#warfieldweek

Jill turns her focus and catches Clive’s gaze. He greets her with a soft smile that barely crinkles his eyes, but it’s enough for the message to get through: you’re okay. Jill doesn’t feel okay as she stares at a dish that took her years to get used to. The invisible weight hanging on her shoulders threatens to smash her onto her plate. How can she sit here and pretend she's okay? She wishes she had never wandered down that hall where Lady Anabella's private sitting room was. She wishes she had never noticed how the door was ajar, and decided to eavesdrop, thinking she'd hear some funny gossip to share with Clive and Joshua.

There were other ladies in that room, but Anabella was the only person Jill heard.

"... She'll be considered too old soon. I keep telling Elwin we need to act quickly, but he wants to prolong it. And for what?… It'll be fine. I have in mind a few potential suitors from one of the High Houses...She'll be a suitable marriage candidate."

Jill picks up her utensils, slices into the meat, and places it on her back molar to chew. It doesn’t taste too bad. It tastes the way it’s supposed to, yet her stomach continues to clench, and the saliva running down her throat tastes sour. She swallows it and counts to ten, willing herself not to throw up. The puddle of blood on her plate seems to have gone, as if it were never there. 

───♡───

 When Jill was young and couldn't sleep, all her mother had to do was sing her a lullaby while stroking her hair. Her voice held back the restlessness, allowing Jill to slumber. There's no one to sing to her now, so Jill's next best option on nights like this is to head to her usual spot: her bedroom's balcony that overlooks part of the castle’s garden. From there, she can see over the castle walls to the village, where a few sparse windows glow from lit candles. She leans against the ledge, eyes wandering up to the dark blue sky, and finds the tiny red light stationed by the moon. The star, Metia, has been burning brighter lately. No one except for Jill notices, because she's the only one who stares at it often enough to know. 

Until now, Metia has been the only thing that has remained unchanged in her life. The star was there before she was born; it comforted her as she said goodbye to her family and was escorted to Rosaria. Things are, once again, changing in her life. Looks like Metia isn't immune to it either. The thought only adds to the weight she's been carrying.

“Can't sleep?”

At the familiar voice, Jill turns, believing Clive somehow snuck into her room. No one's there.

"Down here!" he whispers harshly. Jill peers over the ledge and sees, poking out from the side of a bush, and almost obscured by the night, Clive. He's still dressed in his field clothes and waves up to her.

Jill glances around, worried that one of the night guards might catch them. "What are you doing?"

He points somewhere she can't see. "Meet me at the back door by the kitchen. Don't let anyone see you." He rushes off before Jill can protest.

Clive doesn't have to follow a strict curfew anymore, but Jill does, and if one of the guards catches them, they'll be sure to alert the Duchess come morning. If she finds out Jill was sneaking around at night—with not just any boy, but Clive—she'll probably have Jill married and sent off before dawn breaks the following day.

A rush of annoyance glides through her. Who cares about following the rules anymore?

Before she heads out, she stops by her bed. Bundled up at the foot, sleeping soundly, is Torgal. She strokes his back, laughs when he snores, and hopes he stays asleep until she returns. It's too much to try to take him with her, and he's not always the quietest.

Jill finds her linen robe and boots to wear. Once she's ready, she slowly opens her door and sneaks out into the hallway.

───♡───

Clive is outside the exit waiting for Jill when she arrives. He's leaning against a tree with one leg bent and his arms crossed. Strapped to his belt is his sword. His hair's mussed like he's been meandering through more bushes and dirt, and the sight of him brings an instant smile to Jill's face. A weird beat happens in her chest. This almost feels like a scene from one of her old fairy tales, where the prince waits to meet with the princess at night. She's grateful the night covers up any potential redness to her cheeks.

"Care to tell me what's happening?" she asks. He pushes himself off the tree and strolls up to her with a mischievous grin she doesn't often see on him.

"I haven't seen you much today. Thought we could catch up," he answers cheekily.

"You haven't seen me because you've been out in the fields all day," she points out. There's a balcony on the other side of the castle where she can see the training grounds. Sometimes she'll wander by to see if she can spot Clive sparring with Lord Murdoch. "There's dirt on your chin."

Frowning, Clive scratches at his chin. She thinks his skin turns a shade darker. "It hasn't been all day."

"Mmhm. Why did you want to meet out here?"

At her question, he holds out his hand to her, his palm facing up. "I want to show you something."

Jill doesn't think twice. She places her hand on top, and he interlocks their fingers. The funny feeling stirs up in her chest again. She gets it often when she's around Clive. If a guard were to appear, Jill wonders what she and Clive would look like to them. Troublemakers, or just another pair of teens trying to contain their laughter as they traipse through a dark estate? Clive conjures a ball of fire in his palm, enough for them to see where they are walking, and hopefully small enough not to attract any attention.

They weave through alcoves and sneak behind unassuming guards until Clive brings them to a shack in the far back of the property. They walk behind it. "I found something interesting not too long ago. But we have to climb up here first, then get to the fields."

"Is it safe?" she asks. She doesn't have any weapons, and sword fighting isn't on the Duchess' list of approved training for proper young ladies.

"It'll be safe. I'll protect you if anything happens." As if realizing what he just said, he clears his throat. "Not that you're unable to protect yourself."

She squeezes his hand. "Thank you." She's not sure how else to respond, and she doesn't trust herself to say anything that isn't embarrassing.

Clive climbs up first, then waits until Jill is almost to the top before jumping down. It's not a far way to land, as long as she keeps her posture right. She lands beside Clive, who helps her up and leads them further along. Out here in the middle of the dark fields, Jill almost feels too exposed. The castle walls and village are behind them; if they keep walking, they'll run into the woods. Crickets chirp noisily, and somewhere in the distance she hears a hound howl.

Jill peers up at the sky just as Clive extinguishes the flame in his palm. The stars she sees from her balcony are the same ones out in the field, yet they seem to shine brighter here. A faint green light flashes across her vision. Jill startles, swiping a hand in front of her face. "What was that?"

Something flits past her ear, and then it happens again—another green light. She turns in a circle and realizes there are more tiny dots of green blinking around them.

"I saw them for the first time a few weeks ago," Clive says. He swipes both hands in front of him, then clasps them together as he stands closer to Jill. "I asked my tutor about it. They're not native to Rosaria, so he thinks they probably migrated here due of the Blight. Here, hold out your hand."

Jill does as instructed, feeling both apprehensive and curious. "But what are they called?"

Clive cups his hands over her palm, and she feels tiny prickles on her skin. Leaning closer, she spots a bug crawling across her fingers. Every few seconds, it lights up their hands and casts a faint glow on their faces.

"He called them fireflies," Clive laughs. "But they don't really look like they're on fire." Jill startles, laughing as the bug shoots away from their hands. What had first seemed like an empty field is now filled with glowing, floating orbs.

"Funny-looking creatures," Jill says, slowly turning again, "but they're also cute. They kind of flash like lightning."

"So, lightning bugs? Perhaps they're familiars of Ramuh."

They both snicker at the silly joke. Jill settles onto the ground, fixes her robes around her legs, and motions for Clive to join her.

"Can we look at them for a little longer?" She knows the longer they're out here, the higher the chances are of someone (or something) spotting them. But she's not ready to go back to the castle or her room. She's not ready to go back to what awaits her.

Clive sits close, his arm brushing hers. "Of course."

They watch the field of fireflies glide around them and share in the comfortable silence. Jill tilts her head until it rests on Clive's shoulder. It feels almost rude to break the peace they've settled into, but after some time, Jill has to ask.

"Why did you want to show me this tonight?"

His shoulders shift slightly as he fiddles with the hilt of his sword. "You seemed upset today. I thought taking you to see the fireflies might make you feel a little better," he replies. "I know it might not exactly fix whatever you're going through, but maybe it can help."

She was hoping he hadn't noticed how off she was, but she's not surprised. A firefly lands on her knuckles; she lets it fumble around before lifting her hand to study it.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" Clive asks. She's not sure if he should. He can't prevent her from being married off, and he can't control who she's married to. It's the way things are. You're betrothed to someone to strengthen and secure ties. Everything else isn't as important. Everything else you'll grow to accept.

She wonders if the Duchess already has plans for Clive's future marriage, or if his role as his brother's First Shield prevents that.

Has she considered Jill and Clive together?

Jill pats her cheek, willing the heat to go away, even if no one can see her blush in the night. She doubts Lady Anabella will allow that, no matter her feelings toward her eldest son. But would Jill be okay with that? Would she be fine getting married if it were to Clive?

He's her closest friend. He's never treated her differently because of where she's from or who she is. He's the only boy she's ever felt anything toward. She likes him more than she'll ever admit to anyone.

"Thank you, Clive." It doesn't answer his question, but it's what she wants to say. "For doing this."

"I'm sorry I can't do more."

She sits up so she can look at him. The darkness doesn't hide the way he's smiling at her.

"You're doing more than enough," she says quietly.

His face is glowing, and she doesn't think it's because of the fireflies. This might be the closest they've ever sat next to each other. Arm to arm, leg to leg. A magnet draws them further in, and Jill closes her eyes as gentle, warm lips press against hers. They don't move or attempt to do more; they simply enjoy the touch of another person.

They break away at the same time. An odd, tingly sensation erupts across Jill's lips, and she touches the corner of her mouth.

"That was my first kiss."

Clive exhales slowly, almost like he's nervous. "Mine, too."

Jill brings her knees up so she can hug them and rest her cheek on top. She's admiring Clive, but his attention is trained on a firefly floating around his boots.

After some time, she yawns. "It's late. We should head back."

Clive hums in response, then stands and helps her up. They don't let go of each other's hands as they walk across the field, back toward the castle.

They make it all the way back without anyone noticing them. Clive's chamber is in a different hall, yet he continues to walk with Jill to make sure she reaches hers. He hovers in her doorway, face pinched like he wants to say something. Jill wants to say something too, although she's not sure what it is. She's already thanked him so much tonight.

When nothing prominent comes to mind, she's ready to bid him good night, until Clive suddenly blurts out what he's thinking.

"Can I—do you want to?" He fumbles, then tries again. "Can I kiss you again?"

The speed at which she answers, "Yes," is slightly humiliating, but it's soon unimportant when Clive closes the distance. She holds one hand on his shoulder to keep her balance, and Clive bends down so she can reach him better. They linger longer than the first time; Jill dares to put more pressure into their kiss. She wants to stay here forever, but the danger of being caught hovers around them. More seconds pass, and this time Jill separates from him first. His ears are bright red. Jill thinks her face might melt from how hot it feels.

"I'll see you at breakfast?" she whispers. He nods hurriedly and takes a step back.

He leaves her with one last smile. "Good night, Jill."

She waits until he turns the corner at the end of the hall before closing the door and resting her forehead against it. It's a long time before her body calms down and she's able to take off her boots and hang up her robe.

Torgal is still on her bed, sleeping on his side, and his tail wagging as he dreams. She strokes his head one last time and climbs into bed. The bedsheets are cool as she settles underneath them and sinks into her pillow. She touches her lips. The shape of Clive's lips is still on them.

As the events of the past hour and a half replay in her mind, exhaustion finally arrives and attempts to close her eyes. She's about to drift off when she spies a green orb crawling on the doors leading to her balcony. Rubbing her eyes, she crawls out of bed and heads toward it.

"How'd you get in here?" she chuckles, scooping the firefly into one hand. "You must have been on my clothes."

Jill opens the balcony doors and steps out into the cool night. The moon and Metia both still shine brightly above her. Uncurling her fingers, the firefly crawls around before scurrying to the top of her fingertips, then flies off. Its light is visible until it disappears into the darkness below. A question comes to her mind: could she ever live as freely as that firefly? Her light persisting no matter the circumstances?

Her sight reverts to the red light in the sky, and she clasps her hands together under her chin. Jill's not certain what she's wishing for, but perhaps Metia will be able to decipher what she's feeling.

Whatever it is, she does know one thing: she wants her wish to be for her and for Clive.