Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a warm night in Macedon. The sun had set already, but the Archanean League’s camp was still very much alive with activity as people set up their tents and stowed away their armor and weapons for the night. Multiple fires had already been lit around the clearing, and people were beginning to gather around them, preparing their meager rations for dinner.

“This…” Athena trailed off, picking at a piece of dried meat on her plate with disgust and confusion on her face, “this does not agree vith us.”

Etzel groaned softly from his seat across the fire. He had given up on his own hard chunk of meat, which was now impaled on a small stick that he was turning over the flames with bored hands. Horace put his plate on the ground in favor of a cup of water, slightly warmed by the heat of the fire. It tasted like grass and dust, but beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers. It had been weeks since the League has passed through a friendly village to resupply, and the army was running low on positively everything. Seasoned soldiers were back to using iron weapons instead of silver ones, and clerics were resorting to stitching and bandaging instead of healing staves. Marth had assured everyone that this situation was temporary and that they would be arriving back to civilization soon, but soon couldn’t come fast enough.

“Ve vill hunt. Come! Get your veapons,” Athena said to the two men, tossing her metal plate to the side and standing. 

Etzel answered her summons with a dull, tired stare, his rations finally disintegrating into the fire below. 

“With all due respect Miss Athena…” Horace began, as Athena put her hands on her hips, “Now isn’t the time to go chasing bears through the countryside. Marth told us to stay within the camp boundaries and besides, we’re not… accustomed to hunting.”

Being a noble, Horace had never had to hunt for himself before. In fact, he was still grasping at the basics of cooking. Etzel was a scholar from a village, used to purchasing and haggling for food, but never killing the animals himself. 

Athena scoffed, turning away from the fire, presumably to fetch her sword and go alone. Without looking up from his mug of dirty water, Horace reached behind him, catching her sleeve and pulling her back towards the fire. 

“The prince will be furious if you break a weapon while outside of battle. Just sit down.”

“Ha!” Athena allowed herself to be redirected back towards one of the logs that they were all using as makeshift chairs, “Manchild? Angry? Ve think that’s unlikely. He vill just be disappointed, and ve can live vith that.”

“I certainly don’t have tomes or energy to spare,” Etzel said, chin resting on his hand. His face was positively covered in small scrapes and scratches; the result of not disarming a wind mage fast enough.

“Food gives energy, ve are understanding,” Athena said, sitting and crossing her arms.

“Only if you manage to catch it. Like I said, we’re really in no condition to do much of anything right now,” Horace let go of Athena’s arm, satisfied that she probably wouldn rush off to do something rash.

“Mmm? Tomorrow then we hunt. Ve vill test your bow arm, good general.”

Horace groaned under his breath. Despite his training as a general, his bow arm left much to be desired.They sat in silence for a few minutes, poking the fire and throwing the remains of their meals into the flames. Soon, the sound of heavy footsteps in their direction caught Athena’s attention, and she leaned around Horace to catch a look at the nearby tree line. A massive, lumbering form soon emerged from the underbrush, a dark mass slung over one shoulder. 

“Ah! The large man can leave but ve cannot?”

Ymir made his way over to the small group, looking down at the collection of dirty faces illuminated by the fire. Somehow, he had avoided the grime and dismay that was plaguing the rest of the army, and his eyes were as bright as ever.

“Saw some of the little ones complaining about the food so I figured I’d get something better for ‘em,” Ymir said, holding up several rabbits in one massive hand.

“Got this too!” He heaved a massive deer carcass off is shoulder and onto Etzel’s log, making the smaller man squeak in surprise. “You can all have some too, lemme just get the kiddies their food…”

The man sidled off towards the center of camp, leaving the rest of them alone with the dead deer.

“Vell then. Maybe good ve stayed.”

Etzel inched away from the carcass.

In a short while, the footsteps were back, louder in the growing quiet of the camp. All the soldiers were beginning to turn in for the night, and the only sounds that could be heard came from the forest beyond. 

“Sorry for the wait,” Ymir said, rolling the deer off the log and onto the grass, much to Etzel’s relief.

“Is little problem, but you are needing help?” Athena asked, watching as Ymir pulled several short hunting knives from his satchel. 

“Uh… yea, here,” he handed a knife to each of them, and then paused, and took the knife back from Etzel, who was clearly too tired to be trusted with sharp objects. “Maybe you should just… wait.”

Etzel nodded and slid down the log, sitting on the ground near the fire.

“You two though, you know how to prepare deer?”

Horace shook his head and Athena hummed. 

“Ve have made rabbit before…”

“Alright then, roll up your sleeves and let’s get to work. I’ll show you how it’s done. Gonna wanna watch out for the blood though.”

Athena grunted and tossed her battle coat onto the log while Horace removed his waistcoat and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. The three of them gathered around the deer while Etzel looked on in mild interest.

“Now…” Ymir surveyed the animal like a tactician studying a battlefield, “I’ll take the skin off, and then you two can get to work on the meat. Horace, you separate it into chunks, and then Athena can salt what we’re gonna save for later. While you’re doing that, I can see about doing something with the hide…”

The large man knelt down and in several clean swipes, skinned the deer with practiced ease. Horace picked the deer apart like a vulture, removing anything that looked remotely like muscle with a disgusted look on his face.

“You are sick? Ve have seen you gut men alive before, a little animal makes you so pale?” Athena laughed from her perch on the log, pausing her salting duties for a moment.

“Killing on the battlefield is much less… visceral than this is,” Horace said, unconsciously flinching as a particularly stringy bit of muscle stuck to his forearm. 

“Ha! In wilderness, you would not last at all.” Athena said, skewering some ot the meat and handing it to Etzel, who held it over the fire. 

“I’ve never really had to do this before, I’ll get better with practice,” Horace said defensively, trying not to squirm as his hand touched something slimy.

“Not if you're holding the knife like that, you aren’t,” Ymir said, laying the deer’s hide out to dry and kneeling down next to the other man. One of his massive hands wrapped around Horace’s wrist, the other one taking the knife. Next to the Ymir, Horace, who was by no means a small man, looked like a child.

“Here, like this,” Ymir said, pulling Horace’s wrist closer and placing the knife in his hand, correctly this time. Horace cut into the animal again, and this time the muscle separated much more cleanly.

“There we go, now you’ve got the hang of it!” The warrior slapped Horace on the back, knocking the air out of his lungs. 

The general didn’t realize how hot his face felt until the other man stood back up to check on the cooking meat. The heat from the fire must be throwing him off.

The group continued to work until the deer was completely carved and prepared, exchanging conversation over the fire. The meal was by no means a feast, but it was far better than the meat that they had been given before. The camp was dead silent by the time they were finished, and the fire was burned down to mere embers. 

“Vell, ve are going to turn in for night. Thank you for food,” Athena said with a yawn, standing and stretching.

“I should be going too then… We aren’t marching for another day but… gods it’s late,” Etzel said, dumping his dirty water over the smouldering flames and standing. Together he and Athena retreated back into the sea of tents.

“Mind helping me move all this before heading back?”Ymir said, motioning to the small pile of drying meat and fur.

“Of course not, where are we putting it?”

“I’m just gonna put it in the convoy… Leave it for everyone else to pick on. I prefer to hunt fresh anyways,” he grunted, hoisting the unusable remains of the dear back onto his shoulder, presumably to be disposed of.

Horace moved the remaining food onto the hide, tying it into a makeshift bag. Grabbing his own things in one hand and the slightly soggy package in the other, he followed Ymir into the camp towards the storage tent. 

“So, didn’t think about hunting your own?” Ymir asked as Horace trotted next to him. The larger man may have slowed to a relaxed pace, but the other was still struggling to keep up

“Athena suggested it, but I can’t say I’d know what to do…”

“I’ve seen you with a bow before, it can’t be that hard to figure out what to do!”

“I’ll be the first to admit that I favor my lance over my bow any day.”

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Help me?”

“Yea, you know, trainin’ and all that. I’m no super sniper like Sir Jeorge but,” Ymir reached his free hand up to pat the deer’s flank, “I can hit things.”

“So you can, so you can…” Horace said softly, looking up at the scruffy man, who beamed. He was barely visible in the dim light of the moon, but the offer seemed to be genuine, if the man’s expression was anything to go by. Horace averted his eyes to his shoes, not wanting to stare.

“I’d be willing to take some… instruction from a seasoned hunter. Who knows how much longer we’ll be marching anyways,” he said. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t ask Jeorge, but he still didn’t quite feel at home around the other Archanean nobles yet. His debt to the princess wasn’t completely paid, especially since she had been kidnapped. Besides, Ymir seemed nice.

Horace ignored the strange feeling he got in his chest at that last thought. He was tired anyways. 

“Okay, here’s the convoy, just put the whole thing near the rest of the food and I’m sure the others will figure it out,” Ymir said, holding the tent flap open. “Whew… looks like a hurricane tore through here!”

Horace stepped carefully over the remains of a vulnerary bottle and placed the meat and hide on a small table nearby. 

“Perhaps someone had too much to drink, since we’re going to be here for a day or two. No need to worry about hangovers.” Horace said, picking his way back across the tent.

“Maybe. I don’t blame them honestly, it’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to relax.”

“So true. Well, I’m gonna go put this somewhere where we won’t be able to smell it. Have a good night then Sir,” Ymir waved to Horace and retreated towards the tree line. 

“You too, I’ll let you know when I’m available to practice…”

And then Ymir’s massive form was swallowed by the darkness, and Horace was alone.

Chapter Text

“Well now. How did you end up all the way out here?”

Norne’s shock of pink hair appeared from the underbrush to Horace’s left, followed by a bright smile. She took the hand that was extended to her and and clambered to her feet, picking leaves and sticks off of her clothing and righting the quiver of arrows on her back. 

“Archery practice… what were you doing in that bush?” 

Norne laughed as Horace reached forward and pulled a twig from her messy hair.

“Scoutin’ of course!”

“For the enemy?”

“For lunch, I’m hungry as all hell.”

“You and everyone else, my dear.”

The girl began to walk down the path, Horace trailing behind her. She turned to face him as she walked backwards on the trail, grinning.

“So! You here to shoot yourself some grub too? There’s lotsa deer here; they make pretty good target practice,” she said, motioning animatedly out at the lush green forest that extended out on each side of the path.

“Perhaps. I am meeting Ymir out here supposedly, but I’m afraid I don’t quite know where to find him,” Horace admitted.

“Well it’s a good thing you didn’t wander off too far, cause I know exactly where he might be. There’s a real good clearin’ just a stone’s throw away from here, great for settin’ targets up and the like,” the young archer mimed the shooting of an arrow, scuffing her foot into the dirt for emphasis. 

“Targets sound much more manageable than a deer, I must say,” Horace replied.

“Hey wait… you’re a knight right? I’ve seen you use a bow before, why are you wanderin’ around lookin’ for help then?”

“Surely you would agree that practice is a good idea, even for the most experienced soldier.”

“Sure, sure… that’s fair I guess. I just don’t figure archers spar together that often on account of how pointy the arrows are.” Horace laughed and nodded, scaring some birds off of a nearby tree. 

“I can assure you I will not be shooting arrows at anyone. Merely taking advice from someone more knowledgeable than myself.”

“If you wanted someone more knowledgeable, I’ve been here the whole time!” Norne pouted, hands on her hips. Horace, as the only son of his lord father, had not grown up with a sibling, but there was something distinctly… little sibling-like about Norne.

“I would have, but alas, he was the one who suggested it to me in the first place. He might not object if you join however.”

“Maybe I will then! You shoot the beginner’s targets, I’ll shoot some bird’s right outta the sky for us to cook up later!”

“Not to be rude milady, but if a dead bird falls on me as I am training, I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat later, no matter how good your cooking is.”

“Big fancy noble man can’t handle a little bird blood first thing in the morning?”

“Not if it falls into my lap as I’m working, certainly.”

The girl stuck her tongue out at him.

“We’re just about here I reckon, wonder if Ymir’s here yet- Oof!” The heel of Norne’s boot thunked as it made contact with a particularly solid tree root, causing her to fall forwards in a pile of pink fabric and tangled limbs. Horace watched will concern (and perhaps a little amusement) as she tumbled head first into the clearing with a yelp.

“Are you alright?” he asked from behind, carefully stepping over the offending root so as to not meet the same fate.

“Ouch… Yea I’m fine, stupid tree,” she mumbled, sprawled face down on the grass.

“What are you two doing over there?” Another voice said from the other side of the tree line. Ymir set down the well-worn practice dummy he was holding and made his way over to the fallen girl, grabbing Norne by the back of her tunic and lifting her to her feet effortlessly. 

“Horace pushed me.”

“I most definitely did not.”

Norne, now with even more twigs in her hair than before, shrugged and began picking up her fallen arrows.

“You gotta be more careful kid. You went and scared off all the animals!”

“Sorry… hey, can I train with you guys? Went and found Horace wanderin’ the woods like a fool and figured I’d tag along.”

“I was not ‘wandering like a fool’,” Horace mumbled from behind the pair.

“Eh, I don’t see why not. We use different techniques I’m guessin’?” Ymir said, waving one of his large hands towards the practice dummy. Norne beamed up at the two men and wagged an arrow back and forth, like a condescending finger.

“Don’t you worry none about me, I prefer my targets a little more livin’, if you catch my drift.”

“She’s hungry,” supplied Horace, unpacking his weapon. Thirty arrows should be sufficient for simple practice. He unfolded his bow, a compact little weapon designed to fit in the back of his shield during battle. Due to his preference for the lance, it had gathered some dust in there over the last few weeks of marching.

“That’s an interesting bow you have there, what’s it made of?” Ymir whistled, impressed. Horace handed the weapon over for the other man to inspect.

“Steel, I believe. Nothing fancy like Sir Jeorge’s, I’m afraid, but it gets the job done well enough.” Ymir handed the bow back and grabbed his own.

“You know I’ve noticed everyone’s got metal these days… I prefer oak myself. The trouble is that I have to restring it often, but I find the metal ones too small and fiddly for my taste,” he said, taking a roll of bowstring from his pocket. His weapon was suitably sized for a man of his height, probably as tall as Norne and made of a single piece of finely sanded wood. This was a weapon made for a professional hunter, built to survive the elements. Ymir made quick work of attaching a new bowstring, and soon the three of them stood in the middle of the clearing, weapons ready. 

Ymir and Horace faced the target while Norne scouted the area for a good place to watch for birds. The two men took turns shooting at the target for a while and making idle conversation about things like the war, gossip heard around the camp, and other such topics. Ymir eventually dropped his own bow in favor of watching the other two. Horace could hear the other man telling Norne to “stop shooting arrows up into the trees like that unless you plan on climbing up and getting them yourself,” and chuckled to himself under his breath, lining up his next shot.

“And you, don’t think I can’t see you slacking too,” Ymir said, abandoning Norne to stand next to Horace.

“Slacking? I’m hitting the target perfectly fine.”

“You might be hitting it, but your form is all off,” Ymir moved around to stand behind Horace, putting a hand on his elbow, “You need to raise your arm more or you’ll injure yourself.”

Horace obliged the man and allowed him to reposition his form, mind lingering on the warmth of his hands and the closeness of his body. Normally, he would be averse to such closeness, especially in the presence of a young lady, but….

“And, shoot!” 

The arrow flew through the air, landing squarely in the center of the target on the dummy’s chest. The warmth of Ymir’s hands left him as the other man stepped away to admire the dummy, peppered with arrows like some sort of morbid pin-cushion. 

“Now you’re getting the hang of it! Soon you’ll be out there hunting with the rest of us!”

“I think it will be a while before I’m ready for that, but the help is much appreciated,” Horace replied, turning to the man. He stood there in the grass watching as Ymir crossed the yard and began pulling arrows from the dummy and dumping them on the grass. The general had one lightning-quick though about Ymir’s arm muscles before a thud behind him roused him from his stupor.

“Lunch is served!” Norne cried, picking up her catch from the ground by its feet, feathers falling to the dirt.

Well… at least it was fresh.