#leomari

Leonie plops herself down against a wall of the training grounds, sending dust flying that sticks to her sweat. The dust aggravates the cough she's had on and off this week. She takes a swig from her canteen, hoping the cool water can soothe it. It does, but her throat is angry still. Even breathing irritates it. She closes her eyes, just to rest a minute.

Leonie is fine. Sore throats are normal after all the training she's been doing. She's gotta keep up with it if she's gonna best Jeralt's kid. The new Prof doesn't know it, but Jeralt's been giving Leonie tips on how to get the drop on the kid. 

(Not a kid. Older than you. Stronger, too. Smarter? Maybe, but only cause Jeralt himself trained them.)

Leonie's gotta catch up. And soon. If she graduates and goes back to the village before she can ever best them, she might not get another chance! 

Okay. Break time's over. She's just gotta get up. Gotta keep going.

Or maybe she can rest just a minute more.

The darkness behind her closed eyelids becomes heavy and unbearable. She barely hears a familiar, panicked cry as she slumps onto the ground. 

–

Leonie has never been the type to wake slowly. No, she jolts awake as if struck by lightning, ready to roll out of bed to work or fight. When she flies awake in bed, soft, small hands take her by the shoulders and push her gently back, propping her against the headboard. The pillows and blankets Leonie is surrounded by smell like flowers. The blankets are warm on her ice-chilled body. Weakly, she pulls the blankets further up, trying to hold that warmth in.

Marianne hovers near Leonie, hands already glowing with faint healing magic. Her lips are pulled into a taut frown. Leonie succumbs to the pressure of Marianne’s hands and gaze and lies back down. A bolt of pain lances through her body, her muscles sore in a way that feels much more severe than from simple training. Her head spins. Did she get attacked? 

Satisfied that Leonie won’t leap from bed, Marianne turns to her bedside table, lifting a steaming bowl of soup. It makes Leonie’s stomach turn and rumble at once.

“You should have something to drink,” Marianne says softly. “Magic isn’t a replacement for taking care of yourself.”

She holds the bowl while Leonie drinks. Leonie closes her eyes as warring pleasure and pain battle in her gut. Marianne takes the bowl away, putting back where it was on the table.

“I’m sorry for bringing you to my room,” she explains, “your door was locked, and Raphael wanted to break it down… I thought it would be better for you to rest here for now. I know you’re not fond of the infirmary.”

Leonie would rather have a noble’s stuffy tea party with Lorenz and Sylvain before letting Manuela poke and prod at her. Injuries heal in time. The body can take care of itself for small stuff like this. Granted, she doesn’t remember getting an injury…

“What happened?” Leonie asks. “Did I get ambushed at the training grounds?”

Marianne blinks in surprise. “No, Leonie. You’ve fallen ill. I’m sorry I didn’t notice before. If I had been paying better attention, I could have helped you before it became this bad.”

Leonie shakes her head. It hurts, blood pounding against her skull. “And how is this your fault? You didn’t curse me to get sick or anything, did you?”

Marianne folds into herself. “Being around me is a curse, isn’t it?”

Oh boy, not this again. “You didn’t, Marianne. I promise. Maybe I’ve been..” Leonie swallows roughly. Her throat scratches more from the forming words than the illness, “...training too hard.” Her voice is more grit than air, and Marianne blinks at her in surprise but kindly doesn't comment on Leonie's pained admission.

Marianne takes a small bottle filled with pink liquid from her desk. “Here, I made this medicine for you. Dedue helped me, so I’m sure it will help.”

Leonie narrows her eyes. Maybe the illness is making her petulant, but her stomach is already protesting at the soup. She doesn’t want anything as bitter as medicine right now. She just wants to lie back in Marianne’s fluffy noble bed and sleep. “I don’t need medicine.”

Marianne pouts. She probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it. If she weren’t so cute– kind, Leonie would have marched out back to her own room by now. 

“You should take it,” Marianne insists, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’ll help you get better faster. It would be a waste of our time and efforts if you don’t.”

Was Marianne being …coy? She must really have been paying attention to Leonie lately if she could figure out how to get under her skin like that so easily. Or maybe it's Hilda’s influence. Who knows. “Maybe later?”

Marianne narrows her eyes, puffing her cheeks. Leonie almost doesn’t realize it’s meant to be a glare. 

“Leonie, you will take this medicine or I’ll, I’ll…I’ll tell Claude to not let you train for a week!” She sounds like an angry kitten, to be honest.

"He wouldn't–"

"Leonie, take the damn medicine!"

Her voice cracks on the last word, quickly covered by her surprised gasp. It’s the most Marianne has ever raised her voice at, well, anyone as far as Leonie knows. It was about as harsh as a spring breeze, but the feelings were there. Leonie can only stare at her in open-mouthed wonder as Marianne’s cheeks bloom pink. 

“O-oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me. And after how much you apologized for losing your temper with me! I shouldn’t be around you. I’ll make things even worse…”

Silently, Leonie takes the bottle from Marianne’s hand and chugs it in one go. It is, in fact, awful and bitter, but she swallows it down and slaps on a grin for Marianne. Vaguely, Leonie thinks she should worry about Marianne’s gasp, her hands covering her mouth in a frozen, shocked stare. 

“No problem,” Leonie says. Her eyelids feel incredibly heavy. Oh boy. It’s that kind of medicine, huh? “Uh, I think it’s time for a nap.”

The last thing she feels is someone tucking her into bed and tucking her wild strands of hair from her face.

-----------

"She drank the whole thing!"

"The whole thing?" Dedue echoes, his own expression matching Marianne’s. "Well. I suppose she'll wake up by the end of tomorrow."

"Suppose?"

"Do not worry. I believe she will be recover shortly."

"Believe?!"

Marianne is going to have to keep an eye on her for longer than she thought... she hopes Leonie doesn't mind.