very contented tune, and that was all that really mattered to you right then.

-------------

Author’s note: I was going to describe the clip-ons but I got lazy and said whatever!! Imagination is bliss!!

I know Joshua had ear piercings when he was a child, but it seems like he doesn’t post-timeskip? (please tell me if I’m just blind because that is an unsurprising possibility!!) I figured it would’ve closed up, but it doesn’t matter much... If you don’t like it just pretend it’s an earring I just wanted to write an ear touching scene for my ear fetish idk

-------------

You cradled your head atop a fence along the Hideaway’s exterior.

Some people had told you that they found the lake around the Hideaway dark, deep; scary. This was usually a description that came after you’d told them you found it relaxing—the stillness of the misty air and the tranquillity of the water surface reminded you all too much of someone. With your unusual fascination with the Hideaway’s surroundings, it took no one by surprise that it was the first place you’d go to when you needed to be comforted.

Which didn’t exclude that moment. You turned your head to lay flat against the top of the railing, ignoring the bustling that was going on in your peripheral vision.

Flashes in your head of bloodstained bodies replayed nonstop like a reel that had gone haywire.

You wanted to be alone.

Or, if you had to be with someone…

You sighed, and the way your chest heaved was almost painful.

“...Wish Jill was here…”

“Yes?”

You almost jumped out of your skin, whirling around, eyes widening with delight.

Jill, with a smile that could calm a rampaging behemoth: “You called for me, my dear lady.”

“Jill!” you squealed, then threw yourself at her with nothing but trust that she would catch you.

She did; her arms found your waist, securing them firmly, then spun you around. For that joyous moment, rife with giddiness, you forgot everything—everything about the Blight, everything about Ultima, everything about curses, bearers, everything about your recently failed mission—

Your stomach churned. Faltering, you slumped in her arms, eyes cast downwards.

It didn’t escape Jill’s notice—she’d never let anything about you escape her notice. Tilting her head downwards quizzically, she lifted a hand and placed a hand on your shoulder. Cool to the touch.

“Tell me what happened.”

Her voice reminded you of soft sunshine in a flower field. You looked up to meet her eyes—welcoming and warm, in contrast to the temperature of her skin, so reassuring, so comforting, that you felt wetness prick in the corner of your eyes.

Jill raised her brows, placing her other hand on your other shoulder. “Is it something you can tell me?”

You nodded, but when you opened your mouth you were afraid your voice would warble, so you shut it again. How would you describe it to her? She would never mock or jeer at you. You could say anything. But even when you tried again, the words caught in your throat, threatening to give way to despair, so you opted to bury your head in her chest and sniffle.

“I messed up…”

Only three words, and it was more than enough for her to understand—there wasn’t much else to mess up as a cursebreaker. Jill circled you with an arm around your torso, the other hand gliding through the strands on the top of your head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

But it was. The bearers you were supposed to rescue dead, the soldiers you’d been ordered to take out escaped…

You shook your head wordlessly.

“It wasn’t,” Jill said again, this time sternly like chiding a child. Steadying two hands on your cheeks, she lifted your head to look at you uninterrupted. “Do not blame yourself for trying to be someone’s salvation. The only ones at fault are those monsters who’ve stolen away countless futures. Not you.”

She smelled like flowers.

“Are we clear?”

A surprising smile crept onto your lips, and you laughed shortly. Jill blinked. “How did you know what I was upset about when I barely said anything?”

She sighed, pressing her forehead to yours. Refreshingly chilly. “I would have failed you if I couldn’t understand what you were upset about.”

“You could never fail me, Jill.”

She only further proved your point by whisking you away to the Ale Hall for some comfort sweets.

-------------

Your lungs were going to catch fire.

You’d been careless. You had known the soldiers from your previous assignment had escaped. You had known what kind of vengeful scoundrels they were. You had known they would stop at nothing to maul those who had provoked their pride alive.

Idiot. Why had you returned to the village, by yourself, and not expected them to have laid an ambush, waiting for your return? Why couldn’t you have waited longer before going back to check on the villagers? Why couldn’t you have troubled some of the other cursebreakers to join you?

You were going to die.

Gasping for sharp inhales of air, your legs carried you as fast as they could, sprint automatic at that point. You were faster than your pursuers, and you could outrun them—but not for long. At any moment, your legs were going to give way, collapse, and then it’d be all over.

You didn’t want to die.

A dagger sailed through the air, and your prayers went unanswered.

Pain exploded in your thigh and you tumbled forward, throwing your hands out to partially curb your fall. Gravel in the dirt grazed your palms, but it was nothing compared to the searing stab wound in your leg. Don’t take it out, you’ll die of blood loss—gritting your teeth, you struggled to your feet, limping forward a few more paces. You knew you couldn’t run. It was your loss.

The soldiers’ footsteps behind you eventually slowed to a halt. You turned back to face them with a glare, already predicting their smug, triumphant sneers plastered across their expressions.

“Maybe this’ll finally make an example of any fools who try to get in our way,” one of them—their little ringleader, you presumed—mused.

Every breath felt like it constricted your lungs more. You wanted to rip off your leg and toss it away. In defiance, you said nothing.

He guffawed, “Any last words, missy?”

“Fuck you,” you spat at them.

Even your meaningless words could cross him. His face contorted into a snarl, and he unsheathed his blade, approaching you. How sensitive he was—mindless things like those would never upset Jill.

Oh.

Under your breath, in the smallest of voices: “Jill…”

A burst of icicles rained from the sky. You barely registered the yells and terrified shrieks from the soldiers before giant crystals of ice exploded on the ground, the impact blowing half of them away and barricading the rest, if they hadn’t been frozen over to death. You didn’t even notice the leader whip around before a wall of ice crashed between the two of you, sealing him away from you—you’d been too enticed with the sparkling dust dancing in the air.

Up above, a blizzard was howling in Shiva’s eyes.

When they caught sight of you, they visibly softened. She descended towards you, and you thought she almost looked like a fairy.

As she landed, in a veil of glittering mist, Jill emerged again. She walked to your side, steadily, with an eerie calmness—she mustn’t have primed for very long. When she reached you, she knelt down on one knee in front of you.

“Jill,” you breathed, and you had forgotten about how every inch of your body was in pain.

She nodded, resting a hand on yours wordlessly. It was cold, but it felt so warm.

“I’m still okay,” you said. Your leg was punctured, but it wasn’t fatal. You’d live if you saw a healer. More importantly: “Watch out, the soldiers are still—”

You fell silent as she cupped your cheek with a gloved hand. Her gaze had fallen to the dagger, still protruding from your thigh, and then slowly dragged back up to meet your eyes.

She smiled, so softly, you felt like the frigid air was going to melt you.

“I’ll kill them.”

With a brandish of her sword, she swept back towards the soldiers with the grace of a deadly dancer.

-------------

It was over in minutes.

Jill returned to you, clothes splattered with crimson. Wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she exhaled the same way she did when she finished a light sparring session. You watched her every step as she crouched down next to you.

You wanted to hug her, but your arms wouldn’t obey you anymore. You settled for a feeble grin. “You saved me.”

“No.” She carefully examined the dagger in your leg. “I almost failed to protect what is rightfully mine.” Very, very gently, she meticulously drew the weapon out from piercing you, hovering a hand over and freezing the wound over before it could open and gush out. She couldn’t heal well, but it was a trick she’d learnt to shield injuries until a reliable healer was available.

“I already told you that you could never fail me.”

“I would have failed myself.” Throwing the dagger a distance away, she rested a hand on your shoulder. If you stayed very still, you could feel her tremble. “When I heard you returned to the village, I was so afraid, I…”

You must’ve worried her terribly. You chewed on your bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Jill looked at you, almost looking like a lost child. After a few moments, when it finally settled in that you were alright, you were safe, she finally smiled again.

-------------

The ceiling was spinning.

You hadn’t even realised your eyes had fluttered open and you didn’t even register that you had woken up after being asleep for a long, long time. Had you been sleeping? …You didn’t remember. Your arms and legs were heavier than lead. The rest of your body felt far away. You attempted wiggling your fingers, and with sizable effort, they obeyed begrudgingly.

Your vision focused on the wooden beams overhead. Oh, this must be the Hideaway’s infirmary.

Hadn’t you been journeying somewhere?

You remembered gnarled talons tearing at you and seeing red before you even saw the monster.

Oh, right. You had thought you were dead. Maybe you were, and heaven took the form of the Hideaway’s infirmary.

“...awake,” you barely heard someone say. You searched for a face, but as long as you didn’t move, all you had was a wide view of the creaky wood on top. “Can you move?”

It was Tarja. Stomach tensed, you pulled yourself up with everything you had left in you. Surprisingly, you were successful.

The first face that greeted you was Tarja’s. No surprise there. Laden over the rest of the infirmary beds were familiar faces. Your team members for that most recent assignment—and none of them were awake.

Joshua stood at the foot of your bed, lips pressed together so tightly they were turning white.

Your head spun. “What was..?”

“You’re lucky Clive found all of you when he did,” Tarja said. She was sitting on a stool, fiddling and doing something or other with a bowl. “I’d have less patients to tend to if he didn’t. Living ones, at least. And as for you,” she grimaced, “with the shape you came in, normally, you’d never be out in the field ever again.”

You felt like you were going to vomit. “Then I—”

Tarja patted Joshua’s arm. “You’ll be as good as new in a week, I’d say. Thank him.”

Joshua?

Now you understood. Never setting foot in the field ever again was an understatement from Tarja. You’d already be dead if it weren’t for the flames of the Phoenix.

Clenching the blanket in fistfuls, you began, “Joshua—”

Hearing his name from you broke a dam inside of him that you hadn’t even known was there. He was over by your side in two strides and before you could continue, he throttled you in an embrace, weight pushed onto you and face buried in the nook of your neck. You heard Tarja complaining (“Hey, be gentle with the patient!”) but her words fell on deaf ears. You shifted, raising a hand to steady on his back, letting him all but melt into you.

“I—I thought—” He was stuttering, something you’d never witnessed from him before.

You didn’t know what it was, but hearing him, feeling his touch—you felt the firing of your neurons and life pulsating through your veins. You were alive again.

“You’re back.” Joshua sounded like he was stifling a sob, and when you felt warm wetness pool in the shoulder of your shirt, you raised your other hand to the side of his head.

“I’m here,” you reassured him.

“I thought you’d left forever…”

“I haven’t.”

Tarja raised a brow at you and turned to leave to the other side of the partition. You supposed that meant you were in the clear.

Joshua peered up at you ever so slightly, but enough for you to see part of his tear-tracked cheeks and glistening eyes. You met his gaze, now wide alert, and then he buried himself in your shoulder again like a puppy did in its familiar bed.

You turned your head and lowered it, resting your cheek against his fluffy tresses.

“Please…” his voice, almost a cry, was muffled, “don’t go somewhere far away again.”

His grip on you was tight like you were going to slip away in a moment’s notice. You rocked him gently.