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Chapter Text

If there was a better way to end the day than with a steaming bath, Frey hadn't found it yet. Washing away the grime of the day's work and indulging in tidbits of gossip if the other girls were there had become yet another comfortable ritual during her time in Selphia, accompanied by the sounds of Lin Fa's chatter and the Bell Hotel's guests milling around outside.

She emerged feeling refreshed and sleepy, stretching a bit before starting down the stairs. She was met with the sight of a harried Xiao Pai and a somewhat worried Lin Fa conversing quietly but urgently, and her instincts as a dutiful princess - or maybe just her natural instinct to meddle - compelled her to stop. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, Frey," Lin Fa gave her a surprised glance, as if she'd forgotten all about the fact that actual people were using her bathhouse. "It's nothing, really... there was just a mix-up with some of the dishes we ordered for tonight, and I need to run to Porcoline's to pick up the rest. It's just that there will be a delay in getting them all to the guests without both me and Xiao delivering them..."

Frey raised a hand, signaling Lin Fa to stop in her rambling. "I can help serve the dishes, Lin Fa. I'm done with my work for today." Little errands like this were old hat by now, anyway. Especially at the Bell Hotel.

Lin Fa's face lit up. "Oh, will you? Thank you so much, Frey! Xiao will show you to where we have the food set out then, and I'll go to get the rest." She gathered her shawl up around her shoulders and hurried out the door.

Xiao Pai turned to Frey as her mother rushed out. "Thank you. It seems we've caused you trouble again."

Frey smiled. "I don't mind helping out. So where's the food?"

Xiao Pai led her to one of the rooms behind the hotel's front desk, where a table laden with plates was waiting. "These are to go to the rooms upstairs, and these down the hall..." She sorted the various dishes expertly, carefully handing a few at a time to Frey, who dutifully carried them to the rooms she was directed to. A few of the guests seemed disappointed that it was only her and Xiao Pai bringing their dinner instead of Lin Fa, but they managed to get through most of it without incident.

With only a couple plates left, Xiao Pai insisted that she could carry them herself and spare Frey any further trouble. She almost made it all the way up the stairs, too, before her foot snagged on the carpet. Letting out a little shriek, she toppled over backwards. Frey sprang into action, months of fighting and dodging the attacks of monsters serving her well as she bounded up the bottom few steps to catch Xiao Pai. The wind was briefly knocked out of her and she landed painfully on her rear, but neither she nor Xiao Pai was hurt. (The plates, naturally, were broken beyond repair.)

"Oh... Frey, you saved me!" Before Frey could respond, Xiao Pai had turned and given her a bone-crushing hug, planting a kiss on her cheek for good measure.

By the time Lin Fa returned with the rest of the dishes, Frey had just about managed to tame her blush.

Chapter Text

"Going somewhere that you'll need this for?" Leon asked as he handed the newly-upgraded magic tome back to Lest.

Lest nodded. "There's been a real problem with monsters down at the Autumn road lately. I'm just going to go and clear up a few so that travelers can get through to Selphia with less trouble. It's not good for the town if nobody can get here without being attacked, you know?"

Leon raised his eyebrows. "Sounds dangerous."

"Nah, not really. I've handled these monsters before, and I've got Silver with me." Lest indicated the wolf waiting patiently at his side. "I'll be fine."

"I see." For a moment, Leon looked like he was going to add something else. Lest wondered if maybe he was hoping to be invited along. Surely Leon was the type to just come out and ask if he wanted something, right?

He straightened up and gathered up his sword and shield. "Well, I've got to get going. Take care, Leon."

Leon watched as Lest turned to leave. "You too. Try not to let any monsters scratch that pretty face of yours."

"I will- wait, what?"

Leon offered only an enigmatic smile before continuing on his way down the road.

Chapter Text

Somehow or other, Leon has gradually become a fixture in Forte and Kiel's household. At least twice a week, he is over for dinner, usually with some weird fish or plant that he'd dug out of god knew where to add to the meal. Forte is happy enough to have a few extra hands when preparing food, but she does wish that he'd stop trying to insist on mixing in potentially-lethal ingredients.

She also wishes that he'd let up with the teasing. He is good-natured, sure, but having someone so effortlessly get under her skin after years of honing her reputation as an unmovable, unflappable warrior is off-putting to say the least.

And she wishes that he wouldn't stare so much. An argument could be made that Leon stares at everything, being the naturally inquisitive person that he is and of course wanting to learn as much as he can about the world that changed during the centuries that he was asleep, but come on. He doesn't stare at anyone else like that. 

Coming right out and asking him to stop would be equivalent to admitting that it affected her, though, and Forte won't give any inch that Leon doesn't come right up to snatch from her himself.

Forte wishes for a lot of things, really. Lately, more and more of those wishes have involved Leon.

She wishes that someday, she'll be able to work up the honesty and courage to let him know it.

Chapter Text

"And this is your pom-pom grass!" Amber triumphantly set the bag of seeds on the counter in front of Vishnal, who was already weighed down with an armload of other packages. "Your brothers and sisters sure do like flowers, don't they?"

Vishnal smiled in that soft, kind of wobbly way that he did. It reminded Amber of the closed bud of a flower, the kind whose petals that she would carefully skim her fingertips over, encouraging it to open. "Selphia has a much greater variety of native flowers than my hometown does, and it's exciting for them to see new kinds. I'm sure you'd get along with them very well if you were ever to meet them."

"I'd like to!" Amber loved meeting people, seeing the way they gradually revealed themselves to a once-stranger, just like she had eventually been able to open to the people of Selphia. If she had her way, she'd be able to help everyone she met open up like that. Secretly, she assigned all of her new friends their very own flower once she figured out which one suited them the best. Vishnal was one of the ones she was still working on.

Vishnal carefully gathered up the last bag of seeds and adjusted so that he wasn't in danger of dropping any. "I'll be sure to mention the flower shop in the next letter I write them. Maybe they'll be able to visit - I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

"Ah ha!" Vishnal's concentration on not letting any of the bags drop was promptly ruined by Illuminata popping up behind him. "So that's your intention!" She planted her hands on her hips, looking altogether too pleased with herself. (Illuminata was lamp grass, Amber had decided shortly after meeting her, and shared many of its qualities of being able to render one temporarily speechless.)

Vishnal scrambled to gather the seed packages back up before turning his attention to Illuminata. "Um... what is, exactly?"

The self-proclaimed detective wagged her finger in his face. "Don't think that you can fool me! I know all about you men and your plans! Let me tell you right now, mister, you'd better be a proper gentleman from your shirt-collar right down to your socks before you get a pass from me! No "extended breaks" or "private errands" when Amber's manning the shop, do you hear?"

Amber nodded along enthusiastically with each of Illuminata's declarations, despite the fact that she had no idea what supposed plans were earning Vishnal this kind of dressing down. She'd have been perfectly happy to spend an extended break talking with Vishnal; it would help her decide what kind of flower he was.

Vishnal, on the other hand, quickly caught on to the implications and was busy turning an interesting shade of red. "I-it's not like that at all! I mean, I was just, I, um-" He fumbled for both words and a better grip on the seed bags, caught between the need to hold onto the them and the instinct to flail around in the face of such accusations.

"And anyway," Illuminata continued, "I'll have to do a full investigation of all your family members, of course. To weed out any criminal history."

Vishnal balked. "Now hold on. I understand your concerns with me, but I can assure you that none of my siblings have a criminal bone in their bodies!"

"So you admit your intentions!"

"No! I mean, I don't have any! I mean- I mean, I think I hear Volkanon calling me, goodbye!" With that, Vishnal zipped out of the shop, face still bright pink.

A satisfied sigh escaped Amber's lips as she watched him go. The pink blush had confirmed it for her. "Cherry grass," she declared happily to no one in particular, and turned to water the flowers.

Chapter Text

Dolce is perfect. Her speech, her posture, the impeccability of the workmanship on her clothes. On more than one occasion, Arthur has thought to ask her if her family had been some sort of nobility. Certainly, someone with her poise wouldn't be out of place in the courts that he is familiar with.

Every time he thinks that, it is quickly followed by the thought of just how much she wouldn't fit in, either. Worse, how it would suffocate her. Dolce can't be constrained by such rigid unspoken rules as those followed by the courtesans. In any state other than the freedom that she has now, really, Arthur can only imagine her being dreadfully unhappy.

He wants her to be happy. He tries to articulate this sometimes, but the two of them always end up warily dancing around social graces with little to no headway made. How exactly did one go about admitting to someone else that they spent the better part of their time together observing the other person's mannerisms, anyway?

Arthur is kind. Everyone in Selphia had struck Dolce with their acceptance and willingness to reach out, but for some reason the knowledge that a prince - a prince, honest-to-god royalty - would spend every day tirelessly working among commoners is especially interesting to her.

He tries to fit in, but he doesn't really. She could tell right away that he wasn't of the same making, that no matter how humble he had been told to be during his upbringing, royalty was royalty and Arthur just didn't understand people in their mobs and cliques. In a way, the not understanding was one of the things that she understood best.

She wants him to be happy, too. His smile is never exactly right, even when it's genuine, and sometimes she wants to tell him that she can see that he is hiding just as much as she is, but the words never come.

So they talk about the weather and if it will be a good season for crops and which new ingredients for medicine are going to be needed at the clinic soon, and they part ways again, each regal and majestic and broken in their own way.

It's a little bit terrifying, to see so much of yourself in someone else like that. And sometimes terror can be thrilling.

Chapter Text

"I can't take it anymore!" Margaret slammed her fist on the counter top, startling both Arthur and Porcoline. It was late morning, and Arthur had been coaxed out of his study to have an actual meal while Porcoline prepared the kitchen and Margaret set up her instruments before the restaurant opened for the day. All had been peaceful until her sudden outburst.

Arthur took a thoughtful sip of juice before responding. "What's the matter, Margaret?"

Margaret huffed. "Dylas is the matter! Him and Vishnal!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "What did they do?" Dylas and Margaret did butt heads on occasion due to their respective personalities, but Vishnal was generally in Margaret's good graces. 

Margaret groaned and tugged on the ends of one of her hair decorations. "That's the problem! They haven't done anything! I'm gonna go crazy if I have to keep watching them be so clueless!"

Arthur was feeling a bit clueless himself, really. He glanced at Porcoline to see if he could shed some light on the situation, but Porcoline had apparently found that his attention was better spent on the basket of fruit in front of him. So much for the baked apples he had been planning to serve for dessert that day. "I'm afraid I don't follow." Arthur said, for lack of a better response.

Margaret huffed again and pulled him up by his arm to march him over to the window. "Look!"

Arthur looked out and saw only Vishnal, milling around near the fence with some sort of bundle in his hands. "...Okay?"

"Just wait." Margaret ordered. There was no arguing when she took on that tone of voice, but Arthur did wish that she would let up on the vice grip that she had on his upper arm. That was probably going to bruise.

Sure enough, Dylas came up the walk a few minutes later, fishing pole slung over his shoulder and a bunch of fish dangling from a line clutched in one hand. Vishnal perked up as he approached and rushed to meet him. Dylas paused, seeming to have expected to find Vishnal there, and they exchanged a few words. Arthur couldn't make out what they said, but he strained to find something out of the ordinary about their interaction, if only to get Margaret to release him.

After another minute or two, Vishnal presented Dylas with the small, covered dish he'd been holding. Dylas gave his approximation of smile and unhooked one of the fish he was carrying, handing it to Vishnal who promptly wrapped it up and went on his way with a cheery wave. Arthur began to worry that he would suffer permanent nerve damage if Margaret kept clinging onto him much longer.

"Every single day," Margaret hissed as Vishnal disappeared from view and Dylas eagerly unwrapped what turned out to be a decently-prepared sashimi (Arthur supposed that even Vishnal could figure out his way around a knife, given enough time). "Every day, Vishnal makes lunch for Dylas and then hangs around here to give it to him, and then Dylas gives him a fish so he can do it again tomorrow. And that's all they ever do! They're never going to get anywhere at this rate!"

Arthur tried to choose his next words carefully. "I understand your... concern... but where exactly do you expect them to be going?"

Margaret could have decked him.

Chapter Text

When Vishnal came to Selphia years ago, the first person that he met was Forte.

She was just outside the front gates, all skinny limbs as she swung a wooden practice sword at the hapless plants on the side of the road. Vishnal stopped to watch her in awe - he'd never seen anyone really training for combat before, and even though she was clearly a novice, Forte already had the makings of a fighter. With a shout, she lunged forward and split one of the weeds cleanly in half.

Vishnal must have gasped loudly because Forte spun towards him, sword half-raised. He unconsciously took a step back; even if the wooden sword wasn't sharp, he didn't feel like getting whacked in the head with it. "Uh... h-hi." He said sheepishly.

Forte frowned at him suspiciously. With her facing fully towards him now, he could see that her short hair was cut unevenly. Somehow, he didn't think that she would appreciate his commenting on it. "Who are you?"

Vishnal swallowed, suddenly overcome with bashfulness. "I'm V-Vishnal. I'm here for training."

Forte narrowed her eyes at him further. "Training?"

"Ye-yeah. I mean, yes. To be a butler!" Vishnal straightened up a little, puffing his chest out proudly.

A look of recognition crossed Forte's face and she relaxed, lowering her sword. "Oh, that. So you're going to go live in the castle with Mr. Volkanon and Clorica?"

Vishnal relaxed as well, now that the sword was no longer being brandished in his direction. "I guess so. I mean, I was told that Mr. Volkanon would be my teacher, but who's Clorica?"

"She's Volkanon's other student. She sleeps all the time, but she's nice." Forte tucked the sword into a battered sheath hanging from her belt and, as an afterthought, offered Vishnal her hand. "And I'm Forte. I'm going to be the next knight that serves Lady Ventuswill." She chewed her lip. "Well, actually my brother Kiel is supposed to be, but he's just a baby. So after my dad retires, I'm going to do it until Kiel's old enough."

Vishnal smiled and grasped her hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "Then we'll both work hard, to serve the best that we can!"

Forte smiled back. "That's right," she said, and squeezed his hand.

Chapter Text

"Hmm..." Amber peered intently at the items piled haphazardly behind Frey. She brightened. "Ooh, you have honey! How much for it?"

"Ah..." Frey frowned. She hadn't thought properly about the price. Too low and she wouldn't really be making a profit, but too high and it would seem like she was overcharging Amber just for the sake of it. Maybe she should go out and tame a few bees so that she could comfortably lower the prices...

Amber nudged Frey's arm. "How's 200 gold?"

"Oh!" Frey snapped back to reality. "200... no, no, you can have it for 100, Amber."

Amber's face lit up. "Really?" She deposited the requested amount of gold before Frey and eagerly snatched up the offered jar. "Thanks, honey!" Her grin was far more mischievous than one would typically expect from Amber.

Frey turned scarlet. "A-anything for you... s-sweetie..."

Amber beamed at her before turning and sashaying off. Frey decided to close up shop early today; she needed to go out and find some bees.

Chapter Text

Though he is loathe to admit it, Leon has a habit of judging people by appearance. In way, he supposes it can be blamed on his abilities as a dragon priest; when you can be so attuned to the rune energies in any given person, you also get accustomed to analyzing how their looks reflect whatever it is that they're carrying inside.

Lest's appearance is unassuming, almost as pure as his runes. Forte is sharp and bright, like a finely honed weapon. Margaret is carefully put-together, but an inner playfulness usually bubbles through.

Amber is a mystery.

When Leon first met her, he saw more or less exactly what he had expected to see. Warmth, openness, a bright zest for life. It feels a bit unfair to say run-of-the-mill, but he's seen it all before.

And then it turns out that he's barely seen anything at all.

There's something there that he doesn't have a name for. He sees it out of the corner of his vision when Amber passes by, almost like a second shadow to her. Not dark, exactly but... colder. Alien. It unsettles him, all the more so because of who it's attached to. He looks at her and there is no hint at all as to what it might be.

But he keeps looking, and he thinks that appearance certainly isn't everything.

Chapter Text

"Come on," Lest muttered, sliding the dish of pickled turnip closer to the flower monster he was trying to tame. "Come and get some nice food, I made it all special." Admittedly, he had worried while preparing the food that feeding vegetables to a plant monster was something akin to cannibalism, but feeding meat to a plant just seemed weird so vegetables it was. The monster was regarding him wearily, but it had at least stopped pelting him with seeds long enough to examine the dish. Lest nudged it a bit closer with his foot, for good measure.

Another minute or so, and the pickled turnip was rapidly disappearing into what passed for the monster's mouth, and Lest relaxed some, reaching over to carefully pat its head. "There we go. Just don't think too hard about what you're eating, buddy." He checked his bag to make sure the other dish was still intact and covered, just in case a bit of extra bribery was needed to get back to the barn, but everything seemed to be going smoothly now that the initial encounter was over with. He motioned for the monster to follow him once it was through with the food and started back in the direction of Sercerezo Hill's entrance.

As he approached the point where he could call the airship, however, Lest noticed a prone figure in the grass. "...Amber!?" He rushed to her side. "Amber! Hey, wake up!"

It didn't take much prodding and shouting for Amber to blink sleepily at him and sit up. "Oh, hi Lest!" She chirped.

Lest sat back on his heels and sighed with a mix of relief and exasperation. "Geez... were you sleeping out here?"

Amber giggled. "Yep!"

Lest bit back another sigh. "I thought you were hurt! Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry." Amber tucked her legs underneath herself, apparently content to stay sitting on the ground. After a moment, Lest settled down next to her.

"Do you go out and fall asleep in dungeons a lot?"

"Not really. Just out here and in the forest, sometimes. I like to see the flowers on the trees blooming. It's nice and relaxing."

"Right... I forget how bonkers you are about nature, sometimes." Lest glanced at her. "But maybe you shouldn't go out alone. If a monster or something came along and hurt you while you were sleeping, everyone would be upset."

"Hm... even you?" There was a teasing note to Amber's voice.

Lest flushed. "Of course."

Amber smiled and turned her attention back to the spring blossoms slowly drifting down from the trees. After while, she leaned her head against Lest's shoulder. "I guess I'll just stick with you when I go out, then. You'll keep me safe, right?"

The flower monster had taken advantage of the distractions to root through Lest's bag and take the second plate of pickled turnips. Lest elected to ignore it and wrapped his arm around Amber's shoulders. "Of course."

Chapter Text

Some days, Kiel couldn't seem to do anything but daydream. He still did the best that he could to get his work done, but his thoughts were a million miles away. It was almost like Clorica getting all her work done while asleep, but while she somehow managed to get through the day without incident like that, Kiel was more given to making mistakes while not paying attention.

Case in point: the stew that was now all over the floor. He'd been caught up in wondering whether Lest had found the insect carapaces that he'd asked for and if he'd come by to deliver them that evening, quietly kicking himself for not offering to go along to help Lest collect them, when he'd bumped the pot by accident. Kiel sighed and went to go find a rag to sop up the mess. He'd been planning to give Lest a bowl of stew in reward for bringing him the insect skins, but that was out the window now too. Maybe he could fry up some fish instead...

Kiel's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, and he all but fell over himself in his rush to answer. As expected, it was Lest, with the promised skins.

Kiel made his expression cheery and quickly wiped his hands before taking them. "Thanks for bringing them over! Let me get you something in return for doing this for me, uh..." He scanned his surroundings somewhat frantically for something he could give to Lest.

"It's fine, it was no trouble to get them..." Lest tried to gently dissuade him, perhaps sensing his edge of panic.

"No, no, I really want you to have, uh, this!" Kiel grabbed the radish that he'd been planning to slice and add to the pot and shoved it into Lest's hands. "Thanks again!" He chirped, and shut the door in Lest's perplexed face.

Kiel sighed and rubbed his hands over his face as Lest's footsteps eventually faded. Next time, he told himself. Next time, he'd go into the dungeon alongside Lest and help out. And he'd bring a proper stew.

Chapter Text

When Doug first stumbled through Selphia's gates, he'd been half-dead. Jones and Nancy's efforts had saved his life, and Blossom had given him a place to stay and work to keep him busy while he recovered, but it was obvious that though the kindness of Selphia's residents had saved Doug's body, it would take a bit more effort to really touch his soul.

Most of them tried to write it off as lingering shock from whatever had befallen him before he came to Selphia, or simply an anti-social personality. Forte was not most people. She had learned long ago to trust her instincts, and Doug raised so many red flags in her mind that he may as well have been an approaching warship. She didn't allow her suspicions to manifest outwardly as anything more than interactions that might have been just a bit shorter and more curt than usual, but she kept her eye on him. She didn't know what she was waiting for him to do - rob Blossom? Attack one of the girls? He didn't seem like the type, but Forte supposed that truly successful criminals rarely did. So she watched, and she waited.

It was early on a bright, crisp fall morning when Doug seemed to take the first steps towards either dispelling or confirming Forte's thoughts about him. She had been returning from her morning patrol like usual, having just given out her orders to the other soldiers for the day. Doug was waiting for her at the front gates, a determined look on his face. He appeared unarmed, but Forte rested her hand on the pommel of her sword as she approached him.

"Is there something you need, Doug?" She made an effort to be cordial. Doug straightened up and squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height (which was still a good few inches shorter than Forte was).

"Teach me how to fight."

Forte blinked, mouth creasing into a frown. "I beg your pardon?"

Doug sighed and tried again. "I need- I just-" He chewed his lip, searching for the words. "I want to spar with you," he said finally. "I want... I want to get stronger."

"Why." It didn't sound like a question when Forte said it like that, and her tone warned that a less-than-acceptable answer would likely land him with a permanent denial. Strength for the sake of strength was worse than useless, her father had told her when she was young. It was dangerous.

Doug met her steely gaze with his own. "I let the people I cared about down before because I was weak. So I'm going to make it up to them by getting strong enough to make things right again."

That was... unexpected. Forte let her hand drop from her sword, getting the idea that she had just learned more about Doug than the rest of Selphia combined knew, and unsure how she felt about that. "...I see."

"So? Will you do it?" There was an edge to Doug's voice that she couldn't quite place. Desperation?

"You'll just go off and try to train on your own if I say no, won't you." Forte muttered to herself more than Doug. "Fine. I'll have Bado make you a training sword. We'll start tomorrow."

She was startled when Doug's stormy expression broke into something that was almost like a genuine smile. "I'll be there."

"Don't be late." Forte watched as Doug turned and disappeared down the side road that led to the general store.

She hoped that she hadn't just made a dreadful mistake.

---

As it turned out, Doug was not exactly a quick learner, but he was a diligent one. The first few weeks, Forte could leave him flat on his back and covered in bruises without breaking a sweat. Every time, he got back to his feet and demanded another try, until she determined that he had had enough and sent him home. Even as he improved, he still couldn't beat her without a great deal of luck, but he did improve.

Forte had to wonder what had happened to him, and what exactly she was training him for. The feeling that she might be making a mistake persisted. Every time she knocked Doug down, it was like a reassurance that she hadn't gone too far yet to stop him if need be.

She looked at him when he faced her with a sword, and in his eyes she saw violence. Whether it was in his past or future, she couldn't tell.

Forte parried Doug's blow and cleanly swept his feet out from underneath him, making sure to knock the sword from his hand while he was down. "That's enough for today."

"What, already?" Doug sat up with a small groan and leaned over his knees to catch his breath. "I was just starting to have fun." Again, that look on his face that was almost, but not quite, a smile.

"It's going to be dark soon. Blossom will worry about you." Forte gathered her equipment and waited for Doug to start down the road again before turning her back.

She didn't trust him still. And it was a pity, because she was starting to have fun too.

Chapter Text

Amber was fascinated by Dolce's clothes. That was the only explanation that Dolce could come up with for why Amber was so intent on giving her compliments nearly every time she saw her. Even if she was nearly soaked through due to being caught in the rain, Amber always greeted her with a smile and a remark about how lovely the trim on her dress was, or something similar. Dolce always gave a cordial thanks and kicked Pico when she squealed about the attention being given to her and went on her way.

Amber was getting frustrated. It wasn't that Dolce's clothes weren't really beautiful, because they were. It wasn't that Dolce was so cool with her whenever they spoke, because Dolce was like that with everyone. It was just that, after weeks of seeking Dolce out without fail every single day to strike up a conversation, she'd been hoping to have made a little more headway beyond "That's very nice of you to say, Amber, thank you" whenever she told Dolce how particularly good she was looking that day. At this rate, they were all going to be as dead as Pico before she was able to actually get Dolce's attention.

Maybe she just needed to do something really attention-grabbing. Summer was coming up, wasn't it? Surely Dolce wouldn't mind if Amber had a little extra input on her new swimsuit.

That ought to send a message. And in the meantime, well...

It certainly didn't hurt to look.

Chapter Text

Clorica liked to think of nice things that randomly happened to her as little miracles, like the times when she sometimes woke up and discovered that all of her work for the day had been flawlessly completed. On some level, she knew and understood the more rational explanations for things like that, but it was fun to pretend. Sometimes, however, things happened that struck her as truly mysterious, like the occasions when she would return to her room and find a plate with a hot, fresh slice of apple pie sitting on her table.

It was always delicious, with just the amount of fruit and spices that she adored. She took care to thank the kindly fairies or whatever mysterious force was behind these little gifts, and every so often she could have sworn that she heard a familiar giggle from somewhere in the room. One time, she explained the phenomenon to Dolce, figuring that if anyone would have an idea of the supernatural force leaving presents, she would.

Dolce paused for a fraction longer than usual, eyes sliding away from Clorica's face as she appeared to think. "...Sorry. I don't know anything about that. I guess some spirit's just taken a liking to you."

"A really, really strong liking!" Pico chimed in with a wide and somehow knowing smile. She quickly made herself scarce again when Dolce narrowed her eyes, and Clorica smiled at their antics.

"Thank you anyway, Dolce. I'll be sure to let the spirit know how kind they are." She started to leave before abruptly turning back, just remembering something. "Oh! Do you happen to know where I could get some new thread? One of my coats lost a few buttons after I ran around so much at the last festival."

Dolce shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm out. You might be able to ask Frey, or that Raven girl who comes around sometimes."

Clorica nodded thoughtfully and bit back a yawn. "I see. Thanks again." She actually forgot all about the thread after that, until she returned to her room that night. Next to the plate and its slice of pie (extra sugar on the crust tonight!) was a neat, new spool of thread.

How wondrous.

Chapter Text

"Hey Leon, did you know? I heard that there's somebody that Doug likes!" Kiel's expression was perfectly innocent, the way it always was when he was inadvertently spreading around someone's potential social downfall. 

Leon's lip curled. "Oh really?"

"Hey!" Doug leaned all the way over the general store's front counter to scowl at the two of them; Blossom most definitely would not tolerate fighting in the store, so scowling was all he could do. "Don't go around telling people things like that! And anyway, it's not even true!"

"That's a pretty passionate reaction to something that's not true." Leon was clearly enjoying himself. "You wouldn't want to get known as a liar, now would you?"

"W-what! How does that even come into play here!?"

Leon affected a pensive look, fanning himself idly. "Mm... I feel obligated to go around and make sure everyone knows the real truth here, just to clear up any potential misunderstandings."

"Hey! No, don't go around town and tell people that stupid rumor!" Doug slammed his hands on the countertop and looked about five seconds away from vaulting over it to leap at Leon.

"Oh come on. I'm doing you a favor here. Now everyone will know that you're an honest man with nothing to hide." Leon edged towards the door of the shop, barely holding back a grin. "Look, here's someone right now. Oh Margaret!" Leon slipped out the door just as Doug yelled out and rushed at him to try and stop him from exiting.

"YOU BASTAR-" Doug was cut off by the door slamming in his face, leaving him clutching his nose. Kiel took pity on him and cast a bit of healing magic to ease the sting.

Sure enough, the rumor that Doug had a crush on someone was all over town by that afternoon. Somehow or other, "someone" had turned into Lin Fa, which culminated in Xiao Pai giving him a very suspicious glare when she came by to pick up some cooking ingredients. Doug slumped over the counter with a groan, wondering if he could maybe convince Ventuswill to put some kind of curse on Leon if he asked nicely enough. Or desperately enough.

The bell on the front door chimed and Kiel entered, looking unfairly chipper. Doug glared at him. "I hope you know that this is all your fault."

Kiel shrugged. "You said I should do something to keep people from snooping around for a while. Now nobody's going to think to ask about us for a bit, right?" He raised onto his tip-toes to give Doug a peck on the forehead.

Doug just sulked.

Chapter Text

"Hmm..." Margaret frowned as she strummed the strings of her harp. The song and dance still weren't coming out quite right. The only ways she could put it into words was that it just didn't have that feel to it. She tried a little spin, but all it served to do was make her dizzy and need to sit down.

She did have an inkling of what wasn't working out with this particular arrangement. There needed to be a second person, a kind of counter-melody for balance. She toyed with one of her hair ribbons as she thought it over. Maybe she just needed a guinea pig to try out the dance with her, so she could see if it would work.

She glanced up and called out to the first person she saw milling around in the restaurant. "Frey! Come dance with me!"

Frey looked mildly confused but then shrugged and smiled. "Okay!" She got up from her table and went to Margaret's side, and did her best to keep a straight face as Margaret arranged her into what she determined was the best starting position.

It ended up being less a dance practice and more the two of them spinning each other and stumbling and giggling, eventually coming to a stop and dropping to sit on the piano bench. Between lingering bouts of mirth, Frey asked, "Did I help any?"

"I think so," Margaret said, trying to stifle her own giggles. This, she thought, felt just right.

Chapter Text

"Dylas, if I climb on your back, do you think I'd be closer to the sun?"

Dylas looked over at where Amber was perched on the top of the wall near the pond he was currently fishing in. "...What." How was he even supposed to respond to a question like that? This was why he went out of his way not to talk to people.

Amber just smiled at him as if she hadn't just asked something bizarre. "You know, you're tall. Are you warmer because you're so tall?"

"I... don't know?" He was trying not to look at her like she was crazy, he really was. Where did Venti find all these weirdos?

"Hmm... let me test it!"

"Wait, wh- gah!" Before Dylas could properly respond, Amber had leapt off of the wall and latched firmly onto his back. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

"Ooh, you are warm." Amber sounded entirely too pleased with the whole situation and gave no indication that she was going to be moving any time soon. After a minute or so of wondering what he was doing with his life, Dylas settled for just being glad that he hadn't dropped his fishing pole and tried to go back to concentrating on the water. It was much more difficult with Amber chattering right into his ear instead of from a reasonable distance, but they gradually fell into a pattern of her asking a question or making some bright comment and Dylas grunting back one-word responses when necessary.

If anyone wandered by nearly an hour later, they would have found Dylas in his usual spot by the pond, and Amber dozing on his back like some kind of interesting backpack. In the end, he supposed that he didn't really mind.

Chapter Text

It was known that Doug was not exactly the most delicate of people. To him, the more direct the route to getting things done, the better, regardless of how hamfisted that route was.

The example of directly and loudly proclaiming his affections for someone came to mind. Along with the fact that he had climbed up on a rooftop to do it. During the busiest part of the day.

It was hard not to admire his sincerity though, and a few members of the town were even somewhat impressed; most of them had never seen Leon actually speechless before.

Chapter Text

Lest was finding it difficult to sleep lately. It made sense that he would, what with the threat of the Sechs Empire looming over Selphia and their Native Dragon incapacitated, but the fact that it was natural was little comfort when he was tossing and turning. He could hear Venti's occasional pained noises next door, and every one made his stomach knot up with the knowledge that until the Sechs were taken care of once and for all, there was nothing he could do to ease her pain. He stared at his wall, mentally counting Venti's breaths and whimpers and feeling terribly, terribly small and helpless. 

After the next noise she made, however, the murmuring of a low voice reached Lest's ears. Someone was in the castle with Venti. In an instant, Lest was out of bed, weapon in hand and convinced that the Sechs had somehow managed to infiltrate the town and castle.

He threw the door open, ready to defend Ventuswill by any means necessary. "VEN- Dylas?"

Sure enough, it was Dylas kneeling in the snow next to Venti with just a jacket thrown over his pajamas. He looked inexplicably guilty, as though he'd just been caught doing something out of line.

Lest lowered his sword and willed his heart to stop pounding. "You scared me."

"Sorry," Dylas muttered, averting his eyes. He was oddly subdued. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay, I wasn't asleep." After a moment, Lest walked over to kneel down next to Dylas and Venti. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just-" Dylas broke off, absently stroking Ventuswill's scaly neck when she groaned. "I just thought that maybe it would help if Venti knew that her friends were still nearby."

"So you came here in the middle of the night." Lest found something about the thought oddly charming, and exactly the sort of thing Dylas would do. For all his bluster, he cared deeply about the town and his friends. He'd chosen to become a Guardian to keep this exact fate from befalling Venti; Lest couldn't imagine what it felt like to see her suffering in spite of the sacrifice Dylas and the rest of the Guardians had made for her.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Yeah..." Lest drew his legs up to his chest and rested his cheek on his knees. "I'm kind of surprised anyone can. Not that I hold it against them if they can, of course, just..."

"It feels like the whole world should want to stay awake to be at her side." Dylas finished for him.

"Yeah." Lest's eyes were stinging, whether from lack of sleep or held-back tears, he couldn't tell. He rubbed at them with his sleeve. Dylas reached over and squeezed Lest's shoulder, letting his hand linger there. 

They were still like that when Volkanon found them the next morning, exhausted and asleep but still dutifully by their Native Dragon's side.

Chapter Text

The official reason why Arthur and Margaret ended up getting relegated to decorating the restaurant for the reception after Frey and Dylas's wedding was because Porcoline wanted it to be done by people who knew how things were supposed to be arranged. The real reason was that Frey had finally gently, but firmly, let Arthur know that he was being overbearing with the ordering of arrangements and suggested that he put his energy towards something else, and because Dylas had actually started hiding from Meg a few days earlier after he got overwhelmed by her attempts to help with the preparations. Nobody wanted to be the one responsible for overshadowing their friends' wedding, so both had sheepishly agreed to take care of the restaurant, which was out of the way enough to keep them from being tempted to intervene with other preparations.

Admittedly, it was nice to have a fairly quiet task to keep them busy, and despite both spending the majority of their time in and around the restaurant, Margaret and Arthur didn't actually get that much opportunity to just talk and enjoy each other's company. Being the only ones in the building while they worked was a nice change of pace, even if they did occasionally butt heads over what should be placed where and how. It was just a fact of their respective personalities; they had specific ideas about how things should be done. 

Arthur tied up a streamer, only for Margaret to tug it down and tie it up somewhere else when his back was turned. He moved it back when she turned her attention to something else, and set the vase of flowers she had arranged on a different table. They continued in this fashion throughout the afternoon, until they ended up in an extended stalemate over where to move the potted plants to. They compromised (two near the entrance, one near the stairs, the new apple sapling displayed near the largest table so that Porcoline could present it as his wedding gift to Frey and Dylas) but evidently the compromise had been in Arthur's favor, because Margaret gave him a surprisingly coy look before tugging the streamer down once more.

He fought back a grin. "You're just messing with me now, aren't you?"

"We've been exiled together," Margaret said. "We might as well have some fun while we're working."

"I always have fun with you." The words were out of Arthur's mouth before he fully comprehended them, and both he and Meg were left looking a bit surprised and bashful.

"...Yeah," Margaret said eventually. Arthur wasn't sure if it was an agreement or just an attempt to move past the awkward silence. He knew which he hoped it was.

They went back to work a little quieter than they had been before, but they occasionally glanced at each other. In the event that one of them caught the other looking, they would exchange an unusually shy smile before averting their eyes again. Arthur took the opportunity to move the streamer back to its original place.

---

Margaret must have been a marvelously early riser, Arthur discovered on the morning of the wedding, because the streamer had been moved again. Before he could try to move it back, Margaret appeared from wherever she had been lying in wait for him and seized his arm, linking it with hers.

"Porco said we had to stick together today so that we don't get the urge to meddle," she informed him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Arthur very much doubted that Porcoline had actually said that, but he smiled. "Of course."

He'd get her back for the streamer eventually. Somehow. Right then, he was occupied with the wedding and Margaret's arm in his as they stepped out into the summer breeze to wait for Dylas and Frey to come up the walk.

Chapter Text

When the announcement comes that a prince will be arriving in Selphia to stay as Lady Ventuswill's adviser, Vishnal is ecstatic. Though his ultimate goal is to become the world's best butler, he's always harbored the dream of serving royalty someday as well. In the days leading up to the arrival of Prince Arthur, Vishnal is practically walking on air as he makes preparations.

Kiel doesn't begrudge Vishnal his excitement. Really, he doesn't. Who is he to disapprove of anyone's enthusiasm? It just gets a bit tiring after a while to hear Vishnal go on and on about what he's heard about the prince, how intelligent and charming he's supposed to be. So maybe a tiny, petty part of Kiel hopes that Arthur will have some glaring flaw, if only to stop Vishnal constantly gushing about him. He doesn't admit it to anyone, and barely even acknowledges it to himself. Jealousy is unbecoming, he knows, and after all Selphia is about to be receiving a prince.

He just hopes that someday, Vishnal might be willing to accept a knight as well.

Chapter Text

"Dylas?"

Dylas looked up from the plate he was scrubbing at the soft, somewhat far away voice. Clorica stood on the opposite side of the kitchen counter, clutching a cup and saucer. At first, Dylas thought that she had actually come up to bring him her dirty dishes rather than leaving them at the table to be collected, and couldn't decide if that was thoughtful or irritating. A closer look, however, showed that the pattern on the dishes was not the same as the ones that belonged to the restaurant, and the cup was most definitely full with some steaming liquid. 

After a moment, he realized that both he and Clorica had been standing silently while he scrutinized the dishes. He cleared his throat and straightened up. "What do you need?"

"You seem busy."

Dylas caught himself just before he rolled his eyes so hard that they fell out of his head. "...Yeah. There was a party in here earlier and they made a mess."

Clorica nodded understandingly. "I thought you looked stressed, so this is for you!" She set the cup and saucer on the counter. "Mr. Volkanon made a bit of extra relax tea today, so I thought you could use some. Drink it before it gets cold, okay?"

"I... okay." Dylas was caught off-guard. Clorica was being thoughtful after all, he supposed. "I'll bring the cup and saucer back up to the castle when I'm done with it."

"That's okay, I'll just wait here. I'm done with my chores for the day." Clorica beamed at him and made her way to a table.

Dylas nodded absently and went back to scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain. When he paused to take a break and sip the tea (and make no mistake, it was delicious) he noticed Clorica smiling sleepily at him out of the corner of his vision.

By the time he'd finished the tea, Clorica had fallen asleep in her chair. He let her linger there.

Chapter Text

Doug poked at the charred pan of cookies. "They're kinda edible-looking, right?"

Vishnal bit his lip. "I don't think so."

Doug gave a defeated sigh. "Okay, we'll throw this batch out too." He scraped the pan off into the garbage and took it to the sink. They'd been attempting to make cookies for White Day for the past couple hours now, but every attempt had so far ended in spectacular failure, including at least one which had actually burst into flames. It was likely that the only real reason they were still at it was because neither one wanted to be the one to suggest they give up.

Vishnal mixed a new bowl of batter with a look of intense determination before holding the spoon out for Doug to taste. "How is it?"

"It's good!" Doug went for another taste, but Vishnal held the spoon out of his reach.

"If you eat it all, we won't have any to bake!"

"Hmph. Why can't we just give people dough to make their own cookies?"

"Because the point of giving someone cookies on White Day and Valentine's Day is that you put all your love and effort into making it for them!" Vishnal declared grandly and attempted to plant his hands on his hips, forgetting that he was holding the batter-covered spoon. A splotch of batter was launched directly into Doug's face.

"Hey!" Even as Vishnal scrambled to apologize, Doug gave him a sly look before picking up another spoon and proceeding to fling a scoop right back at Vishnal.

All thoughts of actually cooking anything were quickly forgotten as the two of them launched into an all-out war of slinging dough at each other. By the end of it all, they were both laughing and breathless, and covered head-to-toe in flour, sugar, and liquid batter. 

"So that's another failed batch," Vishnal said finally, still grinning in spite of himself.

"Yeah." Doug glanced around the now disastrously messy kitchen. "Man, Granny's gonna kill me for this."

Vishnal picked up a relatively clean rag and wiped his face off. "I'll help you clean it all up if you go and get more ingredients for the next batch."

"Deal!" Doug flashed him a thumbs up.

They managed to get the kitchen to at least look less like a hurricane made of dough had come through before they started on their next attempt. "Remember," Vishnal said as they mixed the ingredients again, "the most important ingredient is love."

"Love, huh?" Doug looked gave him a thoughtful look.

"That's right!" Vishnal proceeded to pour the batter onto the pan with far more enthusiasm than skill.

Doug's glance lingered a while longer before he turned to help. "Got it."

Chapter Text

Margaret loved throwing slumber parties. Any night that she could have an excuse to gather up her friends for a bit of no-strings-attached, no-boys-allowed talk and fun was a good night, and she always had a great time. It was just that sometimes, there were distractions that consumed her attention.

Forte in her nightgown, for example.

"Meg?" Forte called out from the opposite side of the room. "Could I have a bit of help? One of my buttons is loose..."

"Of course," Margaret went to Forte's side immediately, and she definitely wasn't blushing as she closed the distance between them. It was just a little warm in her room, was all.

The button on the back of Forte's nightgown was indeed loose, and Margaret didn't have any thread on-hand. She settled for tying the errant hole shut with a spare ribbon and definitely not letting her hands linger on Forte's shoulders. Definitely not.

She also definitely wasn't glancing in Forte's direction more than usual as they sat and talked with the rest of the girls. And if she was, well, she just wanted to make sure the ribbon was holding up as intended. That was all.

"Are you feeling okay, Meg?" Amber was all doe-eyes and concern, like they'd have to rush her to the clinic any second, and Margaret laughed.

"I'm fine, Amber. I guess I'm just a little distracted tonight." And that was all. Really.

Chapter Text

Dolce had a secret. A deep, dark, shameful secret. A secret which would almost never be allowed to see the light of day for fear of the irreparable damage it would do to her reputation.

Dolce thought that puns were hilarious.

The worse the pun, the better. There was no explaining why; something about the combination of the jokes themselves and the look on the face of the unlucky recipient of such a joke just tickled her to pieces.

And Frey was chock-full of absolutely terrible puns. Some of them were so bad that they didn't even make sense. Some of them were so bad that even Volkanon couldn't bring himself to crack a smile in response.

And every single time Frey unleashed one of her awful puns into the world, Dolce had to turn her face away and cover her mouth with one hand to keep from laughing out loud. Sometimes she worried that she might injure herself with the effort it took to hold her giggles in. She got the feeling that Frey at least had an inkling of the effect the terrible jokes had on her; every so often after cracking one, the other girl would glance in her direction and give a cheesy grin, and Dolce just about had to sprint in the opposite direction to keep anyone from seeing her composure break.

And when she found sweet, sweet privacy, she laughed. She laughed until her legs gave out and tears were running down her face, until she reached a state that was closer to hysterics than true mirth, and she marveled at the nerve - the absolute gall - that this horrible, silly, beautiful girl had to make her laugh at stupid jokes like she was a child again.

Chapter Text

"There!" Frey lowered her spear as the monster she was facing off against collapsed and disappeared. "Just a few more to take care of now. How are you holding up, Kiel?"

Kiel forced a smile and cast a bit of healing magic on Frey just for good measure. "I'm doing fine. So we're heading deeper into the forest, now?"

"Yep!" Frey flashed a bright smile back at him, making his insides flutter. "Careful, there's a big cliff in the next area. I've fallen off of it before."

"I'll be fine." Kiel said a little too quickly. "Don't worry about me."

Frey gave him an odd look. "Alright... this way, then."

Kiel kept his head down as Frey led them deeper. He wasn't trying to be sulky, honestly. He enjoyed accompanying Frey into dungeons. It was just that he always liked to imagine himself as the one protecting her, not the other way around. Logically, he knew that she just had more training and experience in dungeons than he did, but it still stung to be told to stand back while she dealt with the monsters. What was the point of bringing him along if he was going to be that useless?

It was difficult to bite back a sigh as Frey made short work of the next few monsters they encountered and Kiel just watched. He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, heading straight for her. "Frey! Look out!"

"Huh?" She turned, just in time to be knocked off-balance by the chipsqueak that barreled into her, snatching away the feathery charm hanging from her belt. "Hey! Not again!"

Kiel sprang into action, drawing his sword. "I've got it!" The chipsqueak bounced away and Kiel gave chase up the grassy slope. It was a small task to catch up to it and drive it off, and he triumphantly retrieved Frey's charm.

"Kiel!"

He turned to her, smiling. "It's okay, I got your charm!"

"Kiel, move!"

"Huh?" And then the crumbling ground underneath his feet gave way.

Oh, he thought, right before the ground rushed up to smack him in the face.

---

Forte's voice screeching, "He jumped off a cliff!?" was the first thing that Kiel heard when he came to in the clinic.

Frey's voice chimed in, low and soothing. "Well actually he fell off of it... it was my fault, Forte, I'm sorry. I should have been better about looking out for him."

Kiel sat up, ignoring the throbbing in his head and startling Frey and Forte. "I'm fine!" Nancy immediately appeared at his side to try and coax him back down. "You don't have to look out for me, Frey. I'm fine." He recognized the pleading note in his voice and hated it.

Nancy gently took Forte by the arm and led her away before she could start hyperventilating. Frey stayed where she was, expression softening at Kiel's words.

She knelt at his bedside. "I just want you to be safe, you know."

"I know," Kiel mumbled, staring at his hands. "I just want to be helpful to you, instead of hanging back all the time..."

Frey took his hand and squeezed. "You are helpful. You know I wouldn't invite you out with me if you weren't." She smiled. "Besides, you rescued Venti's Charm for me."

"And then I fell off a cliff." Kiel smiled a bit in spite of himself.

"You looked really cool before you fell, though." Frey assured him. She leaned in and brushed her lips over his cheek. "My hero."

Chapter Text

Today, Xiao Pai actually managed to hold her position for ten whole minutes before wobbling and toppling over. The books that had been sitting precariously on top of her head slid to the floor in a heap, and she rubbed her hip where she had landed.

"That was better," Forte said encouragingly. "It was almost twice as long as last time."

Xiao Pai quickly jumped to her feet and gathered the books up. "It seems I have been practicing in between our training," she explained. "It has helped some, yes?"

"Of course." Forte smiled. "Diligence is important whenever you're training for something, no matter what you're trying to improve. You're an excellent student, Xiao Pai."

Xiao Pai practically glowed at the praise. "Okay! One more try for today, yes?" She offered the books to Forte, who took them and carefully placed them on top of the shorter girl's head after she assumed her balancing position again.

She wobbled just slightly, and Forte placed her hands on Xiao Pai's waist to steady her, lingering a bit before stepping away again.

Xiao Pai didn't last quite as long that time before tipping over. She blamed her blush for diverting all the blood from her legs.

Chapter Text

They complete each other.

Vishnal is a whirlwind of energy, in a million places at once. Clorica floats along behind him like a stray summer cloud, straightening and sweeping up any collateral damage left behind. If there was only one or the other in the castle, it just wouldn't work the same way and everyone knows it.

The way they go about their daily chores is almost a dance. Vishnal rushes, Clorica ambles. Vishnal panics, Clorica laughs. Volkanon watches them and shakes his head, half amused and half resigned, before returning to his own work.

The most striking thing about the way they fit together is how easy it all is. Like this is the way that they were always meant to be, and they only realized it upon meeting each other. Vishnal stumbles, Clorica gathers up his mess. Clorica nods off in the middle of explaining something to a guest, Vishnal gently nudges her awake again.

They don't question it. They don't even talk about it, really. They don't need to. There is - always has been - an implicit understanding between them, that this is the way things are.

And it works.

Chapter Text

Forte enjoyed her morning rounds about the outskirts of Selphia not only for the comfortable routine, but for the solitude and the chance to just take in and enjoy nature. And it certainly didn't hurt that the only monsters that really came this close to the town were the woolies, small and cute as they were. It was true that on occasion, she would let her guard drop for just a bit and allow one of them to approach her so that she could pet its head. It brought back fond memories of the times she would accompany her father on his patrol while her mother was watching newborn Kiel. And besides, the woolies were just soft and adorable.

This morning, however, there was someone else in the clearing where the woolies normally gathered, kneeling down and cooing to one with a dopey smile as it cautiously approached. Forte took a moment to absorb the entire scene before calling out.

"Arthur?"

"Ah-!?" Arthur's head shot up, startling the wooly back to the treeline, and jerked around to face Forte. His face reddened as he took in Forte and realized that his unprofessional behavior had a witness. "...Hello, Forte." He attempted to nonchalantly brush off his cloak and make his voice smooth. He failed spectacularly.

"Hello." Forte's poker face was much better than Arthur's.

They regarded each other for a few moments, Arthur with red cheeks and a polite, plastered-on smile and Forte with her expression carefully neutral. The wooly looked on warily from its spot near the trees.

"Your cloak is dirty," Forte said eventually.

Arthur glanced down at the hem of his cloak, which had indeed been dragged through the mud while he was kneeling down. "So it is." The knees of his trousers were also muddied, but neither of them pointed it out.

Another few moments of silence.

"Lovely weather today. Summer should be here soon, don't you think?" Arthur remarked.

"It is about that time, yes." Forte agreed.

Arthur nodded. Forte nodded back, but wasn't quite sure what they were agreeing about now.

"Well, would you look at the time!" Arthur exclaimed out of the blue, causing Forte to start. "I really should be getting to work. I'll see you later." He started towards the gate.

Forte stepped aside to let him pass. Before he'd quite reached the gates, she called out again. "Arthur."

"Yes?" He half-turned back to face her.

"I'm sure that you can take care of yourself, but please, in the future, don't approach any wild monsters on your own, alright?"

"Ah... of course," he smiled. "In the future, I'll wait for you, if it's no trouble."

Forte found herself smiling back. "Certainly not. I am at your service any time that I am needed."

Arthur's smile brightened. "Excellent! It's a date."

"Yes," Forte agreed before fully comprehending what she'd just agreed to. "Wait, a date-"

"The time, work, I must go, goodbye!" Arthur blurted out before turning again and nearly sprinting through Selphia's gates, leaving Forte standing dumbfounded.

The forgotten wooly munched on an herb near the side of the road and ambled off into the trees, no doubt thinking to itself how strange people were.

Chapter Text

Amber enjoyed sleeping, but she was most comfortable when she was able to snuggle up with some blankets or a companion rather than just sleeping on her own. Fortunately, Clorica was almost always available.

She didn't seem to care (sometimes, she didn't even seem to notice) when Amber plopped down next to her and curled up to her side. On the occasions when she most definitely did notice, she just gave Amber her usual sleepy smile and would sometimes wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. Amber, naturally, was thrilled to find a friend so agreeable to her sleeping practices.

Sometimes, instead of curling up to go to sleep right away, she would unbraid and re-braid Clorica's hair, threading flowers in among the strands. Sometimes she would leave Clorica's hair undone for a while, running her fingers through it until she began to stir. Clorica never minded. On rare occasions, Clorica would be the one to wake up first or stay awake longer, and she would give Amber's hair a similar treatment. It wasn't quite long enough to braid, but she still weaved flower chains around Amber's brow and wound ribbons into the locks of hair that fell over her face. If they both managed to stay awake long enough, they'd end up matching.

They would regard each other with a warm, comfortable amusement, and Amber would giggle and link her fingers with Clorica's, and they'd wander off together in search of more flowers to pick and another comfortable spot to sleep.

Chapter Text

Xiao Pai admired Arthur. He was the kind of worker that she aspired to be: diligent, respected, almost superhuman in his knowledge and accomplishments. For a good while after his arrival in Selphia, she had privately regarded him as such. As time went on, however, it became obvious to her that Arthur was very much human, with all the quirks and flaws that entailed. It didn't hurt the esteem she held him in - if anything, it was endearing. The knowledge that even Arthur wasn't perfect was something Xiao Pai frequently consoled herself with whenever she made a particularly disastrous mistake.

For one thing, his incredible focus on his work tended to result in absentmindedness in other matters such as eating, sleeping, and bathing. He frequently turned up after hours, when even Porcoline had come by and been on his way again. On top of that, he had a habit of nodding off in the bath when it was so late. On several occasions, she'd taken a look into the men's bath after noticing that he'd been in there for an exceptionally long time and found him slumped against the edge of the tub, fast asleep. She always went to gently shake him awake, thankful for her mother's rule of guests using bathing suits.

Tonight was much like any other, with Arthur turning up looking tired and sheepish and Xiao Pai letting him in with a smile. He shuffled into the men's bath and Xiao Pai busied herself with sweeping off the front walk, waiting to see if Arthur would emerge on his own or if she would have to go in and fetch him again. A prolonged silence greeted her when she re-entered the building, confirming her suspicions. She set the broom aside and made her way up to the men's bath, easing the door open so that she could peek in. Sure enough, Arthur was sprawled in a corner of the tub, glasses askew (she'd never understand why he wore them into the bath, they just got fogged up).

Xiao Pai made her way over to his side and gently shook his shoulder, unable to suppress a fond smile when he blinked groggily at her. "It seems you fell asleep in the bath again."

"It seems so." Arthur returned her smile sleepily and sat up, adjusting his glasses.

She stepped back so that she wasn't leaning over him. "It seems you overwork yourself very often, Arthur."

Arthur nodded along absently and smiled again. "Perhaps I just need a good woman to take care of me, yes?"

Xiao Pai pressed one hand over her mouth, to cover both her smile at his copying of her speech patterns (a habit he'd fallen into whenever he was particularly tired) and her blush at his insinuation. "Yes," she said. "I mean... perhaps."

He stood. "At any rate, I suppose I'm done here. Thank you, Xiao Pai."

She nodded and exited the bath so that he could change in peace. He exited a few minutes later and found her lingering by the front desk, checking the next day's schedule. "You ought to get some rest."

She looked up. "And you too, yes?" She handed him his cloak.

"Yes," Arthur agreed, taking it and settling it over his shoulders. "Good night, Xiao Pai."

"Good night, Arthur." After he left the hotel, she kept watch out the window as he made his way down the street, only returning to her own room when she was satisfied that he was safely inside the restaurant again.

She slept well.

Chapter Text

"So the Gloves That Can Grab Various Things didn't work out so well, huh?" Kiel tapped his chin as Amber nodded vigorously.

"I used them to grab a buffamoo tail, and it got really mad! Frey said that Bado got what he deserved for selling them, but I dunno what she meant by that..."

Kiel shrugged. "He'll figure out some way to try and get the money back, I'm sure. He always does."

"I guess." Amber folded her hands in her lap, and Kiel noted that she was still wearing the gloves.

"You're not going to return those and ask for a refund or anything?"

"Hm?" Amber looked at her gloved hands as if she'd just remembered they were there. "No, I'll keep them. They're kind of cute, I guess. Besides," her smile returned. "I can keep seeing what kinds of things I can grab with them!"

Kiel smiled too. "Got any ideas?"

"Yep!" Amber reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing.

Kiel blushed. "Oh."

"Although..." Amber looked thoughtful. "You're not wearing the gloves, so I guess they're not really needed for holding hands."

"Maybe not." Kiel squeezed her hand back anyway.

Chapter Text

Margaret worries about things. She worries about Porcoline and whether he's healthy, and about Arthur and whether he's overworking himself. She worries about Lest, and if he'll ever get his memories back, and if he's really okay running around in dungeons all by himself.

She worries about Lest a lot.

Sometimes she offers to go into dungeons with him, but fighting has never been her strong suit and she gets the feeling that as much as Lest enjoys her company, he might be happier if she stayed home.

When he asks her out, tells her he loves her, she worries about whether he'll feel the same way in a week, a year, five years. She worries about the fact that she is an elf and he a human, and if that will cause any problems between them down the road. Lest strokes her hair and tries to ease the furrow from her brow whenever she gets caught up in those thoughts.

Sometimes she worries about whether she worries about Lest too much. That one is the worst, because it's circular. She could lay awake all night, worrying about Lest, and then worrying about her worrying, and about what Lest thinks of her worrying, and if he knows that so much of it is spent on him.

Even when time passes and she's no longer alone in her bed at night, she stays up and worries about him as she watches him sleep. Sometimes he wakes up and catches her watching, and she worries if this is it, this will be the thing that is finally too much for him.

Lest murmurs sleepily to her and pulls her into his arms and asks what's bothering her, if there's anything he can do, all the typical Lest things to ask. He's always like this when he notices, she realizes. He's probably always known.

And isn't it funny that the thing that finally puts her at ease is knowing that he worries about her just as much as she worries about him?

Chapter Text

"You know, I wasn't aware this many pairs of glasses even existed." Lest remarked, looking over the collection lining the shelves of Arthur's office.

Arthur glanced up from his stack of papers to give Lest an amused look. "That's the point of collecting something, isn't it? To have the largest amount or most varied assortment of something."

"I guess." Lest continued examining the shelves as Arthur went back to his papers. He still didn't entirely understand why Arthur was so obsessed with glasses - to the extent that he had even accepted a magnifying glass, of all things, as a birthday gift from Kiel - but he got the feeling that it, like many of Arthur's traits, went beyond eccentricity. Arthur had been more distraught when he thought he'd lost that one old pair of glasses than he ought to be if it was just a hobby.

He recalled how Arthur had once gushed to him about how cute he found girls who wore glasses, and an idea came to him, making a smile tug at his lips. When Arthur got up to file something away, Lest waited until his back was turned to snatch the nearest pair and put it on.

"Hey Arthur, how do I look?"

Arthur turned, likely about to make some stock comment about how Lest was perfectly presentable, but his expression changed abruptly when he spotted the glasses perched on Lest's face. His mouth opened and then closed again, seemingly at a loss.

"Um, Arthur?"

Arthur cleared his throat, face reddening. "...They look very good on you. Quite attractive."

Lest smiled awkwardly, a bit taken aback. "Thanks..."

Arthur cleared his throat again and busied himself with shuffling through his remaining papers. Lest removed the glasses and put them back on the shelf, feeling as though his little joke had taken an unexpected turn.

When he later passed Arthur on his way to leave, he could have sworn that he heard him muttering about how it was unfair for anyone to be so cute.

Chapter Text

"Jones!" Margaret burst through the front door of the clinic. "Jones, Nancy! We need someone at the restaurant!"

Jones and Nancy exchanged a look. "Did Dylas faint again?"

"...Yes." Margaret looked a bit put-out at their lack of reaction. "What do you mean, 'again'?"

"Oh, this happened just the other day." Nancy looked far too cheerful and amused for someone who had just been told that there was an unconscious person in need of attention. "I suppose Frey's been giving him a bit too much affection for him to handle, hmm?" She let out a girlish laugh.

"What." Margaret was clearly trying to process all of this and failing.

Jones took over with the explaining, seeing as Nancy was preoccupied with giggling and saying something about the days of their youth. "A few days ago, Frey came running in here like you did just now. Apparently Dylas fainted when... well, when she kissed him."

"What."

Jones bundled up a few medicinal herbs and a cold compress in case Dylas had hit his head. "I suppose it would be best to give Frey a talk about this. Heaven knows I have no room to talk about etiquette to a young couple, of course..." He trailed off, muttering something about responsibility and public displays of affection.

Margaret numbly stepped to the side to let him out the door, still clearly a few steps behind it all on absorbing the information she had just been given.

"...What?"

Chapter Text

"You can stop now."

"Huh?" Kiel looked up from his book to find Dylas pointedly looking at everything but him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said. You can stop reading all these spells and things out to me and go do something else. It's a waste of time."

Kiel frowned, but didn't close the book or make a move to get up. Dylas glanced at him and quickly away again, moving to stand when Kiel showed no signs of being the one to do so.

"Hey, hang on." Kiel grabbed Dylas's sleeve before he could flee back to the restaurant or something similar. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Dylas said stiffly. "I just have better things to do than sit here and try to learn magic. So I'm going to go do them."

"You said you weren't doing anything when I asked you earlier."

"I thought of some things while you were talking." Dylas was a bad enough liar that even Kiel, who was at least aware that he took things at face value too often, could see right through him.

"So you weren't listening to me?"

Dylas sputtered, face going red. "Wh- No! Of course I was!"

"So you were listening to me, but also thinking of all the things you'd rather be doing."

"Yes! I mean, no! I- gah!" Dylas kicked at a nearby tree in frustration, leaving a gouge in the bark. Kiel sighed and released his arm.

"Okay, let's start over. Why do you want to leave all of a sudden? And don't say you have 'things to do', if you'd really forgotten about something serious you know that Margaret or someone would have come to get you."

Dylas took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a long moment to gather his thoughts. Kiel sat patiently, looking up at him and waiting for an answer.

"I just... you're wasting your time, okay? I can't learn magic."

"Dylas, I've seen you use magic before. You use it in dungeons all the time."

"That's different! It's like... natural magic. Because I was Guardian. And all of this stuff you're trying to teach me is different and I can't- I don't..." Dylas trailed off into a mumble.

"What was that?" Kiel made sure to keep his tone from being accusatory or needling, knowing how Dylas hated being prodded like that.

"I'm not... I've never been... good at, you know... learning stuff." Dylas's voice had almost disappeared into a mumble again by the end, and he stared at the ground, shoulders hunched and face red.

Kiel closed his book and got to his feet so that he wouldn't have to be craning his neck quite so much to look up at Dylas. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm dumb."

"Wha- you're not dumb! Who ever told you that!?" Kiel was so taken aback and- and angry at the thought of someone actually having the gall to say something like that to Dylas that he couldn't even be bothered to get embarrassed when his voice went up about half an octave.

Dylas looked equally taken aback, this time by Kiel's reaction. "No one told me that. I figured it out on my own."

"Well you're wrong! Super wrong! The wrongest anyone has ever been!" Kiel stopped just short of jumping up and down like a child to emphasize his point.

"So what you're saying is that I'm so dumb that I'm even wrong about being dumb." Dylas deadpanned.

"No!!" Kiel all but stomped his foot. "You're not dumb at all, how could you think that!? You know like everything there is to know about fishing, and you can cook - come on, Forte's super smart and she can't cook! - and you've been telling me about how Lest has been showing you how to farm and Bado's teaching you about forging, and, and-"

"Breathe," Dylas reminded him, brow furrowed into an expression somewhere between irritation and worry.

Kiel sucked in a deep breath, slowing down. "You're not dumb, okay? You've got a bunch of talents and stuff, and having trouble with some things doesn't make you stupid. Okay?"

"I... okay." Dylas looked nonplussed at the barrage of words that Kiel had just unleashed upon him.

Kiel planted his hands on his hips, looking amusingly like Forte about to scold someone when he did so. "Do you actually believe me, or are you just saying that so I'll let you go?"

Dylas sighed. "I believe that you believe it."

"So what am I gonna have to do to make you believe it?"

Dylas made a noncommittal noise and shuffled his feet around and looked everywhere but Kiel until it became clear that he wasn't going to get away without an actual answer. "I... guess I can keep trying to learn magic."

"Do you actually want to?"

"Yeah. I mean, I-" He struggled to find the words. "I want... I want to believe you. So. You can keep teaching me, if you really want to."

"And you're not going to call yourself dumb anymore, because it's not true."

An expression flitted across Dylas's face that might have been a smile and for some reason, Kiel's insides fluttered. "Okay."

Chapter Text

Margaret stared forlornly over the railing that lined the walkway to her house. For someone who hated heights as much as she did, she rarely questioned why she'd chosen to live on the edge of a cliff, until things like this happened. On a small outcropping of rock below, her necklace glittered as if mocking her inability to reach it. There was no way she could climb down to get it; just leaning over like this to look at it was starting to make her dizzy, and her feet were still planted firmly on the ground. She straightened up and heaved a mournful sigh. 

"Hey, Margaret! Whatcha doing?" A voice sounded directly behind her.

Margaret let out a little shriek and leapt back from the railing. "Doug! What are you doing!? You can't sneak up on people like that!" She planted her hands on her hips and fixed him with a severe look to try and cover her panic.

Doug made a face at her. "I wasn't sneaking. You just weren't paying attention. Anyway, what are you looking at down there?"

Margaret sighed again, letting her arms drop to her sides. "A bird stole my necklace. I chased it back here, but it dropped it over the edge and now it's stuck down there."

"Oh, that damn bird." Doug scowled. "Man, it's just a rotten thief, isn't it?" He walked to her side and peered over the railing. "Hey, it's not that far down. I bet I could get it!"

"What are you-" Margaret began and then had to stifle another shriek as Doug heaved himself right over the wooden railing and onto the cliff face. "Doug!"

She clamped both hands over her mouth, hardly daring to move closer and look over again, visions of Doug tumbling into the water below filling her head. She edged closer slowly, hands still pressed over her mouth.

Before she could reach the railing, Doug's grinning face popped back into view. "Got it!"

He vaulted back over without further comment and proudly held out Meg's necklace. "Here you go!"

"Th-thank you." She closed a shaking hand around it and clutched it to her chest.

Doug grinned even wider and flashed her a thumbs-up. "No problem! I've gotta get back to work now, take care! Watch out for that bird!"

He sauntered off and Meg watched him go, heart still thundering in her ears.

Chapter Text

"Good morning, Dylas."

"Morning."

"Off to go fishing again?"

"Yeah. Off to patrol?"

"That's right."

"Well. Good luck."

"Thank you. You too."

"...Forte."

"Hm?"

"A-are you... Later, I mean..."

"Yes...?"

"...Nothing. Never mind."

"Alright then. By the way, would you-?"

"What?"

"N-nothing. I need to be on my way."

"Right. Me too. Later."

"Good day."

And they went their separate ways once again. Lest leaned against his windowsill and propped his chin on his hand with a sigh. "This is just painful to watch."

Margaret snorted, not even bothering to look up from tuning her lute. "You're telling me."

Chapter Text

Raven enjoyed visiting Selphia, though she hadn't yet gotten around to outright admitting as much to its residents. The first time she came to ply her wares, she'd hardly been able to believe that the people of the town lived alongside a dragon, of all things, much less the various residents who displayed more... exotic traits, like the surly man who worked for Sherman's cousin. (She'd been meaning to ask Kuruna if the univir had any related races since meeting him, out of curiosity.)

The "normal" people of Selphia were every bit as colorful and interesting, of course. Lest, that distinctly un-princely prince who always seemed to have fresh dirt on his clothes, frequently stopped to chat with her and browse what she had for sale, and she'd bought a few useful items from him in turn, on occasion. He asked odd questions sometimes, in a way that often reminded Raven of Micah, or Gaius. She usually gave him her succinct answer and went on her way, which seemed enough to satisfy him.

Today, though, Lest's question threw her for a loop. 

"Raven, do you have a lover?"

She studied him for a minute, trying to work out his intentions. Surely he couldn't be asking her out, right? She'd seen him talking with the innkeeper girl so often, and anyway, she... had someone who she was interested in...

"Why?"

"Ah..." Lest flushed and looked away, which did nothing to ease Raven's suspicions. "It's just that, if you did, I was wondering how you first showed them you were interested."

Raven's hand unconsciously crept to the silver pendant she wore, toying with it between her fingers. She absently wondered why he was asking her, rather than someone who actually lived here, before she recalled the pint-sized rumor mill that was the knight's younger brother.

"She likes flowers."

Lest's head snapped back around to look at her. "Huh?"

Raven maintained her usual expression, not betraying any hint of how amusing - and honestly, endearing - he was when he looked all flustered like that. 

"The bath house girl. She likes flowers. Crystal ones especially. Give her something she loves, and then ask her to a special place. She'll know."

"O-oh... thank you." He looked so relieved, Raven had to resist the urge to pat him on the head as she would a child, or a wooly. 

"I can get some crystal flower seeds for you from the shop in my town, if they're not available here. It'll cost extra though."

Lest lit up. "No, that would be perfect! Thank you, Raven!"

She opened her mouth to explain that she'd been joking, but he was already digging a handful of gold out of his bag, so she just accepted it and filed away a mental note to collect the seeds from Shara before her next trip.

Chapter Text

"So, the Quiz Contest is tomorrow."

Arthur glanced up for his paperwork to find Kiel standing in front of his desk, a look on his face that was so innocent that it immediately made Arthur suspicious. "It is," he agreed. "Did you need something in relation to it? I'm sure Volkanon would be happy to answer any questions you might have."

Kiel's smile was positively angelic. Arthur knew that the wheels had to be turning just behind that smile. "Actually, I had a question for you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Kiel's grin grew that much larger. "I was just wondering if you've prepared your runner-up speech yet."

Arthur froze with his pen poised just above the paper he'd been about to sign.

"As a matter of fact," he began, face a perfectly composed mask, "I haven't."

His eyes locked on Kiel's. "But I might advise you to begin writing yours."

"I don't think that'll be necessary." Kiel's wide eyes held a competitive gleam.

"Don't you." Arthur's smile was unfailingly polite, but his eyes positively sparkled.

"Nope! Just wanted to make sure you weren't caught off-guard or anything."

"Your time might be better spent worrying about yourself."

"Really." Kiel inclined his head slightly, still smiling as if they were sharing some private joke.

"Really."

They looked at each other for a long moment, tension crackling between them, until a client arrived to take up Arthur's attention.

Neither could wait until tomorrow's festival. It was so exciting to have someone who could hold their own against you so well - and who was so determined to take you down a peg.

They said that the best rivals ended up improving each other. Arthur was inclined to believe it.

Chapter Text

"I'd rather not go in the water, if it's all the same to you." Forte took a step back so that she was safely out of her friends' reach. She had no plans to be hauled into the lake like they'd done to her the previous year, even if her swimming had improved a bit in the meantime. ("A bit" was the key here; she certainly wasn't confident enough to believe that she wouldn't be making a fool of herself in front of everyone if she tried to doggy-paddle around.)

Meg gave her a knowing look but said nothing, clearly already plotting something to coax her closer. Amber pouted. "But Forte, how will you be a pretty mermaid like the rest of us if you don't go in?"

Mermaids were the fascination of the day, it seemed. Personally, Forte wasn't entirely sure they really existed, even if Frey claimed that she had it on good authority from the salesgirl who sometimes came by that they did. "I suppose I'll just be a sailor or something, then."

Amber's eyes lit up. "You can be a pirate!"

"Yes!" Xiao Pai chimed in, "Forte is a tough pirate captain, who wants to capture the mermaids for herself!"

"I- um-" Forte began, not sure if she approved of the direction this was taking.

"Into the water, everyone, before she captures you!" And with that, the other girls dashed off, leaving Forte standing on the lakeshore. She sighed and found a safe-looking rock to perch on and dangle her feet in the water as she watched her friends splash around. She didn't mind watching, really, and it was a nice day out even if it was a bit hot without dipping in the water to cool off. The heat made her a bit drowsy, enough that she didn't notice one of the "mermaids" approaching her.

At least, she didn't notice until a delicate hand wrapped around her ankle and pulled her right in.

Forte shot up with an undignified shriek, flailing about in the water until she realized that it was shallow enough for her to just stand. "Clorica!"

"I captured the pirate!" Clorica declared with a delighted giggle.

Forte's face was burning, and it had nothing to do with the sun. "I thought I was supposed to be capturing you."

"I've turned the tables," Clorica said. "Now my mermaid magic means that you turn into a mermaid too!"

Forte fought a smile. "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"Is so. I say that's how it works, so it is!" Clorica puffed her cheeks out a bit and Forte laughed.

"Alright, alright. So what do I do now that I'm a mermaid?"

"You come and swim with the rest of us, of course! And we'll see if we can find more pirates to capture."

Forte glanced out towards the center of the lake, where the sandy bottom sloped off into a darker blue. "I don't know..."

"Come on," Clorica implored, dragging out the words. "You'll be the prettiest mermaid, you know."

And there went her face, burning again. 

"You can hold my hand, so you don't get lost in the deep parts of the mysterious ocean." Clorica smiled and held out her hand. After a moment's hesitation, Forte smiled back and took it.

Chapter Text

"It's too hot here," Leon complained, brushing a sweat-damp lock of hair off of his face. He'd gone so far as to put his hair up in a ponytail in an effort to keep it from sticking to his neck and back, but bits kept escaping and plastering themselves to his face.

Xiao Pai wasn't in much better condition, but she'd refrained from complaining as much as Leon had so far. "It seems the heat wave is supposed to last several more days," she said grimly, mopping sweat from her face with a sleeve. Not for the first time, she was thankful for her short haircut and light, loose clothes; she'd run outside several times already today to force pitchers of water onto Forte, who was steadfastly refusing to remove her armor even in the face of such heat.

Leon groaned and flopped pitifully onto the closest futon. It was cooler inside the inn, out of the unrelenting sun, but not by much. "This is it, Xiao Pai," he said theatrically. "This is how I die. Not with a bang, but with sweat gluing me to the furniture."

"You'd better not leave stains, or Mama will tan your hide." Xiao Pai warned him.

"By then, I'll be too far gone to even notice. There will be no more Leon, only the shell of a man who couldn't escape this continent's infernal heat." Leon flung an arm dramatically over his face and promptly found that he didn't have the energy to remove it after the fact.

Xiao Pai snorted. "It seems you'd be better off if you didn't spend so much energy whining."

Leon made a scandalized noise from behind his arm. "Here I am, notifying you of my imminent demise, and you call it whining. That's the kind of respect a dragon priest gets in this day and age. Why, I never."

Xiao Pai rolled her eyes at him and went to open more windows in the hopes that some sort of breeze would form.

When she returned, Leon was propped up against one end of the futon, glass of fruit juice in hand and a thoughtful look on his face. "Well," he said, "at least this heat wave has helped me decide once and for all."

"Decide what?"

"We're definitely having a winter wedding, you and I." He declared, and grinned when she squawked and blushed.

Chapter Text

Dylas did not like Selphia. He didn't like waking up in a strange town without his memories, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. He didn't like when they asked if he was going to participate in whatever inane festival was going to come up next, or what his favorite foods were, or any of the other questions flying at him from people trying to force their companionship on him. He hated it.

He hated constantly feeling lost and lonely and unable to reach out to any of them.

So he hid. He went about whatever daily business was set out for him by the chef, he brushed off any of the questions directed his way, and he went to find a quiet spot to wait out the rest of the day, until night fell and he could go back to his room and sleep and wait to do it all over again. He wasn't happy, certainly, but he wasn't necessarily upset. He just coasted along in a cloud of general discontent.

The bathhouse was pretty nice, if he could arrange so that he was there when no one else was occupying the men's bath. It was relaxing, he could give it that. There was the matter of the owner with her head in the clouds and her clumsy daughter, but neither of them was especially pushy to him, so he could deal with just dropping a few coins onto the counter and going on in.

When he left the bath tonight, things were slightly different. The daughter was there - Xiao? He thought her name was something like that - quietly chopping up a few vegetables at a table off to the side. She smiled when she noticed him. "Good evening, Dylas."

"...Hi."

He noticed the plate of sliced carrots next to the one she was currently preparing and quickly looked away as his mouth began to water. He made to move past her and exit, and was almost to the door when she spoke up again.

"You can't hide forever, you know."

He froze. "...I don't know what you're talking about."

Soft footsteps padded up behind him and he turned, not entirely sure if he was going to tell her off or what, and found her standing there with the plate.

She smiled again, more gently. "It's hard, yes?"

"Wha-"

"Being here alone, not knowing anyone. It seems I went through the same, when Mama and I first got here." She checked to make sure the plate was carefully covered before holding it out. Dylas took it, not knowing what else to do.

"So when you do want to stop hiding, we'll be here, yes?"

Dylas had words. He had a ton of words, always running through his mind whenever someone spoke to him, but he hardly ever was able to bring them out. Now was one of those times, so he just clutched the plate and nodded mutely.

Dylas didn't like Selphia. Not yet.

But he was beginning to think that maybe he could learn to.

Chapter Text

"So if one was to rig the fishing rod like this, rather than the other way, I estimate that the amount of fish caught would be tripled at least." Arthur finished.

"Arthur." Frey didn't look nearly as impressed with his explanation as he thought she ought to. He'd brought out charts and everything!

"Yes? Was I talking too fast? I can go over it again-"

Frey rolled her eyes. "Arthur, I invited you out to the lake so you could get away from work, not so you could bring it with you."

"This isn't work." And Arthur technically wasn't pouting, either, but it was close. "I'm just trying to make things more efficient."

Frey shook her head and went back to her sandwich, but he caught the fondness in the gesture. "I think that when you try to make things efficient they usually just end up more complicated."

"That's not true!" Frey gave him a look. "Okay, it's sometimes true. But progress marches on, and if you don't try to keep up with it you'll get left behind!"

"Okay, but I'm not sure automatic fishing rods are really the wave of the future. People go fishing to relax and to catch something tasty. If you're just trying to get it done as fast as possible, I think you're missing the point."

Arthur had to concede that she probably had a point there, but he rolled his charts up and stowed them safely away even so. They might come in handy some other time.

He accepted the sandwich half that Frey offered and hummed with appreciation after taking a bite. "Did you make this yourself? It's very good."

She beamed. "Yep! I've been practicing."

"It's certainly paid off." And it had; he demolished his sandwich in another few bites.

They sat in comfortable silence for another few minutes, watching the autumn leaves drift down over the lake. Watching Frey pack up what was left of her dishes, something occurred to him.

"You know, the other day I was talking to Porcoline about automated cooking appliances-"

Frey groaned. "Arthur."

"All right, all right." He sat back again and let the silence resume. For another minute, at least. "But think about it, okay?"

Frey gave him a look again before very deliberately taking his hand so that he couldn't whip out any other charts or plans that he might have hidden away somewhere. "I'll think about it."

Chapter Text

Margaret hesitated for only a moment before pushing open the heavy wooden door that opened into the stage. It had been weeks since the escapade she, Frey and Dolce had had in the Obsidian Mansion, but every now and again she felt obligated to come back here, like something was calling her. Dolce had assured them that the spirits which had been stuck there had moved on, but even so, Margaret couldn't shake the feeling.

So, like the handful of times before, she took her place on the stage with her harp, closed her eyes, and began to play.

She remembered Dolce's warning to not open her eyes no matter what she heard while playing, but she no longer kept them closed out of fear. Obsidian Mansion didn't hold any fear for her now, just a sad sense of something like nostalgia, something that might have been an echo of the feelings of those ghosts who had waited and waited for someone to play their song.

When she finished, the last note reverberating around the empty room was interrupted by the sound of enthusiastic applause, punctuated by a slower clapping. Meg started, eyes flying open, and found that her audience of none had become an audience of two while she wasn't paying attention. 

Dolce stopped applauding and folded her hands primly when she saw that Margaret had noticed her and Pico. "We noticed you wandering off this way," she explained before Meg could even ask. "So we followed."

"Dolly was really concerned about you! She said we had to go along to make sure you weren't possessed by something-" Pico cut herself off with a squeak when Dolce kicked her.

"That's nice- wait, there are things in here that can do that!?" Margaret clutched her harp to her chest. Okay, maybe Obsidian Mansion still held some fear for her. But that was a reasonable reaction when one was at risk of possession by spirits, right?

"Probably not," Dolce assured her. "But it's better to be safe. Why are you here?"

"Um..." Wow, it was actually kind of embarrassing when she had to explain it out loud. "I just... felt like I should come and play here?"

Dolce looked her over with an appraising eye. "...The spirits you played for before really are gone, you know."

Margaret sighed and stepped down from the stage. "I believe you. But still, I... it just felt right. I don't know how else to explain it."

Dolce looked at her for another few moments before nodding. "I understand." She fell into step beside Meg as they exited the room. "...You're a very kind girl, Meg."

Margaret blushed. "So are you."

Dolce gave her a hard-to-decipher look before looking away. Margaret thought that she might be blushing as well. "I guess. If that's what you want to think."

Pico giggled. "Dolly and Meggy, sitting in a tree- eep!" Dolce's next kick launched her several feet.

Chapter Text

Trust and openness do not come easily to Arthur, especially around those who bill themselves as servants. Since he was a child, it has been drilled into him that those who serve may care for the crown, and even for him personally to some degree, but that does not necessarily mean they are his friends or confidants. As he grew older, he realized too that they are their own people, with their own lives and concerns and certainly no room for the escapades of a half-forgotten prince.

And then he comes to Selphia on business and meets Volkanon, who destroys obstacles in the road without batting an eye and would surely lay down his life for Ventuswill and Selphia without a thought - out of duty, yes, but also out of love.

He comes to Selphia and meets Porcoline, who opens his home and his heart to all sorts of wayward souls; Frey and Margaret, Dylas and Arthur himself, for no gain other than the joy he claims it brings to him.

He meets Forte, another who would defend Selphia to her last breath, not for what the town stands for but for the people in it. He meets Clorica, whose optimism and easygoing nature put everyone around her at ease, and who is always happy to lend a tidy, if a bit sluggish, hand around his office when needed. He meets Jones and Nancy, keeping the residents on their feet when they can and in bed to rest when necessary. 

He comes to Selphia, and he meets Vishnal.

Vishnal who tries so hard and cheerfully soldiers on even when things blow up in his face, who practically laid himself prostrate at Arthur's feet upon hearing that he was in the presence of royalty and then happily talked Arthur's ear off once he made it clear that he preferred more informality. 

Vishnal, who has no idea what it is he's offering when he insists that he's there if Arthur ever needs someone to confide in. Vishnal, who would surely offer it anyway if he did know, and with twice the sincerity.

Arthur comes to Selphia on business and finds a town brimming with more love and trust than he'd thought it possible for so many people to share, and who so selflessly give him the opportunity to be a part of it.

Arthur comes to Selphia for one reason, and can hardly begin to count the reasons why he stays. He can hardly try to express them, even to himself. But he knows just the person with whom to start.

Chapter Text

Celebrating her birthday was something that Frey had always enjoyed, she knew that much even without her memories intact. Spending the day with friends and receiving their gifts and warm wishes buoyed her spirits no matter the weather or circumstances. And, well, maybe this year felt just a little bit more special because she could spend the day with a certain someone...

A certain someone was hunched forlornly over his kitchen countertop and dejectedly poking at something when Frey peeked into his room. "Vishnal?"

Vishnal jumped and spun around to face her, panic clearly marked across his features as he tried to shield whatever the mess on the counter was from her view. "Ah, Princess, I wasn't expecting you to come by so early, um-"

"It's afternoon already, Vishnal." Frey stepped in, well-used to his sputtering by now. "What's that?"

"Ah..." Vishnal deflated and gave up on trying to keep her from the counter. "It's... well, it was your birthday lunch, but as you can see, it... didn't exactly survive."

Frey surveyed the blackened remnants of what looked like it might have been curry rice once upon a time. Well, the fact that she could even identify it was an improvement over Vishnal's past cooking, wasn't it? Either that, or she was just so used to him by now that she could just guess, and it was exactly the same as before.

"It looks fine. Can I try some?" Okay, "fine" might not have been the most accurate word, but saying as much wouldn't help anything. 

Vishnal looked conflicted. He had spent quite some time trying to prepare a meal for Frey's birthday, and the semi-recognizable lump on the plate was indeed his best result so far. Still... "You probably shouldn't..."

Frey sighed and reached past him. "Come on, it'll be fine."

"Ah, no, really, don't-" His pleas were ineffectual, however, and Frey scooped up a generous forkful and took a bite. Oh, this was terrible. He couldn't even watch.

After a few seconds passed with no sounds of Frey gagging, Vishnal peeked at her through his fingers. "H-how is it...?"

Frey did her best to keep her expression neutral as she chewed, or at least tried to chew. Good grief, she hadn't thought that anyone could possibly make rice taste like burnt rubber, but somehow Vishnal had managed. "It's not bad." It was bad. It was so, so bad, but her boyfriend had made it for her birthday and she was going to eat all of it if it was the last thing she did. And there was a very good chance it might be, frankly.

Vishnal smiled weakly, obviously not buying it for a moment. "Right, well, that's enough then."

"No, no, I'll finish it." Frey snatched the plate away before he could protest and shoveled the rest of the food (could it even be called that?) into her mouth.

The look Vishnal gave her was a mixture of adoration and horror that Frey was quite sure she'd never seen anyone wear before. "...There's a very real possibility that you're going to die now."

"Yeah, well," Frey tried to be nonchalant, "everybody's got to die sometime."

There was a pause as Vishnal halfheartedly rubbed at some stain on the counter. "...Should I go get Jones, then?"

"Yes, please." Her stomach was already cramping.

Vishnal nodded and dashed off.

Chapter Text

The first thing that Doug was aware of when he came to was that he had one hell of a headache. The second thing that he was aware of was that this was not his bed, but one of the beds in the clinic. He rolled onto his side with a soft groan instead of trying to sit up, blinking groggily at Nancy when she hurried to his side.

"What the hell happened?"

Nancy smiled gently. "You had a bit of an accident in the Turnip Fight. Or should I say, Dylas got a little overly enthusiastic."

Of course, Dylas. Doug grumbled. He was going to get Dylas back good for this, for sure.

"Is he alive?" Dylas peered around the screen that kept the beds from the rest of the clinic, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. He quickly reverted to his usual scowl when he saw that Doug was awake. "Well, good. Blossom shouldn't have to run the store all by herself just because some lazy dwarf went and got himself injured."

"Got myself injured?!" Doug snapped, albeit more weakly than he'd have liked thanks to the throbbing in his head. "You tried to kill me!"

"Who'd waste their energy trying to kill you when you could just walk into a monster's mouth without it even noticing?" Dylas scoffed.

"Why, you- come over here and say that!" Doug struggled to sit up before effortlessly being pushed back down by Nancy. Not that he put up much of a fight, what with the turnip-shaped bruise on his head and all. Damn, those turnips were hard. Where did they even get them?

Dylas was unimpressed by his struggles. "Anyway," he added, "we had to interrupt the festival to cart you off here, so you can make a mess of things without even being awake."

Doug made a rude gesture towards him when Nancy turned away for a moment. Dylas returned it before Dolce gave him a look and ushered him out of the clinic.

Nancy laid a cold compress on Doug's head and gave him a conspiratorial grin. "Don't let him fool you," she said. "Dylas was so upset when he hurt you by accident. He was so worried that he skipped the rest of the fight to wait here for you to wake up."

Doug's insides warmed and he looked away from Nancy's knowing smile, muttering about stupid horses. 

He was so getting Dylas back for this.

Chapter Text

"Good..." Clorica interrupted herself with a yawn. "Ah... good morning, Lest! It's time to get up..."

Instead of the usual greeting followed by Lest getting out of bed, she received a reluctant mumble and watched him burrow under the sheets some more. While she could certainly empathize with such a reaction, it was out of the ordinary for Lest.

"Lest?" She leaned over his bedside. "Are you okay?"

"Ugh..." He blinked at her as if just realizing that she was there. "Oh... Sorry, Clorica, I think I've got a cold. Don't get too close, I don't want to get you sick."

She nodded sympathetically. "It's probably okay if you stay in bed then." She thought for a moment (and might have nodded off for another) before adding, "I'll go to the clinic and bring you back some medicine when it's open."

Lest thanked her softly, eyes already sliding shut again. Clorica patted him gently and ambled off to take care of her chores until the clinic opened.

When she returned to Lest's room a couple hours later, he was soundly asleep, cocooned in his blankets. She set the medicine on his bedside table and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Sleep well," she whispered. "Feel better soon." She crept out again, careful not to wake him.

Chapter Text

There's always been just the two of you in the capitol. Not alone, there are always other people around, but you're the only ones of your kind that you've ever known. Your entire lives, you've both been taught just how important the work you do is, what you need to do to ensure that the land of Norad continues to prosper.

When the time comes for this new, most important task, only one of you can go. The other, your other half, must stay and attend to their duties here. 

The two of you embrace before you board the airship.

"Be safe," a soft voice breathes into your ear.

"I will," you promise.

"Come back to me soon."

"Of course."

You glance back to see them as you board.

Just a quick errand. Just another day on the job.

---

You wake up and you don't know who you are.

You try so hard to explain this to the two soldiers in front of you - what do they even want from you? - but then you're falling, falling...

---

The town is called Selphia. Its guardian is named Ventuswill - Venti.

Someday, you will call it home.

Its inhabitants will become your friends, the family you never had. They will fight by your side and you theirs. Their hopes and beliefs will be what sustains you when you think that you cannot go on, and your victory will be their joy as well as your own.

You will meet the love of your life. It's not what you expected, and it's not always easy, but it's worth it in the end.

You will marry. Have a child. Watch them grow along with your little town, reaching out into the world and bringing back its wonders to show you.

You will spend your life here, and whatever it consisted of before Selphia gradually slips away and just doesn't seem as important.

But...

It's just that, every so often, you get the oddest pull in your chest like you've lost something that you treasured.

Chapter Text

Vishnal passed most mornings with only the company of himself - after his wake-up call to Frey, she departed to the fields and he went about his daily chores around the castle and courtyard, Mr. Volkanon was busy with his own duties, and Clorica was either still in bed or going about the motions of her own chores while somehow still sound asleep.

He didn't mind it most of the time, but he did wish on occasion that he had someone else to talk to in order to break the monotony of daily routine. And that was where Margaret came in.

He'd first noticed how early she came by one morning when he was collecting the items from the shipping box behind the castle. He'd stumbled and fallen, sending the items he'd collected scattering acros the ground. His hopes that nobody had witnessed his spectacular wipeout were quickly dashed by the sound of approaching feet, and before he could quite prepare himself for the teasing he expected to receive, Margaret was pulling him up by the back of his coat, brushing him off and babbling about how he had to be more careful, and didn't he know he could get seriously hurt if he didn't pay attention to where he was going?

He hadn't known how to respond beyond stammering out an assurance that he was fine and silently praying that she'd leave him to collect himself - a butler in training should always present his best self to the public (though Vishnal had yet to master that particular skill). She hadn't left. Instead, she'd gathered up the items he'd dropped, tidily deposited them back into his arms, and then made him promise to keep better track of his surroundings before finally taking her leave.

He'd been left standing there, staring after her. He was so consumed with processing exactly what had just happened that he nearly tripped again, over the very same rock that had caused the whole incident in the first place.

It became more noticeable after that; when Vishnal couldn't fully remember the ingredients Volkanon had needed for that night's meal, Margaret chimed in with a suggestion. When he tried to direct the visitors during a particularly crowded festival, she made her way to his side to bring more attention to his instructions. He thought that it ought to make him feel at least a little bit patronized, but... well, it was nice to know that if she didn't yet take him completely seriously, Margaret cared enough to try to help.

So when she left the flower shop one afternoon juggling several precariously-balanced bags of seeds, he was there with an offered hand and a smile. "Please, allow me."

And she did.

Chapter Text

"Excuse me?"

Xiao Pai looked up from the statue she'd been polishing, only to find herself face to face with what was quite possibly the prettiest girl she'd ever seen. For a moment, she was half-convinced that the latest ridiculous rumor she'd heard from Kiel was true, and Selphia was indeed finding itself in the midst of a visit by a fairy princess from a far-off kingdom.

The girl cleared her throat self-consciously and Xiao Pai realized that she'd been staring. "S-sorry," she stammered quickly. "It seems I was lost in thought for a moment. Can I help you? Do you need luggage moved to your room, or did Mama mess up an order again-?" She was babbling. She bit her lip to stop herself, feeling a flush rise in her cheeks.

Somehow, Xiao Pai's nervousness seemed to set her mysterious visitor more at ease. "Actually, I'm not a guest here. I just moved in on the other side of town and Porco suggested that I go around and introduce myself." She smiled and held out a delicate hand. "My name's Margaret."

"Ah!" As always, there was a grain of truth in Kiel's nonsense. Not quite a fairy princess, just a very pretty girl who was coming to work in the restaurant, but Xiao Pai couldn't bring herself to be that disappointed. It wasn't like she'd really been expecting a fairy to come hanging around, anyway. She grasped Margaret's offered hand and shook enthusiastically. "My name is Xiao Pai. My Mama and I run the hotel and the baths, so stop by any time you feel like you need relaxing, yes?"

Margaret's smile brightened, if that was possible. "That sounds lovely. I'll be sure to come over soon!"

Xiao Pai smiled back. "I'm looking forward then."

Margaret took a moment to decipher that. "To seeing me, you mean?"

"Yes..." Xiao Pai toyed with her sleeve, still blushing somewhat. "It seems that I don't always speak in the best way, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize! Actually, it's kind of cute!" Margaret was suddenly frantic, taking her aback.

Xiao Pai just let out a little self-conscious laugh. Oh dear. Beautiful and nice? Oh, she was in trouble. "It's okay, yes?"

"Yes." Margaret agreed, even though she didn't seem to be quite sure of what she was agreeing to. "A-anyway... I should get going now. But I'll come back by this evening, after I've gotten settled into my house."

"We'll have the baths all ready for you by then," Xiao Pai affirmed.

Margaret smiled. "Then... I'll be looking forward?"

This time Xiao Pai laughed for real. "I'm glad. Welcome to Selphia, Margaret."

Chapter Text

"You know," Dolce said, tone almost conversational for once, "the best way to pass a stormy evening is to tell ghost stories."

Kiel nodded thoughtfully. "Do you know any good ones?"

Dolce smiled, though it was really more of a smirk. A shiver went down Kiel's spine. "Of course I do. Sit down, and listen carefully..."

By the time she finished her tale, it was fully dark outside and the rain had not abated. Kiel wasn't feeling especially keen on walking back to his house in the dark after the story he'd just been told, but thankfully Dolce offered to walk with him so that he didn't have to ask. And if he jumped and grabbed her hand a bit too tightly when he thought he heard a strange noise, she didn't complain.

"Don't forget your medicines." She handed him a cloth-wrapped bundle that she'd been carefully shielding from the rain.

"Thanks! And thanks for your story, too. Even though Forte's probably gonna hate it when I tell her."

He couldn't be completely sure, but he could have sworn that he heard Dolce giggle before she slipped back out into the rainy night.

Chapter Text

Please be kind to Dolly. She'd like to make more friends.

Those are the words that Xiao Pai finds scribbled on the wall when she bends down to pick up the shattered pieces of the plate she'd just dropped. They're scrawled low to the ground, where nobody else would see if they weren't leaning over like she is - almost as if whoever left them knew it would be only her seeing them.

She wonders if anybody else in town has gotten messages like this, to go along with the strangely-complimentary graffiti on the shops, but then it doesn't really matter if they have, does it? She has been given a message and it's not like she can just ignore it.

It's not an easy message to follow. Dolce is not outright harsh to anyone but Pico, but she quietly and coolly rebuffs any attempts to get closer. Xiao Pai is nothing if not persistent, however, in both work and her personal life, and she's not about to let anyone in town feel isolated whether they impose it on themselves or not.

The bouncy scrawl that she finds on the inside door of the women's bath is what cements her decision:

Dolly likes you too - she's just shy. Don't give up!

Chapter Text

There were a few select things that Doug could not stand. Bread, people making fun of his height, Dylas on days that ended in "Y". He especially didn't care for winter, because he absolutely hated being cold. Having to drag himself out of bed and trudge downstairs into the drafty store to mind the front counter was not his idea of a good time, but he was careful to never complain in front of Blossom - if she didn't scold him for it, she'd probably insist that she take over all the work herself in winter.

Still, not complaining didn't stop him from shivering or his teeth from chattering whenever someone opened the front door of the shop and let in a burst of cold air and snow flurries. He huddled down, for once not caring too much if it made him look shorter, and wistfully thought of the hour ahead when the store would close and he could slip off to soak in a gloriously hot bath.

He hunched down further as the door flew open again, but was caught off-guard by the odd figure in the doorway. It took a moment to realize that it was only Amber, bundled head to toe in brightly-colored knitting. Doug wasn't normally one to think too much about color coordination and the like, but damn. She must have grabbed the first yarn she saw for each piece and not stopped until another color caught her eye.

"Hi D-d-d-Doug!" Amber was chipper as ever, despite the violent shivers the cold was inflicting on her.

"Hey," he mumbled, trying to keep as much of himself behind the counter as possible to block the wind she was letting in. "Mind closing the door? It's freezing in here."

Amber nodded, or at least he thought she did - it could have been the shivers still. After closing the door, she stood there for a minute, shaking the snow off of her clothes and tugging her scarf down to reveal more of her face. "I'm here for the vegetables Ellie wanted!"

"Mhmm," Doug said absently, checking through the shipping orders on the counter. As he bent down to retrieve the bundles she needed, he glanced over her knit set again. "...You make all that yourself?" 

"Yep! Xiao Pai and I are practicing together."

Well that explained it. "Looks warm," was the most complimentary thing that Doug could think to say in response.

Amber smiled brightly. "It is! The cold still gets in some, but it's a lot better than if I didn't have it."

"I bet." Doug set the basket of vegetables on the counter for her. "You sure you're okay taking this back by yourself?"

"I'll be fine, I'm just heading back to Ellie's." She paused and looked him over. "Are you okay just standing around in here? It's pretty cold in this old building..."

He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "It sucks, yeah, but I'm okay."

Amber didn't look convinced, gnawing on the edge of one of her mittens before her expression brightened. "Here, take this!"

Before he could ask what she meant, she'd unwound the scarf from her neck and draped it over him. The clashing pink and orange was so bright up close that it actually sort of hurt his eyes, but she wasn't kidding about it being warm.

"Hey, wait don't you need-"

"I have more! Don't worry about it. Keep it, actually." She smiled. "Just until I make you a better one, okay?"

"O-okay." He stammered, and it had nothing to do with his teeth chattering this time.

Chapter Text

Leon has been asleep for centuries. He knows this as soon as he reaches the town where Ventuswill now dwells. He sees it in the buildings, the clothes, feels it in the very air.

Times may change the looks of things, but people in their essence don't change as much as they think they do. They're still as intriguing and entertaining as they ever were - all it takes is one simple quip to reassure Leon of that.

As the castle's butler snaps into a rigid pose - must be some defense mechanism for when he's startled, Leon thinks to himself, and resolves to test the extent of it later - and begins stammering something about how Leon can't talk to the Earthmate like that, he is a Prince...

Leon grins. He might have a lot to learn about the world that changed so much in his absence, but he can tell that he certainly won't be bored.

Chapter Text

Dear Maria,

It's me, Leon. I know that this letter is long overdue, but I have a hope that it will reach you somehow...

Leon frowned down at the paper on his desk before abruptly crumpling it and tossing it into the growing pile in the corner. "Still not coming out right..." He selected a fresh sheet and smoothed it down before dipping his pen in the ink and starting again.

Dear Maria-

"Leon?"

He looked up to see Kiel peering through his doorway. "Oh, are you busy?"

"A bit, yes, but did you need something?" He carefully laid his arm over the paper to conceal the words as Kiel wandered over.

"Not really. Forte made some extra sashimi tonight and I thought you might want some. It's rainbow trout." Kiel set the covered dish off to the side. "What're you writing? A love letter or something?" His lips quirked up mischievously, but Leon returned the smile in kind.

"Hmm... is that the sort of message you'd want to receive from me, then?"

Kiel flushed. "Wha- why would you think that?" He stammered, too quickly.

Leon's grin widened. "Isn't that why it was the first thing you thought of?"

Kiel huffed and crossed his arms. "I just came here to give you a gift, and you're making fun of me."

"You started it." Leon turned back to his writing with a chuckle. "In any case, no. Just a message for an old friend."

"Ah..." Kiel's expression softened with understanding. "Got it. I'll leave you alone then. Don't forget to eat, though."

Leon nodded absently, chewing on the tip of his pen. "Oh, and Kiel?"

Kiel turned in the doorway. "Yeah?"

Leon's smile returned. "If you do want a love letter, all you have to do is ask."

Kiel was still bright red when he made it back home, much to Forte's confusion.

Chapter Text

Doug's mouth had a habit of getting him in trouble, whether it was with Granny Blossom, Forte, or even Dylas. In more recent times though, it was other people's mouths that had been getting him in trouble. Leon's, for example.

Case in point, today. Doug was on a mission. He'd been slaving away at Bado's crafting table for days on end, even resorting to begging Dylas for help rehearsing, and now he just needed one last piece of advice. Just one last thing needed to right, and then he'd be ready.

So, naturally, everything went straight to hell.

He and Leon had just been getting the conversation going when Lest came strolling in. Normally, Doug was pleased to see him, but right this minute he needed Lest to be anywhere but here, overhearing this discussion.

Lest did not hear his silent pleas. "Hey guys! What are you talking about?"

Doug shot Leon a panicked glance, knowing that he was better at thinking on his feet and could deliver a plausible explanation.

And boy, did he ever deliver.

"Oh, we were just discussing Doug's sex life."

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Lest's smile froze in place for a fraction of a second before it reshaped itself into a grimace. Doug had just enough time to accept the fact that he would be spending his last moments cursing Leon's name, and found it somehow fitting.

"Doug," Lest's voice was dripping with false cheer.

"Um."

"Can you come over here a moment? I want to talk to you privately."

He hung his head and shuffled over like a scolded dog, whisper-yelling explanations that sounded flimsy even to him. "It's not what you think."

Lest glared. "What sort of things have you been going around telling people!?"

"I haven't been telling anyone anything about our sex life! I mean, our... not-sex life. Or, uh..." He scrambled for something, anything, to lead him out of the hole that he was rapidly digging himself into.

"I know that you like to brag and all, but you can't just go around making things up-"

"What's that supposed to mean!? I don't brag-"

"-reputation as a Prince to keep up, and that might not mean much to you, but-"

"-you're not even listening-"

"-and you know that you have to be careful of what you say around here even if-"

"Will you shut up for half a second and listen!?" Oh. Oh no, he shouldn't have done that. Mistake or not, he'd just gone and yelled right in Lest's face, and he could see the mix of anger and hurt bubbling up and oh god he was such an idiot-

Say something. Anything, quickly, before the situation gets even worse. (If Doug made it out of this alive, Leon was so, so dead.)

Lest sucked in a breath. "You-"

"Marry me."

Lest froze with his mouth open, whatever words he'd been about to say dying in his throat. Leon was staring. Doug would have liked to smack him and say that he had no right to look so taken aback, since this whole thing was pretty much his fault.

"...What?" Lest eventually forced out.

Doug fumbled in his pockets and finally managed to produce the proper ring. Dammit, this was all out of order but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Marry me."

"Like... right now, or...?"

"Sure! Right now! Leon's a priest, he can do the ceremony right here in the store!" Doug was babbling now, grabbing for Lest's hand to slide the ring on despite not having received a real response from him.

"Ah..." Leon had half a mind to point out that he wasn't that sort of priest. On the other hand, this was probably the greatest thing he'd ever witnessed and he absolutely had to see it through to its conclusion now.

"I- Well, I mean..." Lest blinked at Doug owlishly. "I... okay?"

"Okay," Doug echoed, not really comprehending.

"That means yes, you dolt," Leon stage-whispered to him.

Doug whipped around to glare at him. "Shut up. You're not even getting a gift ring now, because you started this whole mess when you opened your big fat mouth."

"Doug," Lest started, but he was grinning like a fool now and couldn't even make his tone scolding and Doug was trying to stay mad at Leon, he really was, but he couldn't stop himself from grinning back.

"Now," Leon continued, once they'd had their moment, "about that ceremony."

Chapter Text

The roads out of Selphia lead to many places. Some are mysterious, some are dangerous, and a few are even considered romantic. All are better traveled with a companion than alone, for both safety and enjoyment.

Somehow, Dolce and Leon fall into a routine. They meet at Selphia's gates and pick a road, and then they walk. Some walks are eventful, some quiet, some surprising, but none could be considered dull. It's hard to find the world dull when it's changed so much from the last time you saw it.

One day, they find themselves traveling near the Autumn Road, but rather than continue down it, Dolce takes a detour, knowing that Leon will follow in his curiosity. When they reach the mansion, he expects her to go in, but she just stands and runs her hand over the wrought-iron gate.

"Lots of people lived here, even after I became a Guardian," she says finally. "But I think maybe I made the place go bad."

"I doubt it. This spot was always troublesome. If anything, the building and your energy helped to concentrate it here and keep it from spreading."

She glances at him sidelong to see if he's just lying to reassure her, but even if he is his expression doesn't betray it. She folds her hands again. "At any rate, I don't suppose Pico hanging around for centuries made things any easier on the residents."

Leon smiles. "What a dedicated friend."

"What a stalker, you mean."

"I said what I meant."

Dolce shakes her head and turns away from the gate. "All my other friends from that time are gone, though." It's unusual for her to say it so plainly, and Leon finds his gaze drawn further west, where the outline of the tower is just visible.

"Do you ever wonder?" Dolce asks, after a prolonged silence. "What it was like for everyone after you... went away?"

"Every day."

But his hand finds hers and entwines their fingers, and the loneliness isn't quite so bad then.

Chapter Text

"Hold still now," Dolce murmured, sticking another pin through the fabric on Vishnal's collar. Vishnal would have nodded, but that would almost certainly have ended up with him getting jabbed and of course went against Dolce's instructions anyway, so he just hummed affirmation. He was, as Dolce had told him not long ago, an excellent model for her to work off of when someone needed a new outfit. The fact that the outfit he was modeling was meant for Pico only dampened his enthusiasm somewhat.

He'd asked, once, why she didn't get one of the girls to model for her instead, but she'd just given him a frigid look (which itself seemed to be masking something else...).

When he'd tried again at a later date, she'd just ducked down to adjust the lace on the bodice and mumbled, "Maybe I just enjoy your company. Does that satisfy you?"

And, well. Who was he to argue with that?

Chapter Text

"Forte!" Amber's cheerful voice sang out from the front of Forte and Kiel's house. Forte turned in surprise, halfway through strapping on her sword.

"Amber? Did you need something? It's quite early."

Amber took that as invitation to come in, smiling. "I just wanted to catch you before you left for patrol. I heard that you guys are going to have to take care of some dangerous monsters today."

Forte smiled back gently. "That's true, but we outnumber them. Besides, all of us have trained for situations like this."

"Still..." Amber scuffed the toe of her shoe against the floor. "Hey, can you bend down a little?"

Forte raised her eyebrows, but did as she was asked. Amber flashed her another bright smile before raising up onto her tiptoes and planting a kiss directly on Forte's forehead.

"Ah-" Forte felt herself blushing and straightened up. "What was that for, exactly?"

"Ellie told me that it's a good luck charm! To make sure that you always come home safe." She clasped her hands behind her back. "So... make sure you do, okay?"

Forte covered her face with one hand to try and conceal her blush, despite the fact that Amber had surely already seen it. "Of course I will. You stay safe as well."

"Okay! We'll all be waiting here for you!"

The monsters did turn out to be a little troublesome that day, but Forte managed to not get too scratched up. She thought to herself that it could have been skill, but it just as easily could have been a little extra luck.

Chapter Text

Xiao Pai wasn't quite as fond of Beach Day as she was of other holidays. It always made her a little sad to think that all the spring flowers would be going away soon, and of course... the swimsuits. Not only Mama, but Margaret, Forte... so many stunning ladies in their beachwear, being whistled at by tourists, and then there was her, trying to hide herself away from view at the back of the crowd so that she wouldn't repeat that one humiliating incident when some well-meaning visitor had asked if she was a lost child. Even thinking about it now made her face burn.

Even with all of that, she could probably better psych herself up for it if people could just stop reminding her.

"Ready for Beach Day tomorrow?" Doug asked with his typical grin as he exited the bath. It was all she could do to stop herself from sighing.

"It seems it will be quite the spectacle again this year."

Doug stopped, one hand planted on his hip. "What's the matter? Still haven't got your swimsuit picked out or something?"

Xiao Pai gave him a flat look. "That is not the cause of my unhappiness, I'm sure you know."

He smiled in what she assumed was meant to be a reassuring way. "Hey, don't sweat it. It's just a day to have fun, you know?"

"I know why we have festivals, yes." It wasn't that she meant to be harsh, but honestly, she was just so tired of people telling her to enjoy her least favorite holiday. 

"Well..." Doug looked to be struggling to find something else helpful to say, but came up blank, as she expected. "Try not to worry too much, okay?"

Xiao Pai just shrugged and went back to work, quietly counting down the hours until her yearly ordeal started once again.

The next morning arrived far too soon, but she put on a smile for her mother and friends and slipped into her swimsuit. She could already hear some of the catcalls as she approached the lake, as well as Margaret already scolding some tourist who had gotten a little too eager. She didn't bother to hold back her sigh this time. Maybe she could get away with only staying for-

A sharp whistle cut across the beach as she emerged into view, startling her and causing several of the people milling around to turn and look. Xiao Pai turned to look as well, but failed to spot a girl near her who must be the recipient of the attention.

Instead, there was a whoop as Doug splashed his way up onto the sand. "There she is, everybody! Most beautiful girl in Selphia, right here!"

Her face was instantly on fire, but shockingly, nobody laughed. Meg and the other girls joined in Doug's cheering for a bit and ushered her over into their circle, and then the spectacle died down and everyone went back to their business, just as if it had been one of the other girls getting attention.

"Which one of you told him to do that?" She demanded of her friends, but either nobody was forthcoming, or Doug had indeed thought up the whole thing himself. It seemed like him, she thought.

She made sure to splash him a little extra throughout the afternoon, but she smiled through the whole thing and even mostly meant it.

As the sun began to finally descend from the sky and the fireflies dotted it instead, Doug plopped down onto the sand next to her. "Hey... sorry if I embarrassed you this morning. But, uh..." He scratched the back of his head, and Xiao Pai couldn't quite tell if he'd gotten a bit sunburned or if he was blushing. "You look nice today. Real nice."

She turned her face away, but only because she was trying not to smile too widely.

Chapter Text

Margaret was just beginning to drift off to sleep when a voice seemed to float through her open window with some odd melody. She tried to brush it off as her imagination, but it was getting closer, like someone was walking up the road to her house. Curiously, she slid out of bed and went to peer out the window.

There was indeed a figure making its way up the road, and she felt a flash of apprehension before she recognized Leon's familiar form. The song he was absently reciting preceded him, a faintly lilting tune with words in a language Meg didn't recognize. She leaned against the windowsill to watch him, her fingers beginning to tap out a rhythm on the wood to go along with Leon's song.

He didn't seem to have any real aim as he walked, one hand trailing the rail along the walkway. It would be just like him, she thought, to go wandering around at night for no reason other than because it amused him to do so.

"Leon," she called out softly when he was within earshot.

Leon started, clearly not expecting to encounter anyone. Meg gave him a short wave before moving away from the window to step outside. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he returned. "Do you often watch people through your window at night?"

Margaret huffed. "Of course not!"

Leon chuckled. "...Did I wake you?"

She shook her head. "I wasn't asleep yet. Could you not sleep either?"

"Something like that." They lapsed into silence and Meg hugged herself, trying not to shiver in her nightgown. Leon fanned himself idly, looking thoughtful rather than as if he was really trying to cool himself.

"Something bothering you?" She ventured.

"Did I embarrass you in the restaurant today?"

"Ah..." Margaret felt her face warm as she recalled. "It wasn't you, really. I just, that song... I wrote it ages ago over some silly crush. I don't know how it got out, probably in some old stuff I gave away, but..."

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intent to insult you."

She sighed, tempted to brush a reassuring hand over his arm. "I'm not mad. You know how it is, with old things you're not especially proud of anymore."

Leon nodded. "I do."

She did reach up to brush her hand over his arm then, casual contact with a touch of fondness in it. "Did you come all the way over here to apologize?"

"I was just wandering, as you said, but I'm glad that I had the opportunity to clear the air." He seemed to hesitate for a moment before laying his hand over hers and squeezing briefly. "I do want things to be good between us. Between me and everyone in this town."

"They are," she assured him, and meant it. "No one's stopped being friends with me even though I'm bossy all the time."

"Hmm..." Leon's lips quirked up. "Not all the time. Only most."

Margaret rolled her eyes and swatted his arm, and he laughed. It echoed slightly off of the empty street and quiet houses.

"Hey, Leon," she started again after a few more minutes of quiet. "What was that you were singing before?"

He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Just some old tune from my time. It's part of a performance, actually. A story about a man who built a ladder to reach the sky, because he promised his true love that he'd bring her a star."

"Oh..." Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't that. She had half a mind to tease him for something so sentimental. Instead she asked, "Did he succeed?"

"No. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach any of the stars to bring one down to her. But when he came back down the ladder, his true love said that he had brought them back in his eyes and in his smile, and that was all she had ever really wanted."

Margaret smiled. "And they lived happily ever after?"

"They did," Leon confirmed.

"I wonder if I could find a copy of that score..." she mused aloud.

"There might be some still around. It was quite popular." Leon glanced over at her and his gaze seemed to linger. "I could try to find one for you."

And maybe, just maybe, there was something in his eyes and in his smile that made her heart beat faster. "I'd like that."

Chapter Text

Selphia always looked very much the part of the winter wonderland when Christmas rolled around. Clorica, unfortunately, had a love-hate relationship with the season. She loved how pretty the snow was, but she hated being damp and cold. She loved baking cookies and making wishes on stars, but she hated that the recipient of her best gifts and wishes never seemed to truly get her feelings.

She hated the snowstorms and the howling, icy wind at night. But she loved being able to snuggle up to Frey with a hot mug of tea, even if Frey only ever took it as friendly contact.

Tonight, the chill outside seemed determined to sneak through every crevice in the castle's stonework, and Frey had produced an extra blanket for the two of them as they sat and laughed and exchanged stories about their day. Frey had similar feelings to Clorica's about the winter season. She loved tasty, hardy winter veggies but hated how they sometimes seemed determined to not grow for her. She loved the festivals and the well-wishes of her fellow villagers, but she hated how even now, she always felt just a tiny bit like an interloper on Selphia's celebrations.

Frey hated the long, cold nights when she felt small and alone and lost, even though she knew that she had friends and loved ones here. But she loved that should she feel the need, she could always slip out of bed and find Clorica, and they could curl up under a blanket together and talk softly about anything and everything.

She wasn't sure how her feelings towards Clorica were changing, or if they were really changing at all. But Clorica's company kept her warm deep down, when she needed it the most, and she loved that.

Chapter Text

This was it. The final battle, the make-or-break moment, the place where they absolutely had to make their last stand against the Sechs.

This was it, and Arthur was losing control of the airship.

He couldn't hear anything over the roaring wind, his own words snatched away by the gale as soon as he opened his mouth to try and warn Doug to get down. All he could do was plant his feet and struggle against the wheel of the ship as it began to flounder from the damage inflicted by the possessed Ventuswill, and pray for Frey as she fought for all of them.

"Arthur!" Doug was trying to stand and make his way over. Not willing to take his hands away from the wheel, Arthur could only try to discourage him with a sharp jerk of his head.

"Get down, get down, you have to brace yourself-" A chunk of debris tore itself loose from the ship and both of them flattened themselves as much as they could to avoid it. Arthur knew he was no longer in control; there was nothing he could do now but hold on. "We're going down, I'm sorry-"

Doug's hands closed over his, helping to wrench the wheel back into position. For a moment, all he could hear was the howling of the wind, Doug panting in his ear, and something far-off that might have been a dragon's roar. "Doug-"

"It's okay." Doug's voice shook, but his grip was firm. "It's okay. I've got you, alright?"

Arthur swallowed thickly and nodded jerkily. "We have to... we need to land. I don't know if we can make it back to Selphia-"

"We can make it." Doug interrupted. He didn't sound as confident as he probably wanted to.

"We can try, at least."

Somewhere above them, light burst from the Floating Empire. The wind rose to an unbearable screech, then fell silent so suddenly that it left a ringing echo in their ears. No longer having to struggle against it, the ship banked sharply for a moment as they scrambled to correct their steering.

Arthur's heart was beating so hard and fast that he thought he might be sick, but he was in control again, somehow. Their progress was unsteady, but gradually, they guided the airship into the dock. It took a bit of effort to make his hands unclench from the steering wheel.

The two of them just stood there for a long moment, silent save for their labored breathing. Doug began to laugh, slowly and uncertainly at first before breaking into a full-blown fit and nearly doubling over.

"Holy shit, we're alive! Frey fucking did it!"

"Doug," Arthur began, intending to scold his language despite his own thoughts being exactly along those lines. He couldn't keep his own relieved laughter from bubbling up. "We're alive," he agreed, grinning.

He meant to say something else, thank Doug for his bravery or congratulate him, but all thoughts were chased from his head as Doug grabbed Arthur's face in both hands and kissed him firmly. "Thought I'd die before I got to do that," he said, still grinning crookedly as he started to pull away.

Anything else he might have said was muffled as Arthur kissed him back.

Chapter Text

"Arthur?" Arthur snapped to attention at the soft voice behind him. He quickly turned to face Clorica, trying to hide how flustered he was at being caught staring off into space like that.

"Yes?"

Clorica held out a worn, battered pair of glasses. "Are these what you were looking for?"

It took Arthur longer than he cared to admit to fully process, but as soon as he did his attention zeroed in on the glasses and nothing else. "Yes! Yes, they are, where did you find them?" As much as he wanted to snatch the pair away from Clorica and cling to them, he made himself take them carefully.

"On the shelf, in your office. They were behind some others."

"Ah..." They must have gotten lost in the shuffle when he was rearranging things. That was embarrassing, getting thrown into a panic over something so small, but his distress at the thought of losing these glasses was very real.

Clorica smiled gently. "Are they your favorite pair, then?"

Arthur managed a small smile of his own. "You could say that. It's a long story."

"Hmm..." Clorica folded her hands primly. "I've got time this afternoon. We could have tea...?"

Arthur glanced away from her for a moment, finding his reflection in one cracked lens of the glasses in his hands. "We could," he said finally. "I'll order some cakes from Porcoline if you bring some of Mr. Volkanon's tea?"

Clorica's smile brightened. "Of course! I'll be waiting to hear your story, then." And she ambled off back to the castle.

Arthur spent most of the time between then and her arrival at his office later on looking at the glasses and contemplating.

Chapter Text

Lest paused outside the entrance to the central room of the Water Ruins to look back at Forte. "I don't know what kind of monster is in there," he said. "I know you can handle yourself, but still be careful, okay?"

Forte nodded, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword. "Of course. Don't forget that my first priority is your safety, though."

"Right." Lest worried his lower lip for a moment before taking a deep breath. "All right. Let's see what it is."

As soon as they entered the chamber, the enormous horse-like monster waiting within let out a deafening roar. Lest was sure he could feel the entire structure of the ruins rattling around them as he and Forte jumped into the fray. To his dismay, Lest found that not only was the horse strong, it was fast. He could barely get out of the way of most of its charges, to say nothing of the lightning magic. He risked a glance over at Forte when he could, but her concentration seemed to be wholly on the fight, with no hint of a struggle to keep up.

Finally, they dealt the last blow and the monster toppled onto its side. Lest breathed a sigh of relief, moving closer to see if it would drop anything. "I guess that wasn't so-"

He was cut off abruptly as the horse surged back to his feet and struck him head-on; it had been faking. With his guard down, Lest took the full brunt of the attack and was thrown backwards, his head spinning.

Damn it, no, Forte... Lest's thoughts were jumbled as he tried to get back to his feet and find his sword, but the breath had been knocked out of him. The monster was-

"Lest!" Forte's voice cut across the chamber as sharply as her sword. The last thing he saw before his vision blacked out was the monster bearing down on her.

He came to just moments later, but it seemed an eternity. Forte was kneeling over him, looking stricken. "Forte," he tried to say, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate and it all came out in a jumble.

Forte rested her hand on his forehead. "Easy. It's taken care of now. Take a minute to recover." Lest glanced past her and could see the form of a person collapsed on the stone floor.

"Forte, you..."

"I said it's taken care of." Her worried expression hardened somewhat, but the concern was still just underneath the surface.

Lest smiled weakly. "Okay." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the floor again, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

(He wasn't entirely sure if it was dizziness from the monster's attack, or from Forte being so close.)

Chapter Text

Forte was no stranger to Selphia's clinic. It had seemed that she was there every other day during her childhood for one reason or another, and even now she paid visits every so often, though it was usually to pick up her own medicines rather than to be treated for anything. Despite this familiarity, she didn't have an excessive fondness for the clinic. She didn't hate it, of course, but it generally wasn't the first place she'd choose to go on her own time.

Knowing all this, then, would lead one to wonder just why she was trudging through the snow that had piled up on the streets to the clinic's front door.

The door opened just as she was raising her hand to knock, as if someone inside had been watching her approach. Dolce's expression betrayed nothing, but Pico was bouncing around as energetically as ever, her smile knowing. (She's not a ghost, Forte stubbornly reminded herself, she's just half-transparent. And floating. Everyone had their quirks, Pico could be afforded hers.)

"Come in, dry off." Dolce stepped back to allow Forte entrance. "I've got some hot chocolate ready, if you'd be interested."

Forte brightened. "Of course." She removed the outer pieces of her armor, stretching and groaning softly as the warmth of the clinic sank into her damp clothes. "Did I keep you waiting?"

"Not long." Dolce lead the way upstairs to where the table was set with steaming mugs of hot chocolate and the knitting supplies were prepared.

"Dolly started preparing everything early, so you wouldn't have to wait once you got here!" Pico chimed in with a giggle. Dolce gave her a stony look but did not deny it. Instead, she simply took her seat, had a sip of her drink, and picked up the knitting needles.

Forte followed suit. The scarf she was making wasn't nearly as neat and polished as Dolce's, but Dolce had assured her that she was making admirable progress for a novice over the past few weeks. At any rate, it certainly looked soft and warm, and the white and muted purple were appealing to the eye.

They worked in comfortable silence, neither wanting or needing to make idle chatter. Pico hovered around, occasionally "trying on" the different pieces of clothing left around. Forte didn't bother to hide her smile when the pattern of her scarf appeared around Pico's neck as she twirled around.

"If it fits Pico, you shouldn't need to add much more length to fit Kiel," Dolce remarked.

"Oh, um," Forte said, hands stilling on her knitting needles. "It's not for Kiel, actually. I'm planning on getting him some new books for Christmas."

"Oh?" Dolce's eyebrows rose, the only indication of her surprise.

"Yeah, it's for... someone else." Forte finished lamely, knowing that heat was rising in her cheeks and hoping she could blame it on the warmth of the room.

"Well. They'll be very lucky to receive it from you, then. It's a good first effort." With that, Dolce returned her attention back to her own knitting.

Forte smiled with a bit more effort this time. "I hope you continue to think so."

Dolce glanced back up at her, meeting her eyes for just a moment before dropping back to her work. The silence was a little less comfortable after that, but somehow more exciting.

Chapter Text

It isn't until Leon opens his eyes again that he realizes just how much he'd expected to never wake up.

Everything is too bright, too alien, as he sits up and looks around in confusion. And then he sees her - really sees her, brighter and more brilliant than the Forest of Beginnings around them, and she smiles.

"I'm an Earthmate, Leon," she says as if that's an explanation - as if that's really going to be the most burning question he has right now. Before he can respond, she throws the ring to him. "Tell Venti I'm sorry that I couldn't keep my promise, okay?"

"You-" But the Homing Ring activates and the Forest is gone and the Earthmate with it, and Leon finds himself outside the tower without even knowing what he was going to say.

Everything is too much of a shock, and for a while he thinks he might just lay on the ground forever, because he had forgotten what the earth felt like. When he finally gets to his feet, all he has to do is glance around to confirm that everything has changed far beyond his wildest dreams in the time that he was asleep. Anything passingly familiar is still grown over and worn down from the centuries that passed, but he can still feel Venti just as well as he always could, and he only needs that pull to find his way back to her.

Seeing the town is another shock, but there are more pressing things on Leon's mind. He nearly stumbles when he reaches the castle, and he thinks that if Ventuswill had knees to fall to, she would react much in the same way upon seeing him.

The smile on his face is more real than any he can ever remember. "You've grown, Venti." Everything is blurring, and for a moment he thinks that it's some side-effect from waking up or the Homing Ring before he realizes that his eyes are damp. There is so much more he wants - needs - to say, but right now she needs to know the situation. "I don't know exactly what happened in the Forest of Beginnings, but it seems the Earthmate chose to stay behind."

Venti rears up, shock, aggravation, and something almost like fondness passing over her face in a matter of seconds. "That Frey," she mutters. "What a self-sacrificing idiot. Did she really think I'd just let her pull something like that!?" She is already spreading her wings, the both of them knowing exactly what she is going to do.

"Frey, hm? Is she the one that you've appointed to be your priest in this era, then?"

Ventuswill snorts. "Please, I abolished that troublesome position ages ago. Frey is a friend. Nothing more, nothing less." And more than anything else, they both know that's what Venti really needed. She spreads her wings to their full reach and takes off, spiraling up through the open ceiling and into the vivid blue of the sky.

Leon watches her go. There is nothing for him to do now but wait for her return, and after all the waiting she did for him, he can't begrudge her that. He thinks back to the vision of the Earthmate and what a blaze of glory she was, and how that same light is shining in Venti again after so long.

"Frey," he says to himself, softly.

And he smiles.

Chapter Text

Illuminata glanced up with a smile as the bell over the flower shop's front door jingled and Margaret strode in, making her way up to the front counter with a look of purpose. "Hey Meg, what's-"

The slap cut her off.

In the shocked silence that followed, the only sound was that of her monocle spinning comically on the floor, where it had landed after flying off her face. Margaret looked almost as stunned with herself as Illuminata felt at the moment, cradling her stinging cheek.

"Meg, what on earth-"

"That's for the other day." Meg cut her off again, this time with words. "For Amber."

"Amber...?" Oh. Oh, so that's what this was about.

"Listen," Margaret said quickly, before she could try to explain herself. "I know what happened. I know she was wrong to take things from the shop without asking or paying. But she's not a child, and she's certainly not your child, elf or human or anything else. And- and Amber's delicate, you know, y-you can't just go around-"

"Meg." Illuminata was the one to interrupt this time, her tone gentle.

Meg's breathing was uneven, as it frequently got when she was trying to speak through a rush of emotion. Illuminata took the chance to walk around the counter and, after a moment's hesitation, embraced her. There was silence again for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Illuminata said finally.

"Don't apologize to me," Margaret muttered.

"I'll apologize to Amber too, when she's here." Illuminata ran a hand through Meg's hair, sighing. "I'm old, okay? I forget that things aren't the way they used to be, and that humans do things differently." She rested her cheek on the top of Meg's head. "I was wrong to get so angry."

After another few moments, Margaret hugged her back. Illuminata smiled, letting her linger for a minute before pulling away. "There we go. Better?"

"Yeah." Margaret fiddled with one of her hair ribbons.

"I'll apologize to Amber," Illuminata said again to reassure her. Her smile turned mischievous. "And then you have to go confess your feelings to her, okay?"

"What!?" Margaret squawked, turning red. Illuminata laughed; she already knew how this case was going to end.

Chapter Text

Clorica often completed her chores while completely asleep, but some days she was in just as much of a daze while awake. She floated through her duties, lost to the outside world; the only signs that she wasn't just in some kind of trance were the small smiles and giggles, and the occasional blush as something particular crossed her mind. Vishnal and Volkanon had long ago given up on trying to disturb her when she got like this. Now, they just gave smiles of their own and went on their way, Volkanon occasionally giving Clorica's shoulder a gentle, understanding pat.

It was no secret to anyone that Kiel frequently got lost in thought, even when he didn't have his face buried in a book. Sometimes, Forte found him just sitting against his bedroom window, smiling vaguely as he gazed into the distance towards the castle. She'd been trying to convince herself for years that Kiel's tendencies to drift off weren't cause for serious concern, but lately things had been different. He seemed almost giddy now, when he got lost in his daydreams.

When Kiel and Clorica passed each other in the town square one day, both lost in their thoughts as usual, there was a collision. Well, more like a slight bump, but it was enough.

A brush of hands, an instant of eye contact.

The moment lingered between them even after they'd gone their separate ways again, daydreams taking on another new dimension.

Chapter Text

Ever since she awoke, Dolce has suffered through Pico's admonitions to be more honest, to speak her feelings more freely. As close as they are, as much as they share, Pico has never been able to fully understand the part of her that needs to hide - to protect herself. The townsfolk of Selphia seem to get it eventually, even if they never quite manage to break all the way through her shell. She at least can appreciate that the distance they keep is now out of respect, rather than fear or distaste for her. Nancy and Jones are her surrogate family. Forte, Amber, and the others are her friends. Venti is the same as she always was.

And Lest... is Lest.

Dolce isn't sure whether to appreciate more the times that he approached her when he knew that her memories were not intact, or the times afterwards when his attitude towards her did not change at all. She's thought that it was out of some kind of amnesiac kinship at first, but slowly it dawns on her - he just considered her a friend. Maybe, maybe, something more than that.

It's in the way he smiles and nods when she is coolly cordial rather than enthusiastic, the way that he calls out to her when he sees her on the street, the way he seeks her out when she has been off on her own for just a bit too long.

It is unthinkable that he won't see right through her even now, that he doesn't already know. Still, she won't ever hear the end of it from Pico if she doesn't give voice to her feelings just this once.

And besides, she wants to say it out loud just as much.

"Lest." He looks up in surprise from where he is kneeling in the dirt, hands cupped delicately around a seed and a mound of earth, and her heart swells and she is certain that he can tell where this is going already.

"Dolce? How long-"

"I love you."

Even if he knew all along, his expression of shock shifting to joy and then to understanding makes everything worth it.

Chapter Text

Arthur's best friend growing up wasn't another child, or an imaginary friend, or - as some people assumed - his books. His best friend had been the royal family's head butler, a stern, nearly-silent man who could send lazy or disobedient workers scurrying with one severe gaze, but whose manner towards the young prince under his care had been nothing but tenderness. His guardianship had been Arthur's first inkling of what it was to love someone more than yourself, the barest understanding of how parents could love their children and vice versa, despite the lack of a "true" relation between them. He'd taught Arthur the virtue of hard work, and the importance of loving your career so that your long days of effort would be enjoyable, not a chore.

Arthur did love his career - some might say a bit too much. That was one holdover from his childhood days of staying up late studying while other children were out dirtying themselves playing at knights or throwing balls, and old habits were hard to break. More often than not, he nodded off at his desk and found himself waking in the early hours of the morning to trudge up to bed with a crick in his neck. Porcoline, Dylas, and especially Margaret all gave him hell for it the next day, and he would invariably be bombarded with enormous meals to make up for the ones he'd forgotten (or skipped) and reminders about maintaining a healthy sleep schedule. Generally he wasn't one to dwell on these things - he hadn't gotten to be the best in his field by sleeping, no matter how many proverbs Margaret could find to throw at him - but even he had to admit that lately his tiredness had been impacting his work performance and general well-being.

After close to a week of fitful nights and days blurred by his overtired brain, Arthur was forced to give in. Tonight, he'd get some proper rest.

...Just as soon as he finished cataloging all of these shipment reports that Lest had made. That shouldn't take more than a few hours. He'd be in bed by midnight if he could work quickly.

---

"Oh Dylas!" Porcoline's sing-song tone floated out from the kitchen to where Dylas was busy wiping down tables for the night. He grunted in response, knowing full well that Porcoline would go right on with whatever it was he had to say regardless of whether he got a verbal answer or not. "Could you go check in on Arthur for me? He was supposed to go to bed early tonight, but I think he'll probably need a gentle reminder."

"Yeah, yeah." Dylas dropped his rag on the counter and pushed through the door to Arthur's office. He wasn't the least bit surprised to see Arthur slumped over his desk, face down on a stack of reports and snoring softly; Clorica had probably gotten more sleep during her lunch break today than Arthur had for the entire last week. Dylas was no doctor, but even he knew that you couldn't keep that sort of thing up for long.

He didn't bother prodding or shaking Arthur to wake him; he'd probably just try to go right back to work if he came around in his office. Instead, Dylas adjusted Arthur's glasses to be sure that they wouldn't fall off his face and then scooped him up with a quiet grunt. He seemed like he'd lost weight lately, probably a result of too many irregular meals. Dylas made a mental note to pass that information on to Porcoline, who would be sure to go into overdrive the next day to "refuel" Arthur, as he put it.

Dylas made his way up to the restaurant's second level with Arthur cradled in his arms as one might carry a small child. Arthur barely stirred the whole way, only sighing a bit and burrowing his face into Dylas's shoulder. Which he didn't mind, of course. Why would he? Who got bothered by things like that? Weirdos and dumbasses, that's who. Certainly not Dylas, who also definitely didn't find it cute.

He deposited Arthur into bed fully clothed, stopping only to remove his glasses and pull the blanket up around his shoulders. Arthur's eyes opened just a fraction, and he murmured as if in a dream or some fragment of memory. "G'night..."

Dylas turned the lanterns down, and Arthur was fast asleep again by the time he slipped out the door. "Goodnight," he muttered to no one in particular, hand lingering on the doorknob.

Chapter Text

There are so many people in Selphia who have lost something or someone. Doug knows this, understands it, but still can't bring himself to believe that any of them felt their loss as keenly as he did - as he still does. Even as time goes by and his secret is no longer a secret, as he reaches out to old neighbors and newcomers alike, he feels that they can't understand. As glad as he is to have atoned for siding with the Sechs against his adopted home, he can't completely suppress the pangs of envy that come with the knowledge that others had their lost loved ones returned to them in a way that he never will.

The Guardians are constant reminders, even if Doug rarely consciously acknowledges it. And sometimes it does bubble through; he's dour when faced with Amber's cheer, snappier than usual with Dylas, impatient with Leon's teasing, cold... well, colder with Dolce than she normally is with him.

He doesn't mean to be. He knows that they can sense something is amiss, but none of them know how to broach the subject or none of them want to. He doesn't blame them for that, so much. It's easier to pass things off as a bad day or mood than it is to try to explain himself when he doubts that he'd even be able to find the words. He doubts that any of them would be able to truthfully say that they know how he feels and he doesn't want to hear it said falsely.

That's why it surprises him to learn that Dolce often visits the Obsidian Mansion. It confuses him, too; he can't imagine trying to return to the site where his village once stood, much less going there regularly. He supposes it might be just one of her oddities, the connection she feels with spirits or something, who knows. It's something he can't quite wrap his head around either way. Every person mourns in their own way, though, and he can't condemn Dolce for it.

To Doug, grief has always been a private thing. Others might be surprised if they learned how much he keeps inside, considering how frequently and loudly he expresses himself, but there are some things that he has never allowed to see the light of day. Things that he keeps locked up, suppressed, until they bubble over again and he must search for an escape.

Some days, there is no escape from it. The anniversary of his family's death is one such day. He leaves town as the dawn is breaking, waking no one and leaving no notes. There is nothing to do today but wander, to search for something that he cannot name, to do anything so that he won't stop and think and be overwhelmed.

Somehow, he is not too surprised when he finds himself outside the mansion. He curls one hand around the wrought-iron fence and gazes up at it, wondering what kinds of secrets it too is keeping inside.

Footsteps behind him have him reluctantly turning to see whoever it is that has hunted him down, no doubt at Granny Blossom's behest. It's not that he wanted to worry anyone, he just didn't feel like facing any of them today.

Dolce demands no explanation from him, however, expression unreadable as usual but lacking the closed-off coolness that he is used to. After several long moments, he tries to speak.

"I-" He chokes on the words, crumbles, left clinging to the fence for support.

"I know," is all she says as she steps forward and lets him fall into her arms. He presses his face into her shoulder, and if he was in more control of himself he could marvel at how she made him come undone with her mere presence. (He'd also reflect on how he somehow always expected her to smell musty, running around in those old-fashioned clothes, but he doubts she'd appreciate that as much even if it has been proven untrue.)

"I know, I know." And she cradles him like a child as he falls apart, and part of him understands that it couldn't be anyone but her today, and in a way he is glad for the release.

Chapter Text

Cold is relative. What is unbearable to some might barely elicit a shiver from others. Those who can brave a winter storm know that it is only temporary, that there is spring's promise and joy hidden just underneath the snow, ready to struggle through to face another year.

Or something like that. It's easier to think in metaphors when it distracts you from analyzing reality too hard.

A winter storm might be a stony look, a lack of reaction, a thinly veiled barb. It might be annoyance, or just a clumsy attempt to guard one's self from the outside world's true coldness.

But spring is still there, in a word, in a look. In the secret moments when Dylas stops by the clinic knowing that no one else will be there, buying medicines he doesn't need because that is the only way he can think of to apologize for accidental coldness. In the smiles that Dolce bestows upon no one else, the first hint of spring and what it might hold.

Because as cold and bitter as winter might be, spring always comes again, in the world outside and in their hearts. And when it is nurtured again and finally blooms, some of the cold melts away forever.

Chapter Text

"...Vishnal? Earth to Vishnal, are you there?"

Vishnal snapped back to alertness when a hand was waved in front of his vacant eyes, and he rushed to straighten his posture. Lest was looking at him with concern. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Of course, Prince! I do apologize for my, ah..." Vishnal was unable to stifle a yawn and pressed a hand over his mouth, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "I'm very sorry. It seems my mind isn't all here today, but I assure you, I feel fine."

Lest didn't look completely convinced, and Vishnal couldn't really blame him. It was true that he'd been getting less sleep than he was used to lately, but only because he was getting up even earlier than usual. And the reason for his new time to rise and shine, well...

It wouldn't be a stretch to call it a tad improper, he thought. Not a stretch at all.

Not that Lest seemed to care much about propriety, but Vishnal couldn't help but cringe at the reactions he imagined he'd might get if he tried to explain himself fully. Creepy, Lest might call him. Obsessive. Not anything he wanted to hear from someone that he held great affection for.

That was what he called it, even in his most private thoughts. Great affection. Not a crush, and certainly not the L-word, oh no no. That was unthinkable. Improper, as he'd said before, the kind of illicit stuff that trashy novels consisted of.

He couldn't tell Lest the truth. At least, not the whole truth. Not just yet.

So he gave his most genial smile and let a jesting edge creep into his voice as he said, "Would you believe me if I told you that I simply can't wait to see your smiling face in the mornings when I go to wake you? Even my subconscious knows it. That's why I've been getting up so early these days."

And it was improper. But Lest's laughter was warm and without a trace of mockery, and it was enough for Vishnal to think that propriety really was such a relative term.

Chapter Text

It took some time to truly get used to Leon's... Arthur would kindly dub them "eccentricities". His eccentricities, yes. It took some getting used to, but it was not long before one came to expect them, even if you could never truly know what he would say or do next. Being well aware of this, Arthur took it in stride when Leon approached him with a barrage of questions about Selphia's airship. He appreciated it, really; these were questions that he could give solid answers to, rather than riddles or some kind of prank that Leon was playing to get a rise out of him. He quite happily explained the mechanics behind the airship's flight and its role in trade and travel throughout Norad, and Leon listened attentively, asking for more detail or a clarification here and there.

Then came the unexpected question: "Can you take me flying?"

"Well, of course, though I would have expected you to ask Frey. Where do you wish to go?"

"Frey is otherwise occupied lately." Which meant that he'd gone and made her mad with his teasing once again, and they wouldn't be on speaking terms for a day or two. "And..." Leon cocked his head to one side, as if considering. "I have no destination in mind. Just... around."

"Just to try it out?" Arthur offered.

"You could say that, yes. We certainly had nothing like it in my time."

Arthur nodded. "I understand. Would tomorrow afternoon work for you?"

"Of course. I'll see you then."

The next day proved to be overcast, though the forecast hadn't called for storms so Arthur thought that they should be fine to conduct a short flight. Leon seemed somewhat put-off by the weather, however.

"It shouldn't lessen the experience any," Arthur promised him. Leon offered him a small smile and a nod, but Arthur could tell that he wasn't quite convinced.

No trouble there. Leon would see what he meant soon.

After making the usual checks to ensure that the ship was in flying condition, Arthur assumed his position behind the wheel. "You may want to hold on as we take off, it can be a bit rough in this weather."

Leon chuckled and murmured something under his breath that Arthur was reasonably certain was a dirty joke, but he took hold of the ship's railing as instructed. Arthur guided the ship out of its moorings and took the ascent slowly. Leon glanced over the edge to see Selphia growing smaller as they rose, following the large road out to the wilderness. He seemed intrigued, but not especially impressed.

Not yet, at least, Arthur thought to himself.

After they'd floated along long enough for Arthur to judge that the weather was going to remain stable, he called over to Leon. "Would you like to go higher?"

Leon raised his eyebrows. "Higher? There's only clouds above us."

Arthur smiled. "Yes, but we can go above them. A little payback to them for covering up the sun today."

That grabbed Leon's interest. "All right."

He scrunched his nose at the dampness as they rose into the clouds, but Arthur wasn't deterred. Soon, but not yet, he told himself.

He wasn't disappointed.

As they broke through the cloud cover, Arthur watched Leon's face. He felt a warmth grow in his chest as he saw the transition from curiosity, to excitement, to wide-eyed childlike wonder as they surfaced above a sea of white and gray, shining in the previously-hidden light of the sun. Patches of the ground showed through here and there, spots of green and blue and brown, with splashes of other brighter color in a flower field or small, roaming dots that were the monsters and people on the roads below.

"Oh," Leon breathed.

"Yes," Arthur agreed. There was no need to go into detail. Hadn't he experienced the same thing, on his first flight? The whole world, spread out in front of you. Yours to explore, to experience, to know.

"It's beautiful."

Arthur understood that this was Leon's way of saying thank you. "It is. I'm glad I could show it to you."

"I'm glad that I saw it with you."

The warm feeling in Arthur's chest became a flutter. It wasn't unpleasant.

Hadn't he told himself at the beginning of all this to expect the unexpected?

Chapter Text

Margaret tried to like fishing festivals. Really, she did. Spending time outdoors, relaxing and chatting with friends, catching something tasty for Porcoline to whip up for dinner, it was all very enjoyable.

She was just so bad at the actual fishing part.

Much like Forte's cooking skill, Meg's failures at catching fish seemed to defy explanation. She could set everything up just right and still not seem to be able to reel anything in. It didn't matter how she changed the bait, the rod, the lake - the times she'd successfully caught a fish could be counted on one hand, and most of those had been by accident.

Still, she hated to give up on anything. She'd set out for today's Big Catch Contest full of determination, and whether she managed to catch anything or not, she wasn't going to let it ruin her fun at the festival. She and Forte shared a giggle at Dylas, who was strutting around like he'd already won, and returned Lest's wave and encouraging smile before settling down in the fishing spot they'd chosen. Forte had brought along extra fishing poles, as usual, but Meg was pretty sure she'd have enough of an issue trying to handle just the one.

It turned out her worries were mostly moot anyway, since barely any fish were biting. She chatted with Forte to pass the time until Forte excused herself to go patrol, and then Margaret was left to let her thoughts wander as she watched her fishing lure bob up and down in the water. She didn't even realize that she'd nodded off until the sudden jerking of her fishing line jolted her awake again.

"Oh!" She yanked the pole up and scrambled to try and reel the line in, but the fish on the other end wasn't giving up easily. Margaret tried to scramble to her feet, but the pulling of the fish and the loose sand made her lose her footing. She let out a little shriek and tried to brace herself for hitting the water.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a pair of larger, stronger hands closed over hers, pulling both Meg and the fishing pole upright. She made another undignified noise of surprise as she was pulled backwards and collided with Dylas's chest.

"I've got the pole, you reel in the fish!" He commanded before she could say anything. Margaret wasted no time in doing as she was told; from the way the pole was bending, even she could tell that the fish on her line had to be massive. Frantically, she turned the... crank? (Handle? She really needed to borrow one of Kiel's fishing manuals one of these days.) Regardless, she reeled the line in until it broke the water's surface to reveal a huge, brilliantly pink snapper on her hook.

Dylas held onto the fishing pole until they'd pulled the fish all the way in, and then he let Meg go and stepped back to examine the fish. "Throbby snapper. That'll probably win you the contest."

"Wha- wait, really!? You think so?" Margaret looked from Dylas to the fish and back. It certainly was a big fish, but "Margaret" and "wins fishing contests" didn't normally go together.

Dylas nodded. "It's bigger than anybody else's catch for sure."

He was right, of course. The rest of the town turned in some impressive fish, but none could hold a candle to the throbby snapper. As happy as she was to actually do well in a fishing festival for once, Meg tried to protest. "It's Dylas's fish too. He helped me."

Dylas snorted and shook his head when the attention turned to him. "You caught the fish. I just kept you from falling in the lake." He didn't seem all that disappointed about losing the contest, or even like he wanted to be thanked for helping her out, but Meg decided that wasn't going to stop her from thanking him anyway.

That evening, she walked up to Dylas's closed bedroom door, steeled her nerves, and knocked. She was careful to not disturb the dish she was holding as it swung open.

Dylas regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "You need something?"

"Here." Margaret offered the plate and took a secret little pleasure at the surprise on his face.

"That's..."

"Lover sashimi. I had Porco make it, since I don't really cook fish this big usually." She blushed a little when Dylas raised his eyebrows at the side seasonings arranged into a heart. "Porco did that too." Which was true, but she hadn't made a move to stop him.

"It was your fish, you know." Meg almost sighed but stopped herself. Dylas clearly wanted at least a bite of the sashimi, and she wanted to say thanks, so there should be no argument. Why did men have to make everything difficult?

"I know, but you did help me catch it. And there's no way I can eat all of this by myself, so... can I come in?" She smiled hopefully.

Dylas hesitated for a moment longer, but she didn't miss the way the corners of his mouth twitched up into a fleeting smile. "Yeah," he said, and stepped aside to let her in.

Chapter Text

"...Forte?"

"Yes, Kiel?"

"Why do we have a chapter?"

"Because the author forgot to account for us being siblings when she came up with this idea and had to choose between working it in or leaving out a chapter and hoping nobody would notice."

"Oh."

"..."

"..."

"Well, happy April Fool's Day, everyone."

Chapter Text

Leon spent a lot of time around the castle, what with Venti being close and the abundance of amusement that could be found there between Lest and Vishnal (and the... interesting developments going on between the two of them, as well). Ventuswill was as fun as ever, even with the new sentimentality the two of them shared, and Volkanon could usually be counted on for a laugh or two.

It wasn't until he wandered in the day before Vishnal's birthday to find Venti snoozing (and you can be sure he made a mental note to tease her later about napping in the middle of the afternoon) and the facilities empty save for Clorica in the kitchen that he realized how Clorica herself had managed to slide under his radar up until then.

Well, it was time to remedy that.

"Working on something big?" Leon inquired, leaning in the doorway and observing her at work. She was awake while cooking, at least, so he supposed he'd come by at the best time to try and have an interaction with her.

Clorica hummed in confirmation, folding the curry mix she'd made into the dough. "Vishnal's birthday is tomorrow, so I'm making him some curry breads." She glanced over at him. "I've got a batch done already - would you like to have a taste and let me know how they turned out?"

Leon raised his eyebrows. "Offering me some of somebody else's birthday present?" A teasing smile lingered about his lips as he waited for Clorica's response.

She just smiled and picked up the tray that the finished batch of bread was resting on to offer to him. "I made plenty, and I really do need someone's opinion on how they are. Go ahead."

Well, he had certainly never been one to turn down free food. "Don't mind if I do, then." Leon selected one from the middle - people sometimes got amusingly bent out of shape if you started in the middle rather than the ends, though Clorica didn't seem to mind - and took a bite.

Clorica was looking at him expectantly, so he nodded thoughtfully while he chewed. "Not ba- gah!"

The first bite had been normal. The second...

Spicy. Very, very, very spicy. Leon normally liked spicy foods, but this was a bit much even for him, and unexpected to boot. He coughed and cleared his throat, trying to ignore how his eyes had started to water a bit. "That's, uh... Wow."

To his surprise, Clorica giggled. "Oh! You found the secret super spicy bread!"

Leon gave her a perplexed look. "The secret one?"

She nodded, still giggling. "I like to put one or two really spicy ones in every batch for Vishnal. It makes things more fun, don't you think?" She turned back to the bread that she had been preparing, humming again. Leon took another, smaller bite of his bread, anticipating the sudden heat this time. He nodded.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. Surprising things can be the best ones, you know."

She glanced at him and smiled again, slyly, making it obvious that she knew he wasn't just talking about the bread.

Chapter Text

There is a spot around the side of Porcoline's Kitchen, just out of sight of the road. There's a patch of grass that is pressed flatter than all the rest, a little circle worn down from years of the same body nestling away there.

Sometimes things are forgotten there - pencils, half-eaten sweets, on one occasion a book that was hurriedly rescued from the oncoming rain when someone just so happened to glance out the restaurant window.

When the book was returned to its owner, the secret spot became a little less secret, but that much more precious.

Lately, the worn-down patch of grass has gotten a little bigger, and the footprints that occasionally lead to it have multiplied.

Sometimes new things are forgotten there - a hair ribbon, some discarded apple seeds, a folded up note with a simple message: please meet me there.

Sometimes new things are created there - soft laughter at a rumor, faint strains of music, the soft, almost painfully sweet awkwardness of a first touch or kiss.

Anyone could find that spot and spend time there, but there are only two people that it belongs to. This is how it should be.

Chapter Text

There was some reason for being here. A sequence of events that lead up to this ("this" being Doug, trying to get comfortable on a bench down the road from the flower shop while Clorica snoozed obliviously on his shoulder).

That sequence of events might or might not have involved Doug feeling particularly lazy that morning and coming up with a plan to get out of work that involved three tuna fish, a decoy made from straw, and the act of throwing mud at Dylas from a distance (and the last step in that plan might or might not have been strictly necessary). It might or might not have resulted in him suddenly remembering that Dylas's legs were a lot longer than his own as he was running for his life. It might or might not have ended in him accidentally bowling Clorica right over as he sprinted past the castle, frantically trying to explain the situation to her, and having her blink sleepily at him before pointing out that all of that sounded like a lot more work than just standing at the counter of the general store for a few hours, at which point he decided to call it all quits for the day and dragged Clorica off with him to hide so she wouldn't rat him out.

There was some reason for being here, but odds were good it was a really silly reason or string of reasons, and Doug was trying not to dwell too hard on it.

On some level, he knew he'd have to face the music sooner or later, both for skipping out on work and antagonizing Dylas. But for now, he'd successfully gotten out of work (extra effort notwithstanding) and, well... at least Clorica was pretty cute while she was asleep, right?

It was hard to regret things too much when she leaned into him like that, winding her arm around his waist. Sure, it didn't mean anything, but...

But, what if it did, someday?

He'd be okay with that. Yeah. More than okay.

He was going to catch hell later for the mess he'd caused today, but for now, it was like he and Clorica had their own little world in the corner of the town, with only the sound of the birds in the sky and Clorica's soft breathing. Doug closed his eyes and leaned into her in turn, pressing his face into her hair and allowing himself a giddy little grin at the thought of doing this again, just the two of them getting away for a while.

He missed the way that Clorica's eyes opened just a fraction and how she smiled, but he definitely noticed how she held him a little tighter.

All in all, it was a day spent dodging work, but not a day wasted.

Chapter Text

Vishnal was a bit clumsy. Xiao Pai understood that. Empathized with it, even. She was no master of balance herself, after all. He just seemed to take it so hard whenever he stumbled or lost his grip on something, as if every little mistake spelled the end for his dreams of becoming the world's greatest butler.

So she took it upon herself to cheer him whenever he fell, taking his brightened expression as her payment, and if he suddenly seemed to be hanging around the bath house more often, who was she to turn away a paying customer? She enjoyed his company, after all, much as he seemed to enjoy hers.

The first brush of her lips across Vishnal's cheek was an impulse, something that came to her mind before words could as he sat rubbing his head and looking downcast after his latest altercation with gravity. His brilliant cherry red blush and the way he sputtered was reward enough for her to want to try it again.

She received an even better gift the next time she stumbled in his presence, and Vishnal seemed to take just as much satisfaction in Xiao Pai's reaction as she had in his.

Chapter Text

Lin Fa was awoken in the middle of the night by a thump, a giggle, and an overly-loud "Shh!", in that order.

It took her groggy mind a minute or two to come to grips with the fact that someone was moving around on the top floor of the inn, someone who, by the sound of their whispering, knew that they were not supposed to be there. Some kind of burglar? She was sitting up and just reaching for her lance when another whisper drifted in.

"Shh, you'll wake Mama!"

Lin Fa paused. That was definitely Xiao Pai's voice, but who was she speaking to? And what were Xiao and her mysterious visitor doing up so late in the first place? Curiosity overtaking concern, Lin Fa stood and padded over to the door, easing it open just a crack.

She could dimly make out too figures at the top of the stairs. One was undoubtedly Xiao Pai, and the other... Lin Fa squinted, trying to peer through the darkness. The silhouette was feminine, and those soft, sleepy giggles...

Yes, that was definitely Clorica. Rather than her usual put-together self (appearance-wise, at least), her hair was loose and her clothes rumpled, the first few buttons of her blouse undone. Further inspection revealed that Xiao Pai had Clorica's suit jacket draped around her shoulders over her nightgown. Lin Fa could catch snatches here and there of their whispered conversation.

"...didn't mean to sleep so long... lost track of time..."

"...Volkanon won't be too cross with you, yes?"

Clorica mumbled back a "yes" and giggled again.

Lin Fa withdrew, feeling that she'd seen enough. Clorica must have visited in the evening and nodded off in one of the guest rooms or something, and Xiao Pai had just stumbled across her to wake her up. Lin Fa made a mental note to check which room she'd slept in and straighten out the bed in the morning, but she wasn't going to put up a fuss otherwise. Clorica routinely paid to use the bath, after all, so who was Lin Fa to begrudge her a nap?

It wasn't until she'd laid back down and nearly drifted off to sleep again that something else occurred to her.

Why had Xiao Pai been wearing Clorica's shirt?

Chapter Text

Doug had spent a lot of time in the infirmary lately. He'd gotten real familiar with the pattern of the wood grain on the clinic's ceiling, and other than that, there wasn't much for him to do besides sleep and think.

He supposed that he did have a lot to think about right now.

The Sechs' lies, Ventuswill's supposed innocence, just what the hell he might be giving up by trusting one or the other.

And what he'd be gaining if he made the right choice...

He could still see her, whenever he closed his eyes. How she stood defiant between him and Ventuswill as he drew his sword. The tears in her eyes as she thanked him for handing over the final rune sphere, for putting his trust in Selphia's Native Dragon after all.

He wondered if she'd ever understand the true meaning behind his words when he said that it wasn't Ventuswill he was doing it for.

Doug stared up at the ceiling and let Frey dominate his thoughts, and he prayed for her safety and victory, whatever it might bring. Vengeance for his village seemed to be slipping further and further away from his grasp, but maybe she was his second chance. His path to the future, where he once thought that he had none but blood and battle and the cold satisfaction of seeing his family's killer slain.

Ever since that day that he handed over the rune sphere, since her hand lingered on his and she smiled at him with hope and relief and sincerity, he had started to feel like maybe he actually had a future to dream of again.

There was nothing for him to do now but wait, and pray that she came home to share that future with him.

Chapter Text

"Hmph. What's the big deal about New Year's, anyway?" Dylas was grumbling, as usual, as he and Leon tromped through the half-melted snow on Selphia's streets.

"A new beginning, is it not?" Leon seemed amused, also as per usual, but he tilted his head curiously in Dylas's direction to indicate that he should go on.

"It's just another day, same as all the others. Either that, or every day is equally special."

"Hmm..." Dylas glanced over at Leon, waiting for the typical quip. Instead, Leon smiled enigmatically and raised his hand to brush Dylas's forelock out of his face. It was a quick, simple touch, but it lasted just long enough to bring heat to Dylas's cheeks.

"Aren't they though? We're here to enjoy them." Leon's hand brushed over Dylas's shoulder for just a moment before he turned and continued on his way.

Dylas stood blushing and sputtering for a moment before his brain and legs reconnected and he rushed to follow as Leon's laugh drifted back to him.

Chapter Text

It was a truly miserable day.

Xiao Pai had been especially clumsy, dropping dishes, stumbling in the street, even tripping over her own words as she tried to explain her previous mistakes. Customers shook their heads and might have left in disgust if not for Lin Fa's intervention and charm. On top of that all, the weather was as miserable as Xiao Pai's mood. Dark, chilly, with low-hanging clouds that promised a storm later.

It was fitting, Xiao Pai mused sulkily as she sat on the front steps of the inn. The dreary weather perfectly suited her right now. Everything was bad today, everything was dark and unpleasant and-

"Xiao Paiii!" Amber crowed as she bounded up, all smiles as usual. "I was looking all over for you!"

Xiao Pai sat up straighter, intending to remind Amber that she was always at the inn during working hours, but she was cut off by Amber's greeting hug squeezing all the breath out of her.

"Here!" Amber exclaimed before Xiao Pai could get her breath back to respond. With a flourish and a distinctly Amber-ish giggle, Xiao Pai found herself newly bestowed with a crown of toyherb and pink cat flowers.

"We had a bunch extra at the shop, and Ellie thought it would be a good idea to make crowns for everyone! I made ours matching." True to her word, Amber produced an identical flower crown of her own and placed it on her own head.

Xiao Pai just blinked at her, taken aback. Amber's expression softened. "Don't be sad, okay? Or, if you are... I'll make you a new crown every day until you smile." She leaned in and kissed the tip of Xiao Pai's nose before bounding off.

Xiao Pai's mind was swirling with confusion, never mind the blush spreading across her cheeks, bad mood replaced with a rather different kind of embarrassment. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but Xiao Pai just sat and watched as her own personal ray of sunshine skipped back towards the flower shop.

Chapter Text

Forte is not fearless.

Oh, she knows how people like to think of her. She encourages it, even. Forte the steadfast knight, Forte who stares into the face of danger and does not flinch. In many situations, it's close to true. Forte does not fear combat or injury. She hardly fears death itself.

All of that only applies when it comes to herself, though.

When Forte lays awake at night, it is not because she worries about what might befall her the next day, or even because of the possibility of ghosts (which don't exist, thank you very much) as Margaret sometimes teases her. Forte's fears all have to do with the people around her.

She fears for Kiel's future, though she knows that he is smart and capable and so much more than he gives himself credit for.

She fears for Jones and Nancy, and whether they put as much care into their own health as they do for everyone else. She fears for Bado, and what sort of trouble he'll get himself into and whether he'll actually be able to get out of it time and again.

More than anything, more than she can even bear to admit to herself, Forte fears for Frey's well-being. Frey takes so much upon herself, and Forte cannot help the insidious little spike of terror that drives into her heart every time she sees Frey take a hit from a monster or stumble from exhaustion while working. If she could, Forte would carry every bit of Frey's burdens on her own shoulders, but she can't, and that helplessness terrifies her more than anything.

So Forte does what she does best: she takes her fear and she begins to master it.

She ventures with Frey into dungeons and fights at her side. She settles down some nights to read with Kiel and improve her own magic skill. She always, always makes sure to patrol by the castle when she knows Frey is hard at work, just to be sure that everything is all right.

Forte is not fearless. But she is loyal, and she is in love, and that gives her the strength to stand by both her town and her princess no matter what challenges the future may bring.

Chapter Text

They are both grown in only the most theoretical sense when they first meet. Hardly more than children.

Xiao Pai is struggling, as she always is, with unloading this or that and putting it in its place in the new inn while her mother bustles around charming their new neighbors with effortless grace. She stumbles when trying to carry in a crate of dishes, because of course she does, and there is a muffled "Oof!" somewhere in there under her own cry of dismay and the sound of shattering china from within the crate.

When she scrambles to her feet, her dismay increases tenfold at the sight of a man - a boy, really - sprawled out on the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" She cries, but he's already sitting up and making his own apologies, and they stumble over each other's words for a moment. Eventually, they both run out of apologies and are left looking at each other apprehensively.

"...Anyway," he begins after a moment of silence, though neither of them is quite sure what he said before to digress from, "I'm Kiel. It's nice to meet you, and welcome to Selphia!" And he beams at her and holds his hand out, and Xiao Pai can't do anything but take it uncertainly.

"Xiao Pai," she says, before scrambling to add, "ah, that's my name. Xiao Pai."

Kiel's smile somehow brightens even more.

That first look at him, haloed by sunlight and beaming at her with a crate of broken dishes at his feet, lingers.

---

The first winter is hard, cold and dark and far away from anything she has ever known, but the first blooms of spring begin to push through the snow and Xiao Pai feels as though her heart is opening with them.

The first anonymous bouquet left at the front counter of the inn surely must have been for Lin Fa, but Xiao Pai takes the time to appreciate them anyway and imagines that they are from a secret admirer all her own.

---

The first firefly festival, Kiel nearly works up the nerve to say something. Nearly.

He ends up sitting alone at the lake's edge and so does she, but they don't speak to each other much. The silence is companionable, at least.

---

When Kiel bursts through the doors of the inn with some outrageous news, it is hardly the first time, nor is it even likely the fiftieth. "Xiao Pai, did you hear? That prince the capitol was sending to us - he can fly!"

Xiao Pai pauses her sweeping to look at him with confusion and no small measure of skepticism. "That would be quite a miracle, yes."

"I'm serious! I heard all about it from Vishnal! His name is Lest, and he swooped right down out of the sky for an audience with Lady Ventuswill!"

Xiao Pai stays skeptical, but she lets Kiel ramble on all the same. Nobody tells a story quite like he does, after all.

---

One fine evening during the third summer is the first time they catch each other eavesdropping on Forte and Lest's stumbling, almost-flirtatious conversations. Kiel, naturally, is head-over-heels with the idea of Forte finding a partner. For her part, maybe Xiao Pai is a bit wistful. She could say she fancied Lest a bit, and it wouldn't entirely be a lie, but that was where things began and ended: fancy. She couldn't bring herself round to the effort of trying to pursue anyone else when she can just fantasize about the secret admirer who is still reliably leaving flowers at the inn. Surely they're not for her, but she can fantasize.

When she whispers as much to Kiel, it is too dark for her to catch how his face reddens.

---

The fourth winter, the Sechs invade. Everything is thrown into chaos just as it was getting back to normal, and Lest goes off to fight once again. It does a number on Forte, Xiao Pai thinks, and she takes care to bring all the sweets and egg dishes she can cook up over to Forte and Kiel's house in her spare time. Watching Forte set off for patrol like clockwork one morning, Kiel reaches for Xiao Pai's hand and holds tightly.

She moves closer to him and neither makes excuses about the cold.

---

That New Year's Day is when she finally catches him leaving the flowers. They stare at each other for a moment, just like that first time, and he is almost overwhelmed by the sight of her, cheeks rosy from the chill air and light snow frosting her hair and eyelashes from the sweeping she'd been doing on the front walk.

Kiel has so many things he wants to say, and for once in his life he's at a loss for words. He opens his mouth to give some kind of explanation, but all that comes out is, "Can I kiss you?"

"...I would like that, yes," she says slowly, as though she is still not certain that he isn't playing some practical joke on her.

He isn't, and he makes sure to prove it.

---

The first time she says "I love you" is on Valentine's Day, and sure, maybe it's a little early to say such things, but she's known him for going on five years now.

Kiel goes bright red and freezes up, and when she tries to ask him if she has taken things too far, he blurts out, "Forte and Lest are getting married!"

It is good news. Not the news she was hoping for, but Xiao Pai can't help but laugh with delight anyway.

---

The next few weeks are a whirl of activity, a blur of joy. They steal kisses under the brilliant green summer trees and Xiao Pai tries not to ask how much Kiel has been spending at the flower shop (Amber's estimates are concerning).

In the middle of rattling off all the new adjustments to Forte's wedding gown, Kiel interrupts himself. "You know, I've been thinking."

And he is looking at her so seriously, hand resting on hers, that her heartbeat picks up and she wonders if this is all really happening so soon. "Yes?"

Kiel looks at her a moment longer. "Just thinking," he says, and looks back at the sky.

---

The wedding takes place in the fifth autumn, among a bountiful harvest and a brilliant backdrop of red and gold in the trees. Forte could be a goddess, statuesque and beautiful in her flowing white gown. Lest looks every bit the fairytale prince.

Kiel only has eyes for Xiao Pai, with her luminous smile and the stubborn late-autumn flowers tucked into her hair. Bado slaps him on the back and tell him not to rush into things too fast just to catch up with his sister.

---

In the sixth autumn, a baby boy is born. Xiao Pai is as enamored as the rest of the town with little Noel, and Kiel is almost more thrilled to be an uncle than Lest and Forte are to be parents.

He catches her eye while Lin Fa and Nancy coo over the baby, and Xiao Pai wonders, not for the first time, whether he is still thinking.

---

In the seventh spring (or maybe the eighth?) Kiel and Leon go to work for Arthur, combining their collective knowledge and business savvy to expand to the far reaches of Norad. It is the first time Xiao Pai can remember Kiel being absent from Selphia since she and her mother moved there, and it leaves a strange ache in her even though she knows he will return.

She writes him many letters, and receives almost as many back, often with exotic flower seeds and other gifts enclosed. It is nice, but the ache remains.

When he returns from the first trip, he hasn't changed. Wrapped safely in his arms, she doesn't know why she thought he would.

---

"Xiao," he whispers to her as she is nodding off.

"Hmm?"

"...Nothing. Just thinking."

---

On the morning of her birthday during the tenth summer, she wakes without him. She knew that she would, that it was unlikely he would be able to return in time, and she has managed to not be too upset by it. She'll have other birthdays and they'll have their own days all to each other.

What she didn't expect was to pad out to the kitchen in her pajamas to start the morning tea and find the table already set with Kiel seated there. She gapes at him for a moment before he eagerly rushes her into her seat, but her surprise quickly gives way to warmth. Kiel looks tired, probably having rushed to get back to Selphia, but he is still the most wonderful thing to Xiao Pai's eyes.

When breakfast is finished and their catching up coming to a close, Xiao Pai prepares to stand and clear the table, but Kiel stops her. Her confusion turns to wide-eyed shock as he slides from his cushion to one knee, and she hadn't even thought about it in months, and she's still in her nightgown of all things-

Kiel's smile as he slides the ring onto her finger is the best birthday present she's ever gotten.

Chapter Text

Clorica didn't mind cloudy days. They felt lazy and slow, and she could stare at the cloudy sky just as long as any other, picking out shapes until she nodded off.

Showing the cloud pictures that she saw to others was just as fun, even if most people seemed to only humor her. Margaret, at least, was always willing - if she could be pulled away from work, that is.

They passed the time like that more and more often lately, sitting on the bench near Margaret's house or outside Porcoline's restaurant, Clorica guiding Meg's hand to trace out an image in the clouds. Meg always smiled and thanked Clorica for sharing the things she saw. She never resisted much when Clorica took her by the hand though, and she tried to see what Clorica was talking about even if it escaped her. And if she let Clorica hold onto her hand longer than strictly necessary, who was going to complain?

"That one looks like you!" Clorica said, indicating a particularly low cloud drifting overhead.

Margaret quirked her lips as she studied it. "You think so?"

"Yes, look!" Clorica took her by the hand again, pointing. "There's your hair, and your harp... you're dancing."

Margaret squinted at the cloud a while longer. "If you say so. I don't dance very often."

"It's nice when you do, though." Clorica kept her fingers wound around Meg's after lowering their hands. Neither indicated that they even thought of pulling away.

"I should dance more often in the restaurant, is that what you're saying?"

"If you like. Or we could just dance together."

"Oh?" Margaret didn't hide her surprise. "You dance?"

"No," Clorica giggled a little bit, blinking sleepily at Meg. "But I was hoping you might be able to teach me."

After a moment of consideration, Meg smiled back. "I'd like that."

Clorica hummed, settling her head against Margaret's shoulder. Neither of them bothered pulling away from that for a long while either.

Chapter Text

Arthur had visited Selphia several times long before he moved there permanently. He would be the first to say he was taken in by the friendly town and the gorgeous natural scenery, though he'd also be the first to admit that a fair few of those trips had gone awry in one way or another.

The most dramatic of the incidents would likely be the cave-in he'd been trapped in, but lately Arthur's mind had been drawn back to his very first visit. He'd been no more than a child at the time, and had sulked throughout most of the trip because of his mother's inability (or, he later thought, refusal) to come along. He had ended up running off in a tantrum and promptly gotten himself lost in Yokmir Forest, where he sat crying.

That was where his memory grew fuzzy, and the part that the adults he'd related to the story to insisted was just a dream began. There had been a monster, perhaps, or maybe the fact that he was lost and alone had finally sunk in for young Arthur. Either way, he was struck with a sudden fear and had begun to cry in earnest once again, calling for his caretakers.

His cries were answered, but not by the people he had been calling for.

He distinctly recalled a warmth, and the sensation of a voice that was not quite heard, but felt. Arthur had suddenly taken notice of the astonishing number of brightly-colored butterflies in the area. They gathered so densely in some places so as to block out the sky, but he wasn't frightened by the multitude of insects as he perhaps should have been. He knew, in some way that he couldn't articulate then nor now, that someone was telling him everything would be okay. There was the sensation of someone touching his hair, the hint of a girlish giggle on the wind.

When Arthur's caretakers had finally tracked him down, he was soundly asleep in the grass, completely alone save for a few jewel-toned butterflies drifting about.

The incident had faded from memory as the years went on, and by the time Arthur returned to Selphia as a resident, he had all but forgotten about it.

Until strange things started happening in the forest and Frey went to investigate. Until she fought a monster surrounded by butterflies and brought back a girl with wings and a high, sweet laugh.

Until Amber looked him in the eyes and smiled, and Arthur remembered the warmth and the would-be voice and the sun-drenched colors as his tears dried. 

Every time he remembers that day now, or whenever he turns to find Amber already looking at him, or when she stops by to talk to him for no real reason, he gets butterflies in his stomach too.