Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sketch by Ardilla Coreana. Coloring by me.

“Frieren-San, is that you?”

Frieren looked up from the potion she had been examining to find Methode standing behind her, grinning, as she usually did whenever she saw Frieren.

“A rather unnecessary question, considering that there aren’t many white haired elves around,” she said as she put down the potion and proceeded to gauge a new one.

“Of course. I was merely expressing my joy to see you again,” Methode said as she walked up beside Frieren. She gave a quick glance around the magic shop before placing her attention back on the elf. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I’m simply looking around,” Frieren shook the greenish potion inside the round shaped bottle in her hand. “Since they didn’t have any grimoires worth my time.”

Methode chuckled. “Frieren-san, you look adorable when dejected.”

Frieren looked up to Methode, who placed her hands at the sides of her own head, wrists against her ears, and angled them down. “Your ears turn down in the cutest way!”

Frieren narrowed her eyes. “You want to pat my head. Don’t you.”

“Oh? Would you allow me to?”

“No.”

“But you have allowed me to do so before. You even blessed me with a hug.”

“That was before, and you had something I wanted in return.”

“Ah yes. How have your eggs turned out since then?”

“Well,” Frieren, at last, gave a pleased nod. “Shell bits on my eggs are certainly a problem of the past.”

“I’m happy that you found the grimoire useful after all. It was worth it, wasn’t it? To grant me with so much joy in exchange for knowledge?”

Frieren put the green potion down and shrugged. “I suppose it was. It is my hobby.”

“Collecting strange spells, you mean?”

“All of humanity’s magic is valuable, one way or the other,” Frieren explained as she finally turned her body to Methode. “It is all the fruit of my Master’s efforts, after all.”

“Your Master?” Methode tilted her head, but Frieren walked past her, ready to exit the shop.

“In the end, there was nothing in here worth my time,” she lamented.

Methode seemed conflicted for a moment, but she decided to trot after Frieren until she caught up with her on the street. “Frieren-San. Would you allow me the pleasure to buy you a drink?”

“I’m not particularly thirsty-”

“What about some cake?”

Frieren stopped walking and turned to Methode. “Cake, you say?”

“As many pieces as you want,” Methode smiled, eyes almost closed. “I know a place.”

“Methode is being very generous,” Frieren’s own eyes narrowed slightly.

“Well, being a first class mage who takes on dangerous missions does pay well, after all, and I still feel gratitude for your and your party’s help during my mission with Genau-san.”

Frieren simply looked at her, so Methode placed her hands behind her and leaned over, her voice lower. “I also have had access to very exclusive grimoires.”

Frieren’s large ears gave a tiny jolt.

Methode took Frieren to a nice restaurant where the elf proceeded to order three different kids of cake as Methode simply observed with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, her elbow on the table, and that smile of hers still on.

“You keep staring at me,” Frieren commented before taking a bite.

“And I’m happy that you’re letting me do so, Frieren-san. After all, I think that you’re beautiful.”

Frieren looked at her. “You meant adorable. That’s how you usually call me.”

“No,” Methode straightened up. “I try to not mince my words whenever possible. I think you’re beautiful. Frieren-san.”

Frieren almost, almost raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know how you expect me to answer to that,” Frieren put her fork down. “Do you expect me to return the compliment?”

“Of course not,” Methode waved a hand. “Complimenting you is my pleasure alone.”

“You’re a strange woman, Methode,” Frieren looked at her. “Why did you bring me here?”

Methode pursed her lips as she rubbed her own wrist. “I did not lie when I spoke of my gratitude, Frieren-san. But I won’t pretend that I don’t have other reasons to ask you to be my company. Other hopes, if you might.”

“Fine,” Frieren sighed. “You may pat my head. Once.”

“I was actually hoping that you’d allow me to do more than that…”

“A hug?”

“More.”

Frieren’s frown was barely perceptible, but there nonetheless.

“You said you were not one to mince words, Methode.”

“That is true,” Methode cupped her own face as her cheeks blushed. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s easy to voice such propositions. Some might consider them lewd, after all.”

“Ah,” Frieren nodded as she pressed her lips together and silence fell across the table.

“I have no interest in sex,” Frieren finally said.

“Why?” Methode asked.

“I just don’t. Elves usually have no sex drive.”

“Oh? And why is that, if I might ask?”

“We live far too long to be prolific breeders,” Frieren explained. “And pregnancy in my race is long, as is the upbringing of elflings. Humans are considered adults by your late teens, but an elf in their teens is barely above a toddler. It’s time consuming and effort taxing.”

“Well, but that is all about, as you say, breeding,” Methode pointed out. “What about pleasure? Engaging in sex for the pure enjoyment of it?”

“I don’t follow,” Frieren blinked.

“Oh, Frieren-san.” Methode smiled slyly again as she cupped her own cheek. “Is it possible that you have never tasted the sweet fruit of giving into sex to simply fill your senses with bliss?”

“Why would sex bring bliss?” Frieren looked perplexed in her own way. Methode’s own puzzlement was more evident, until her features softened. She nodded, arms crossed over her ample bosom.

“Tell me, Frieren-san. What are the things that you enjoy the most? I am talking about things that your body feels.”

“Well…” Frieren hummed, looking up at the ceiling as she curled her fingers under her chin. “That’s easy. Sleeping in, eating good food. Being warm under a blanket when cold, swimming when hot. What else… hot springs…”

“What about being hugged?”

Frieren considered it. “Not particularly.”

“Do you allow people to hug you at all?” Methode prodded further.

“It’s not like I shun all physical contact,” Frieren looked at Methode. “I too, pat people’s heads when they have earned it, and Fern brushes my hair. I enjoy sleeping on her lap during long cart trips. We also like to cuddle under a blanket when the weather is cold.”

“And isn’t that nice?” Methode asked. Frieren wondered why she was humoring the woman and her questions.

“I like to feel close to Fern. I’ve seen her grow and I feel proud of who she’s becoming.” Frieren said at last. “I’m starting to feel uncomfortable with these questions, Methode, and I’m out of cake anyway. So, if you excuse me-”

“Before Frieren-san leaves, “ Methode said as Frieren was about to get up. “I would like to ask you for an opportunity to demonstrate the difference between a parental-like touch, and the one given by someone whose only purpose is to make you feel good.”

Frieren looked at her in silence, so Methode seized her chance. “You have lived for so long. Frieren-san, and I can’t imagine all of what you must have learned and experienced. But do tell me, would you shun the opportunity to add up to your knowledge of the world? To have a new experience under your belt? It surely can’t hurt.”

Frieren looked skeptical.

“If you decide it’s not of your liking, or that in the middle of it, you truly are not enjoying yourself, then we would stop at once,” Methode leaned closer on the table. “And we might not speak of the subject ever again. I give you my word.”

“Why do you want to have sex with me so insistently?” Frieren narrowed her eyes at Methode.

“Oh my, I have already told you. I find you beautiful, Frieren-san, and I simply find myself terribly attracted to you.”

“Why?” Frieren studied Methode. “Is it because I look young to your eyes?”

“Young?” Methode frowned.

“Young, as in a human youth.”

Methode looked at her in silence for a moment, blinked, and then horror filled her face. “Oh by the Goddess, no! Why would you think that?”

“To my understanding, humans prefer women to be plumper, more curvaceous, and taller than me,” Frieren explained as she drew a silhouette with her hands. “I have received past propositions from men who were convinced that I’m truly young, and their words unsettle me to this day.”

“Frieren-san, I am so sorry,” Methode shook her head, her eyes filling with upset. “I’m sorry that you were the recipient of such awful proposals.”

“It doesn’t matter-”

“But more than that, I’m appalled that they didn’t see beyond their lowly desires. They didn’t see the woman that you are.”

Frieren blinked. “Woman?”

“Yes,” Methode nodded. “Your body might be petite, but I see not a trace of that early youth in you. You are clearly an adult and your years and mellowness shine through your eyes. Every movement of you speaks of your life experience. Your mana itself is imbued with centuries of joy and pain and all of what makes Frieren-san the woman that she is now.”

Frieren felt her own eyes widening at those words, at the conviction behind them. Frieren knew flattery and deceit, and there was none to be detected in Methode’s words.

“Is that so?” Was the one thing she managed to say.

“It is. The fact that you’re adorable doesn’t change the more important fact that you’re mature. After all, mature women can be adorable too, can they not?” Methode said. “Frieren-san. To my eyes, you’re a beautiful woman in all her glory.”

Frieren was speechless for a long moment as Methode’s description of herself swirled in her head.

“I don’t know…” She said at last as she rubbed her lips pensively.

“Of course,” Methode bowed her head. “I don’t want to keep pestering you, Frieren-san. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable around me, so I will leave the decision in your hands and gracefully accept whatever you choose.” She produced a piece of paper and wrote an address on it with a quick spell.

“This is the inn I’m staying in. If you decide that my proposition is worth exploring, come find me after sunset. I will be here for three days,” she got up, winking. “And if nothing else, you can always come and read some of those exclusive grimoires I told you about. I promise to be a lady.”

Frieren followed Methode with her eyes until the woman left the restaurant, and she stayed behind, playing with the crumbs of her third cake.

She would never say it out loud, but she still heard Sein’s voice in her memories after she had blown him that kiss.

Would someone take this child home?

Frieren was not a child. She was indeed a mature, older woman, as she liked to remind that corrupt, gambling priest. But it never felt that he took her words seriously.

She had been called many things. A great mage, a powerful elf, a hero, a slayer, and an old hag even. But no one, not even Himmel had called her a beautiful woman. In all her glory nonetheless.

Frieren seldom basked in her achievements. She had taken her master's teachings to heart and lived quietly and kept a low profile. She didn't care about statues of her, or if her name was printed in history and magic books. The mage of the hero party who had defeated the demon king. The person who had greatly contributed to the understanding of Zoltraak, so on and so on. Frieren didn't need that kind of praise.

But she damn took pride in her womanhood.

Methode and her invitation, her words, stuck with her for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Frieren kept herself busy that night by organizing and reorganizing her traveling case until it was neatly put together, and at some point Fern interrupted her task by feeling her forehead for a fever, but Frieren assured her that she was perfectly healthy.

On the next day, she occupied her time with essentials shopping and breaking up a stupid little fight between Stark and Fern, and at nightfall she buried her nose in a book to distract herself, to push back making a choice.

It was pointless.

Despite her efforts, she was unable to cast Methode’s offering off of her mind. But that didn't mean she needed to make a choice. All she had to do was to stay put where she was, and then Methode would be out of town. That would be the end of it.

And yet she kept picturing the woman’s eyes whenever she allowed her mind to drift off. She remembered vividly how Methode smelled when she had hugged her at the dungeon during the second test. How good it felt to hug her back.

Methode was gorgeous. She would not be stubborn enough to deny that fact, and Frieren intrinsically knew that she had no malicious intentions. That didn’t mean that she wanted this to happen. Right?

Why was she so torn up about it, then? She had never experienced curiosity towards sex beyond the initial inquisitiveness during her adolescent years when she was about a hundred years old or so, and the occasional, unremarkable encounters with other fellow elves her age that had come with it.

However, not long after, her village had been massacred, and after that she had dedicated her life to hone her craft. She hadn't given sex any serious consideration in hundreds and hundreds of years.

Be that as it may, Frieren’s thoughts kept circling back to their conversation in that restaurant. To Methode’s calm, yet earnest declarations, her shameless desire for Frieren. Her admiration for her, not as a mage, not as someone powerful and almost mythical. No. Methode admired her as a woman, and the simplicity of such a concept was making Frieren light in the head.

It excited her.

She gasped as the realization hit her. Frieren had to recognize that she felt elated at being found tempting. Sensually alluring. Sexually enticing.

Yes. She knew that Himmel had felt like that towards her, and more, much more, but Frieren didn’t understand it until it was too late, and only in hindsight. This time she was fully aware of what Methode felt for her, and what the woman wanted to do about those feelings.

Giving into the impulse, she twisted the ends of her ponytail between her fingers as she quietly exited the room that she shared with Fern and made her way out of their lodge, the piece of paper with Methode’s address clutched in her hand.

It took her almost fifteen minutes to reach the place she was looking for, and by then she had convinced herself that she only wanted to inspect those supposedly exclusive grimoires. She felt ridiculous when she asked the innkeeper about Methode’s room by loudly declaring that she was there to check on said grimoires, as if the innkeeper cared about why she was there. The old man had barely looked at her as he directed her to the second floor, fourth door to the right, and then went back to sweeping the floors.

And so, she climbed up the stairs with the determination of someone who was about to face a sage of destruction, and once she found the right room, and confirmed by prodding at the mana inside that Methode was in fact in there, she knocked.

It took several moments for the door to open, and Frieren found a very surprised Methode behind it. Her hair was down, as usual, bright and luscious, her eyes shining at the sight of Frieren, and her body was encased in a thin sleeping gown that exposed her shoulders and upper chest. Frieren almost gulped.

“Frieren-san,” Methode smiled at last as she opened the door wide and stepped aside to let Frieren in. “I had honestly resigned myself to leaving town without seeing you again. Please, come in.”

“I’m only here to take a look at those grimoires you kept flaunting about,” Frieren said as she walked past Methode, her eyes everywhere except for the woman. The room was clean and adorned with drapes, rugs, a comfortable large bed, a couch, a vanity, and even a nice desk and chairs. So, being a working first class mage truly paid off.

“Is that so?” Methode said as she closed the door, hands behind herself as she observed Frieren.

“That is so,” Frieren looked over her shoulder.

Methode hummed, went to the bed, and sat on it with one leg crossed over the other. “In that case, I have some of them over on that desk. I’m sure that you’ll find them of your interest.”

As she walked towards the desk, Frieren could feel the hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. She was keenly aware of Methode’s presence while she perused the grimoires, and as she opened one of them, she could perfectly sense the ebb and flow of the human’s mana, pulsating with excitement and anticipation. Very few mages would notice such a subtlety, but Frieren did.

Oh, Flamme Sensei. Look at what your teachings allow me to perceive.

“Well, have you discovered anything intriguing?”

“Hm?”

“The grimoires,” Methode smiled when Frieren turned her eyes to her. “Are they interesting?”

“Oh,” Frieren looked at the book in her hands. It was upside down, and she knew that Methode had noticed it, too. Sighing, she put it down and turned to her, chin raised, as if ready to accept an inescapable fate.

“Very well, Methode, my curiosity is piqued. I’d like to see what you have to offer when it comes to sex.”

“Oh my,” Methode smiled, a hand against her cheek. “You’re so candid, Frieren-san. I like that about you.”

“Okay then,” Frieren removed her blue scarf and coat at once, letting them fall on the floor, and then started to unbutton the top of her dress at a fast pace. “Let us commence.”

“Frieren-san, what are you doing?” Methode was on her feet at once, a hand on Frieren’s shoulder, the other one stopping her from undoing a third button.

“I’m undressing, of course,” Frieren frowned. “How else are we going to engage?”

“That’s not-” Methode, to her credit, fought back an adoring smile. The one she conjured was soft instead. “That’s not how I’d like to do this.”

Frieren gave her a quizzical look.

“I mean,” Methode went on, “That I’d like to have a cherishable moment with you. Remember how I told you that sex can be something to please your body? Your senses?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here,” Frieren kept looking at her. “You’ve made me curious, and that hasn’t happened to me in a long, long time.”

“I’m elated,” Methode removed her hands from Frieren. “And that’s more of a reason for me to want to give you the best possible experience.”

“Shouldn’t we be naked for that to happen?” Frieren tilted her head towards her shoulder.

“Preferably, yes,” Methode chuckled. “But that’s not something to simply get out of the way,” she went back to sit on the bed and then patted the spot beside her. “Undressing is part of the adventure. You don’t start a journey and skip the first part of it out of convenience, do you?”

Frieren narrowed her eyes, and finally she decided to sit next to Methode, hands at the edge of the bed.

“Very well, Methode. You have the opportunity to teach a thousand year old elf something new. So, how would you like us to proceed then?” She asked.

“You can’t help but to be analytical and prepared for everything, can you?” Methode said as she took Frieren’s hand in hers, entwining their fingers.

“That’s-” Frieren blinked, the contact surprising her. It was gentle and yet firm, and Methode’s hand was soft, her fingers long. “That’s how I’ve survived.”

“We’re not here to survive tonight, Frieren-san,” Methode’s voice became low, her eyes hooded. “Tonight you’re here to live. Will you let me show you?”

Frieren nodded, gaze still focused on their joined hands, on the way Methode used her thumb to draw soft circles over her skin. It was pleasant, comforting almost, and then Methode cupped her face to stroke her cheek bone up and down. It made Frieren’s eyelids feel heavy.

“Is this okay?” Methode asked in a low tone.

“I'll let you know if something is not,” Frieren leaned against that hand, experimenting with the pressure of it, its warmth against her cheek.

“Say, Methode,” Frieren was surprised to hear her own voice turning hoarse. “What do you find attractive about me?”

“How to choose,” Methode hummed as she kept her gentle strokes. “Your silhouette, your eyes,” she passed a finger over Frieren's eyebrow. “Your hair,” she wrapped white tresses around a hand, letting the soft hair run between her fingers. “Your lips.”

“My lips?” Frieren guided Methode's fingers to her own mouth and Methode didn't wait a second to stroke Frieren’s soft, rosy lips, to press on the lower one, prying it open slightly. A heavy breath left both women.

“Yes, your lips. Might I kiss them?”

Frieren was now the one touching Methode's lips, mapping them to the woman's delighted surprise.

“I did say that I would let you know if something is not okay,” Frieren said. “You need not to be so careful. I'm not going to bolt out of here or break, Methode.”

“My apologies,” Methode blushed. “I'm slightly nervous, you see.”

“Do I intimidate you?”

Methode shook her head. “You thrill me…”

Frieren produced a soft smile before taking Methode's hand to an ear. “Touch me there, gently. They are very sensitive.”

Methode's eyes heaved as she got closer, a hand cupping Frieren's neck, her other one grazing a long ear, watching in fascination how it fluttered, and then she, bolder, followed its helix with her fingers, all the way to its tip and down again, repeating the movement with the other ear, and she had to bite her lip as she heard Frieren's quiet little moan.

“Feels good…” Frieren whispered.

“Real good?” Methode’s breathing was shallow now.

“Real good,” Frieren closed her eyes.

“What about you, Frieren-san?”

“Hm?” It was hard for Frieren to open her eyes.

“Do you find me attractive?”

Frieren fixed her eyes on Methode's, and then she followed her collarbone with curious fingers until she found that tempting hollow under her throat and rubbed the skin there.

“I do,” she said at last, closing the last gap between them to claim Methode’s lips into a soft, hesitant kiss, and she wasn't sure how, but they were now lying side by side on the bed, their kiss deepening, their hands more confident in their exploration of their arms, their waists, their faces, their backs.

Frieren lowered the strap of Methode’s gown to caress her shoulder while Methode retook the task of unbuttoning Frieren's top, finally pushing it off her shoulders and placing Frieren on her back as she proceeded to kiss her, to let her lips travel down to an ear, kissing its shell, her tongue playing with an earring before sucking on her little earlobe.

The attentions were making Frieren reel, deliciously so. Her indeed sensitive ears tingled hot, all of her felt feverish, vibrating. She found herself arching her back to allow Methode to slide an arm between her and the mattress to bring them closer, their fronts pressing together, only the thin fabric of Methode’s gown and her own undershirt separating their skin, and then Frieren decided that such a barrier was bothersome.

“Off…” she lowered Methode’s other strap.

Methode sat up on her calves, gaze nailed on Frieren as she grabbed the hem of her gown and pulled it over her head, letting a cascade of golden hair caress her now bare torso.

Frieren felt her lips part as she sat up, her attention full on those beautiful breasts, on the way they rose and fell with Methode’s agitated breathing. She looked at the woman’s dark blue eyes, raised her own arms, and a hot, shaky breath grazed her face as Methode leaned closer to take off Frieren’s undershirt.

“Frieren-san…” Methode licked her lips as she admired Frieren unabashedly; she pulled her into straddling her lap, her hands promenading over Frieren’s perky breasts, thumbing her nipples, looking at them bounce, fascinated, making Frieren squirm against her.

“Just Frieren,” Frieren swallowed before cupping Methode’s nape to bring her face down as she curved her back, and the invitation was taken at once. Methode wrapped her lips around a soft bud, sucking with content as she stroked Frieren’s back, as she undid a ponytail, the other, letting that mystical white hair fall free.

“Frieren,” Methode tasted the name between sucks and little kisses.

“Yeah, that sounds better,” Frieren mumbled while she buried her fingers in Methode’s hair, her other hand tracing the human’s spine, her sides, and at last she dared to fill her palms with Methode’s breasts, caressing them, weighing them, light squeezes and thumb strokes following after, and Frieren could feel the gradual loss of control.

It was exhilarating. She had exerted control for as long as she could remember, but that was the last thing she wanted to feel right now. Her temperature was rising, her mana was threatening with expanding, and her heart drummed hard and loud against her ears as little moans escaped her throat, as her hips got a will on their own and grinded insistently against Methode’s lap, harder, faster.

“Allow me,” Methode broke away from her banquet to lay Frieren on her back again. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips reddened, and Frieren knew that her own face must be looking much the same.

“These black stockings of yours are in the way,” Methode played with the waistband while she offered Frieren a playful smirk. “Pesky little things…”

Frieren swallowed as she lazily caressed Methode’s face, nodding, and at last she raised her hips.

Methode offered her another smirk as she hooked her fingers from the waistband and then-

“Frieren-Sama?”

Shy knocking came from the other side of the door. Frieren sighed.

“Is that Fern-san,” Methode’s shoulders slumped.

“Hush, she might leave,” Frieren squeezed the hands at her hips, urging Methode to go on.

“Frieren-Sama,” The knocks were louder. ”Frieren-Sama, I know you’re in there.”

Both Frieren and Methode groaned, and Methode sat up. “She won’t go away, will she?”

“No.” Frieren sighed and sat up as well.

“Frieren-Sama, please open this door.”

“How inconvenient,” Methode grumbled as she was quick to put her gown back on.

“Stop knocking, Fern,” Frieren called out. “You’ll throw down the door. I’ll be out in a moment.”

She sent Methode a resigned look as she redressed. “I’m sorry about that. I'm sure she's just worried about me. I didn’t mention that I’d be gone.”

“Well, I’m still here tomorrow night…” Methode said as she stroked her own arm. “If you feel like continuing with our little session.”

“Frieren-sama? Are you coming out at all?” Fern knocked yet again.

“I’ll make sure that we’re not interrupted,” Frieren nodded, sending Methode a longing, charged stare before leaving. The door opened just long enough for Methode to catch a glimpse of Fern's pout.

Chapter Text

Why were you in there with that woman, Frieren-Sama? Why didn’t you tell me that you were going out? I was deeply worried. Did she offer you grimoires again? Why was your hair down? Frieren-Sama, you should not allow her to pat your head and hug you in exchange for silly little spells. It’s not proper.

Frieren had only sighed and rolled her eyes -whenever Fern was not looking- as her apprentice had showered her with reproaches, and then proceeded to bear with Fern’s sulkiness for the rest of the night and the following day. That, until she asked- no, begged Stark to take her to the closest bakery to buy the best looking sweets they could find.

There went Frieren’s savings, but she truly needed Fern out of her hair. She needed both her companions away because Frieren found herself in a truly rotten mood.

She didn’t want to speak or see anyone, She even felt no inclination to read any of her books. Frieren was simply frustrated. Hot, bothered, and frustrated, and those were three things that she was not used to feeling, much less all at the same time. For someone who had all the time in the world, Frieren felt that the hours couldn’t run fast enough, and that day, more than ever, the sun was taking an eternity to set.

Her mind kept going back to Methode, to Methode’s caresses, her lips, her smirk. Her body vibrated as it remembered those touches, her hands itched as she recalled her own explorations, how eager she found herself after her initial hesitation, and then how their enjoyment had been interrupted by her overzealous student.

It amazed her how intuitive this sex business was, after all. There was no need to study as one did with magic. No, this was a magic of its own, a primordial spell that both numbed and heightened the senses, that made time go slow and fast. There was much she still wanted to know about it, and she could only blame Methode for offering such knowledge in the first place.

To her luck, her foul mood went down with the sun and her anticipation rose in its place, and this time Frieren would make sure not to be interrupted. She had left a note behind for Fern and Stark letting them know that she’d be out for the night, and that there was absolutely no need for them to go looking for her. Plus, she had the full intention to cast a no-trespassing spell.

With her plans well set, she found herself standing before Methode’s room again, and this time the door opened before Frieren got a chance to knock.

“Frieren,” Methode’s stare was intense as she let Frieren in, closing the door after, and then both chuckled as they found their respective no-trespassing spells interfering with the other’s.

“It’s okay,” Frieren said. “I see we both had the same idea. You cast it."

“Thank you,” Methode proceeded to ensure that this time their night would go undisturbed. “There. All set. I added a muffling spell for good measure.”

“Both ways?”

“Naturally,” Methode shrugged.

They both looked at each other in silence, perhaps trying to recapture the inertia from last night, to figure out how to reopen that chapter, and for a moment, Frieren wondered if the opportunity was lost, if the desire had been ephemeral, or perhaps Methode had changed her mind.

She hadn’t needed to worry about that.

A moment later, Methode had closed the distance with a few strides, picking Frieren up and placing her on the desk, and then she enveloped her in her arms, engrossing them both into a new, searing kiss that found their lips clashing at once, fighting for supremacy. And then that was not enough, Frieren’s coat was off, followed by her dress, and Methode wrapped an arm around her waist to hoist her up for a moment as she expertly pulled her stockings down, removing them with several yanks, and now Frieren’s skin became vulnerable for Methode’s greedy explorations, her hands palming and stroking her breasts over her undershirt, cupping her ass and squeezing her hips as she devoured her lips, as she nibbled down her jawline and before Frieren knew it, Methode had picked her up in her arms, placing her on the bed and baring her fully so she could continue with her worship.

Frieren felt exquisitely overwhelmed as the sensual assault saturated her senses. So much, that she forgot for a moment that she was also a participant.

“Your turn,” she pushed Methode away slightly and sat up to remove the woman's nightgown. A few more pieces tossed aside and Methode was also naked for her, and both halted their frenzy as their eyes drank in the discovery of each other’s body.

“You’re beautiful, Frieren…” Methode pushed Frieren down on her back and hovered over her, allowing her hand to leisurely travel over the elf’s breasts, down her smooth, flat stomach, until she delicately cupped her schism.

“So are you,” Frieren traced every curve she could reach with eyes and hands, and then she brought her in for a new kiss.

“Frieren, you told me not to ask, but I must…” Methode’s tone was shaky with eagerness, her hand still resting between Frieren’s legs. “Will you let me feel you?”

Frieren felt a jolt curling her very toes, and she nodded, cupping Methode’s hand with her own, making the woman squeeze her there, and they kissed again as Frieren felt a gentle finger spreading her labia.

“Methode…” Frieren clawed at the woman’s shoulder and spread a leg further. “More…”

Methode took her time mapping Frieren's slickness, basking in the moisture she found there, and at last she zeroed in the miraculous bundle nestled in Frieren’s core, circling it with her index and middle fingers once and again.

“Fuck!” Frieren wasn’t sure if she had sworn before. She didn’t remember. She wasn’t sure if she remembered her own name at the moment.

“So soft, Frieren, so wet…” Methode sucked on a breast as she continued her ministrations.

“Faster,” Frieren begged, arms around Methode’s neck, a leg wrapped around her hips as the novel sensations inundated her body. She was trapped in an all consuming fire that she never wanted to quench. “Faster, Methode…”

Methode let go of a nipple. “Look at me, Frieren…” she asked, and once their eyes met, Methode slid two fingers down Frieren’s slit until she penetrated her with soft, gentle thrusts that drew a gasp from her, a moan, her hips rising to meet Methode's hand.

“Ah!” Frieren clasped at Methode’s hair and brought her down for an all consuming kiss, their tongues battling, their breasts rubbing together as Methode kept thrusting into Frieren, the palm of her hand taking over her clit to rub and press, and then it happened, like a spell, a shocking magic that rattled her body, from her very core to the tip of her ears as her depths spasmed around Methode’s fingers, her body producing moisture and moans and shivers and her nails clawing at her lover’s smooth back. “Methode!”

“Beautiful,” Amidst her orgasm, Frieren heard Methode moan, her bliss and pleasure blinding her for a long moment until her body slumped, and the elf gave into the instinct to curl up against Methode, seeking to ground herself, and Methode hugged her to her, stroked her hair, waited patiently for her to come down from heaven itself.

“That was-” Frieren was panting, still spasming here and there.

“Good?” Methode cooed as she stroked her back up and down, and Frieren simply nodded, a little smile on her lips.

“I’m so happy that I could show this to you, Frieren,” Methode said. “I’ll never forget it.”

“And what about you?” Frieren finally opened lazy eyes.

“About me?” Methode blinked.

“You haven’t- you haven't...”

“Peaked?” Methode stroked a long ear. “There’s no need, I’m happy to have been able to please you.”

“I want you to,” Frieren kissed Methode’s shoulder, the birth of her breasts, and then Methode was the one laying on her back as Frieren topped her, enjoying the contact of their heatened skin, allowing her fingers to enjoy those plentiful breasts, to wander down Methode’s stomach until they found her mound, her sex, and Methode could only moan when Frieren returned the attentions with as much detail as Methode had given her.

“I’m already so close,” Methode threw her head back, her focus full on Frieren’s delicate fingers dancing over her clit, unhooding it and circling it, pressing on it, before index and middle finger ventured deep into her entrance. “Frieren- Frieren, please… faster, harder, please!”

Frieren felt captivated by the need in Methode’s voice, by her desperation, and she didn’t make her wait. Frieren thrust into her once and again as she placed kisses and nibbles all over her neck and breasts, and Frieren felt her own body being lifted as Methode thrashed under her, consumed by her ecstasy, pulling at her hair, calling her name.

It made Frieren feel damn proud.

“Good?” Frieren mirrored the question when Methode seemed able to produce coherent thoughts.

“Heavenly,” Methode smiled, eyes closed, as she brought Frieren into her arms, fingers scratching at her scalp. “You were perfect.”

Frieren smirked smugly. “I've always been a good student.”

“Have you now?” Methode topped her, nibbling on her lower ear. “Because this is barely a taste.”

“Oh?” Frieren, to her surprise, felt her libido reawakening. “How…”

“There is so much I could still show you,” Methode whispered. “Will you stay the night?”

There was no need to think about it. “Yeah. I can stay.”

“Perfect,” Methode raised her upper body and placed a little peck on Frieren's lips. “Let us take a little breather, hm?” She reached down to cover them both with the sheets.

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Just rest, take a nap if you want to. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to wake you up.” Methode's promise was a loaded one.

Now that she focused on it, yes, Frieren felt exhausted in a good, delectable way.

“Okay, but you must know that I'm difficult to rouse. Please don't let me sleep until noon, if it comes to that.”

“You have my word,” Methode chuckled and then turned on her side, a content smirk lightening her face.

Frieren observed her for several moments, and then at last closed her eyes and gave into a pleasant lull.

Chapter Text

Who would have thought that the secret to easily waking up was a prodigious mouth praying between her legs?

Frieren was gasping, eyes closed, head thrown back and hands grasping at bunches of golden hair as Methode showed no mercy, her tongue and lips relentless in their mission to taste every inch of Frieren’s body, her sex. Frieren didn’t know that mouths could be used with such mastery, that there would come a day when she would moan and beg to be savored, to feel a tongue spreading her insides, lips sucking on her bundle and teeth grazing her folds, and yet that’s exactly what was happening.

“Methode… I'm going- I’m going to come again…” she moaned, and Methode raised glimmering eyes to look at her, proceeding then to hook both of Frieren’s legs on her shoulders, and then she held onto Frieren’s own shoulders with both hands to press her harder against her face.

There was no escape, neither Frieren wanted one. She exploded with a new orgasm as she rubbed her hips against Methode’s ministrations with abandon, and she was thankful of that muffling spell, because she was sure that the moans and cries coming out of her would astound anyone. They certainly astounded her.

Gradually, her hips stopped swaying, her insides halted their twitching, and Frieren released a satisfied, long sigh, a hand lazily curled against her cheek.

“Adorable,” Methode hummed as she climbed up, her lips leaving a trail of Frieren’s own wetness over her skin, and at last she reached her mouth, kissing her gently, having Frieren taste herself. “Simply adorable.”

“Just adorable?” Frieren opened an eye, both arms now around Methode’s neck.

“Adorable, and sexy,” Methode pecked her lips again. “Divine, a true delight.”

“That’s more like it,” Frieren smirked as she traced Methode’s nose, her cheekbones. “You’re a woman of many talents.”

“I like to cultivate as many as I can,” Methode chuckled as she combed Frieren’s loose hair behind an ear. “To pass on knowledge too.”

“I certainly acquired some of that tonight, including quite the vocabulary,” Frieren hummed. “As I said, I’m a fast learner, and a prolific visualizer.”

“Oh?”

Frieren sat up and pushed her on her back, making her raise her knees so Frieren could use them for support as she side-straddled Methode’s pelvis, Frieren’s own legs spread, a knee over the woman's stomach, the other one pressed against her ass. “Magic is all about visualization,” she grinded her core against Methode’s, making the woman moan. “And as I see it, so is sex.”

“Goddess be damned, Frieren…” Methode hooked a hand around Frieren’s bent knee, the other grasped her hip, making her grind against her again. “You are enjoying this so much, aren’t you? Rubbing your pretty little pussy against mine?”

“More than I could tell,” Frieren started a decadent rhythm. “And to think that you were being so proper with your language at the beginning,” she pressed their flesh together, their wetness combining, their clits rubbing against each other and sending waves of pleasure down their bodies.

“Dirty talking is hardly lesson two,” Methode was panting by now. “But- but you’re a fast learner indeed…”

Frieren licked her lips, meaning to say something in return, but she found their thrusting more enthralling. She gauged Methode’s face and the way her eyelids fluttered to pace her movements, gradually going faster, grinding harder, until Methode was singing a choir of moans and gasps, a hand clawing at her own hair, the other one holding onto Frieren’s hip with an iron grip until at last she arched her back almost painfully as her orgasm washed over her, and Frieren, in retribution, didn’t falter until the woman became undone, shivering and moaning under her, eyes closed, lips agape.

Frieren dismounted and lay besides her to regain her breath, a hand over her chest. She was supposed to be in good shape, and yet this exhaustion hit differently. It felt amazing.

Methode turned her face to her, eyes barely open, a smile on her features.

“What?” Frieren found herself returning the smile.

“Nothing,” Methode rested her head on a bent arm. “I just never thought that this little dream of mine could be granted.”

“Really? A dream?” Frieren blinked.

“Are you surprised?”

Frieren considered it for a moment, shrugging in the end. “I’m simply unsure of what to think about it.”

“I suppose that it doesn’t matter,” Methode covered them with the sheets. “Right now, in this moment, I’m just happy.”

“I…” Frieren frowned, and then she sat up, knees raised, arms crossed over them. “Methode, I must let you know that I’m not someone who can develop romantic feelings easily. And I don't have any interest to do so.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Methode sat up as well and placed a wet kiss on Frieren’s shoulder. “I’m not asking you to be in love with me, Frieren. Not at all.”

Frieren turned her face to her. “Are you in love with me, Methode?”

Methode looked at her and pursed her lips, then shook her head. “Infatuated is more like it.”

“What’s the difference?”

Methode thought about it for a moment. “Infatuation is like a keen interest in someone, it’s admiration. It’s a warm little feeling inside your chest that simply makes you happy, and any attention you get from your little crush is enough to brighten your day.”

Frieren nodded, considering those words. “And love?”

“Love is…” Methode looked down, her eyes getting lost in thought. “Love is a tidal wave. It engulfs you, it raises you high above everything. It makes the world seem better, brighter. It makes you feel like you could do anything as long as that special person is by your side. It’s strength, it’s… it’s magic itself.”

Frieren looked down as well. Yes, she had known that magic once.

“Have you been in love, Frieren?” Methode asked as she lay on her back again, arms crossed behind her head.

“I think so, yes,” Frieren looked back at Methode, and at last she lay down as well. “What about you?”

Methode looked at the ceiling and twisted her lips as she nodded. “She died.”

“How?” Frieren asked.

“Demons,” Methode simply stated. “Yours?”

“Old age.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Frieren closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Methode brought Frieren into a spooning position, much to the elf’s surprise, but she didn’t fight the embrace.

“It’s fine. It’s how it is,” she sighed.

“It must be difficult to give into feelings and relationships when your loved ones are bound to leave you so soon,” Methode’s voice was gentle, quiet.

“It is,” Frieren curled her fingers under her chin. How had they gotten there? “Is it hard for you to live without your beloved?”

“It’s a little bit easier every passing day, just a little bit,” Methode said. “Her name was Freude.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Isn’t it?” Methode sighed. “What about yours?”

Frieren thought for a moment, and then she shook her head.

“That’s okay,” Methode brought her closer, fixed the sheets yet again, and silence fell over them.

“I depart tomorrow,” Methode said after a while.

“Where to?”

“Back to Äußerst. What about you, Frieren? Where is your party heading?”

“North.”

“Oh? North where?”

Frieren thought about it for a moment before speaking. “Ende.”

“Ende?” She could feel Methode tightening her hold on her slightly. “Where the demon kings castle is? Why would you return there?”

Frieren felt her eyes closing by themselves. “There’s something there I’m looking for.”

“I see,” Methode nuzzled Frieren’s nape. “I hope you find it.”

“Me too,” Frieren yawned. “Hey, don’t let me-”

“I know, I won’t let you sleep until noon. I promise,” Methode said, and not long after, both women were deeply asleep.

Again, Methode seemed to have a knack for making Frieren wake up without that much of a trouble. In the morning, the woman had simply stroked her ears once and again until the grogginess abandoned Frieren, though she had to admit that leaving the bed had been difficult for different reasons this time.

First, they had taken the chance to pleasure each other a couple more times.

And second, never before in her life had Frieren shared her bed with a lover, and the experience had been surprisingly enjoyable. The small talk, the nearness and intimacy were all a novelty to her, and she could understand why people sought to have a partner. And on top of it she somehow hadn't woken up sprawled on the floor. Maybe it had been Methode’s hold on her waist, Maybe Frieren had instinctively scooted closer to her warmth during her slumber. She had missed on that with Himmel. On that and on everything else.

She shook her head as she worked on her twintails. That had been a stretch. What she had shared with Methode for a night couldn't be compared to the years she spent adventuring with Himmel. And yet the handsome hero had not been the one to make her call his name amidst a potent orgasm.

Their time has been off. Frieren had been off.

“Allow me,” Methode walked behind her and helped to fasten her hair tie, and then squeezed her shoulders as she looked at their reflection on the mirror. “All ready.”

“Thanks,” Frieren looked at her through the mirror as well.

“You will take good care of yourself, won't you, Frieren?” Methode asked.

Frieren nodded, placing a hand over Methode's to squeeze it back. “So do you,” she said, and finally stood up.

“Of course,” Methode smiled, and Frieren could sense that ebb and flow of her mana again. Methode's attraction for her was still there, and Frieren had to recognize that her own hadn't dissipated either. If anything, it had grown.

Alas.

“I must go now, Methode. I’m sure we'll meet again, though.”

“I’m sure of it as well,” Methode nodded, and then tapped her chin in thought as she looked towards her desk. She at last walked to it, grabbed a grimoire, and offered it to Frieren.

“Magic that makes shoes impervious to snow and rain.”

“A quite useful spell, considering where we're heading,” Frieren took it with evident excitement. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Methode shrugged. “These are the things that make you smile, aren't they?”

Frieren in fact, smiled as she ran her fingers over the leathery cover. She pressed the book against her chest and nodded. “See you around, Methode.”

“See you around, Frieren.”

After a long pause, Frieren put her coat on, sent Methode a last look, and finally left.

Chapter Text

“Oi Frieren, I wouldn't go in there if I were you,” Stark intercepted Frieren at the door. The young man looked mortified, and Frieren had no doubt that he had had to put up with the bad mood of a certain purple haired mage.

“That bad, huh?” She gave him a pitiful look.

“You have no idea. I had to stand at the door to stop her from going after you,” he lamented.

“Really, Stark? You did that? Your courage keeps surprising me,” Frieren gave him a side glance, and then her shoulders dropped, her ears too. “I'm sorry that you got caught up in this situation.”

Stark scratched his head. “Was it necessary, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you knew she'd get like this.”

“Stark, I have the right to spend a night out and go where I please if I desire so, don't you think?”

“Well, yes, of course. But did it have to be with Methode-san? You know how Fern feels about her.”

“Seriously,” Frieren moved Stark aside and opened the door, and a dark, heavy aura received her in the shape of a gloomful Fern. The girl was sitting on the bed, arms crossed over her chest, her cheeks puffed up almost comically. Almost.

“...Good morning.”

“Don’t you good morning me. Frieren-Sama, I can't believe you.”

Frieren stared at her in silence as Stark poked his head from the door frame.

“You went to see that woman again, didn't you?” Fern stood up, arms stretched, hands fisted.

“I did,” Frieren put down her new grimoire.

“Why? She's strange, she doesn't know how to keep her hands to herself. She's an Ecchi. What did she do this time?”

“She's not an Ecchi,” Frieren’s gaze was serene. No. She could not let Fern push her around about this. “Sex is not an inherent perversion, Fern.”

“She admitted it just like that!” Stark sounded as if he were about to have a heart attack.

Confusion filled Fern's features, effectively replacing her anger, and Frieren sighed and sat on the bed.

“Fern-”

“No, I don't want to hear it!” Fern covered her ears with her hands, eyes shut tight.

Frieren sighed again.

“Maybe this is not the best time to talk.” She stood up, but Fern, stubbornly, kept her ears covered, so Frieren left the room.

“Frieren,” Stark followed her down the hallway, and Frieren stopped walking, turning to him.

“Uh…” Stark was red to the very tip of his ears, and that made Frieren remember how inexperienced he was, how inexperienced the three of them were when it came to sex, or romance.

“You can ask, Stark. I'll decide what I can answer.”

“Yes, right,” Stark nodded. “So, are you and Methode-san together now?”

“No.”

“Then why did you two do… that?”

“That?”

“You know. You two uh… slept together,” Stark rubbed his nape insistently as his face turned yet a deeper shade of red. “Wouldn't that mean that you are in a relationship? Or that you love each other?”

“Listen, Stark, the way I see it, you don't necessarily need to be in love to sleep with someone. All you need is mutual attraction and respect.”

“And is that enough?”

“Hm…” Frieren rubbed her chin. Indeed, she was no expert, but she had lived long enough to accurately infer. “I guess that it varies from people to people, but for many, yes, it's enough.”

“And if you feel more than that…?”

“More than attraction, you mean?”

Stark gave a timid nod.

Frieren felt a protective pull towards the warrior. In every sense that counted, he was Eisen’s son, and she got the privilege to see him finish growing up.

“Then you seek for the right time for both of you, Stark. The right conditions. You will know,” she patted his arm.

“What? No, no, I didn't mean anything by that! You're misunderstanding- I was just curious!” The boy looked close to panic. “Shouldn't have asked…”

“It's fine, Stark,” Frieren sighed. She didn't think that her young companions would be this nosy about her private affairs. “I'll go walk around town, okay?”

“Uh… yes, okay.”

Frieren gave him a nod and left.

Frieren returned to the inn late in the evening to find a still smoldering Fern sitting on the bed, her attention forced on her reading as she deliberately ignored her presence.

“Fern.”

No answer.

“Fern, can we talk?”

Fern turned her back to Frieren.

“Fern, help me understand. Why are you so upset?”

“You have the nerve to ask?” Fern at last nailed Frieren with a fulminating stare, and Frieren felt her stomach drop. Fern had never looked at her like that.

“I-” Frieren rubbed her index fingers together for a few seconds. “Yes. I'm asking. I won't understand how you feel unless you tell me.”

“Very well, Frieren-Sama,” Fern dropped her book on the bed. “What you did was improper. It's not fitting of a lady.”

“What? Did Heiter teach you that?”

“No,” Fern crossed her arms. “He didn't have to. I know how the world works.”

“Do you truly, Fern?” Frieren, tentative, sat at the foot of the bed.

“I'm not a child, Frieren-Sama.”

“And neither am I,” Frieren answered. “I’m old enough to make the choices I consider right for me.”

“Like running head first into obvious mimics-”

“It's not the same,” Frieren narrowed her eyes.

Fern looked down, her upset still visible, but her posture eased up somewhat.

“Fern, I trust you. I trust your abilities as a mage, and I trust you as a person. Do you think you could return that trust when it comes to my decisions about my personal life?”

“Frieren-Sama is too naive about those things,” Frieren kept her arms crossed. “Sometimes you just don’t know how to take care of yourself. What did she give you this time, Frieren-Sama? How many grimoires was your body worth?”

Frieren gasped feebly as her stomach gave an unpleasant twist. She didn’t remember the last time that words had wounded her so deeply. She looked down, and the following silence was painfully agonizing.

“I’m sorry,” Fern spoke after what felt like an eternity.

Frieren’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Is that what you think of me?”

Fern shook her head as she rubbed her glistening eyes with her wrists. “I’m just confused. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Frieren kept her hands on her lap, her gaze cast down. She couldn’t understand where Fern was coming from. Her reproaches, her attitude. Not to this extreme. She was as confused as her student.

“It’s okay,” she finally said, not fully believing her own words.

“Frieren-Sama. I just don’t want her playing with you, and hurting you. Using you,” Fern dared to look at her, and Frieren shook her head as she returned the look.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Fern. She didn’t do any of that, and she’s on her way back to Äußerst as we speak. We simply spent a night together, that’s all. Also, she didn’t coerce me. I chose on my own.”

“Truly?” Fern pouted.

“Truly. Please don’t suggest something like that again.”

“Yes, Frieren-Sama,” Fern hugged herself. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’ll believe it if you don’t braid my hair tomorrow,” Frieren offered a conciliatory smile.*

“Do you still want me to do your hair?” Fern looked surprised, much to Frieren’s puzzlement.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Nevermind me,” Fern shrugged, her face softening, and at last she got up. “Let’s get everything ready. We leave tomorrow, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Frieren sighed inwardly. It seemed that her disconcert about her apprentice’s behavior would be something for her to bear alone, but at least Fern seemed to have made some peace with whatever had displeased her so much.

That night was still tense, permeated with an awkward silence, and it was hard for Frieren to fall asleep.

She knew that she lacked in some areas when it came to dealing with other people, and her quest to understand humans was still pretty new, but she thought that she had been doing at least a decent job. She tried to be open minded, no longer taking her new experiences for granted, and treasuring the moments she spent with the much more shorter lived races she spent her time with.

And yet, the one person with whom Frieren had a carefree relationship, the one who she had seen grow up, whose fevers she had soothed, whose magical training she had taken to heart, was the one person to believe her naive, incapable of reading ill intentions and ready to compromise her integrity in exchange for a few spells.

She truly thought she was doing better.

Well… Frieren recognized that she was the kind of person to put herself in what others considered danger in her pursuit for new magic, so maybe she couldn't blame Fern for doubting her judgment. However, Frieren knew herself capable of escaping said dangers. Didn't Fern know that?

Frieren sighed. In the end, she was still gawky, wasn’t she?

And yet, with Methode, everything had felt natural and fun. Methode hadn't patronized her in any moment, or made her feel inadequate. Frieren had truly enjoyed herself.

She managed to fall asleep with a little smile on, after all.

Dear Frieren,

My training has kept me busy here in Äußerst, but in a moment of leisure, I found a curious grimoire with a spell to trim nails to perfection.

The shopkeeper said that he hadn't been able to sell it for years, but I had a feeling that you'd find it entertaining. Here is hoping that your mana imprinted correctly in my memory and my messenger bird will be able to find you and deliver it to you.

How's your journey going?

Best,

Methode.

Methode,

I'm impressed. Your bird found me just fine. Thank you for the grimoire. It's a valuable addition to my collection and I can't wait to try it out.

The further we go into the North, the more common monsters are, as expected, but as promised, I'm taking care of myself.

I'm sending back a very unique flower that only grows around these parts. Since you appreciate pretty things, I figured that you'd find it of your liking. I'm confident that the preserving spell that I put on it will hold until your bird gets back to you.

Frieren.

Frieren observed the blue bird fly away southbound with a hand over her eyes to block the sun rays.

She knew that Methode was an accomplished enough mage, but no one had ever tracked her down by mana location alone, even less sent her correspondence. Frieren made sure to keep her unique energy print behind powerful barriers to become untraceable at all times.

Methode's deed took a great deal of talent that included not only a keen visualization of the receiver of such correspondence, namely Frieren herself, but Methode had to have been able to synchronize and empathize with Frieren's unique mana essence.

And to think that a single shared night had accomplished that. Frieren reckoned that she should be annoyed with herself for lowering her defenses, and yet she couldn't conjure said upset.

She discovered instead a little smile on her lips.

No, she hadn't lowered her defenses. This was different. It was the lived experience that they shared that night what allowed Methode to form that connection.

A first, for this thousand years old lived elf.

Chapter Text

Sein raised an eyebrow, the tobacco roll between his lips moving up and down as he spoke.

“I´m going to be honest, Frieren. This is something I never thought to hear from you.”

“I know, right? It’s a little ridiculous,” Frieren said.

“I wouldn't call it ridiculous at all. Just unexpected,” Sein said as he picked up another piece of wood for their encampment fire.

“Like how your search for Gorilla turned out?” Frieren asked.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Frieren and her party had stumbled upon Sein when they took an unexpected detour to the East due to a closed pass. The talented priest had been lodging with no one other than his lost friend Gorilla, who he had managed to locate after his long search. It turned out that the warrior had found love and married, then proceeded to have a whole bunch of kids, and whenever Gorilla meant to return to his village, his wife had become pregnant again, so he had stayed by her side.

“Anyway, that was more than two months ago, but it doesn't feel like things have returned to how they were before,” Frieren picked a couple of twigs. “If I had known that Fern was going to be so upset about this, perhaps I wouldn't have gone with it.”

“Frieren, that's not fair to you. We deserve to enjoy what life brings our way. You liked the experience, didn't you?”

“I did.”

“And you tell me that this woman made you feel comfortable, right?”

Frieren was smiling before she realized it, but it was hard for her not to do so whenever the memory of Methode popped up in her mind. It made her feel giddy.

“More than comfortable,” she sighed. “I’d be more descriptive, but you keep insisting that it's better if I’m not.”

“Yes. Right. Please stop offering,” Sein pulled at the neck of his vest. “Listen, Frieren, what is going on is not uncommon at all, you see.”

Frieren's ears twitched, so Sein went on. “It's perfectly normal for children to feel upset when a parent starts to date someone. They might overreact and say hurtful things that they don't mean.”

“Sein, do you truly think that Fern sees me as her parent?” Frieren halted her steps, eyes wide.

In turn, Sein stopped walking as well to look back at Frieren. “It’s always seemed like that to me.”

“Oh,” Frieren turned a leaf between her fingers as a new, soft smile won over her.

Sein shook his head and chuckled. “You really are slow to catch up on feelings, aren't you?”

“You have no idea,” Frieren said, side glancing the priest. “But Sein, I'm not dating.”

“I hear you, but it's obvious that Fern felt threatened by this person anyway.”

“Why?”

“Frieren,” Sein raised an eyebrow, his tone edging on impatience. “You're her only family. The thought of losing you to anyone is scary for her. She's still young.”

“Family, hm?” Frieren tasted the word, and she found her chest filling with warmth. She was seen as a parent. She had a family. "I see."

“What you need to do is to make sure that Fern understands how much she means to you. Words are as important as actions, especially for a girl like her. If Stark had realized that, those two would have become a couple a long ago.”

“I guess you're right,” Frieren said, and then jumped to pat the priest’s head. “Hey Sein, I'm really glad that you joined us again.”

“Me too,” Sein smiled at her after fixing his hair. “You know how it goes. I tasted the thrill of adventure and I honestly can't go back to being a small town priest. Besides, we still need to find us a mature, older woman to join our merry little party.”

“We do, huh?” Frieren felt deeply amused. “Well then, let's hurry up and go back to camp,” Frieren added her pile of wood to Sein’s.

“Hey, why am I carrying all of this when you can make things float?!”

Dear Methode,

This might surprise you, but despite how common it is, I have never studied or acquired the spell for making a photograph, and I find myself in the need of one.

If you happen to be in a city when this message finds you, would you send me a copy? I'll make sure to repay you the next time we meet.

How is your training going?

Frieren.

Dear Frieren,

I’m familiar with this spell and have written it down myself for you. I’m attaching it to this letter, hoping that you’ll find it useful.

My training with Serie-Sama is intense, but rewarding. She tries to hide her pride when any of us raise our level, but I know better.

I don't require any payment from you. Instead, I'd love a photograph of the prettiest landscape you find in your travels. As you said, I do love pretty things.

Thank you for the beautiful flower. Your spells still keeps it fresh on my nightstand table.

Hugs,

Methode.

After several weeks of camping out, the party arrived to a small village with available lodging, and once they had gotten their rooms, they found themselves having dinner at the local tavern.

“Here’s to sleeping in a bed again,” Sein raised his ale.

“And to pillows,” Stark raised his juice in turn.

“What would you like to toast for, Fern?” Frieren asked.

“Hm,” Fern thought for several moments. “Hot baths, definitely.”

“Hot baths, yes,” Frieren smiled. “Being in the woods for so long makes you truly appreciate the small things, hm?” It hadn’t been long at all for Frieren, but she had become more skilled when it came to gauge how humans measured the passing of time.

“Yeah, and staying in a city for too long makes you miss the woods,” Stark nodded.

“Even Gorilla, with the six children that he has, would occasionally sneak out for an adventure or two,” Sein cut his meat. “I still can’t believe that this is how his adventure ended, despite all his big dreams to become an unforgettable adventurer.”

“I suppose we can never know what our journey will put ahead of us, and what will become our true treasures,” Frieren looked at her companions, and then turned to Fern. “By the way, I want to show you something after we’re done with dinner.”

“What is it, Frieren-Sama?” Fern put her fork down.

“You’ll see.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Sein said. “Stark and I’ll stay here and try to increase our traveling funds with some well calculated gambling.”

Fern’s cheeks puffed up.

“We’re not doing any of that! I promise!” Stark shook his hands in front of him, and in turn, Frieren shook her head in mocked disapproval, though she found the interaction familiar and comforting. Being all together felt simply right.

Tonight she planned to make something else right.

Chapter Text

After Dinner, Frieren led Fern to the outskirts of the town and both flew up to higher grounds, until Frieren found the cliff she was looking for.

“Fern, come take a look,” Frieren signaled with her chin for her to step closer to the edge, and Fern smiled as she looked at the landscape. The nearby lake mirrored the golden and pink hues of the dying sunset as pale, early stars sprinkled the sky abound. Vast carpets of dense forest extended as far as they could see, their uniformity only interrupted by the concentrated lights of the scattered towns and villages that called the North their home, and high, snow covered mountains served as background, their peaks claiming to the sky.

“It’s beautiful, Frieren-Sama,” Fern said.

“Isn’t it?” Frieren sat down, legs crossed, as she looked ahead. “I was here with Himmel and the others before, contemplating this very same view.”

Fern sat down as well as she focused her attention on her master, so Frieren went on.

“We had gone through a lot by then, and at times it felt that we might not be able to complete our journey, but the despair never lasted long. We always found ways to regain our courage,” she looked up. “Himmel wouldn’t let us lose heart.”

“I see,” Fern studied the horizon, the details that made it beautiful, and she nodded, smiling. “It's really beautiful, Frieren-Sama. Thank you for showing it to me.”

“I’m not just showing it to you, Fern.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm sharing it with you. I felt like having a moment.”

“With me?” Fern blinked, and Frieren nodded.

“You know, Fern, it takes me a while to understand even my own feelings. Sometimes it takes longer that I’d like. Sometimes it’s too late,” Frieren twisted her lips, her fingers playing with the blades of grass at her feet. “But right now, I realize that the last time that I was here, I felt fortunate.”

“Fortunate?”

“Yes. To be with Himmel and the others. I felt lucky, and happy, and fortunate, but I didn't get to tell them that.”

Frieren could see Fern’s eyes filling up with understanding, so she went on.

“I don't want that to happen again,” she reached for Fern's hand, squeezing it. “Fern, I'm very fortunate to be here with you.”

“Frieren-Sama?” Fern blinked, mouth agape.

“I'm happy, Fern, that you're in my life. That Heiter gave you to me.”

“You said once that he just tricked you,” Fern felt a knot in her throat.

“And I'm so glad he did,” Frieren reached out to stroke Fern's head. “Fern, you are my family.”

Fern finally swallowed that knot, her eyes watering, and then she hid her face on Frieren’s lap, her hand fisting her master’s skirt as they stayed in silence for a while, with the sky turning dark blue and Frieren gently stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to say those words,” Frieren spoke at last. “You’re so important to me, Fern, more than anyone.”

“More than anyone?” Fern turned her head on Frieren’s lap to look at her, and the elf nodded, smiling gently. It was so easy to conjure the image of that child with a pretty red ribbon on her hair and those large, attentive eyes trying to take on everything.

“I should have told you sooner, but I’m glad that I did it at last. See, Fern, when I was fighting Solitär, she taunted me, claiming that she had killed you. That she had killed you and Stark. It felt as if a pure blast of Zoltraak had pierced me right through the stomach.”

“Frieren-Sama…”

“And that anger, that momentary despair, the idea of losing you is what focused my energies and mana, allowing me to find a countermeasure to her attacks.”

“But I was alive…” Fern snuggled against Frieren again.

“You were,” Frieren stroked her head. “And I decided to put my faith in you. That’s what a good family does, isn’t it? We have faith in each other.”

“Yes,” Fern smiled gently, her features soft. “You’re my family, too, Frieren-Sama.”

Frieren observed her as she gave into the love that she felt for this young human. She already knew that one day not too far into the future, Fern would be but a sweet memory for her.

But not tonight. Tonight they had each other.

“What you got there, Fern?” Stark asked while he and Fern were walking down the town’s plaza to shop for provisions. The girl kept looking at her hands, and Stark didn’t remember seeing such a soft expression on her before. He felt enchanted.

“I have never shown you, have I, Stark-Sama?” Fern presented Stark with the locket she was nestling between her hands. “These are my parents. A mage took a photograph of us when I was about six or seven years old.”

“You resemble you mother a lot, Fern,” Stark smiled. “They look like they loved you very much.”

“They did,” Fern said, and then called Stark’s attention to the other side of the locket, which contained the image of Frieren and herself against a starry night. Frieren’s hand was resting on her shoulder, the elf’s gaze, her smile, were serene, while Fern looked simply beaming.

“And Frieren-Sama took this photograph of us yesterday night, and taught me the spell,” Fern said. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Stark smiled, nodding. “It’s very pretty.”

Fern returned the smile, cupped the locket against her chest, and finally closed it and put it under her clothes. “Very well, Stark-Sama, stop dillydallying. We have a lot of shopping to do.”

“You were the one lagging behind,” Stark mumbled, but a look from the young mage was enough to stop his complaints. “Yes, let’s keep shopping.”

Fern smiled for him.

Dear Methode,

Thank you for sending me the photograph spell. I needed it more than you could imagine. I think I’ll use it more often now. That way I can keep mementos of people and places, even if they change to unrecognizable levels in the future, or stop existing altogether. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about it before.

As requested, I’m sending you a photograph of one of my favorite landscapes around these parts. I particularly love how the moon reflects on the lake below. I hope you find it as beautiful as I do.

Serie has issues when it comes to express her feelings of appreciation, and coming from me, it truly means that her case is particularly bad. But I’m sure she does appreciate you in her own way.

In case you’re wondering, our journey has been mostly trouble-less except for the monsters that inevitably show up, and recently our priest rejoined our party. I’m happy about that. He’s a corrupt priest and a kind man. You’d like him.

My one complaint is that the further we go North, the harder it is to come across sweet treats since the cold doesn’t favor sugar reeds or honeybees. I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this, but I hope that you don’t find it bothersome.

Frieren.

Dearest Frieren,

Of course I don’t mind you telling me about your travels. On the contrary, I love to hear about them, and about you, too. In fact I encourage you to do so, if that’s alright with you.

Thank you so much for the photograph. It’s truly beautiful! I feel like seeing such places more often. You see, while I'm confident that I can manage myself out there, I’m an urban mage these days, and my experience traveling into the hinterlands is not as extensive as it was a few years ago, even less now with my training. But perhaps I’ll ask to be given more missions in the countryside to re-experience more of the things that you do. You may have reawoken my wanderlust!

I hope you don’t mind, but I analyzed your preserving spell and used it on the treats that I’m sending with this letter. We can’t have you going around without some sweet things to make life better, now, can we?

Frieren, keep taking good care of yourself. I think of you often, and I pray to the goddess to keep you and your companions safe.

Warm hugs,

Methode.

Frieren carefully folded the letter and put it in her suitcase along with Methode's other letters, and then opened the box that came along with it to find a rich variety of the most delicious pastries that Frieren had seen in a long time, perfectly preserved, not a single crumb loose.

She smiled as she held the box against her chest. Frieren didn’t consider herself to be a selfish person, but for some reason she didn’t want to share with the others. Not this time. Not these treats. She didn’t want them to even know about them. It was her little treasure, and she wanted it all for herself.

Chapter Text

As they were still traveling North, Fern received a summon from the Continental Magic Association requesting her to help with several attacks that had been occuring on a region just outside the empire’s circle of influence.

“We’d have to travel Southwest and undo some of our progress,” Frieren rubbed her chin. “But it all comes down to Fern’s decision. If she wants to take on her duties, we’ll go with her, of course.”

“The thing is,” Fern looked at the group. “Not only do I have an obligation to fulfill. The pay is also handsome, and the opportunities to gather funds will be less and far in between the closer we get to our destination. This might be one of the last chances we get to build strong savings, so, I'm inclined to accept.”

“That’s a fair point,” Frieren let out a sigh.

“What else does the letter say about these attacks?” Sein asked.

“It seems that they are extensive, and if it were not because of the similarities in the victims’ corpses, anyone could think that they are unrelated,” Fern said.

“What similarities are those?” Stark crossed his arms.

“Exsanguinated,” Fern simply said.

“Ex- exsanguinated? That sounds too scary!” Stark paled considerably, then turned to Frieren. “What kind of monster could do that?”

Frieren narrowed her eyes in thought. “I have an idea, but I hope that I'm wrong.”

“That bad, huh?” Sein frowned.

“I won't know until we get there,” Frieren looked at him, and then bumped his arm with a fist. “But hey, we have a priest to mend us on the run, so I think we'll be fine.”

“On the run?” Sein gave her an uneasy look.

“You can do it, right, Sein?” Stark sounded more desperate than hopeful.

Sein sighed as he rotated his shoulder. “I got it.”

“Good,” Frieren nodded and they kept walking. “So it’s decided.”

“Frieren-Sama?” Fern crouched besides Frieren as the elf examined a corpse. It was dry to the bone, its skin browned and thin.

“I had never seen anything like this,” Sein shook his head. “This is not a curse, but I don't perceive a magic attack either, and the mana remnants are weak at best. What kind of creature could have done this?”

Frieren kept thoughtful, a curled hand under her nose. “Of course you haven't seen this before, Sein, your own grandparents wouldn't have been born yet by the time these monsters were awake last time.”

“Frieren,” Stark shuffled the weight of his axe. “What are we facing?’

“It's a brood.” Frieren stood up and faced her party. “Insect like monsters that feed on blood. They are not that difficult to eliminate, and they are hardly larger than myself, but the real problem is that we are dealing here with a huge amount of them and their pincers end in a sharp tip that is good at finding little spaces in defensive shields, shattering them. See, these monsters live and die in cycles. They wake up every three centuries or so to feed and reproduce, and then die, while their eggs stay dormant, preparing to hatch.”

“How many are we speaking of, Frieren-Sama?” Fern asked.

“Thousands,” Frieren said. “I thought that they had all been destroyed, but this colony obviously escaped detection. The attacks that have been reported so far must be from the the sentinels, which are usually the first to wake up before the rest of the brood does.”

“And when they all do?” Sein narrowed his eyes.

Frieren shook her head. “They tend to completely devastate the region. Animals, plants, humans and even other monsters. They lay waste on everything on their path.”

Everyone went quiet as the implication weighed on them.

“We should let the Continental Magic Association know the full scale of what’s happening here. We alone can’t deal with them, can we?” Fern frowned.

“You’re right that we should let them know, but I also think that we’re just in time to destroy the larvae before they mature. As I said, it’s just the sentinels who are awake. If we vanquish them, then the larvae and eggs will be an easy target.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Stark produced a confident grin, which soured just a moment later. “Just tell me that they don’t look like cockroaches please…” he shuddered. “I can’t stand them. They make me shake from head to toe.”

“Stark-Sama, you have slayed dragons,” Fern gave him a harsh look.

“Have you seen a cockroach? They’re disgusting! Imagine a giant one!”

“No cockroach-looking monsters, Stark. Don’t worry. More like Mantis, I’d say,” Frieren gave a little snort. “So, it's decided. We’ll start our search tomorrow.”

After burying the corpse and praying for their soul, they found a spot to set camp, assigned lookout turns, and then prepared themselves to rest.

“Sein-Sama!” Fern blasted a monster before it impaled the priest with a serrated foreleg.

“Good one, Fern,” Sein returned the favor by sending a three speared green burst to Fern’s right, destroying another monster approaching her.

“How many are there!” Stark grunted as he kept slashing and hacking left and right, mana particles floating up the sky as the creatures disintegrated.

“Everyone, gather around me! Fern, cast a full protective barrier!” Frieren called, and a moment later, a wall of fire expanded around their perimeter, incinerating every single monster on its way and leaving behind nothing but ashes and more mana dissipating.

“That was-” Stark gasped, supporting himself from his axe, “A lot. Are you absolutely sure only the sentinels are awake?”

“I am,” Frieren cast her staff away. Indeed, the monsters weren’t particularly strong, but they were numerous and had the rarity among their kind to work in clusters.

They had been tracking them down for a couple of days now, destroying any nest they stumbled upon, but the task seemed endless. For every nest they wiped out, there seemed to be another ten, all of them interconnected by underground tunnels that Frieren discouraged them from exploring.

“The brood is much larger than I anticipated,” Frieren went on. “I don’t think we’ll have time to eradicate the threat in time by ourselves. The one thing we can do is to keep destroying as many as we can while we wait for reinforcements.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the soundest decision,” Sein passed his sleeve over his forehead.

“Uh? What’s that?” Stark knelt down, feeling the ground, and just a second later, it crumbled under his fingers, sending everybody in a free fall that ended before either Fern or Frieren could react and fly, their bodies slamming heavily against hard rock instead.

“Everyone okay?” Stark was the first one to get up, dusting his hair, removing debris from his companions and helping them up to their feet.

“What happened?” Fern rubbed her back, grunting.

“The hole!” Sein pointed up as the gap that had swallowed them closed above their heads, leaving them in complete darkness.

“Fern.”

“I know, Frieren-Sama.”

Both mages cast orbs of light above their heads, only to be faced by a sea of red, round eyes looking at them, and the repulsive, cacophonic click-clack of countless pincers.

“Uh… guys?” Stark drew his weapon, and the first monster lunged at them, and then the second, and the third, and the wave was massive, overwhelming by sheer number alone as spells and attacks flew left and right.

“We need to get out of here!” Frieren blasted a hole through the ceiling of the cave, dirt raining over their heads. “Fern! Grab Stark!” She commanded as she hooked Sein from his armpits, but their flight never took off as the monsters held onto their clothes, their limbs, drowning them amid hairy appendages and fangs tearing at their clothes, their skin.

Frieren focused, extended a hand, spell at the ready, and then a ray of light. Literally.

A concentrated Zoltraak spell flew past Frieren’s head, obliterating the monsters behind, and then another, and another, opening a path for them to flee.

“Now! Let’s fly up!” She yelled to Fern, and as the two mages carried their companions up, Frieren could see a torrent of fire exploding into the hole, burning hundreds of monsters and scattering the rest.

She recognized this mana.

Frieren put Sein on the ground and then looked around until she found a smile she knew well, along with mischievous dark blue eyes piercing into hers.

“Well, well, Frieren, didn’t you promise you’d take good care of yourself?”

TBC...

Source: @jk_arts07

Chapter Text

“I’m so relieved to have found you just in time,” Methode said as she hovered her hand over Stark’s leg, the green, warm glow mending his flesh back together.

“We would have been just fine,” Fern bit her inner cheek as Sein healed her arm.

“Of course you would have,” Methode hummed. “But a little help is always welcome, don’t you think?”

Fern said nothing.

“Of course it is,” Sein stood up and went to Methode, offering his hand. “And moreover coming from such a beautiful mage as yourself.”

“Oh my,” Methode took his hand, but then slid hers off his grasp as he was about to kiss it. “Thank you. What is your name again?”

“Sein, the priest,” Sein passed his fingers through his hair, a dashing smile on his face.

“Eh… Sein…” Stark felt bad for the man and his useless attempts.

“Methode, how did you find us?” Frieren asked.

“My birds are not the only ones with unique tracking abilities, Frieren,” Methode finally moved to work on Frieren, who had insisted to have her wards treated before her. “Especially when it comes to you.”

Frieren turned her back to Methode so the mage could heal the wound that she had received there, and incidentally, so she could hide her smile.

“Frieren. Not Frieren-san, huh?” Fern mumbled, her vexation increasing by the second.

“Seriously, to what fortuitous miracle from the goddess do we owe the good fortune of your very timely rescue?” Sein asked.

“No miracle at all. I was traveling through a nearby region when the association contacted me and asked me to support Fern-san’s assignment. I was more than happy to oblige, of course.”

“And we're so lucky that you did. Tell me, how did you meet?” Sein asked, his eyes following Methode’s smooth movements. “And how is it that you can use the goddess’ magic?”

“They met during the first class mage test,” Stark provided.

“The one that Frieren failed and Fern passed?” Sein raised his eyebrows.

“Yup,” Frieren smiled as Methode finished healing her. She dusted her clothes off and examined the tears on the fabric. Nettlesome bugs. She’d magically repair them later, and Fern would make sure to have them spotless in no time with that legendary spell of hers.

“And about your second question, Sein, well,” she sent Methode a sly smile, her eyes narrowing. “She is a woman of many talents. Aren’t you, Methode?”

“That I am,” Methode’s own smirk was impish.

Fern groaned.

“Shall we get going? This area isn’t safe,” Frieren started walking, fully expecting everyone else to follow her, which they did, but Sein lagged behind and pulled from Stark’s arm to have him walk with him.

“Stark, what is going on here? What’s this strange energy I feel from those three?” He asked.

Stark sighed, leaned closer to the man and whispered to his ear, and Sein’s eyes went round, his mouth falling wide open.

“What?! Them?!”

“Is everything alright?” Frieren turned to look at them.

“Y-yes, of course,” Sein rubbed his nape. “All is well.”

As he observed the lovely figure of this Methode, how she moved, and the way she kept looking at Frieren, Sein could only think one thing. That elf had the very fucking luck of the devil himself.

“It’s really nice to see you again, Frieren,” Methode sat next to Frieren once she had cleared the ground from twigs and pebbles, her hand a few inches from hers. “Your letters have been a true highlight for me.”

“So have yours,” Frieren admitted. “I’m still surprised that you could engrave my mana so efficiently in your memory. Very impressive, Methode.”

“Aren’t you glad that I did?” Methode smiled for her.

“Of course I am. Those pastries were delicious,” Frieren closed her eyes, as if reliving the flavor.

“Speaking of which,” Methode produced a little box and offered it to Frieren. “I was in Weise when I received the summoning, and I couldn’t leave the city without getting you a little something. You sure made a name for yourself there.”

“Oh!” Frieren’s eyes widened with excitement as she opened the box to find a small collection of assorted chocolates. “Methode knows my weaknesses dangerously well. I might have to deal with you later,” she smirked as she unwrapped a chocolate, popping it into her mouth at once.

Methode hesitated for a moment, but she placed her hand over Frieren’s.

“You can deal with me all you want, Frieren.”

Frieren forgot about her treats and turned to Methode, repairing on her eyes, her lips, memories flooding her mind, and her chest felt warm, somehow fuller.

“So can you, Methode,” she leaned closer.

“Do you mean that?”

“I’m not sure about the full implications of it, but surprisingly, I do.” Frieren looked ahead, smiling, allowing Methode to play with her fingers. “So, how is everything in Weise?”

“Stable, people are still catching up to the new world they awoke to, thanks to you. Did you know? They call you Frieren, the bane of curses over there.”

“They do, hm?”

“You don’t like it?” Methode tilted her head, searching for Frieren’s gaze.

Frieren stayed quiet for a few moments before speaking. “Fame doesn’t fit me. It feels cumbersome to be recognized or to be in parades,” she explained. “And being known as strong is a tactical disadvantage.”

“I suppose that makes sense. You're not one to flaunt.”

“Also,” Frieren twirled the tip of her hair around a finger. “It comes with expectations, and I’ve never been very good at fulfilling them.”

“You can’t mean that, Frieren.” Methode frowned gently. “You are the mage of the Hero’s party, and you dispelled one of the most powerful curses in the entire history of this world. You surpass any expectation anyone could have on you.”

“And yet Serie keeps reminding me that according to her, I’ve been wasting my potential,” Frieren picked a pebble by her leg and threw it aimlessly ahead. “I was the strongest mage in my village, and yet I allowed it to be destroyed. I couldn’t save my family, my friends.”

“Frieren…”

“My master said that all she could teach me was how to fight, as if I had failed to comprehend any other valuable lesson she might have wanted to teach me. And Himmel-”

Methode waited, and waited, and at last, Frieren went on, her features softening. “Himmel actually expected everything from me, and nothing at the same time. It’s… I still don’t know how to understand that.”

“Himmel the hero. Ah,” Methode nodded. “Your love who died of old age.”

Frieren threw another pebble away.

“Frieren, you’re not being fair to yourself.”

“Am I failing your expectations too, Methode?” Frieren turned to her.

“I think that we should avoid expectations of others whenever possible,” Methode returned a smile for her.

“Elaborate,” Frieren frowned.

“Well, as I see it, an expectation is the perception that we have about someone else. Our own conception of who people are and how they should behave. We can’t blame others over what we decide to believe about them, now, can we?”

Frieren frowned. “I fully expected- and still expect, my party to support me and have my back.”

“Do you expect, or do you trust that they will?”

Frieren blinked and after a moment, Methode went on. “I think that there is a difference between expectation and trust,” Methode reached for a little yellow flower and stared removing its leaves. “An expectation is something that you hope will happen. Trust is actually a lack of expectations,” she hummed. “It’s… it’s simply letting go. It’s knowing that it will be fine.”

Frieren thought about that for several moments, nodding slowly. “Expectations come with some anxiety attached to it. Trust on the other hand…”

Methode smiled, nodding. “Trust is liberating. So, don’t worry about fulfilling any expectations, Frieren. As long as you have people that you trust, and who trust you back, then that’s all you need.”

“I can count those people with the fingers of a single hand,” Frieren looked at her fingers, idly wavering them in front of her face. “But I think that’s fine. Yes,” she smiled. “It’s fine.”

Methode smiled for her, and then she chuckled, making Frieren blink, head sided, as if trying to find the hidden joke. Many times, Frieren said things that people found funny, and she never understood why.

“Sorry,” Methode cleared her voice. “Just, I realize that if such a powerful and legendary mage as yourself gets to have self-doubts, then it’s completely fine for the rest of us to feel like that as well.”

“Do you have self-doubts, Methode?”

“Sometimes,” Methode shrugged.

“What about expectations of me?”

Methode looked at Frieren, shaking her head. “In what we have shared so far, I trust you. I’ll simply let life surprise me.”

Frieren grabbed another pebble, this time so she could play with it between her fingers. “I think I like that idea, letting life surprise you.”

Methode leaned closer and placed the flower that she had been cleaning behind Frieren’s ear. “There.”

“Oh?” Frieren felt it with her fingertips, her gaze sliding to that side of her head.

“I still keep your flower, and your photograph,” Methode’s words made Frieren’s stomach tingle, and she felt her lips easing into a smile.

“I have your letters, and I loved that grimoire,” she showed Methode her hand and her perfectly trimmed fingernails.

“How curious,” Methode reached for Frieren’s hand, making the elf turn to her, and then she took her chance to cup her face. “I feel like giving you so much more.”

“What else does Methode want to give me, hm?” Frieren felt her soft smile transforming into a smirk, but before Methode could speak, it was her, Frieren, who had leaned closer to join their lips into a lazy kiss.

“Maybe we can… later…” Methode mumbled against Frieren’s mouth.

“Yeah… definitely…” Frieren deepened their kiss, and she already was visualizing herself straddling Methode when loud rustling sounds cracked behind them, and both women pulled away, looking over their shoulders to see Fern materializing from the bushes.

“Dinner’s ready,” the girl’s tone was brisk, and her eyes traveled to the flower over Frieren’s ear. She pursed her lips. “Be late at your own risk.”

Methode looked at Fern go and she gave Frieren an apologetic smile. “Aw, she still hates me, doesn’t she?”

“Fern doesn’t have room in her heart for true disdain,” Frieren shook her head. “She lost everything to war, so she’s very possessive of those who are dear to her. That’s all. But don’t worry. I made sure to let her know how important she’s to me.”

“I bet she is. She’s practically your child, isn’t she?” Methode took Frieren’s hand to her face to rub the elf’s knuckles against her cheek, and Frieren found herself gladly letting her.

“Yes,” she simply said, fighting the impulse to finish that kiss, but she had the certainty that if she did, they’d miss on dinner, and Frieren was truly, truly hungry.

“Let’s go,” she got up, offering Methode her hand.

“Oh my, how gallant,” Methode’s smile broadened across her face as she took Frieren's hand, standing up. “Let us go, then.”

TBC

Fanart Source: 什麼都畫的主廚Chef

Chapter Text

After eating and setting their camp for the night, the group had discussed a feasible strategy to deal with the brood, and they got to the conclusion that casting timed spells would be the best course to follow.

“According to our reconnaissance flight, the nest spans from this area,” Frieren circled the crude map she had drawn on the ground with a stick. “To this one, near these hills, and these are the spots more likely to contain entryways into the nest. So if we split in two groups and set the spells, we can coordinate their timing so they all go off at the same time. That would cause a massive mana wave that would destroy the colony, sealing any escape route.”

“I’m excited to try out this spell of yours,” Methode said. “Timed exploding spells. I would have never thought of that.”

“I hadn’t had to use it in a long time,” Frieren said.

“But when the sentinels feel the mana presence, they surely will scatter away and leave the nest, won’t they?” Fern frowned.

“That’s where Methode and Sein come in,” Frieren said, fisting her hands at her waist. “Their holy magic can mask our offensive mana. Low level monsters like these can’t sense that sort of spells.”

“And how am I supposed to help?” Stark sighed. “I don’t like to feel useless.”

“You won’t be,” Frieren assured him. “You’ll provide protection while these spells are being casted, since they require careful concentration in order to be timed correctly, or they can blow in our faces.”

“There’s only one of me, though, and we’ll have two groups,” the warrior pointed out.

“You’ll go with Fern and Sein,” Frieren said.

“Frieren-Sama, what about you? How will you be protected while casting?” Fern shook her head, but Frieren gave her an easy smile.

“I’ll be fine, Fern. I have enough mana to keep a complete protective barrier while Methode and I work.”

Fern crossed her arms over her chest, her cheeks puffing up.

“Fern-San…” Methode started, but Fern stood up.

“No, it’s fine. It’s a sound and logical plan. It just happens to be convenient for the two of you.”

Frieren meant to say something, but Sein shook his head, so Frieren sighed, her ears falling slightly.

“Well, I’m off to sleep,” Fern grabbed her sleeping blankets and dragged them further from the group. “After all I need to preserve my mana for tomorrow, right?”

“That’s actually a good idea. We all should go to sleep,” Sein intervened.

“Awkward…” Stark mumbled, but he also prepared himself to rest.

Methode looked mortified, so Frieren offered her a gentle smile. “Go to sleep, Methode, Sein. I’ll keep first watch.”

“Give her time,” Sein whispered to Frieren, and soon they all had settled for the night.

“Don’t look so forlorn, Methode,” Frieren said while they knelt in front of the other, a sphere of mana forming between them, their blue and green colors combining into an eerie teal tone. They had been able to locate several entrances to the brood’s nest, and had diligently sealed them with their timed spells, according to plan.

“I don’t like to cause trouble between you and Fern-San,” Methode gave a little shrug.

“You’re not,” Frieren hummed. “I’m choosing to apply your words and trust Fern. She will overcome her upset. She just needs time, as Sein said.”

“I hope you’re right,” Methode twisted her lips.

“I am. I know her, and you truly need to stop pouting like that.”

“Why?”

“Because you look ridiculously adorable and I find myself losing concentration,” Frieren admitted.

“Adorable, huh?” Methode felt a smirk winning over her.

“I feel like kissing that pout away,” Frieren returned a similar gesture.

“Let us focus and do our best, then,” Methode advised, and indeed, they used their time -and mana- as efficiently as possible, and by the end of the first day, they had covered more than half of their share of terrain with few incidents in between.

Frieren could barely contain her eagerness once the sun had set and they were done casting, because she knew that Methode, as well as herself, was looking forward to this moment, so after setting camp and placing a protective barrier around it, they had their meal in tense silence.

“Why are we so apprehensive?” Frieren finally asked. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure,” Methode shook her head. “In my case, I think, it’s because I really like you.”

“Shouldn’t that make it easier?”

“You’d think, right?” Methode chuckled and then sighed, extending her legs and leaning against a tree. “I know. Come here,” she patted her lap.

Frieren eyed her, but after a couple of moments, she did, carefully setting her back against Methode’s chest while the woman circled her waist with her arms, her legs flanking Frieren's hips, and both found themselves releasing a deep sigh.

“I see…” Frieren closed her eyes as she leaned fully into the embrace. “So, anxiety caused by anticipation applies to more than battles. Interesting."

“Hm-hm," Methode covered them both with her traveling blanket. “But we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do.”

“But I want to do it,” Frieren stroked Methode’s arm, then her voice turned quieter. “Don’t you?”

Methode nodded. “I’m just afraid that the moment we start, I might die.”

“That’s unlikely."

“I know,” Methode chuckled. “I mean, I’m too excited to start,” she hugged Frieren closer to her. “Have you ever felt like that?”

Frieren shook her head, and then said, “Only with you.”

“Really? I like that,” Methode started stroking Frieren's ear, and Frieren felt her body slowly loosening up.

“Maybe we should simply go with the flow. Maybe tonight we can just be like this,” Frieren said after a while. She finally was feeling comfortable and relaxed.

“Yes, maybe,” Methode stroked Frieren’s arm. “The woods are hardly a romantic setting anyway, hm?”

“Romantic,” Frieren mulled over the word. “I’m not sure I understand romance.”

“We can’t have that,” Methode tsked. “I’ll make sure to romance you properly the next time we are in a town.”

“Making future plans, Methode?”

“Only if life surprises me with the opportunity.”

“Alright. Perhaps, then,” Frieren said, and they remained in each other’s company for a while, Methode’s arms still around Frieren’s waist, and Frieren leaning her head against Methode’s shoulder.

“Hey, Methode?” Frieren said after a while.

“Hm?”

“Did you accept this mission just to get the chance to have sex with me?”

“Of course not.”

Silence.

“Oh.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Are- are you disappointed about that?” For her dear life, Methode tried to keep her amusement at bay.

Frieren took several long seconds to answer. “Perhaps.”

“I just didn't want to assume anything, Frieren,” Methode tilted Frieren's chin to her, siding her face to look at her in the eyes. “I genuinely wanted to see you.”

“I see,” The elf turned on Methode’s lap to curl against her as Methode supported her back with an arm.

“But I do want you,” Methode added. “Don’t you know how attracted to you I am? You make me feel things.”

“Like lust?” Frieren asked.

“Oh yes,” Methode nodded, unsurprised by Frieren's directness. She traced the elf's spine with a finger. “Overwhelming lust.”

Frieren bit her lower lip and squirmed on Methode’s lap.

“Ah, you like that, Frieren?” Methode licked her own lips as she drew Frieren closer to her, fingers expanding over her midriff. “You like to feel wanted? Lusted after?”

“Again,” another involuntary squirm from Frieren. “Only by you,” she murmured, eyes half closing.

“Well then,” Methode rubbed her nose against Frieren’s ear, and then her lips took over the task. “I want you so much, Frieren… I’m getting so fucking wet just by feeling you move like that.”

“Like this?” Frieren writhed again, pressing down against Methode’s pelvis as she reached behind the mage’s neck to bury her fingers in long tresses.

“Fuck,” Methode halted a gasp. “Just like that.” Her lips roamed all over Frieren’s ear, her neck, her delicate jawline. “I kept thinking about you so hard, your body, your lips,” she started sucking behind Frieren’s ear, bringing out a moan from the elf. “That pretty little pussy of yours…”

“You’ve been wanting me all this time?” Frieren sided her head to grant Methode access as she felt hot rubor spreading across her cheeks at those words.

“Oh yes, remembering about how good you felt,” the woman was already finding the buttons to undo Frieren’s coat. “Did you, Frieren? Did you think of me? Of how good I had you?” She uncovered a shoulder and peppered it with open mouthed kisses.

“...No,” Frieren’s eyelids fluttered.

“What?”

Frieren opened her eyes when Methode stopped her kisses and found the woman staring at her with a light frown. “What’s wrong?”

“No?” Methode blinked. “Not even a little?”

“No,” Frieren sided her head, a crossed look on her features. “Was I supposed to?”

“Well- yes!” Methode let her hands slide to her sides, eyebrows high, and all she got in response was Frieren’s blank stare.

“I see,” Methode twisted her lips and gently pushed Frieren off her lap. “I thought- after the flower and- and all the things you said earlier that-” She sighed, shook her head, raised her knees to hug her legs, and turned her gaze away. “It’s on me. It’s okay, Frieren. I obviously misunderstood. Despite my own words, it seems that I created expectations after all, hm?”

Frieren was perplexed, and now that she wasn’t being sheltered by Methode’s body heat, cold. “I’m- Methode, I’m not understanding what is happening right now.” She took on a posture similar to Methode’s, head tilted down, ears slightly curved down as they remained quiet for a while.

Frieren tried to make sense of the situation, going over her words carefully. What had she said wrong?

Oh.

“I did think of you,” she broke the silence at last, her tone muffled, and Methode looked at her, expectant.

“I did,” Frieren went on as she fixed her coat. “I thought of how neat your handwriting is. I kept seeing your face in my mind whenever I had one of the pastries you sent me last time. Sometimes I wondered what you were up to. I don’t know, things like that.”

“You did?” Methode asked, and Frieren gave her a faint nod.

“And that’s already atypical enough for me. See, Methode, I…” Frieren sighed, her shoulder slouching as if she were accepting something that she knew she could not change. “I’m an awkward person. And saying the wrong thing is not uncommon for me. I just,” she twisted her lips when she attempted a sad little smile. “The way I communicate is often out of synch with how other people do, even if I try my best.”

“I see,” Methode sighed and finally rested the side of her arm against Frieren’s shoulder. “You did think of me, you just didn’t think about our intimate moments. Is that it?”

Frieren nodded. “Remember how I told you that I’m not someone who can easily give into romantic feelings?”

“I remember you saying something of the sort, yes.”

“Well, it’s the same with sex,” Frieren went on. “The truth is that I enjoyed being with you, and experiencing orgasms is mind blowing- why is that funny?”

“It’s not funny,” Methode smiled, her little chuckle fading. “I happen to agree. Please, go on.”

Frieren gauged her, but went on. “I liked being with you, but after we parter ways my mind simply didn’t go back to that, and my body didn’t demand to be satisfied in that way either, not even when I met several people that I considered well-looking along our journey. I don’t know why that is,” she shrugged. “Perhaps it's an elf thing, but I no longer have anyone around me who I can ask- please don’t even suggest Serie.”

“I wouldn’t dare to,” Methode smiled softly, their sides now fully resting against each other. “We humans… I think we preoccupy ourselves with sex a lot, think about it, about having it, about not having it, we reminisce about past encounters, we fantasize about future ones,” she hummed. “It’s difficult to imagine someone whose mind works differently.”

Frieren looked away.

“But,” Methode went on, “even if I can’t quite understand it, I still respect it. I’m sorry that I made you feel that you were reacting in a wrong way, Frieren. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

Methode looked at her.

“Well, perhaps a little,” Frieren admitted and then without warning, let her head fall on Methode’s lap. “If I’m honest, I thought that once I had gained the experience, then I would find it easier to feel arousal, but that wasn’t the case at all.”

“I see,” Methode placed her hand on Frieren’s arm, stroking it gently.

“It’s just when you’re here.” Frieren closed her eyes.

“Oh?”

“I feel aroused and wanting to touch you now that you’re here,” Frieren rolled her head on Methode’s lap to look at her face. “It doesn’t make sense, does it?”

Methode’s gaze softened as a tender smile won over her. “I actually think it does.”

“It does?” Frieren quipped. “Did you put a spell on me so that my desires are chained to you alone?”

“My my, Imagine that,” Methode chuckled as she started playing with Frieren’s hair, humming. “I can’t tell if it’s indeed an elf thing, as you call it, but I think that you’re the kind of person who will only feel certain things under special circumstances.”

Frieren thought about it for several moments, a finger under her chin, and at last she nodded. “It’s not that I don’t want you, but you need to be near me for my body to remember that. I think- why are you grinning?”

Another chuckle from Methode as she gathered Frieren closer to her. “I’m just elated.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I could explain right now. What about if we just try to sleep?” Methode yawned. “We truly worked hard today.”

Frieren found the yawning contagious, so they set up their sleeping space, with Methode being quick to make a single resting spot and bringing Frieren into an embrace, her arm around the elf’s waist, their legs tangled together.

“This is nice, too,” Frieren mumbled. “Only my second time.”

“Second time?” Methode yawned again.

“Second time sharing my sleep with a lover.”

“Do you like it, Frieren?”

Frieren nodded, curled up closer against Methode and hummed. “You’re very warm and soft, and you smell nice.”

“And you fit so well against me, all small and cute,” Methode kissed Frieren’s earshell. “I like it, too.”

“Wake me up with the ears touching thing again…” Another yawn.

“As you wish,” Methode said, and finally fell asleep with a gentle smile on her face.

TBC

Chapter Text

Methode had woken up to find herself pinned down by a deeply asleep Frieren, who, somehow, had shifted positions during her slumber until she ended up fully transversed across her, legs and arms spread like a starfish, mouth agape, and the blankets tangled around the elf’s limbs, so in order to sit up, Methode had literally rolled Frieren off from her chest and onto her lap, and not even that had awoken the smaller mage. Seriously, the only people Methode had ever seen sleeping like that had been her own young nieces.

She was amused.

“Frieren,” she whispered as she started stroking a long ear. “Frieren, wake up.” More strokes.

“Mmmhgh…”

“It’s morning already,” Methode hummed as she kept tracing an ear helix, then the other. “Rise and shine.”

“M’not ready…”

“Maybe I can fix that,” Methode leaned over, placing little kisses all over those sensitive elf ears and extracting a little moan from Frieren, who opened an eye.

“That’s not fair,” she mumbled, though her mouth drew a smile. “Keep doing it.”

Methode chuckled, placing a few more strategic kisses. “Aren’t you a little spoiled princess?”

Frieren yawned, stretched and sighed, content. “More.”

“Oh no,” Methode raked her nails against Frierens scalp. “If you want proper cuddles, you better get up.”

“Dunwanna…” Frieren puckered her lips.

What was this? Frieren, the legendary, powerful mage was pouting and whining on her lap while refusing to wake up? Seriously? Could she be any more-

“Goddess damned you're adorable!” Methode gathered her in her arms and squeezed her, snuggling her face against her neck.

“Stop that!” Frieren swatted feebly at her. “M'not a doll!”

Methode laughed as she let go of her, her eyes full of mirth and something else, something soft that Frieren couldn't place.

“Well, but you're fully awake now,” Methode smirked, getting up and stretching herself.

“You're full of dirty tricks,” Frieren rubbed an eye and yawned again, but got up as well.

“I got more from where those came from,” Methode tossed her hair and dusted her clothes.

“You do, huh?” Frieren found herself with a smirk of her own. “I might have to step up my game.”

“Oh my…”

“Okay,” Frieren fisted her hands at her hips and nodded. “Breakfast, and then let's get over with this.”

“Yes. We’re time bound after all,” Methode nodded, and after eating and packing up, they resumed with their task.

By the end of the second day, both groups met again at the agreed place and hour, and after their respective reports, Frieren announced that the plan was followed through correctly and now all they needed to do was to wait.

“Casting all those spells took you longer that I thought,” Stark said as he stirred the stew they would have for dinner.

“I told you,” Sein removed a boot to massage his foot. “It wasn’t easy. Can you imagine casting multiple spells so each one contained the exact amount of mana to make them explode at the same time?” He snorted. “It was insane. I didn’t think it could be done at all.”

“Oh well, you shouldn’t doubt Frieren and Fern-San’s abilities, Sein-san,” Methode hummed and smiled to Frieren, then to Fern, but the younger mage looked away. “They are after all, exceptional mages with a sublime control over their mana. Like master like student, hm?”

“Well, that’s true,” Sein nodded before producing a tobacco roll.

“Don’t you think about lighting up-”

“-That smelly thing when-”

Methode and Fern turned to each other as they complemented their sentence and after a moment, Fern finished it. “-when we’re about to eat.”

“Fine, fine,” Sein raised his hands in defeat and then put his roll away. “One is scary enough, and now we have two…”

“What do you mean, Sein-Sama?” There it was. Fern’s dark look of doom.

“Nothing, nothing. I’ll go gather some water,” Sein sighed and was soon gone.

“Oi, don’t leave me alone with-” Stark seemed to think better of it and didn’t finish his sentence. “Look after the stew,” he asked the three women before striding after Sein.

“Okay, let’s see…” Methode got up to check on the pot, but Fern cut in her way and grabbed the wooden spoon.

“I’ll do it,” that violet stare of doom was still there.

“I’m just trying to help, Fern-san.”

“We don’t need your help.”

Frieren, who until then had had her nose buried in a book, looked up. “It’s just some strew.” She waved her fingers and the spoon escaped Fern’s grasp to start stirring the stew by itself.

Methode looked at Fern, Fern crossed her arms and looked at the offending self-stirring pot, and Frieren returned to her book, at least for a second.

“Okay,” the elf suddenly got up and closed her book. “According to this tome, there are some herbs unique to these mountains that can be used for a summoning I’ve been meaning to try for a while now,” she dusted her skirt.

“I’ll go with-”

“I’ll help you find-”

“No, mind the stew,” Frieren waved a hand at them, and before either Methode or Fern could say a word, she simply flew away.

Methode sat down, and Fern busied herself with fixing her already perfectly set sleeping blankets.

“Fern-San, I’d like to talk freely with you-”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Oh?”

Fern glared at her at last. “You and Frieren-Sama. Did you have a good time last night?”

“First of all, that’s disrespectful to your master,” Methode frowned, a flash of anger sharp across her gaze, and then she took a deep breath. “And second, you are not privy to my personal interactions with Frieren, Fern-San.”

Fern crossed her arms, and if Methode had not felt so annoyed, she might have found her puffed up cheeks cute.

“She’s special. Frieren-Sama,” the girl said. “She has all the magical knowledge in the world, and her battle wisdom is unmatched. She’s a genius when it comes to planning, to understanding the enemy, but she’s also someone who falls for the same traps once and again, who can’t read the room for her dear life, and who thinks that giving a boy a potion that can dissolve only clothes as a birthday present is a good idea.”

“Oh? Did she-” Methode pursed her lips to hide her sudden amusement. “Really? Did she do that?”

“She certainly would have if I hadn't poured that vulgar thing on her instead.”

“I would have killed to see that scene happening,” Methode lost the battle against her own chuckle as her upset dimmed away. She cupped her cheek. “Oh my, imagine that.”

“How- how can you find that funny?” Fern looked aghast.

“How is it that you don’t?” Methode said, receiving a cold stare from Fern, so she nodded once, arms crossed. “Actually I may understand why you don’t,” she sighed. “You’re so young, but I can sense that you have gone through a lot. Perhaps enough to make you somewhat jaded. It’s easy to tell that you have a lot on your shoulders, Fern-san. And so you carry yourself with a gravity uncommon for your age.”

“Stop,” Fern clenched her jaw. “Stop talking as if you knew me.”

“Then stop talking about your master as if you didn’t know her better, and while you’re at it, stop judging me as if you knew me.”

Fern crossed her arms as well and sat by the fire, and then she took over the moving spoon just to have something to do. “What are your intentions towards Frieren-Sama?”

Methode kept silent for some moments. She supposed this was the closest she’d get to an armistice. “I can tell you what I intend not to do,” she offered, and Fern nailed her with narrowed purple eyes. “I intend not to harm her. I intend not to deceive her, or use her in anyway, but more important, I don’t intend to take her away from you, Fern-san.”

Fern pursed her lips, her cheeks coloring, as if she had been caught stealing freshly made cookies.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” she mumbled, and Methode remained silent for several long moments.

“My intentions, you ask? To be honest, I don’t have an answer,” the woman said at last as she also sat down, eyes fixated on the fire, arms crossed over her raised knees. “Your master is as fascinating as she is aloof, and yet she truly wears her heart on her sleeve.”

Fern kept stirring the stew.

“She’s blunt and honest, and her lies are pitiful,” Methode chuckled and shook her head as she remembered Frieren pretending to go visit her at the inn to read some grimoires.

“Well, yes, that’s true,” Fern conceded.

“But she’s also very direct, and…” Methode sighed. “And I know better than to expect anything from her when it comes to the sentimental area, Fern-San. She’s been perfectly clear about that.” She couldn’t help the dejected, quiet tone coloring her words, or the low gaze and bowed head that came with them.

And Fern couldn’t help but notice it.

“But that’s fine,” Methode looked up and offered Fern a smile. “She’s generous in her own way, and I’m happy with what she is willing to give. I’m also very, very happy to be able to give her whatever she will accept.”

“I see,” Fern rubbed her arm.

The fire cracked, the stew boiled, and both mages remained quiet. Methode had not expected to open up like that, but there she was, with the aftertaste of her little confession lingering in her mouth.

What she had said was the truth. She held no hopes of taking her interactions with Frieren to a deeper level. Even if she wanted to, which at times it felt like she did. Her little infatuation with the cute elf had been steadily growing after their time together, after each letter, and she would be lying if she denied that her stomach had filled with those proverbial butterflies when she received the summon to aid in Fern’s mission.

But what was she to do with those deepening feelings? Well, what else but to follow through with what she had said. She'd give as much as she would be allowed to give while keeping her feet on the ground.

And yet, sometimes the things that Frieren said and did gave her hopes. The flower, the photograph, the elf sharing about her journey unprompted, how freely she gave herself in their moments of passion. How she only felt aroused with her. With Methode.

All those firsts for the elf, and that belonged to Methode now.

It all made her heart flutter and sing. She had never felt like this after Freude's death, and to her luck, she was falling for someone whose way of feeling was different from hers at a biological level.

Ground yourself, Methode. Just ground yourself.

Once everyone was gathered together, they shared a meal, had some small talk -Sein was openly disappointed when Methode informed him that yes, she did have a sister, but she was happily married with kids- and finally the group rested after two long days.

And Fern's glares towards Methode came to a halt.

Chapter Text

“Now remember, there is always the chance that we missed on a pair of exits or two.” Frieren said, staff already in hand. “So be ready to destroy any monster that might survive the attack.”

“Is there any risk of the ground giving in with all those spells going off at the same time?” Stark asked as he shifted the weight of his axe.

“The spells were cast to track and follow only mana,” Fern told him as she shook her head. “Imagine it like water flowing down these tunnels and flooding them.”

“So they are only destroying the monsters, huh?” Stark gave an approving nod. “That’s brilliant.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Methode sent Frieren a proud smile, which Frieren acknowledged with a small smile of her own.

“Alright,” Sein looked at his pocket clock. “Should happen in any second now, according to your calculations.”

“Very well,” Frieren nodded, and Methode, Fern, and herself took to the skies and spread out, ready to spot any sign of fleeing monsters while Sein and Stark did the same from the ground.

And then, it all happened in an instant. The spells went off amid a cacophonous roar that sent birds flying from the tree canopies, and terrestrial animals scattering in fright as the earth rumbled under their paws with the underground explosion, and after that, complete silence. It was as if nothing had happened at all. No sinking ground, no fleeing mantis-like monsters, no last battle.

It had been anticlimactic.

“But not unwelcome,” Sein commented when Stark had voiced as much. “Now we go inside and make sure that all of them were eliminated, I assume?”

Frieren nodded as she approached the closest entrance to the nest. Black particles were floating out of it and fading into nothingness, but there was no other sign of trouble coming from it. “Let’s go in and make sure that our work was completed. Don't let your guard down.”

They agreed and went in with staffs, axe, and holy scriptures at the ready.

Once they had combed the main parts of the nest, the group had split up to keep looking more efficiently, with Frieren, Methode, and Fern going on their separate ways to maximize their mana detection, and Stark accompanying Sein to aid the priest.

After several hours, the three mages met up at one of the larger chambers to rest and eat as each reported their findings, or rather the lack of them. The plan had been a complete success and not a single monster, larva or egg had survived the immense mana blast.

“The work is not done though,” Frieren commented as she had a bite of hardened bread. “These tunnels need to be filled and sealed, or they will soon become a lair for new monsters.”

“But that's for the association to deal with, right, Frieren-Sama?” Fern asked.

“Yes. All you two need to do now is, I imagine, fill in a report and get paid.”

“Good,” Fern tapped her boot with a finger. “That footwear repairing spell causes a funny texture after a while. I need to replace these.”

“And we can go shopping for magical artifacts,” Frieren made that devious little face that made Methode want to hug the hell out of her. But instead, she focused on her dried fruit, chewing slowly.

“Methode?”

“Hm?”

“Are you well? You haven't said a word,” Frieren said.

“Just a little tired, Frieren. Nothing to worry about,” Methode offered a feeble smile.

Frieren narrowed her eyes.

“It's been some long days,” Fern offered, her tone a bit rushed. “I think we're all tired.”

And then Fern proceeded to dictate the rules on the size limit and amount of items Frieren was allowed to buy, and that’s when Stark came back running.

“Frieren!” Stark ran to them. “You won’t believe it!”

“Stark, what is it?” Frieren was on her feet at once, staff already in her hand. “Where is Sein?”

“You have to come and see this,” he said, pointing behind him, but Stark didn’t seem scared. He looked excited.

The mages followed Stark through several tunnels that dug deeper, and deeper, until they arrived to a large chamber where Sein was waiting, his back to them, his hand producing a sphere to lighten the area, and Frieren’s eyes widened.

“Is that…” Fern blinked as she stepped closer.

“A dungeon entrance?” Methode’s eyebrows drew twin arches.

Frieren walked towards two tall, wide doors apparently made out of iron and placed her hand on one of them, sliding her fingers across the cold metal.

“It is,” she announced.

Fern approached the doors as well to touch them. “A sealing spell. Frieren-Sama. How old can this be?”

“Old,” Frieren turned to her, a pleased smile on her face.

“Isn’t it incredible?” Stark said. “Sein and I couldn’t believe it when we found it. We knew you’d go crazy about it.”

“Crazy?” Methode tilted her head.

“Are you kidding me?” Stark looked at her. “This is the most excited I’ve seen her in ages.”

“Ah, I see,” Methode smiled.

“Well, step away. I’m going to break the seal.”

“No, you won’t, Frieren-Sama,” Fern stood between Frieren and the doors.

“What? Why not?”

“We’ve been camping for days to no end. I’m tired, and I need a bath, and you might have that immense pool of mana at your disposition, but your lowly apprentice does need her rest.”

“But- but-”

“Hey, Frieren, Fern is right,” Sein stood beside the girl, arms crossed. “I don’t think we’re in any shape to go head first into an ancient dungeon with who knows how many traps and monsters inside.”

“But the doors-”

“We’re also almost out of food and water,” Stark added.

As a last resort, Frieren turned to Methode, who gave her an apologetic shrug. “Your party is right, Frieren. This dungeon has surely been here for centuries. What’s a few more days?”

Frieren’s ears angled down.

“Come on, Frieren-Sama,” Fern rubbed her mentor’s shoulders. “I promise, we’ll come back, all fresh and ready and we’ll have fun finding all that magical junk you’re so fond of.”

“It’s not junk,” Frieren pouted.

“I’ll even come back with you all, if you’d like,” Methode offered, despite her best judgment.

“See, Frieren?” Stark said with more energy than he had as he simultaneously sent Fern a warning look. “Methode-San is helping! Come on, let’s go… I really need to shower, please.”

Frieren sighed as looked longingly at the iron doors, but she nodded, de-materialized her staff, and started walking back towards the exit.

“Thank the goddess,” Sein rubbed his forehead and they all followed after the despondent elf.

“Are we sharing a room, Frieren-Sama?” Fern asked as the group walked through town. It was a picturesque Northern enclave of decent size that would have no doubt, fallen victim to the horde of monsters, had they not destroyed their nest.

“Uh? Yes. Where else would I put my stuff?” Frieren said. “I wonder if there are any good magic shops around.”

“I’m sure there are,” Fern said.

“Methode-san, are you lodging in with us?” Sein asked.

“I’d like to fill in a report about the success of our mission and send it to the association before even thinking about lodging,” Methode gave him a polite smile.

“Right now? By yourself?” Fern frowned.

“I don’t mind. See you later,” Methode waved a hand, and then turned and walked away.

“What’s up with her?” Stark scratched his nape. “Isn’t she tired like the rest of us?”

“It’s been some long days,” Frieren told him. “Alright, let’s go and find a good inn.”

Fern looked back to the distant form of Methode, but a moment later, she followed after the others.

TBC

Chapter Text

Methode had fulfilled her duties with the association, eaten something by herself at the first tavern she found, and after a long bath, she was now sitting on the bed in the room she had rented, which happened to be in the same inn where Frieren and her party were staying, because of course the goddess would have it be the only place with availability.

What was wrong with her? Why was she avoiding Frieren? Hah. Why was she making herself a question to which she had an answer at the ready?

The truth was that her talk with Fern had affected her more than she had expected. Her admissions, her conclusions. There was a reason why Methode had avoided rationalizing or categorizing her relationship with Frieren. After all, they were simply two women who had shared a memorable night, exchanged a few letters, some tokens of appreciation, and who kept saying things to each other that made Methode’s chest swell with warmth.

Truly, they barely knew each other. Then why, oh why, merciful goddess of the creation, was Methode falling for her? Why was she enamored with her brilliance? With that nonchalant manner to be at ease with herself? Her eagerness, her readiness to explore and learn, those gorgeous eyes with eyelashes for days and a luminosity that rivaled the stars themselves?

She had it bad, didn’t she?

Methode draped an arm over her eyes as she lay on the bed, groaning.

She hadn’t meant to feel like this. She hadn’t meant to let her emotions get ahead of herself in such a manner. It was true that when the opportunity arose to see Frieren again, she hadn’t thought it twice, but she never suspected that her world would be rocked like this, that Frieren’s statements of wanting Methode to deal with her all she wanted would fiercely liven up that flame. That the elf saying that she thought of her handwriting would make her want to write even more neatly for her. That seeing her carefree sleeping positions would soften her heart further.

She was fucked. So fucked. This was not good.

She knew that Frieren was welcoming of their intimacy, their flirting moments, their easy talks and cuddles, but Methode didn’t dare to imagine that the elf would allow anything further from that. She didn’t want to contemplate an improbability, because the truth was that Methode found herself to be a liar.

She didn’t want life to surprise her. She wanted to take the reins and make things happen for herself, like she usually did. That’s who she was, someone who saw the road ahead and decided where she wanted her feet to take her.

Except that with Frieren, she knew that that was not something within reach, and it seemed that the one thing she could do was indeed to let life do as it would when it came to the legendary mage.

She rolled to her side, a bent arm under her head. It was better to place some emotional distance. Perhaps it was a sane idea to put physical distance as well, lest her malaise became unmanageable. After all, the only person who would get hurt in the end was herself.

“What the hell are you saying, Methode,” she mumbled and rolled onto her other side. “You’re taking this too far. You truly are. Didn’t you tell Fern-San that you’d simply take what would be offered and give what would be accepted?”

Well, yes, but Methode knew her heart, and it was ready to give Frieren more than the elf would accept, or want. That much she knew.

But hadn’t Frieren loved a human before? And Himmel the Hero, nonetheless. Then perhaps she could-

No. Those kinds of hopes were dangerous. And as she got to know more about Frieren, it became clear to Methode that the loss of Himmel brought her sorrow, and furthermore, their relationship didn’t seem to have flourished, or even consummated, judging by the elf’s generalized nescience about the subject.

Oh. But what an innate, raw talent she had. Methode found herself smirking at the memories.

No! Stop it!

She sat up and rubbed her face. Perhaps she should go to the tavern and have a drink to dull her mind.

She was still considering it when she heard knocking on her door, and a simple mana detection reach let her know exactly who was behind it.

Really? Now?

Methode sighed, got up and opened the door, finding Frieren behind it.

“Have you had your rest, Methode?” Frieren asked as she invited herself in, walking past her.

“I… uh… yes,” Methode felt the maelstrom of feelings starting to swirl again. “What about you?”

“I did,” Frieren looked around the room, and then she turned to Methode. “So, we’re in a town.”

Methode waited for Frieren to go on, but the elf simply kept staring at her as she started playing with a twin tail.

“...Yes?”

Frieren tilted her head. “You told me that you’d teach me about romance the next time we were in a town.”

Methode made herself blink several times, as if that helped her to process faster. “I… well, I didn’t say teach exactly.”

“True,” Frieren rubbed her chin. “You said you’d romance me properly.”

“That I did…”

“Well, we’re in a town now,” Frieren repeated, wondering if Methode was still feeling tired, judging by her strange demeanor. “Or do you prefer to rest? Have you changed your mind?”

“No, I-” Methode dropped her shoulders, pursed her lips, and in the end, she straightened her back and offered a smile. “No. I haven’t changed my mind.” She approached Frieren and took her hand. “I’d love to romance you, Frieren.”

Frieren smiled, and it did things to Methode, wonderful and painful at once.

“Very well, then let’s go,” Frieren pulled Methode towards the door, but Methode stood in place, tugging Frieren back by their still joined hands.

“Oh, no, If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it the right way.”

“And what is the right way?” Frieren tilted her head to the other side.

“We’re going on a date, of course,” Methode smiled and released her hand at last. “I’ll pick you up at your door at seven. Make sure to be ready.”

“But we’re both here right now,” Frieren frowned. “Why do we need to wait?”

“That’s the way dates go,” Methode nodded with self-assuredness. “Will you trust me on this?”

Frieren considered it for some moments, and finally she nodded.

“You haven’t disappointed so far, so I will.” she gave a teasing smile. “Okay, see you at seven then, Methode.”

“See you at seven, Frieren.”

As soon as Frieren was gone, Methode let herself fall on the bed, a hand flat against her eyes. What was that? Where had all of her self reflection gone? Her resolution to put distance? How did taking Frieren on a date help with her self preservation? How?

Just… she couldn’t deny her. Seeing those curious, eager eyes had utterly disarmed her, and Methode was done. She had no defenses, and self preservation be damned, she wanted to see Frieren smile for her again. Smile because of her.

If this is what life was indeed handing her, then Methode was going to take it for herself and indulge into this sweet fantasy one more time. She’d pick up the pieces of her broken heart later.

“Frieren-Sama?”

“Hm?” Frieren looked up from the bed where she was sitting.

“I’ve been trying to ask you something for the last five minutes,” Fern raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Frieren tapped the floor with her foot a few times. “Not much. I’m going out on a date with Methode at seven, and I’m unsure of what I am supposed to do.”

“A… a date?” Fern’s mouth stayed open.

“Yes- but Fern, please, don’t get mad about it.”

Fern looked at her for several moments, and at last sat down on the bed facing Frieren’s.

“A date, hm?”

Frieren nodded.

“So, things are getting more serious after all?”

Frieren looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Then no.” Fern shook her head.

“What does one do on a date?” Frieren asked.

“Frieren-Sama. Have you truly never been to one?”

Frieren shook her head. “Dating is not a- was not a custom in my culture.”

“Then how did elves decide when to marry and start a family?” Fern’s eyebrows were high up on her forehead.

“See, marriage is a human tradition as well, however, the elves who did decide to be with someone were quite devoted,” Frieren tapped her cheek.

“I see.”

“So? What does one do on a date?” Frieren repeated her question.

Fern looked at her master for long seconds, and at last, she nodded. “It depends. You talk to each other, you go to nice places together, you share a meal, or snacks. You buy cute things for each other.”

“Do you have sex?”

“That’s- that’s optional, Frieren-Sama. Please don’t ask me such things,” Fern’s face turned a deep shade of red.

“Understood, Sorry,” Frieren folded her hands on her lap.

“It’s okay,” Fern sighed. “Well, what are you wearing?”

Frieren looked down at herself. “I’m already dressed.”

“Frieren-Sama. One needs to wear pretty clothes for dates.”

“Oh. Right. I remember you were fretting over choosing a dress when you went out with Stark- oh! Is that why you were upset when I didn’t help you choose?”

“A little late for you to figure that out, but yes,” Fern got up, fists at her hips. “You can’t wear the same clothes you wear everyday.”

“It’s not cold enough to wear my winter clothes,” Frieren shook her head.

“Of course you’re not wearing your winter clothes either,” Fern started looking among her things. “Now, where is it…”

“Fern, what are you looking for?”

“Just wait,” Fern said as she continued with her search, and she finally produced a beautiful white dress with laces adorning its front and wavy sleeves that reached above the elbow, while its flowy skirt would probably reach slightly below mid-calf.

“That’s one of the dresses you made me try on when we were staying near Weise. You actually bought it.” Frieren blinked as Fern handed her the garment.

“I did. I thought that you might need at least one cute outfit if the occasion arose,” Fern nodded, clearly pleased with her foresight.

“I don’t know…” Frieren kept the dress at arms’ length as she judged it. “It’s…”

“It’s very pretty. You’ll look nice in it, and Methode-San will love it.”

“Fern, I thought you didn’t like Methode,” Frieren looked at her.

Fern twisted her lips. “I just think that Frieren-Sama deserves to experience what a date is like, doesn’t she?”

Frieren smiled, her gaze softening. “I guess.”

“Now come on, we still need to do your hair.”

“My hair is already do-”

“Who’s the one who’s been on a date here?”

“It’s Fern…”

“That’s right, now, let’s go. We have only thirty minutes to get you ready.”

Frieren found herself producing a smile for her apprentice. “Thank you, Fern.”

And Fern returned it. “Of course, Frieren-Sama.”

TBC

Chapter Text

Despite her awareness about the situation in which she was getting herself into, Methode couldn’t help the excitement bursting within her chest, or the exhilarating anticipation brewing deep down her stomach.

And wasn’t that elf something? Barging into her room and reminding Methode of her promise in the manner one reminded another to return a borrowed book? But of course, there were layers to Frieren’s apparent lassitude. It was now obvious to Methode that Frieren didn’t ask for things she didn’t want, and needed heavy prompting to do the things she didn’t want to do at all.

Indeed, Frieren had gone to her door and demanded to be romanced by her own volition, and that drove Methode crazy, both in good and bad ways, shaking the foundations of her resignation with fleeting sparks of optimistic hopes, and that was a narrow path to walk.

The hell with it, she told herself for the umpteenth time as she checked at herself in the mirror. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. So she had gone out for some last minute shopping and was now donning a pearl colored blouse with bare shoulders and an open front long skirt over black leggings, her attire complemented by a red and black underbust corset that cinched her slim waist, accentuating her hips and bosom. She had let her hair loose, except for a small braid that ran from her right temple to the side of her head.

Yes. She looked dashing, if she said so herself. So, after a few words of self encouragement, she left her room and made her way to the one that Frieren shared with Fern, knocking five times, waiting with her fingertips rubbing against her palms.

And then the door opened, and Methode lost the ability to breathe.

“You’re quite punctual,” Frieren said.

“I- I-” Methode found herself swallowing, for, before her, was a sublime creature attired in wavy folds of white and lace, her snowy hair loose and kept in place by a delicate plait braided like a diadem just behind her bangs, and there was a faint touch of color on her lips and cheeks.

“Well?” Frieren stretched her arms down and spun. The cunning little thing dared to spin for Methode!

“I- uh-” Methode swallowed again, and then remembered to draw air in as she drank into the view before her. She had not been prepared. “Y-yes. Yes. You… you look truly exquisite, Frieren,” she gave herself a mental pinch and then offered her hand, which Frieren observed for a moment, before taking it.

“Thank you,” the elf smiled as she looked at Methode as well, not making any effort to hide her appreciative gaze. “Methode, you look beautiful yourself.”

“Do I?” Why on earth was Methode blushing?

“Of course,” Frieren seemed amused. “You make me want to skip this date and simply ask you to go to your room.”

Methode laughed, and did she need that! She felt herself relax and an easy smile win over her face as she made Frieren hook her arm from hers. “Shall we go, my lady?”

“We shall.”

“Wait,” Methode frowned. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You just used a spell on me.”

“Did I?” Frieren smirked.

“What kind of mage would I be if I couldn’t detect something like that?” Methode raised an eyebrow. “Frieren, what did you do?”

“Just this little convenient spell I picked from a dragon’s nest,” Frieren’s smirk, if possible, grew more sly. “Nothing you would object to, I’m sure.”

Methode narrowed her eyes at her, considering it for a moment, and then she shook her head, chuckling. “I don’t know what I should do with you.”

“Oh.” Frieren stood on her tiptoes and pulled Methode closer to her, whispering in her ear. “But you do.”

Methode felt fire running down her spine. “Frieren, we better make it out of here before my conviction fails me.”

“Would it really be a bad thing, though?”

“The goddess help me,” Methode pinched the bridge of her nose as she walked the elf out.

Dates were strange.

Frieren didn’t think that using a carriage to go from the inn to the restaurant was necessary, and it was odd how Methode kept offering her hand for everything, from getting in and out of the carriage, to walking into the restaurant, or helping her to sit down. Methode had also poured Frieren’s wine herself and Frieren was almost certain that if she asked, the woman would choose her meal for her.

“Is something the matter, Frieren?” Methode looked up from her menu.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you have your thinking face on. The one you make when you’re heavily analyzing.”

Frieren blinked. She didn’t know that she had different faces. She put her own menu down.

“I feel unfamiliar with the situation, and I’m unsure of how to act,” she confessed. “It seems to me that your role is to do physical labor for me, and I’m not sure if I enjoy it.”

“Oh? How come?”

“Because I don’t understand the rules.”

Methode thought about it for a few moments, and then nodded. “Apologies, Frieren. I keep forgetting that this is a new experience for you.”

Frieren nodded. “I’d appreciate some guidance.”

“Oh that’s-” Methode shook her head. “Well, I certainly didn’t mean to confuse you,” she said with a sheepish smile. “See, it’s customary to show appreciation for your date with little details like guiding them to their seat and pouring their beverages.”

“Why am I not doing that for you, then?” Frieren asked, her head tilted.

“Would- would you like to do that?”

Frieren shook her head. “Methode can do all of those things herself.”

“Yes, true. But it’s not really about that,” Methode hummed. “Is it uncomfortable that I did it for you?”

Frieren rubbed her chin. “Not uncomfortable. Just confusing.”

“Yes. I can understand that,” Methode had a sip from her glass. “I did all of those things to show you how happy I am to be here with you, and to express my appreciation. It made me happy to treat you like that.”

“So, is this a normal thing that couples do?” Frieren asked, and Methode felt her heart starting to race. How dared the elf to use that word so casually? Didn’t she know what that did to Methode? No. She didn’t.

“Y-yes,” Methode said at last. “But it’s not necessary. Every cou- every couple is different.”

“I see,” Frieren rubbed her chin, and then nodded. “Well, if it makes you happy, then I’m okay with you doing those things for me. But let me know first, so I am aware.”

“Noted,” Methode smiled. “And thank you, for giving me this pleasure.”

“Dates sure are peculiar,” Frieren responded with a smile of her own. “So, what do we do now?”

“Well, we can simply talk.”

“About what?”

“About anything we feel like, really.”

“And if we don’t feel like talking about anything?”

“Well, then we don’t talk,” Methode felt her heart sinking a little at the possibility of Frieren not finding her company stimulating enough. “And that would be fine. Simply enjoying a meal together is fine.”

“Ah, I see,” Frieren hummed, her gaze contemplative, and Methode had the sudden certainty that if she could, Frieren would be taking notes. She wouldn’t be surprised if after tonight, Frieren would go out there looking for a book that described the art of dating.

“See, Frieren, you don’t have to prepare for this as if it were a test. The point of a date is to enjoy each other’s company.”

“If that were the case, we’d be in your room,” Frieren pointed out as her eyes scanned the menu. “Oh, they have some good meat cuts here…”

And Methode laughed against her hand. “Goddess, Frieren. You always manage to do this.”

“Oh? Do what?”

“You surprise me with your directness.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“It’s good,” Methode kept chuckling, “Definitely good. It dispels unnecessary gravitas.”

“I wasn’t aware that there was any.”

“Yes. You're right.” Methode shrugged and felt herself relaxing. She had been more nervous than she had realized. But this was Frieren, and if anything, Frieren would always tell her what she wanted, for better or worse.

After their order was taken, Frieren looked up at Methode.

“I do want to ask some things.”

“Go ahead.”

“You were evidently born with the goddess’ blessing. So, how come that you didn’t become a priestess?”

“Because I’d be a terribly sinful one,” Methode smirked.

“You would not be the first,” Frieren pointed out with a smirk of her own, to which Methode chuckled.

“I know, but priesthood is not for me. I felt more attracted to magic, and I do want to have a family in the future, a spouse, childr-” Methode pursed her lips, but Frieren didn’t seem to linger on her words.

“Yes, that makes sense. The life of a mage is more versatile in that aspect, is it not?” Frieren went on. “And you have an incredible advantage on the battlefield. All I can do is heal simple wounds and identify some illnesses.”

“More than many mages. Most won’t even bother with learning the most basic priest spells, or be able to perform them at all.”

“It’s not uncommon for elves,” Frieren hummed.

“What about you, Frieren? What attracted you to study magic?”

“Magic is as natural for my kind as breathing,” Frieren sat back when their meals were brought, in her case, and much to Methode’s surprise, a plate full of juicy steaks. “But I loved it when I was a mere elfling. Mother used to-”

Methode waited, but Frieren kept her eyes on her steak.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“But of course,” Methode nodded and they started to eat in silence.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Methode asked suddenly. “Anything you’d like me to know about you.”

“Anything, hm? I’m not sure if I have anything to share.”

“I find that hard to believe, Frieren. Your life experience extends beyond my comprehension. It can be truly anything, big or small.”

“Well now I have too much to choose from,” Frieren tapped her chin, and then she straightened her back. “Oh, I know. My favorite dessert is Merkur Puding.”

Methode grinned. “Oh, those are delicious!”

“Aren’t they?” Frieren said, and then, the conversation became surprisingly fluid. Frieren and Methode shared trivialities and anecdotes, curious ones, irrelevant and fun.

Methode found herself laughing at some of those stories, or being at the edge of her seat at others. And she happily told Frieren about her demon hunting tribe, her formation as a mage, about adventures of her own, her favorite food, and they discovered that neither favored onions.

“...And that's how Sein became part of our party,” Frieren said before having a spoonful of her dessert.

“You… you threw him a kiss as a seduction technique?” Methode’s eyes were round, eyebrows up.

“Yes, but he was a formidable foe.”

“Frieren…” Methode looked as amused as she was mortified. “What would you have done if your technique had worked?”

“What do you mean? I would have had him join our party, which he did anyway.”

Methode fisted a hand against her lips in an attempt to fight a chuckle.

“Oh no. Just say it.” Frieren frowned.

“Frieren, why do you think Sein-san wanted to travel with an older woman?”

Frieren looked up as she tapped her cheek. “I actually never gave it much of a thought.”

“Oh, goddess,” Methode couldn't help the little laughter. “Frieren, seduction is a prelude. if your technique had worked, he would have expected to move on to the next step.”

“What would the next step be?” Frieren blinked, and she was met by Methode’s pointed gaze, a single golden eyebrow arched up.

“Oh…” And then it hit her. “Oh!”

“Exactly,” Methode laughed.

“How was I supposed to infer that?” Frieren was frantically waving her hands in front of her. “That's so awkward! Methode, why did you have to make me aware of it?”

“Oh, Frieren,” Methode was doing her best to extinguish her mirth. “I don't - I don't think it matters anymore. Sein-san certainly seems to have left that in the past.”

Frieren grumbled and stabbed her pie, and Methode sighed with content.

“I'm so glad you accepted to have a date with me,” she said. “I'm having a wonderful time.”

“I'm enjoying myself too, Methode.” Frieren gave her an easy smile.

“That makes me happy,” Methode passed some hair behind her ear. “You truly look beautiful tonight, and I'm loving to get to know you better. It's so special for me,” she reached out to cover Frieren's hand with hers, rubbing her thumb against her skin.

“It’s fascinating that such a small touch feels so good,” Frieren flipped her hand to entwine their fingers. “It’s soothing and exciting at the same time.”

Methode squeezed her hand, her voice lower. “It’s because we- because we're attracted to each other and our bodies recognize it.” And my heart, she almost added. “And for the record, if you threw me a kiss, I'd be completely seduced,” she winked an eye for Frieren.

“Would you, now?”

And then she did it. Frieren took her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss to Methode.

“Oh goddess,” Methode was not kidding. Despite everything that they had done with each other, to each other, that kiss turned her face hot and red all the way from her neck to her ears, and Methode covered her eyes with her free hand.

Frieren chuckled. “Well, who is adorable now, hm?”

“You hold too much power,” Methode peeked at her between her fingers.

“And yet you're smiling,” Frieren looked beyond triumphant.

“What am I going to do with you, indeed?”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out,” Frieren smirked.

“Wait,” Methode frowned and lowered her hand. “You're doing it again. You're using that spell on me. What is it?”

“It's a spell to see through clothes,” Frieren hummed.

Methode scoffed. “Are you looking through my clothes right now? Seriously?”

There was that smug smirk. “A most enjoyable view, Methode.”

“You lewd, flirty little thing, that's cheating,” Methode swallowed and licked her lips. “I don't have such a spell.”

“I suppose you'll have to use the traditional way then,” Frieren rubbed the rim of her glass with two fingertips.

Methode’s arm rose up into the air.

“Check, please!”

TBC

Chapter Text

They ran up the stairs, Methode pulling Frieren from her hand, and as soon as the door closed, the elf found herself pinned against the wall and picked up, her dress riding up when her legs instinctively wrapped around Methode’s waist as they engulfed each other in an air depleting kiss.

“Fuck,” there it was. Frieren had sworn for the second time in her long life as she felt those hot, wet lips sucking at her neck and fervent hands stroking her bare thighs, cupping her ass, squeezing it. “Feels so good, Methode…”

“Been dying to do this to you for days,” Methode mumbled against Frieren’s soft skin.

“Do more things,” Frieren urged her, her own fingers clasping at Methode’s hair, releasing the delicious smell of her shampoo, fumbling with her corset with her free hand and groaning in frustration when she couldn’t get it off.

“Damn it,” she mumbled, and after a waving of fingers, she severed the laces keeping Methode’s corset together. “I understand now…”

“Frieren…” Methode pulled away to look at her, her eyelids heavy, her irises darkened with wanton lust. She threw her corset aside and returned the favor, and with a bit of magic of her own, the front of Frieren’s dress opened wide for her.

What did Frieren understand? Methode had no head to ask, not when those sweet, perky breasts were bare for her. She wasted no time, sucking from Frieren’s neck to the hollow on her neck, and then trapping a bundle, worshiping it with teeth and tongue and lips.

Frieren moaned, her body slithering in the embrace, her back curving to offer more of herself for Methode, and after using some more of her magic, Methode’s clothes were rags at her feet. Frieren let her hands meander all over her hair, her back, her breasts, cupping and weighing and stroking at will.

“I liked that outfit…” Methode pulled away, admiring her work on a breast before switching her attention to the other one.

Frieren didn’t think that Methode truly cared about her clothes though, judging by the intensity in her tone, or the way she kept rolling her tongue over her nipples, nibbling them, or how she eventually carried her to the bed and proceeded to remove what was left of her dress, to slide off her underwear, and then Methode was touching and tasting her everywhere, her sex, her navel, her breasts, her neck, and then she gathered her in her arms to kiss her deeply as she fisted waves of white hair, as she caressed every curve and every crevice.

“You do this thing to me…” Frieren moaned, eyes closed, her body at Methode’s mercy, every single defense down.

“What of them all?” Methode mumbled as she turned Frieren on her stomach so she could assault her nape, stroke her back and start to nibble on her ear shell, make Frieren moan, her eyelids fluttering.

“You- you curse me…”

“A curse?” Methode was now cupping the elf’s breast and sex, giving them all the attention they had lacked for months with those long, skilled fingers of hers.

“Can’t think… can’t cast… can’t- can’t act… don’t wanna,” Frieren turned her face to her, demanding a kiss, which Methode was quick to give as she started massaging Frieren’s clit with intent.

“You’re the one who cursed me,” Methode said between feverish kisses. “Can’t stop… can’t rest until I make you explode. Fuck, I want it so bad. You’ll come for me, won’t you? Frieren, you’ll let me take care of this wet pussy of yours, won’t you?”

“Yes…” Frieren was gasping. “Love that dirty mouth of yours, Methode…”

“Got something else for you to love,” Methode slid two fingers inside the elf, carefully feeling for that little roughed spot, pressing it masterfully, her thumb massaging Frieren’s bundle just the right way, and then she applied pressure at the same time on both ends once and again and again, thrusting at the same time.

“What the- ah!”

“S’okay…. Just feel…”

And did Frieren feel. Every part of her attuned to Methode’s attentions and movements as she was brought closer and closer to that edge where sweet torture and pleasure blended into one, and after a few more masterful thrusts, she was done.

Frieren arched her back, her sudden jerks contained by Methode’s body on top of hers, and then, oh, and then, much to her surprise, Frieren felt herself losing the grasp of her mana, of her mind, of everything that made her her as she became fire, and lightning, and water and everything and nothing at all, her vision darkening, her very brain numb and alight and for a second, or an eternity, she knew nothing.

“Hey…” a soft voice called her back from wherever she had gone, and she opened her eyes to find herself cradled in Methode’s arms as the woman stroked her cheek, kissed the curve of her nose.

“M’thode…” Frieren’s body was still spasming, so she curled up against the taller mage and slowly, and surprisingly with some effort, suppressed her mana again. “What was- what was that…”

“A big one,” Methode chuckled. “A really, really big one.”

“This sex thing is dangerous,” Frieren snuggled against her.

Methode smiled while she stroked Frieren’s hair, and her voice was quiet when she spoke again. “Frieren?”

“I know what you mean to ask,” Frieren sighed. “Yes, that’s my real mana. Yes, I suppress it permanently.”

“That’s…”

Useless? A waste of time? Frieren prepared herself to hear it. She had never cared what others thought about her ways to live magic. But in that moment, she suddenly did.

“...That’s extraordinary,” Methode went on. “No. It’s more than that. I- I wouldn’t believe it If I hadn’t seen it myself. And it’s so vast, Frieren. It’s immense. I can’t imagine how long you must have trained to achieve this feat,” the woman sounded equally bewildered and fascinated. She took Frieren’s chin in her hand to look into her eyes, and self satisfaction wasn’t enough to describe her smug smirk.

“Only to lose control at my hands, hm?”

Frieren blinked, and blinked again. “You sneaky woman,” she finally chuckled and sighed, rubbing her face against Methode’s breasts. “Guess I got a new training method, hm?”

“Oh. I’d love to help you train as much as you want,” Methode chuckled as she traced Frieren’s earshell. “Goddess. I imagine every mage and priest ten kilometers around must be wondering what the hell that was.”

“If they come asking, I’ll just blame you for it,” Frieren chuckled, then closed her eyes and sighed. “That was too intense.”

Methode snuggled her to her. “Tired, hm?”

Frieren nodded.

“It’s okay, I got you,” the woman hummed.

“Don’t think I’m done with you,” Frieren mumbled. “I mean, I haven’t even started.”

“Good thing that we have all night.”

“You smell so good,” Frieren hummed.

“I was thinking the same,” Methode closed her eyes, living the moment, the feeling of Frieren’s soft, petite body engulfed by hers. She felt so full, so joyous, so complete in that moment, even if Methode knew well that she was kindling the fire where she’d cook her own heartbreak, and yet she kissed the elf’s ear and breathed into her post-glow scent.

“By the way, Frieren, you said that now you understood something. What did you mean?”

“Hm? When did I say that?”

“When you were ruining my clothes,” Methode chuckled.

“Oh,” Frieren started wrapping a golden strand around her finger. “I used to have this potion that dissolved only clothes, and planned to give it to Stark as a gift. But I didn’t fully get what using it would imply. It was all abstract to me.”

“Ah… you would have wanted to use it on me, hm?” Methode quipped.

“Absolutely,” Frieren turned Methode on her back, eyelids half closed. “I needed you out of those clothes faster than immediately,” she kissed her gently, tasting her, nibbling on her lips as she stroked her face. “I envy you a little.”

“Wh-why?” Methode moaned as Frieren moved on to kiss her neck, to stroke her breasts with licentiousness, to kiss and suck and nibble on them.

“Your arms are so long. It’s so easy for you to touch me everywhere at the same time,” Frieren mumbled as she indeed slid down a little to squeeze Methode’s ass.

“I don’t mind you taking your time at all…” Methode licked her lips.

“Hmm. This calls for some creativity,” Frieren feigned a sigh, her eyes narrow with a frisky spark, and then her tone became lower as she knelt up. “Now get on your hands and knees and spread those pretty, long legs for me.”

Methode gasped.

“Now.”

“Goddess damned…” Methode obeyed at once, her heart drumming in her chest, and she moaned as she felt the first kiss on her lower back, another one at her hip bone, strokes on her inner thighs and playful fingers stroking her rift, spreading her labia. “F-Frieren?”

The answer to that invocation was a hot kiss on her sex, another one, and one more, followed by Frieren’s wet tongue mapping her folds, her clit, a finger sneaking into her depths, a second one, their exploratory thrusts thorough and slow.

“Frieren… fuck… yes… just like- ah!”

“Found it,” Frieren muttered against Methode’s swollen flesh as she located that mysterious roughed spot that had thrown a thousand years of training out the window. She started massaging it gently, modulating speed and pressure according to Methode’s reactions, and once she had found the perfect match, she took over Methode’s core with her mouth, sucking, licking and pressing as she basked in all the obscene sounds that she was drawing out of her.

“Frieren! Damn it!” Methode was holding onto a pillow for dear life, crying out against it, her legs shaking, the pressure growing, and growing, and then Frieren redoubled her attentions, adding a -to Methode’s surprise- third finger, and lapping at her sex with complete abandon

One could only withstand so much, truly. Methode’s orgasm was a tidal wave that dragged a primal cry out of her, flooding her entire body, her mind.

She collapsed on the mattress with ragged gasps for air as her entire body shuddered with her post-peak pleasure.

“The noises you make when you come undone are fascinating,” Frieren kissed her way up to Methode’s back, and then she pushed the lethargic woman to rest on her side so Frieren could sneak between her arms, maneuvering until she turned herself into the little spoon.

“You…” Methode wrapped her arms around her, still trying to modulate her breathing. “You started damn good, but just keep getting better at this.”

“I told you I was a great student,” Frieren made no attempt to mask her pride.

They welcomed a comfortable silence as they fixed the covers, resting, living the moment, sharing their warmth, enjoying the evaporating moisture and candid caresses.

“You act so lustful,” Methode mumbled after a while.

“I’m guessing that’s not a complaint,” Frieren mumbled back. “It’s your fault, after all.”

“Complaining about getting you going like this? Never,” Methode snickered. “But it’s such a contradiction. It’s hard for me to grasp how you don’t think about these moments. To be honest, I've thought about them so often, and I’ll probably think about tonight just as much.”

Frieren remained quiet for long seconds before speaking. “I'm glad it's not like that for me, though. I can't imagine what it would feel like to be longing for them when I have no means to be with you.”

“...I guess you're right,” Methode tugged Frieren closer to her.

“But it's not an issue for you either. Is it, Methode?”

“Hm?”

“You can always take on another lover to tend to those urges.”

“I suppose,” Methode's tone became quiet. “But I haven't felt like it after you.”

“Oh? Why not?’

Methode shrugged. “Perhaps it's an elf thing.”

“But you're not an elf- oh,” Frieren chuckled. “That was smart.”

A moment. Two.

“Wait, isn't that bad?” Frieren asked.

“It's alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

Frieren turned fully to Methode, her forehead lightly creased. “Methode, what does that mean?”

Methode used her elbow to raise her upper body to look down on Frieren, eyes drooping, her smile soft, so soft. “These are just things that happen to us humans. You don’t need to worry about it at all,” she stroked Frieren's cheek with the back of her hand.

“Are you sure?”

“Let me have you again, Frieren,” Methode’s tone was soft, almost pleading, and how could Frieren possibly say no? Why would she, at all?

She wrapped her arms around Methode’s nape and brought her down into a kiss, and the next hours became a long ritual of sensual deliverance where instead of a frenzy, Methode guided them into a slow cadence. Every caress, every kiss, and every whisper felt purposeful and vast, becoming engraved in Frieren’s prodigious memory and driving her senses into an unexplainable plane where everything seemed to cease existing. Everything but them.

And there was something else, something alien to Frieren, unexplainable at the moment, but it was exhilarating, boundless, and slightly alarming. But she would figure that out at some other moment, because that night, all she wanted was to give into the summits of their sensorial bliss.

Truly. How many ways were there to engage in sex? Frieren didn’t know, but she wanted to keep finding out.

Chapter Text

Methode descended quietly onto the roof of the inn, and looked around to find a good place to sit down. That's when she sensed a presence, and caught the smell of tobacco.

“Oh, Sein-San,” she gave a little bow and tightened her coat around herself. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll get going now.”

“Why?” Sein looked at her from his sitting spot. “The roof is big enough for the two of us.”

“Aren’t you having a moment of quiet meditation?” Methode asked, though she indeed sat down at an arm’s length.

Sein shrugged. “I don’t mind,” he looked at her. “Is that why you’re here? Do you need space?”

“No. It’s fine,” Methode raised her knees and hugged her legs as she looked at the horizon. “I just came to catch the sunrise.”

“Is that a habit of yours?”

Methode shook her head.

“Ah,” Sein gave her a squinty look. “So, are you going to keep traveling with us after we explore the dungeon, Methode-San?”

Methode chewed on her lower lip, and finally shrugged as she shook her head. “I don’t know. I haven’t been asked to.”

“And if you’re asked?”

“Well, where are you heading to?”

“Heaven.”

“Heaven?”

“I know, odd,” Sein shrugged. “But apparently it’s a real, physical place somewhere in Ende.”

“Ende. Yes. Frieren mentioned once that that’s where she was heading.” Methode narrowed her eyes. “And why would you want to go there, assuming that it exists?”

“Everyone has their own reasons,” Sein said. “Me? I want to see it with my own eyes, and I like that bunch,” he jerked his head downwards, to where his traveling companions were sleeping under the roof. “And why not? I’d like to see my parents again and talk to them, let them know that my brother and I turned out fine.”

“I see.”

Sein had a long drag of his tobacco roll, exhaling a thick, blueish cloud that condensed above his head for a moment.

“You know, just because you can heal your own lungs, it doesn’t mean that you should indulge in those things,” Methode gave him a look.

“Are you the type to lecture others on their habits, Methode-san?”

Methode stayed quiet for some moments, and then rolled a shoulder. “Actually, no. Don’t mind me.”

“You’re troubled,” Sein said.

“We’re all troubled.”

“Not that elf,” Sein snorted. “I’ve never met someone so content in their own skin. It’s enviable.”

“That’s how she seems, hm?”

“Do you think otherwise?”

“Perhaps parts of her are like that,” Methode rested her chin on her knees.

Sein leaned back to rest on his elbow. “It must be futile to linger over things when one is bound to live close to forever.”

Methode looked at the pale pink hues heralding the sun’s imminent arrival. “On the other hand, a human’s life comes and goes faster than we realize. We can’t afford to ignore our sense of urgency and loss.”

“That’s true. You know, I was wasting my life away back in my village, letting my dreams wither behind the walls of my own fears. It was Frieren and the kids who dragged me out of there and reminded me that I was the only one who could give purpose to my life,” Sein had another smoke. “I’m grateful for them.”

“I’m happy for you, Sein-San. You yourself look content.”

“Eh, I’ll get there,” Sein chuckled.

“Oh, look. The sun’s coming out,” Methode said and both humans took a moment to admire the quiet spectacle.

“Seriously, why are you up here?” Sein asked. “Don’t you have a cute girlfriend to snuggle in your room?”

“Girlfriend, hm?” Methode twisted her lips. “I just needed to clear my mind.”

“You really like her, don't you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Please. It's hard to miss. And from what I can perceive, she likes you back.”

Methode’s gaze followed the sun's ascension, and she finally conceded with a faint nod.

“Our ways are different, though.” She shrugged. “I'm aware of how ephemeral my presence is in her life.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Sein flicked his cigarette.

“Oh?”

“I'm not familiar with your relationship with Frieren, Methode-San. But what I know is that she tries her best to live in the present.”

Methode straightened her back and turned her face fully towards Sein, who gave her a confident nod.

“That’s what she told me once. We are talking about the present. She says that she missed out on a lot before trying to learn to live like that.”

“Are you- are you encouraging me to pursue her, Sein-San?”

“No,” Sein snorted. “I wouldn't dream of giving such careless advice. The one thing that I’m saying is that you worry that you're ephemeral for her, and yet she's making an effort to cherish her every day.”

Methode observed him for several seconds, and at last released a long sigh as she raked her fingers through her scalp.

“Listen,” Sein got up and dusted his pants. “I’ll tell you what I tell everyone. People won’t know how you feel unless you tell them. I’ll add that we learn from the past and we await for the future, but what really matters is what we do with our today, and I think that you have reasons to live your today to the fullest.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I am. I have many wasted days to learn from,” Sein gave Methode an easy smile, a wave, and then he climbed down the roof.

She was cold. Frieren reached out blindly to the other side of the bed to find empty sheets instead of that nice smelling body that had kept her warm all night. She opened an eye.

“M'thode…?”

No answer.

Frieren sat up, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room. It was morning already, she could tell, but still far too early to her liking.

She flopped onto the bed again and hugged a pillow against herself. Where could Methode have gone at this goddess-less hour? At least she could sense her mana nearby, and that comforted her.

A frown. Why?

Frieren didn’t get a chance to answer her own question as Methode came back, peeling her coat off and getting back into bed, and wordless, she held her in her arms, nuzzling her face against Frieren’s neck.

“You’re cold,” Frieren complained with a scrunched nose.

“Sorry,” Methode held her closer. “You’re so very warm.”

Frieren felt tempted to cast that spell she had gotten recently to make a body warm and nice, but she thought better about it. She had the sudden certainty that doing it spell-less would just feel better.

“Why were you up so early?” Frieren asked, eyes closed as she found the perfect nooks to fit against Methode.

“I was looking at the sunrise from the roof,” Methode traced Frieren’s nose with a finger.

“Why?”

“I just felt like it.”

Frieren hummed, and then shrugged. “Next time, wake me up, and I’ll go with you,” she said with a sleepy voice.

Methode blinked. “Truly, Frieren?”

A yawn. “If it’s important to you, yeah. I’d like to be there.”

“Alright.”

They remained silent for a while, and Frieren felt herself treading the edges of a new slumber, until Methode spoke again.

“Frieren?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you trying to go to heaven?”

Frieren opened one eye, and then the other to find Methode’s gaze on her.

“Because I want to see Himmel again.”

“Why?”

Frieren rubbed her eyes, yawned, and finally sat up, her back against the headboard as she mulled over her answer for a while. “I didn’t realize many things back then. I missed out on something special, and I want him to know that I understand that now. I want him to know how much he means to me. That I-” But she didn’t finish her sentence.

“I see.”

“Wouldn’t you like to see Freude again, Methode? Talk to her?”

“Oh, Frieren, I-” Methode pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t- I don’t know if I’d like that.”

“Why not? Don’t you have many things to tell her?”

Methode’s smile was thin, feeble. “It was hard, but my wound scabbed and is already scarring. I-” she released a quick breath. “I think that opening it again would be too painful. And I’m not sure that it would close again.”

Frieren considered those words. Yes. She could understand that. After all, Frieren herself had just recently discovered her own aching, open wound. Those regrets were still oozing like pus.

“I get what you're saying, but I’d still like to see Himmel again,” she finally said. “He’d like you.”

“Oh?”

“Himmel. He’d like you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Frieren smiled as she slid down under the covers again. “Still, would you like to travel with us? For a while at least.”

Frieren noticed the cute way in which Methode chewed on her lower lip as she considered her words.

“Not long ago you said no when I asked you to travel together after we faced Revolte, since you were reserving the healer position for Sein.”

“That's true,” Frieren hummed. “But things feel different now. You’re an amazing and versatile mage, and you can aid Sein with healing. Also, Fern seems to be less annoyed by you.”

“Is that all…?”

“And I enjoy your company,” Frieren admitted.

“See, Frieren, that’s the issue here,” Methode sighed. “I might be a little beyond that point. Or a lot…”

“What do you mean?”

Methode brought Frieren into her arms. “What about if we talk about that after we are done with that dungeon of yours? I think that I have something important I want to tell you.”

“Why don’t you tell me right now?”

“I-” Methode snuggled her closer. “I don’t feel ready.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No,” Methode chuckled softly. “Or at least, I hope not. I really hope not.”

Frieren sighed. “Alright. After the dungeon, then.”

“I bet it will be fun.”

“It will be all kinds of fun,” Frieren closed her eyes again and smiled. “You’ll raid it with an expert, after all.”

“Yes, Stark-San seems very knowledgeable.”

“I meant me,” Frieren opened her eyes again, and Methode chuckled.

“I know. I was joking.”

Frieren shook her head, but she held a little smile on her lips. “Let’s sleep a little more.”

“I love the idea,” Methode hummed, so Frieren closed her eyes yet again and released a pleased sigh as she went back to sleep.

Chapter Text

The party rested, replenished their provisions and returned to the dungeon, and after dispelling the seal guarding the doors, an eager Frieren guided them through long, damp corridors and echoing chambers, avoiding traps left and right with easiness as she kept adding new trinkets to her vast collection.

At last, they found an empty crypt where they settled down to rest and eat. However, Fern was not enjoying her master’s usual ludic joy when it came to dungeon runs, and it all had to do with how comfortable Frieren seemed to be around Methode.

The tell-tale signs would probably go unnoticed for anyone else, but not for Fern. It was not as if Methode and Frieren were blowing kisses to each other as they mapped the dungeon. On the contrary. They kept their distance, their senses focused and sharp on their surroundings as the experienced mages that they were, and there was no visible sign of the familiarity that they had with each other -One Fern was embarrassingly too aware of now, thanks to that very unwelcome, a little too informative mana wave from the other night.

The signs were subtler. It was the minuscule inflexion in her master's usually flat tone whenever she called the woman’s name, or the way her ears twitched just a millimeter when Methode called hers. Fern wondered if the twitches were on purpose -which would be infuriating-, or involuntary -which would be even more infuriating.

But at least Methode was competent and knew how to work with a team. Fern sighed. She supposed it could be worse, and with some begrudgery, she admitted that Frieren looked happy in a manner that Fern had not seen in her before.

And yet Fern couldn’t halt her ruminations. She knew that her distrust was irrational, and she knew how much she meant for her master, how important they both were to each other. Then, why did she feel so apprehensive? Would it truly be that terrible if Frieren decided to finally take on a romantic partner?

But what if she didn’t?

Fern nibbled on her food while the others went over their discoveries and advances. She was barely listening to the conversation, though.

What if instead, those two went nowhere? It was easy for everyone around to notice the bond that had formed between them, and she knew that Methode felt strongly for her. The woman herself has pretty much admitted it that night in the forest.

But was her master, as dense as she was, aware? And why did that make Fern restless?

In all honesty, Fern had to admit that she had enjoyed helping Frieren to get ready for her date and see that earnest smile on her. That quiet excitement.

She had more bread.

Fern was afraid of what would happen if this new happiness went away. It scared her. She didn’t want to witness her master's realization, be it in ten, or fifty years, when, in her clueless ways, she understood that she let go of something special again. A big part of Fern wished that the possibility did not exist at all. It would be much more convenient.

But that’s not how it was. Methode was there, and they had had a date, and Frieren’s ears twitched whenever the woman called her name.

“Something is not right,” Frieren declared, breaking Fern’s ruminations.

“What is it?” Methode frowned.

“This incursion has been suspiciously smooth,” Frieren looked at her, then at the rest of the party. “And all the traps that we have found so far have been mechanical. There’s nothing magical in this place besides the seal on the doors. Dungeons are natural habitats for monsters and demons, and traps like gargoyles are to be expected. This is the first time I’m in one that lacks any sort of magic.”

“Well, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing, does it?” Stark shrugged. “It’s nice to have things go our way once in a while. We’ve found a few nice things and some gold. Not bad, I’d say.”

“Frieren-Sama,” Fern raised an eyebrow. “Are you upset because this is being too easy?”

“Eh,” Frieren sent Fern a little, guilty look. “Perhaps. But still, keep your guard up.”

“I agree,” Sein added. “Something feels off.”

“What do you notice, Sein?” Frieren looked at him.

“Nothing, and I don’t like it. I don't think I can explain.”

“Should we head back?” Methode asked.

Frieren shook her head. “Just be cautious.”

They made a discovery in one of the lower levels that, while disappointing for Frieren, alarmed Sein; an ancient grimoire that was completely devoid of magic.

“It’s as if someone or something siphoned the power out of it,” he said as he scratched his goatee. “This whole place has been getting on my nerves for a while now.”

Frieren studied their surroundings. “I still don’t detect anything, but that wrongness you’re talking about feels stronger now.”

“What about you, Methode-San? Can you sense anything?” Sein asked.

“Um,” Methode focused, and shook her head, and then, “Wait, Sein-San, could this be…”

“Yes, I think so. I understand now.”

“What’s happening?” Stark looked around.

“I see,” Frieren produced her staff. “So, it’s a curse, huh?”

“A curse?” Fern took a step back. “What kind? Who’s casting it?”

“I think it’s a mana draining one. Something that I can't detect has been slowly feeding from us without us noticing, since it leaves our physical strength intact.” Sein looked right and left, his holy book already in his hand. “That's the nature of this curse.”

Fern tried to summon her staff, only to find that she couldn't. Her eyes widened. “Frieren-Sama, I’m almost out of mana!”

“This is inconvenient. We should leave,” Frieren glared around.

And then, chaos.

It all happened so fast. An immense plant-like creature -larger than Frieren had ever seen- broke through the ceiling, its many, sharp tendrils shooting towards them and sending debris over their heads. The last thing Frieren saw of Fern and Methode, was the girl trying to cast a protective barrier on top of them before Frieren had her sight negated by wreckage and dust.

She focused her full attention on the monster. A type of chaos flower? She’d figure it out later. It would take much more than this to empty her mana.

That monster, who had survived passively draining and feeding on the hive above for centuries, had no opportunity against Frieren’s Zoltrak and the mighty blow of Stark’s axe.

What had happened? Everything hurt, and she could taste blood and dirt.

Fern tried to raise her head.

“Don’t move.”

She opened her eyes to a world of pain, to the feeling of something warm and sticky under her back, and to the unexpected, dimmed view of Methode looming over her.

She took her hand to the source of her pain, and that was when she realized that she was bizarrely connected to Methode by a severed, still twitching, thick green vine that seemed to have pierced both of them at once, entering through Methode’s back, and exiting through Fern’s. Fern realized that the sticky feeling was their blood pooling under them as they lay on the floor.

“Wha-”

“Stay still, please.”

“...Hurts.”

“I know.”

“What- what happened?”

“Fern-San.” Methode’s voice was faint, halting. “Listen. Once this vine tu- turns into mana particles, your -urg- your blood ‘ll rush out ‘nd you’ll bleed out.”

It all came back to Fern, the monster ambushing them, the ceiling crumbling and separating her and Methode from the others, her mana stolen, the sense of helplessness, and then, pain.

“Frie- Frier’n-Sama?”

Methode gave her a shaky smile. “’M sure sh’s fine. Right now you lis’n to me, ‘kay?”

“I hear noises…” Fern felt floaty, numb. “...’s Frieren-Sama comin’?”

“Fern,” Methode patted her cheek with bloodied fingers and then took Fern’s own hand to her chest. She could feel the pressure easing, and the pain increasing. “When I- when I tell you, you’ll press down ‘s hard ‘s you can. No matter ‘f it hurts. You- you can do that, r-right?”

“You’ll heal m-me? But your mana…”

“I have just enough.”

“And- and you?”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You won’t.” Her eyelids felt heavy, so heavy, and Fern closed them at last. “Methode-San… Frieren-Sama can’t- she can’t lose you.”

“She can’t lose you, Fern…”

Fern wanted to argue, she truly did, but she was cold, and dizzy. She could hear Methode through her haze, guiding her to press against her wound. And did she hear rocks moving? Was Frieren-Sama trying to get to her? She thought she could hear her name being called.

At last she felt comforting warmth spreading through her midriff and quelling her pain among a bright, green light, and then Fern knew no more.

“She could have healed herself,” Fern said, her hands clasped together over her chest, her torso heavily bandaged, her dress cast aside and still colored in crimson and grime since she hadn't recovered enough mana to do something about it.

“What was that, Fern?” Careful, Stark fixed the bundled blankets that were currently serving her as a pillow.

After getting out of the dungeon, they had located an old, abandoned cabin nearby and taken refuge, and there, Sein was working on Methode in the adjacent room while Fern lay on an improvised bed, recovering.

“Methode-san,” Fern looked at the tattered ceiling. “She could have used the last of her mana to heal herself.”

“Yeah, but she used it on you.”

Fern closed her eyes and felt her chest, rubbing it absently.

“Fern, it's fine,” Stark covered her hand with his. “Sein’s amazing. You know he got this.”

“He barely has any mana left himself,” Fern turned glassy eyes to Stark. “Stark-Sama. I've been so awful to her.”

“Not that awful, I promise,” Stark’s gaze was soft, kind. “Please don't think about it. You need to rest, Fern.”

“What will Frieren-Sama do?”

“What do you mean?’

“What will she do if she dies on her too, Stark-Sama?”

Stark pressed his lips and shook his head, and then took both of Fern's hands between his. “Shall we pray to the Goddess?”

Fern looked at him in silence, and at last she nodded.

They prayed together for a while, until Frieren walked back into the cabin with a canteen full of fresh water. She asked Stark to help her raise Fern's head so she could drink.

“Are you in pain?” Frieren asked, taking one of Fern’s hands in hers.

“Just a little,” Fern said in a whispery voice.

“Okay,” Frieren stroked her hair. “That's good, Fern. You're going to be fine,” she squeezed her hand. “You just need to focus on resting.”

“Hey, Frieren, you should get some rest too,” Stark said. “You look like hell yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

Fern purses her lips to stop them from trembling. “Frieren-Sama, I’m sorry…”

Frieren shook her head. “Why are you apologizing?”

“She's worried about you, and about Methode-San.”

“Stark-Sama!”

Stark smiled. “You can still scold me, huh? You must be already on the mend.”

“As I said, I'm fine,” Frieren’s lips twitched a little. “And I'm sure she will be fine, too.”

“Frieren-Sama…”

“Yes?” Frieren squeezed Fern’s hand again as she waited for her to go on, but instead, Fern turned her face away.

“It’s nothing.”

“Fern, what-”

“Frieren.”

Frieren turned to see Sein exiting the contiguous room and jerking his head towards the door.

“I'll be back,” she stroked Fern's hair one more time, nodded for Stark, and followed after the priest.

Once outside, Frieren looked down at her clothes. There was a reason for her to dress in white. It was her own, silent testament to never spill blood other than that of demons, which left no traces behind. But now the fabric was stained with Fern’s and Methode's, and Sein's garments weren't any better.

“How is she?” Frieren asked, her back to Sein.

“Delicate,” Sein’s tone was careful. “I did all I could, but my mana-”

“I know. Will she survive?”

A small silence.

“I don't know.”

Frieren shook her head, her gaze lowered. “Of all the things we all have gone through. That a mere chaos flower would get to us like that…”

“We couldn't have known. You couldn't have known, Frieren.”

Friered nodded and finally turned to Sein. “How long will it take you to recover enough mana to help her?”

“A night, at least.”

“It would take too long to go to the nearest town to find a skilled enough healer and bring them back, correct?”

Sein nodded.

“What if we tried to transport her instead?”

“We can't move her again. She'd bleed out.”

“I see.”

“Listen, Frieren. Methode is strong. She just needs to survive the night.”

“You don't have to try to be optimistic, Sein,” Frieren’s back was straight as a table, her eyes trained to one side. “I'd rather be prepared for the truth.”

Sein shook his head. “I'm choosing to have faith.”

“Faith,” Frieren tasted the word. “Can I see her?”

Sein nodded, and Frieren went back into the cabin, and after checking on Fern again, she walked into the adjacent room.

It was so quiet in there. Frieren caught the smell of copper and salt permeating the air, and studied the blankets hastily placed on the floor, eyes skipping over what lay in their center. One was her own traveling blanket, and the other one had been already there, old and ragged, but it would have to do.

She finally forced herself to look, to truly see Methode, her eyes closed, her skin ashen pale, and her lips gently parted, as if she had been caught in the middle of saying something.

She could barely perceive her breathing.

Frieren was no stranger to the injured, to death, to both potential and factual loss, but it had been a while since that old fear had grappled at her heart like this.

She made it to Methode’s side and removed some hair stuck to her cheek, then reached for the cloth and water already there and gently started wiping her face, her neck. She also cast that handy spell of hers to keep a body warm. She could at least do that.

This was the woman who had taken her on a date just two days ago, who had laughed at her clueless antics, who had filled her senses with bliss, and her face with dozens of smiles. The woman who had saved Fern.

And she might not be here come tomorrow.

“You know, you don't get to do this,” she whispered as she moved to clean Methode’s hands, the dried blood under her nails, some of which, she knew, was Fern's. “You said that you had something to tell me after the dungeon. Well, it's after the dungeon already.”

Methode didn't answer. Frieren hadn't expected her to.

“So, you better make it. I don't want to go see you in Aureole, Methode,” Frieren felt her eyes pricking, her voice breaking, her throat closing painfully. “Not yet.”

After she was done cleaning her, Frieren lay next to her and held her hand in hers, then pressed her forehead to her shoulder.

She didn't want her to be alone. If Methode was really going to go, Frieren didn't want her to be alone.

TBC

Chapter Text

Birds chirping somewhere in the distance. The crackling of a fireplace. An overwhelming heaviness covering her like a blanket. These were the first things she perceived.

Then, a comforting heat radiating from her torso and towards the rest of her body. Soft fingers threaded with hers. A gentle breathing near her ear.

Methode opened her eyes.

“Morning,” Sein greeted her, though his voice was barely above a whisper. He was sitting by her side, his green-glowing hands hovering over her, and his face glistening with sweat, evidence of his effort.

“Sein-san…”

He gave her a nod and then used his chin to point to something on her other side.

Methode tilted her face to find Frieren sleeping next to her while holding her hand between hers, keeping it close to her lips, as if she had been praying. She felt the tug of a smile.

“She was up all night, just fell asleep,” Sein kept his voice quiet.

Methode nodded faintly. She could feel the goddess’ magic coursing through her body, healing her, recreating and mending bone and flesh.

“So tired.”

“You barely made it.”

“Fern?”

“She's fine. Hush now. I need to focus.”

Methode returned her attention to the sleeping elf, to the troubled frown creasing her forehead. Methode wished she could raise a hand and touch her face, erase that worry, comfort her somehow. All she could do, though, was to give a feeble squeeze to their joined hands.

But that was enough to wake Frieren up.

“Methode,” she raised her upper body, supporting herself from her elbow.

“Hi…”

“...Hi.”

“Please, quiet,” Sein said.

Frieren acknowledged the man with a nod and then lay down again, her hand still holding Methode’s.

“You made it,” she whispered into the woman’s ear.

“I did.”

“Good.”

The next time Methode woke up, Sein was gone, and Frieren was sitting next to her with a book between her hands.

“Frieren?” She called.

“You are finally awake.” Frieren put her book down and offered her a little smile. “You were out for a whole day and a half.”

Methode nodded and then scrunched her nose at the taste in her mouth. “Can I have some water?”

“Of course.”

Frieren raised Methode’s head carefully and helped her to drink. “You had us worried for a moment there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need for that,” Frieren shook her head. “You held on, and you’re going to be fine. That’s all that matters.”

“Were you scared?” Methode asked as she prodded at her stomach to find it bound with makeshift bandages.

“Stop that. Your wound is still healing,” Frieren removed her hand gently. “Sein says that you’ll need a few more healing sessions before you’re ready to go back to knocking boots,” she frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Hah-hah-! Ow, ow, ow…”

“What’s wrong?” Frieren hovered her hands over her.

“Don't make me laugh,” Methode winced.

“I didn’t mean to,” Frieren released a relieved sigh. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it already passed.”

“Good.”

“And Fern-san?”

“She’s fine. Your prompt healing was crucial, Methode. Sein has been treating her too, and she’s doing much better.”

“Poor man,” Methode licked her patched lips. “He must be overtaxed.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Hm?”

“You almost died, Methode,” Frieren looked away. “You forfeited your life when you healed Fern. I’m… I’m conflicted,” she reached for the canteen and helped Methode to drink some more.

“Why?” Methode asked after a long gulp.

“Because I’m grateful,” Frieren kept avoiding Methode’s gaze. “I’m grateful to you for saving Fern, even if it almost cost you your life.”

“Frieren…”

“It’s a selfish thing, isn’t it?” Frieren finally looked at her. “But if you had died, Methode… I-” she shook her head and bowed it down.

“Hey,” Methode’s voice was soft. “I didn’t. I didn’t die. I’m here.”

“Yes, you are,” Frieren lay next to her again, her forehead pressed against Methode’s temple. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“So, you were scared,” Methode smiled.

“Of course I was scared.”

“I like that.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You’re right,” Methode closed her eyes. “I’m too tired to find the right words.”

“Rest, then,” carefully, Frieren snuggled closer to Methode. “You promised to tell me something important.”

“When I’m feeling stronger, okay?”

“Okay. Right now just focus on recovering. We have time.”

“We do?”

“Yes. All the time in the world.”

“Fern.”

Fern looked up as her master joined her on the stairs outside the cabin.

“You should not be outside. It’s cold, and you’re still recovering.”

“I feel much better now. You don’t need to worry about me, Frieren-Sama,” Fern looked away.

“Uh? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

Frieren tilted her head, trying to catch a glimpse of Fern’s face. “Did Stark upset you? Are you hungry?”

“It’s really nothing,” Fern stared at her folded hands over her lap. “I’m just tired.”

“All the more reason for you to go back inside. Sein said that you’re officially on the mend, but you still shouldn’t overdo it.”

Fern risked a timid glance at her master.

“What?”

“You haven’t talked much to me these past couple of days,” Fern said.

“I haven’t talked much at all,” Frieren looked down. “Not just to you.”

“Why?”

Frieren shook her head.

“I see.”

They remained quiet for a while.

“Frieren-Sama?”

“Hm?”

“Are you angry at me?”

“What? Of course not.” Frieren looked at her with squinted eyes. “It should be me asking you that.”

“Why would I be angry at you?”

“Because you could have died, and from a measly chaos flower of all things.” Frieren looked ahead towards nothing in particular. “Old man Voll was right. Carelessness is the true killer. I’m sorry, Fern.”

“Frieren-Sama, No. It was not your fault. Not even Sein-Sama figured out what was happening in time.”

“It was,” Frieren said. “I felt overconfident. Three strong mages, two healers, a powerful warrior, and no sense of dread at all. I ignored that small restlessness in the back of my mind, and Methode and you paid the price. It’s an unforgivable mistake, given my experience and level of knowledge.”

“But we’re fine.”

“You almost weren’t.”

Both mages let their silence fill in with the monotonous chirping of the crickets around.

“Self-reproach doesn’t fit you, Frieren-Sama,” Fern said at last.

“It doesn’t, does it?”

“No. If anything, I’m the one who should apologize,” Fern looked away, her hands resting over her knees.

“Why, Fern?”

“I’ve been giving Methode-San and you a hard time, haven’t I?” Fern directed a little, sad smile to her master. “I have been rude to her, and yet she put my life ahead of her own.”

Frieren said nothing.

“She said that she couldn’t let you lose me,” Fern went on. “But I felt that the same applied to her.”

Frieren looked at her again with a serene stare, but Fern knew the quiet maelstrom in those green eyes.

“And I know that it makes no sense, but I felt that perhaps you were angry at me for that. For my behavior, for making her put me first.”

“Of course I wouldn’t- I don’t- Fern, of course I’m not angry at you about any of that.”

“Not even a little?”

“Fern, I have never been angry at you since you were eight years old,” Frieren smiled gently as she caressed Fern’s head.

“You sometimes complain about some of my ways,” Fern fought a little pout.

“That might be annoyance. But anger? Never. Even less now,” Frieren shook her head. “I’m sorry, Fern. For a moment there I truly thought that I had done it.”

“Frieren-Sama…”

“I had never moved rocks and debris so fast in my life. Stark was a beast, trying to get to you, and then all that blood-”

“Frieren-Sama, please-”

“I’ve seen more death than I care to remember, but in that moment-” Frieren rubbed her eyes with her wrist. “You two… lying like that, I just- I had never-”

Fern pressed her forehead against hers.

“I’m okay,” the girl whispered. “We both are.”

The elf sniffled. “I should be the one consoling you.”

“Exactly, so, get it together, Frieren-Sama.”

Frieren let a wet chuckle out, and then pulled away. “Am I fazing you?”

Fern rolled a shoulder. “I have never seen you this openly upset. That’s for certain.”

“I know, I hardly recognize this side of me,” Frieren sighed and then started wrapping the end of a twintail around her finger. “The last time I felt anything similar to this was when Himmel died.”

“Because you loved him.”

Slowly, Frieren turned to Fern.

“Didn’t you?”

Frieren veered her gaze, and it took her several moments to finally produce the faintest of nods.

“And you love me,” Fern added.

That was easier to acknowledge. Frieren smiled. “I do.”

“And,” Fern went on. “You love Methode-San.”

Frieren set wide eyes on Fern, her lips parted.

“Frieren-Sama?”

“I-” Frieren opened her mouth, moved it a couple of times, and then closed it again.

“Oi, Fern,” Stark called from the door. “Sein says that you need to come back inside. It's time for your healing.”

“Alright,” Fern got up and dust her skirt off. She then walked into the cabin, leaving behind a quietly fretting elf.

TBC

Chapter Text

That night, falling asleep proved to be an impossible feat, so, after making sure that everyone was well and breathing, Frieren decided to leave the cabin and indulge in a quiet walk.

Fern's words kept echoing in her head.

Love.

Did she love Methode?

Her answer came as a buzzing noise that drowned any other thought, numbing her mind, clogging it somehow.

She felt deeply annoyed. Frieren was used to having a sharp mind. To knowing things. And if she didn't know something, she had learned to acknowledge her confusion or ignorance.

But in this case, she didn't even know if she didn't know, and trying to make sense of her emotions felt like looking into a pond that had been disturbed, muddy sediments clouding its clear waters. How exasperating, indeed.

The truth was that she was still reeling from the dungeon outcome, and the remnants of that apprehension still fluttered in the pit of her stomach. A rarity. She was normally quick to recover from the aftermath of battle.

It had been a while since the stakes had been so high. Even their encounter with Solitär hadn't rattled her this hard. She could have lost Fern, and that was the truth. She could have lost Methode, too.

She kicked a pebble out of the way.

Did she have Methode, though?

Did she want to have her?

She did not want not to have her. Were those two things mutually exclusive? Frieren didn't know.

She lay on the grass and welcomed its soothing coolness as she glanced at the moon, high up in the sky and half covered by a cloud.

This was one of those rare moments when she wished that her mind were not so discrepant from that of humans. These questions surely were easy to answer for someone like Heiter, or Sein, but she was reluctant to go to the goateed priest this time. He would need context to understand her tribulation, and Frieren did not have the energy -or ability- to give it to him. Not right now.

What would Himmel-

No. She would not go there.

There were no answers for her tonight. She knew that. But there was one thing she could try.

Frieren got up, dusted her clothes, and after retrieving her suitcase, she worked on a spell for a while. Once she was done, she summoned her messenger bird, tied a small package to one of its legs, and finally sent it southbound.

Messenger birds were not as fast as a stille, but they were swift enough. She just hoped that it would reach its destination sooner than later.

“Good morning, Fern-San,” Methode said as she walked into the cabin’s common room, using the wall for support.

“Good morning,” Fern looked up from her book. “Should you be up, Methode-San?”

“I'm alright,” Methode sat down on the floor and rested her back against the wall across Fern. “Where is everyone?”

Fern looked at the door, as if she could see through it. “Stark-Sama and Sein-Sama went to the creek to fish and clean themselves up.” She looked back at Methode. “I don't know where Frieren-Sama is.”

Methode nodded. “Her mana is completely concealed.”

“I know,” Fern squinted her eyes. “She is probably having some time for herself.”

“I can't blame her,” Methode looked around. Bleak and tattered, the cabin was not exactly inviting, and she'd been convalescent for longer than she would have liked. “I feel a bit suffocated myself.”

“Sein-Sama said that we can travel back to town in a couple of days, provided that we take it easy.”

“Did he? That's good to know.”

“He would have told you, I'm sure, but you've been sleeping quite a lot.”

“I see. How is your chest feeling?”

“Better every day. What about your stomach?”

“Not having a gaping hole through it is more than enough for me,” Methode chuckled softly.

Fern, however, looked away.

“I'm sorry. Was that a joke of bad taste?” Methode asked.

“No. It's fine.”

“Alright.”

Fern raised her book, only to put it down again. “Methode-San?”

“Yes?”

Fern bowed her head. “Thank you for saving me.”

Methode looked at her for a moment, and at last, smiled. “I'm very glad that I could do it at all. The situation was dire, and I wasn’t sure if my mana would suffice.”

“I know. I'm forever grateful to you.”

“You don't have to-”

“Accept my gratitude, please,” Fern glared.

“Very well,” Methode smiled again. “In that case, you're welcome, Fern-San.”

Fern gave a vehement nod.

“May I pat your-”

“No, thank you.”

“I had to try,” Methode chuckled, and then she combed some hair behind her ear. “Frieren has asked me to join your party, if so I wish.”

“And do you wish so?” Fern looked at her.

Methode pressed her lips together, and at last she spoke. “I need to discuss some things with her before I make that choice, but I'd like to know how you feel about that.”

Fern looked out the window for a couple of seconds, and then focused her eyes on Methode. “It would be alright with me.”

“Truly?”

“Of course. Frieren-Sama is happy when you're around.”

“She is, hm?” Methode lowered her head as a wide smile won over her.

“You should lay down, Methode-San.”

“Maybe later. I can't stand being on my back anymore.”

“In that case, would you like to borrow one of my books?”

Methode shook her head. “I'm fine. I hope you don't mind me being here.”

“I don't,” Fern rubbed her chest, as if trying to feel where that deadly wound had been. “Also, I will try to be more polite to you.”

Methode offered her a little smile. “I'd appreciate that.” She then glanced at the door.

“Give her some time.”

“Hm?”

“To Frieren-Sama,” Fern said. “Give her some time. She was very affected.”

Methode nodded. “I think I’d like to borrow a book, after all.”

Fern handed her a tome with folk stories from her homeland, and they kept each other silent company.

After a slow, day-long trek, the party returned to the town where they had rested previous to their dungeon misadventure, and after grabbing some food, they focused on finding good lodging.

Methode had taken a long bath to wash away stubborn dirt and stuck, dried blood, and she was still in her bathrobe when she felt Frieren’s presence, just seconds before the elf knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she called.

Frieren, hair down and already in her night clothes, stepped in and stood by the door, her gaze kept studiously on Methode.

“You're all clean.”

“Yes, at last,” Methode smiled, patting the spot beside her on the bed.

However, Frieren remained in place.

“Frieren?”

Frieren walked towards Methode until she was standing in front of her, and wordless, gently spread her bathrobe open.

“Frieren…?” Methode held her breath.

However, there was no lust in those green eyes. Frieren stroked Methode's bare stomach, tracing the large, circular bruise there, rubbing her thumb against the newly formed skin.

“There are still marks.”

“They will fade.”

“Will Sein continue healing you?”

“I’m well enough to finish my healing myself. I'm practically as good as new,” Methode smiled for her.

Frieren finally looked into her eyes, and to Methode, it felt as if she were trying to decipher a spell.

“Frieren? What's wrong?”

Frieren closed Methode’s robe and at last sat down next to her.

“I just wanted to make sure that you were fine.”

“I am.” Methode lay on the bed and spread an arm. “Come here.”

Frieren seemed to hesitate, but she accepted the invitation, resting her head on Methode’s arm, her hand gently pressed against the woman’s stomach.

“It's okay, I'm really fine.”

“I know,” Frieren squeezed her eyes shut. “I know, Methode.”

“Hey, hey,” Methode raised Frieren’s chin with a bent finger. “Frieren, what is it? You can tell me.”

“I just wanted to see you. You felt unreal back in that cabin. You were so pale and frail. I didn't enjoy it.”

“I'm real,” Methode took one of Frieren's hands and kissed it. “And I'm right here. I'm going nowhere.”

Frieren closed her eyes. “Can I stay here tonight? Stark fell asleep on my bed while we were looking after Fern.”

“I was hoping you would,” Methode smiled.

“Good.”

Frieren helped Methode to get into her sleepwear, and then both got under the sheets, facing each other as they rested on their sides.

“Hm, no,” Frieren then turned her back to Methode, fitting against her. “If you don't hold me, I’ll end up rough sleeping, and I might hurt you.”

“Let’s take care of that, then,” Methode wrapped her arm around Frieren's waist. “There, all better.”

Frieren let out a long sigh. “That important thing you wanted to tell me, what is it?”

“Can I tell you another time?”

Frieren shifted a little. “Stop postponing it. You would not have had the chance to tell me at all if you had died.”

“Oh, Frieren…”

“Tell me tomorrow.”

“Okay. I will.”

Something was amiss, and Methode couldn't place her finger on what it was. She was becoming intimately familiar with Frieren's subtleties; the elf’s essence was quietly bold, at least for Methode.

And right now, Frieren was screaming.

It was the way she curled up against her, her slightly shallow breathing, how she fisted a hand by her face. Even her mana was different, deliberately dull.

Methode covered that tightened hand with her own and undid the clutch as she weaved their fingers together.

“Hey, Frieren.”

“Hm?”

“Tell me a peculiarity about yourself.”

“A peculiarity?”

“Yes. Anything that I don't know yet.”

Methode waited, but Frieren seemed to have trouble coming up with something to share.

“Oh, I know.” She squeezed her hand. “Tell me, why do you like to sleep in so much?”

“Eh,” Frieren turned her face to her. “It's not like I do it on purpose. Elves have a natural cycle of about twelve hours of sleep or more.”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yes.”

Methode raised both eyebrows. “So, do you go about your day feeling chronically under-slept?”

“I kind of got used to it.”

‘You, poor thing,” Methode squeezed Frieren's cheek with a kiss, and then some more.

“Right?” Frieren pouted, her mouth forming the cutest shape Methode had ever seen on her.

“Does Fern-San know?”

“Well, she's never asked.”

“Aw, Frieren,” Methode chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“I like your chuckle, Methode.”

“You bring it out quite often,” Methode smiled.

“I think I like that.”

“Me too.”

To her joy, Methode could feel Frieren unwinding at last, her breathing deepening, and she yawned when the elf did.

Resting in a comfortable bed with clean sheets, and finally in each other's arms, both women succumbed to their exhaustion.

TBC

Chapter Text

Frieren stretched, yawned, and opened her eyes to find herself sprawled all over the bed.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

The elf looked around to discover Methode sitting at the desk, quill in hand. There was also a mug and a plate with bread and fruit on the nightstand by her side.

“What time is it?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Just past noon,” Methode hummed.

Frieren grumbled and reached for the mug, savoring the tea in it.

“Is it still hot?”

Another grumble signaled Frieren's approval, so Methode gave her a smile, and went back to her writing.

Frieren had some tea, some food, and once she felt alert enough, she got up and stood next to Methode.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm updating the mission report for the association,” Methode said. “Serie-Sama always wants to know all the details, especially if any of us gets hurt.”

“Hm, she's such a control addict,” Frieren had more tea.

“She cares,” Methode wet her quill again to start a new paragraph. “She shows it the best she can, even if at times it’s done poorly. Once, you told me as much.”

“Why are we talking about Serie so early in the day?”

“You asked what I was doing, and it is past noon,” Methode raised an eyebrow, looking at her.

“Right,” Frieren walked behind Methode, wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and rested her cheek on top of her head.

“Now, now, Frieren,” Methode patted her arm. “No need to be jealous. You're by far my favorite elf,” she cooed.

“M’not jealous,” Frieren let go of her and sat on the bed, grabbing an apple slice.

“Of course you aren't,” Methode quipped and returned to her report.

Frieren squinted at her, not quite sure if Methode had meant those words. However, she had a more pressing question to ask.

“So, what is it that you meant to tell me?” She asked before a bite.

Methode stopped writing, and after placing the quill in the ink bottle, she turned on the chair to look at Frieren, hands between her knees. Frieren observed the myriad of gestures parading over the woman’s face.

“What is it? You said that I shouldn't be worried about it.”

“Yes, true,” Methode sighed, then straightened her back. Frieren could see her knees starting to bounce slightly. “I'm just a little nervous.”

Frieren had always been confused about why it was so difficult for people to simply speak their minds.

“Just say what you're thinking,” she advised, reaching for a piece of bread this time. “Whatever it is, Methode. It will be alright.”

“Yes, you're right.” Methode looked at her, and Frieren could feel the shift in her resolution.

She just didn't expect it to be so straightforward.

“I've fallen in love with you, Frieren.”

A moment, two. The very air was vibrating.

“...In love?”

Methode nodded.

“You love me?”

Methode nodded again.

Slowly, Frieren put the bread down. “But we barely know each other.”

“That's not how it feels for me.”

Frieren couldn’t tear her gaze away from Methode. She could hear her own heart drumming in her chest, erratic and loud.

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked at last.

“Because…” Methode folded her hands over her lap. Frieren could see her starting to fidget. “Because you asked me to travel with you, and I couldn't even consider it unless I was honest with you. See, Frieren, I didn't want to deceive you by hiding my feelings.”

“I see.”

“And I think that you might feel something for me too…” Methode added with a mellowing tone.

Silence followed. Frieren felt her throat tighten, her chest throb.

“I’m not sure if I can give you what you need, Methode,” she said at last, her gaze trained to her own knees. That hurt. Saying those words had hurt like blistering zoltraak straight to her chest.

“And why wouldn't you?” Methode shook her head. “Why not find out together?”

“It's too fast, and I'm an elf-”

“You are Frieren,” Methode stood up and crouched before her, holding her hands between hers as she looked up to search for her gaze. “Look at me, please.”

Reluctant, Frieren did, finding those gorgeous, deep blue eyes on her.

“Don't you feel anything for me?”

Frieren kept looking at her.

“Your flower, your words, your caresses, your worry. Frieren, the way you look at me. Don't those things mean anything at all?”

“Of course they do.”

“See? There's more to us than attraction. I know so. And whatever it is that you feel for me is enough.” Methode squeezed her hands, her gaze intense, unwavering. “If you'll let me have it, it's enough.”

“Methode, I…” Frieren dared to cup Methode's cheek, to stroke it with her thumb, and in that moment she was so precious to her. She felt struck by her beauty, her brilliance, her unconditional acceptance.

Methode shouldn't conform with Frieren’s nebulous whatever. This woman should be given the world.

Frieren looked away. “You deserve much more than that.” She closed her eyes and slowly, achingly, disengaged from Methode’s hold on her hand.

“Frieren…”

“I'm sorry,” Frieren still couldn't look at Methode. She just couldn't. It hurt too much.

“You won't even consider it?” Methode stood up, arms tight around herself.

“You don't understand.”

“Explain to me, then. Please.”

There it was, a crack in Methode’s voice. Frieren needed to leave before she cracked herself.

“Don't you see, Methode? Your life is too short, too valuable for you to be waiting around for me to understand my own heart.”

“Frieren, please-”

“No,” Frieren pivoted towards the door, and after a moment of hesitation, she left.

As she walked away, she told herself that the muffled sounds coming from behind her weren't sobs.

“Frieren-Sama, there you are.” Fern stretched her neck to find Frieren sitting on the floor with an open grimoire over her stretched legs, and her back against the bed. Her eyes idly set on some point on the wall.

After failing to locate her master through her mana, Fern had searched for her in Methode’s room -which was empty- and at the several magic shops scattered around town. She hadn't suspected to find Frieren holed up in the bedroom that they were supposed to share.

She received no acknowledgement.

“Frieren-Sama?”

Frieren turned her head to her, if not her gaze. “What is it.”

“Frieren-Sama, it’s almost three in the afternoon and you are still in your sleeping gown.” Fern suppressed a groan. “Your hair is also undone. Geez.” She went to Frieren and took off her gown, finding no resistance whatsoever. “And have you eaten anything at all?”

“I’m not hungry,” Frieren pushed the grimoire away carelessly.

Fern fought against her irritation, allowing herself the smallest of pouts. Her master probably didn’t sleep at all, and she sure didn’t want to imagine why.

“Let’s get you dressed up,” she said, resigned to start the tried and true routine to get Frieren ready for the day. “Why didn’t Methode-San help you out? I bet she doesn’t know what to do with you.” She retrieved Frieren’s clothes. “I suppose I’ll have to teach her.”

“There’s no need to teach her anything,” Frieren got up and took the garments from Fern’s hands, starting to get dressed at once with her back to her student.

“Frieren-Sama?” Something was off, Fern finally realized. Frieren’s taciturnity had a different character to it; frigid and distant. It felt nothing like the Frieren she knew.

“Frieren-Sama, is something the matter?”

Frieren focused her attention on buttoning up her dress. The one answer she gave to Fern was a faint shake of her head.

Oh no. “Frieren-Sama?” Fern tilted her head. “Did you and Methode-San have a fight?”

“Fight?” Frieren looked at her over her shoulder. “No. We didn’t fight.”

“Then what’s going on?”

As an answer, Frieren simply fixed her belt and reached for her brush to start doing her own hair.

“I... uh… I know that you asked Methode-San to travel with us,” Fern started to rub her fingertips against her palms. She had never seen Frieren acting like that. “Did she refuse?”

“Not exactly, but I doubt that she will join us anyway.” Frieren started working on a twintail. “Fern. Please, no more questions.”

“But Frieren-Sama-”

“Fern.”

Fern pressed her lips together and joined her hands in front of her. “Yes, of course. Apologies.”

Frieren nodded, still facing away, and Fern decided to exit the room quietly, but she was jogging by the time she reached the tavern where she knew Sein was spending his time.

“Fern, what are you doing here?” The man looked up from his playing cards.

“Sein-Sama. I require your assistance,” Fern bowed.

Sein groaned inwardly, but he abandoned the gambling table and followed after the girl.

“What is it?” He asked once they were on the street.

“It’s Frieren-Sama, and Methode-San,” Fern said. “Something happened and I think it’s bad. Frieren-Sama is in terribly low spirits and I have no idea where Methode-San is. She says that they didn’t fight but she also says that Methode-San is not joining our party and she even pushed a grimoire away and got dressed by herself-”

“Fern, calm down,” Sein squeezed Fern’s shoulder. “Take a breath.”

“We have to do something.”

Sein considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. “I don’t think we should interfere.”

“Why not? You have mediated between Stark and I before.”

“It’s not the same, Fern,” Sein shook his head. “Methode and Frieren are adults, and when it comes to matters of the heart, adults seldom appreciate when others give them unsolicited advice.”

“Sein-Sama,” Fern clutched Sein’s sleeve. "Please. You have to try to talk to them.”

Sein looked at Fern and those big, worried eyes of hers, and at last, he sighed. “Fine.”

“Thank you so much,” Fern bowed again.

When Fern and Sein returned to the inn, they found Methode and Start talking by the desk clerk, and Methode had her traveling bag with her.

“Hey, Fern, Sein,” Stark waved at them to come closer.

“Methode-San,” Sein caught the forlornness exuding from Methode’s mana at once. “Are you parting ways with us already?”

“I’m afraid that I am,” Methode directed a faded smile at him. “I received a letter from the association requesting my presence.”

“Do they know about your injury, Methode-San?” Fern stepped closer. “They shouldn’t ask you to travel for now.”

“They do not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m well enough to travel by carriage.”

Stark rubbed his nape. “Bet’cha Frieren won’t like this one bit.”

“I won’t like what?”

Everyone turned to see Frieren coming down the stairs, smart-looking and composed. The elf stared at them, then at Methode, at her belongings by her side, and both women locked eyes.

“Are you leaving already, Methode?”

“Serie-Sama has summoned me,” Methode nodded.

“And you’ll just run back to her?”

Someone gasped.

Methode, however, gave a step towards Frieren. “Give me a reason to stay.”

Frieren, in turn, took a step back, arms at her sides, hands turned into balls. She shook her head. “See you around.”

The stillness that followed was agonizing. No one blinked, no one breathed in, until at last, Methode lowered her gaze and picked up her bag. “Of course, Frieren. See you around.”

Fern clenched her own sleeve. “Methode-San-”

“Thank you for everything,” Methode looked at Fern, Stark and Sein, offering them a lifeless smile and a bow. “May the goddess keep you safe.”

“And you,” Sein bowed back.

There was another long moment of stiffness, and at last, Methode left.

Three pairs of eyes turned to Frieren.

“What was that?” Stark frowned.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Frieren glared at them. “I don’t do long goodbyes. You know that very well.”

“But that was too cold, even for you.” Stark said.

“This is different, Frieren,” Sein gave her the most patient look he could muster. “Don’t fool yourself.”

“Believe me, I'm not,” Frieren walked past them and left the inn.

“Hey, really, what is this all about?” Stark asked his companions.

“I think that they broke up,” Fern shook her head.

“Did they, Sein?” Stark asked the older man.

“It seems like it,” Sein sighed loudly as he produced a tobacco roll, placing it between his lips.

“Why?” Stark rested both hands behind his neck. “They looked happy together.”

“I knew this was going to happen,” Fern pulled a face.

“Listen, you two,” Sein turned to them. “Right now all we can do is give Frieren some space. Come on, let’s go find something to eat.”

The man received two lackluster mumbles, and with that, they too, left the inn.

TBC

Chapter Text

At dawn, Frieren returned to the inn after wandering aimlessly around town, and once there, she gave into the impulse to rent back the room that Methode had occupied up until that very noon. Frieren wouldn’t lie to herself. She did it with the bemusing hope to find something that Methode might have left behind. A book, a hairpin, perhaps.

But the room has been tidied up already. Not even Methode’s scent remained.

The sterility of it ached. Methode’s absence did, too.

But it had been necessary. The decision that Frieren had taken for the both of them was for the best.

She sat on the bed as she listened to the already fading noises coming from the streets.

Is this how Himmel had felt when he had let her go at the gates of the capital city, eighty years ago?

By that time, Frieren knew, both of them had already lived through Grausam’s illusion, the one that revealed their true desires, the very one that had shown to Frieren and Himmel that they both longed for the same, to join their lives, to share a future together hand in hand.

Few would believe it, but Frieren had felt blissful in that dress. She had burst with joy and euphoria at the sight of Himmel standing beside her at the altar. She would never forget the way her heart beat as she prepared herself for that kiss.

And yet Himmel had let her go. Because he loved her, because he was pure. Because he knew that despite his own feelings, Frieren was not ready, not even a little, to understand what he felt, what she herself felt. He knew.

Frieren would never dare to compare herself to Himmel, but she did try to live after his example, and letting Methode go had been the selfless thing to do.

Right?

She lay on the bed and curled up around a pillow.

It had taken her decades to realize how much in love she had been with Himmel, and by the time she did, the man had died alone. Did he wonder if she’d understand herself in time? Had he been waiting for her? It hurt. It all hurt.

No. She would not have Methode go through the same. Methode deserved the family she wished for, the children. And what did Frieren have to offer? The vagueness of her feelings? Eternal wandering? A journey to a place that she wasn’t sure was real, so she could unload her regrets onto someone long gone? Frieren clutched the pillow tighter, her knuckles going white.

A whimper escaped her lips. A moment later, Frieren was crying.

If this was right, why didn’t it feel like that?

“Frieren?”

She opened her eyes.

“Frieren, are you there?”

Eisen?

Eisen!

Frieren sat up and dug out the little, oval mirror in her pocket to find the face of her friend reflected on it.

“Eisen,” she rubbed her eyes and did her best to compose her features.

“Frieren, what is the meaning of this? I was minding my field when a bird dropped this thing on my head.”

“My letter explained,” Frieren said.

“It just said, call my name to the mirror.”

“It’s a nifty spell, isn’t it?” Frieren cleared her voice. “We can talk as if you were right in front of me. I acquired it about five years ago, or so.”

“It is nifty.” he conceded. Frieren could see him stroking his long beard. “You have been crying.”

Frieren looked away.

“Frieren, why are you crying?”

“You haven’t even said hello.”

“You’ve never cared for etiquette yourself. Why are you crying?” He asked again.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Frieren could have laughed. Hadn’t she complained about people’s inability to simply speak their minds a few hours ago, sitting on this very same bed? What was becoming of her?

Eisen gave a thoughtful hum. “Is that why you sent me this mirror?”

“Not quite,” Frieren leaned against the wall and raised her knees. “I was confused and I needed to talk to you, but I’m not confused anymore. I have made my choice.”

“Regarding what?”

“Regarding a woman who has fallen in love with me, per her own words.” To Frieren, her voice sounded foreign. “But she’s gone now.”

Eisen remained silent for an unnerving amount of time. Frieren shifter positions.

“Tell me about this woman,” he finally said.

“She’s…” Frieren felt her own gaze wandering. “She’s a talented mage, level headed in battle, meticulous in her casting, blessed with the goddess’ touch, and a gifted mana detector.”

She looked back at Eisen’s reflection to find him staring at her in silence, so she started playing with her hair, wrapping it and unwrapping it around her finger.

“She’s kind, and direct. She’s averse to lies,” she added.

Eisen maintained his stare. Frieren squirmed a little.

“She… she taught me to enjoy our coupling. And we had a date. She gifted me a grimoire, and sweets, and I make her laugh.” The more she spoke, the harshest the pain in her chest was, that eerie combination of warmth and vacuity. “She said that I was a beautiful woman.”

At last, thank the goddess, Eisen spoke. “She sounds like an exemplary person.”

“She is,” Frieren twisted her lips.

“But you don’t feel anything like that for her, I assume.”

“Well- not exactly- it’s just that-” Frieren shook her head. “It’s not that. I feel for her.”

“Then, what is the problem here, Frieren?”

“It’s too soon,” Frieren looked at him. “It all happened in the blink of an eye.”

“To soon for her, or for you?”

Frieren fell quiet at that question, but she answered at last. “For me, I suppose. I will never understand how it is that humans manage to feel so strong about someone in such a short amount of time,” she looked away again, that melancholic smile of hers dimming her face.

“Frieren.”

Frieren looked at him, and she could detect his frown in the way his helmet moved closer to his eyes.

“What do you feel for her?”

“I don’t know,” Frieren mumbled.

“Allow me to change the question. What do you feel when you are with her?”

Frieren gave herself a few moments to respond. “I feel good,” she said at last. “I feel… I feel happy. And I’m not sure how this comes to be, but I feel safe, even if there is no danger around. I just feel safe. That makes no sense, does it?”

“It does,” Eisen nodded. “It does make sense. What else?”

“I… I feel calm, but at times, I also feel arousal if she’s around, which is a novelty to me.” She ignored Eisen’s wicked woman mumbled jest. “And I don't fear that she will feel impatient towards me. She asks questions, and tries to understand me. She…”

“She meets you half way?”

Frieren nodded.

“Frieren, why are you pushing this woman away?” There it was, another frown from Eisen. “Are you okay with this?”

She wasn’t. Now that she was presented with that question, she realized that she wasn’t. She wasn’t okay with losing her, not in that dilapidated cabin, and not now. But this wasn’t about her.

“She deserves to have everything she wishes for,” Frieren clenched her hand around the mirror. “She should have a good life, the best life of them all. She should be with someone who is as certain of their feelings as she is of her own.” She lowered her gaze. “Nothing is enough for her, Eisen.”

“Frieren…” There it was, that tone in Eisen that let Frieren know that he thought that she was missing a point. Knowing herself, she probably was. “And why do you think that what you have to offer is not enough?”

“Because that’s how it is,” Frieren said. “She knows what she wants, but her life is too short and precious for me to waste it away trying to figure out my own feelings.”

“I see,” Eisen nodded and started stroking his beard again. “Frieren, you really don’t know how couples work, do you?”

Frieren let out a disgruntled sigh. “Well, then explain to me.”

“You don’t initiate a romantic relationship knowing exactly what you want, or how you feel.”

“You… don’t?”

“Of course not. That is why you start it in the first place. Because you want to find out. You take your time to get to know someone better and to explore your own feelings.”

Frieren blinked. Why not find out together? Methode had said that.

“I didn’t think it was that way.”

“Frieren, the joy of being with someone lies in getting to know them.”

Frieren frowned. It sounded a lot like the joy she found in searching for magic.

“Think about it this way,” Eisen went on. “Those mimic chests of yours, why do you go for them knowing very well that you’ll most likely get bitten all the way down to your waist?”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“Would you please answer?”

Frieren gave a short, exasperated sigh. “The possibility of a reward makes it worth…” Her eyes widened, just slightly. “...it.”

Eisen nodded. “It’s the same with a romantic partner. It’s worth the risk, Frieren. When the person feels right, it’s worth it.”

Frieren looked as if she had been presented with a legendary grimoire containing the most incredible knowledge.

And then she shook her head. “It’s still selfish on my part. What if I never figure it out and I waste her time away?”

“Would she be someone to go along with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“This person-”

“Methode. Her name’s Methode.”

Eisen nodded. “Would Methode submit herself to be with someone who kept her on the fence for the rest of her life?”

Frieren frowned. She remembered Methode’s reasoning about why she would not want to see her late lover again. “No,” she said at last. “That doesn't seem to fit her character.”

“Then stop putting all the weight of this decision on you alone, Frieren.”

“But it’s what Himmel would have done.”

“You’re right about that,” Eisen sighed, and Frieren became smaller, her back hunching. And then he spoke again. “So don’t make the same mistake.”

“What?”

“Himmel was not perfect. He made plenty of mistakes, and never being straightforward with you was one of the biggest ones. He should have told you how he felt. You had the right to know, and he should have given you the opportunity to choose.”

Frieren gave one of those sad smiles of hers. “Do you think it would have made a difference, Eisen?”

“No way to know now, is there?” This time, it was Eisen who looked away.

“Eisen?”

“Listen, you are not the only one with regrets when it comes to all those years you spent away.”

“What do you mean?” Frieren frowned. Eisen, in turn, released a feeble grunt.

“We should have stopped you, Frieren.”

“Stopped me…?”

“Heiter and I,” Eisen nodded. “After Himmel’s death, we spoke about our regrets towards you. We knew that you struggled to create new bonds, that you were prone to get lost in your own perception of time, and yet we still let you leave after finishing our quest.” The dwarf didn't seem to be able to meet Frieren's gaze anymore.

Frieren shook her head. “I was not your responsibility, Eisen. You're not to blame for my actions.”

“Responsibility? Frieren, you were our friend. And we should have looked after you. We should have made an effort to stay in touch. There were ways.”

Frieren pressed her head against the wall and closed her eyes. “Perhaps.”

“I'm sorry. I know this is not why you sought me,” Eisen said. “But it all comes back to this new decision you're making. Your life is too long to live with a new regret.”

“You didn't have to be so harsh,” Frieren pouted.

“You can manage some straightforwardness from me.”

“I guess,” Frieren felt a little smile on her lips.

“Well then, what will you do?”

“I think…” Frieren lay on the bed as she held the mirror in her hands. “I think that I could find joy in learning more about how I feel for Methode.”

Eisen’s smile showed in the way his beard moved up. “I think you could.”

“But is it alright if Methode’s feelings are stronger than my own?”

“That’s something you need to ask her yourself,” Eisen nodded. “Besides, Frieren, and pardon my directness, but you feel for her much deeper than you think.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you. You have always underestimated your own ability to care. But don’t take my word for it. Find out.”

“But Eisen, what if it doesn’t work?”

“You’re not going to try just because it scares you?”

Frieren could hear herself talking to Fern and Stark. You’re not going to fight the demons just because they’re strong?

This wasn’t that different. Not really.

“You’re right,” she sat up. “You’re right, Eisen.”

“Go get your woman, Frieren,” Eisen was smiling again. She could tell. “And come visit some time before I die. I’d like to meet her.”

Frieren smiled, her cheeks coloring slightly.

“And Frieren?”

“Yes?”

“Please give this mirror to Stark. I’d like to talk to my boy. Honestly, I could have been speaking with him all this time, and you sat on it?”

“It didn’t occur to me,” Frieren, to her credit, looked sheepish.

“I am not surprised.”

“Eisen?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Eisen nodded. “Now go. Do what you need to do.”

Fern,

I'm sorry for leaving without telling you personally, but I'm in a haste. Tell Stark he was right. That was too cold. Tell Sein he was right too. I was fooling myself.

And you? You might be right too, about how I feel. I'm on my way to find out. I’ll be back soon.

P.S. Give Stark the mirror you'll find next to this letter so he can talk to Eisen. I know you can detect what it does and how it works.

- Frieren.

Fern put the letter down and looked out the window of her room. She smiled.

Do your best, Frieren-Sama. We're all cheering for you.

TBC

Chapter Text

There were many perks to being a First Class Mage, and one of them was the ample availability of means of travel, such as the stagecoach Methode was currently awaiting. After all, those of her rank were often needed in many parts of the continent with as much haste as possible.

But Methode was in no mood to appreciate the efficiency of the transportation network established by the Continental Magic Association.

She was in no mood at all.

The best description she could come up for her current state would be resignation, and a numbing one at that. Although she was aware that what she felt was merely the anteroom of the full palace of her woeful heartbreak.

Things had not gone well at all, had they? She heaved a sigh.

Methode had not meant to declare her love in such a forthright manner, and had instead intended to say something more akin to, my feelings for you are growing, or my emotions have intensified.

But in the end, that was not what had come from her lips. What had come, instead, had been her naked truth.

She looked up and down the street, deserted at this late hour of the night. A gust of cold wind dragged scraps of paper over the cobblestone, and a cat jumped across rooftops only to get lost amid the shadows. Well, this is where her truth had gotten her.

And yet she couldn’t bring herself to lament her confession. Because, how could she regret having had hope? How could she regret having felt joy, and desire, and love with that intensity again? How could she regret Frieren? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. And yet, as true as all of it was, Methode still felt devastated.

Ah. Her resignation was starting to crack.

She already missed that stupid, earnest, brilliant, caring, fucking beautiful elf. She missed her ridiculous sleeping positions, her bluntness, her idioms illiteracy, her unintentional hilarity, her unassuming self.

Goddess. She had gotten used to her so fast, hadn’t she? Her simple infatuation had steadily grown into true care, and, much to her own surprise, it had exploded into unadulterated love.

But Methode had indeed become adept at reading the elven mage, and she knew, goddess, she just knew that Frieren did feel for her. She could see it in the way she looked at her, in her words, her demeanor, in the way her voice quivered when Methode made her hers, when Frieren made Methode hers.

And that was what hurt the most. She would not be presumptuous and say that Frieren was madly in love with her, but Methode knew that they already shared something special.

She chewed on her inner cheek.

And then Frieren had gone and sold herself short. So short, that it actually infuriated her. How could Frieren think that she could not give Methode what she needed? Didn’t Frieren see herself and how giving, how loving she was?

No. She didn’t. Methode rubbed her face with both hands and released a tired, deep sigh, shifting positions on the bench to give a rest to her still healing back.

What was she to do now?

Methode wished she could make Frieren understand that what they had been living together was amazing. She believed it with her whole heart; one strong foundation upon which they could build something deeper. Something of their own. But based on Frieren’s own words, she didn't reject these feelings out of fear of Methode dying on her. It was because Frieren, somehow, believed that she would waste Methode’s life.

How preposterous. Methode wished she could have made that fool of an elf see how wrong she was.

But the blow delivered by Frieren’s rejection had been brutal. After all, the higher the hopes, the harder the fall, and Methode had had very high hopes. Now she had no idea how to climb the wall that Frieren had erected between them.

See you around.

Fuck. That had hurt. Just remembering those words made Methode want to curl up into a little ball right there, on that cold bench, and cry.

But she didn’t. She kept her features collected, her chin up, tightened her coat around herself, and continued waiting for her ride. There she was. A proud member of her clan.

And then that mask crumbled when she felt a presence approaching her.

She recognized that mana.

She felt her heart galloping against her chest as she looked up to see Frieren descending from the dark, cold skies, and gently landing right by her bench.

“Frieren…”

“Methode.”

Silence.

“May I?” Frieren tilted her head towards the bench, so Methode scooted aside.

“Did you fly all the way here?” Methode asked after Frieren took a seat.

“It was the fastest way to find you.”

Methode nodded, and they went quiet again.

“You don't need that much of a reason to stay, do you?” Frieren finally spoke.

“What do you mean?” Methode turned to her while Frieren kept her gaze on the buildings across the street.

“You don't need me to give you an elaborate reason for why you should stay. You'd simply stay if I asked, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” Methode nodded. “I would.”

Frieren released the faintest sigh. “That's what makes this harder for me.”

“Makes what harder?” Methode frowned.

Frieren looked up at the moonless sky. “That you are this ready. For us, I mean.”

Methode folded her hands together, her thumbs rubbing against each other. “I am.”

“That's scary,” Frieren admitted.

“That was not my intention.”

“I know. It's not a reproach.”

It seemed that prolonged silences would be abundant tonight.

“Frieren? Why did you come?”

Frieren finally looked at her. “I think that I'm trying to be brave.”

“...About us?”

“Yes. About us,” Frieren moved some hair away from her face. “About the possibility itself.”

“Okay,” Methode fought the impulse to reach for Frieren's hand. She knew that the mage was already making a supreme effort simply by being there. Again, she waited.

“Methode?” Frieren met her gaze again.

“Yes?”

“Do you truly love me?”

Methode nodded, unable to suppress the little smile that crept up her face. “I do.”

“More than you loved Freude?”

Methode was taken aback, but she breathed in, and answered. “It's different.”

“How so?”

“Freude and I grew up together. We shared a lot of experiences, a lot of firsts… and a lot of lasts. But even if my Iove for her will forever live in me, she’s ultimately gone.”

“And me?” Frieren had the cutest frown on her. It was practically undetectable, but not for Methode.

She smiled. “It's true what you said. We haven't known each other for long, and yet you've completely stolen my heart, Frieren. I want to create so many new things with you, I want to keep knowing you. I just… I just want so much, but I fear that my eagerness might be overwhelming for you. You did tell me that it's hard for you to develop feelings, after all.”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

“Hm-hm.”

“I think that I was wrong, though,” Frieren used a finger to trace the wood grain pattern on the bench.

“Oh?”

“I'm starting to understand that more than taking time to feel, what actually takes me time is understanding what I feel. I'm not sure if that makes sense.”

Methode thought for a couple of moments. “I think it does.”

“Well, that distresses me,” Frieren dug into her pocket for something, and finally she revealed a ring resting in the center of her palm. “Do you know what this is?”

“A- a mirrored lotus,” Methode studied it. The ring looked old, and she could tell that it had gone unpolished for many years. “Eternal love.”

Frieren closed her hand around it and pressed it against her chest.

“If someone presented it to you while getting on one knee and then slid it into your finger, what would you think it would mean?”

“A proposal of marriage, of course,” Methode frowned. Was Frieren…? No. This was something else, a reminiscence. Whatever had happened around this ring still haunted her.

“Yes, anyone would have gathered that, right? Even if they didn't know what the lotus represents?”

“Well…”

“Be honest.”

Methode sighed. “Yes. Most likely.”

“I didn't.” Frieren looked at the night sky again. “I thought that Himmel was simply giving me a gift in a melodramatic way.”

“Oh, Frieren…” Methode fought the urge to crush Frieren in her arms. “I see…”

“Himmel did many things to show me what he felt for me. I can see it now whenever I think of him. I honestly feel like I’m still getting to know him after all this time.” She put the ring away. “Did you know that every statue of him is for me?”

Methode shook her head, all of her senses attuned to Frieren, to what her heart was pouring out.

“They are. He had them made so the memory of his face would not fade and he wouldn't become just a fairy tale with time. So the proof of his existence would always be with me, and I would feel less alone.”

“Frieren…”

“And I still didn't see it, Methode. That's what scares me about you and I. You'll give me so much, I can already tell. But most probably, I won't realize it until it's too late and by then, you'll be gone.”

At last, Methode covered Frieren's hand with hers. “I won't let that happen.”

Frieren looked at her, so Methode entwined their fingers together. “I'd be brash. I'd make sure you knew what every kiss meant, every gift, big or small. I'd remind you of what you mean to me at every chance I got, Frieren.”

“But what if I can't do the same? What if I can't express how I feel the right way? Methode, I tend to become so wrapped in myself.” Frieren clenched her free hand against her own chest.

“Frieren, don't you see?” Methode took that other hand in hers as well. “You already do.”

“I do?” Frieren frowned.

“Oh yes. You express your feelings in a way that is only yours.” She leaned closer. “And I hear you. I see you.”

Frieren sat straighter, her face softening, but a new frown won over it, and her back curved in again. “But maybe one day that won't be enough. What then?”

“If that ever happens, I'd let you know. We'd talk about it. We'd find common ground.”

Frieren looked at their joined hands. “It can't be that easy.”

“I didn’t say that it was,” Methode shrugged. “But trying to be honest and open with each other makes a world of a difference.”

“Honest…” Frieren seemed to ponder on the word. “Himmel never told me that he loved me.”

“What? I thought…”

“Not with words,” Frieren shook her head. “He showed me in other ways, but I was very unfamiliar with other people back then, and I tended to assume that many of the things that he did were just part of his personality be- because… because he was always kind to everyone.”

With the town’s usual hubbub gone by now, Frieren’s sudden, little sniff sounded painfully loud.

“I didn't hear him. I didn't see him,” she finally whispered, her voice wavering.

Methode brought her into her arms, her own heart aching at the quiet weeping shaking Frieren's body.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'm sorry that you've carried this with you all this time, Frieren…”

Frieren simply tucked her head under Methode's chin.

“But, you know what?” Methode went on. “That's not who you are now. The Frieren I know tries her best to be mindful, and present.”

“It's not always the best…”

“But it's your best. And I happen to really like it.”

“You're easy to please,” Frieren snorted as she pulled away, sniffling in and cleaning those treacherous tears with the back of her hand.

“Not at all,” Methode let a strand of white hair slide through her fingers. “Believe me, not at all.”

Frieren sought her gaze. “What would we be like, Methode? If we try this out?”

Methode hummed as she pressed her forehead to hers. “That’s something that we can find out together.”

Frieren started rubbing her thumb over Methode's fingers. “I want to continue my journey to Ende. It’s important to me.” She glanced away. “Although I could postpone it for a couple of decades, I suppose.”

The casual way in which Frieren spoke about decades as if they were weeks would probably always be mind-boggling for Methode. “No. I’d like to travel with you there.”

“And what about the things that you want for yourself?”

Methode hummed. “Do you know the main reason why I became a mage?”

“Tell me.”

“It’s because of how fun magic can be,” Methode smiled, and her face brightened up.

Frieren returned a smile of her own. “It is, isn't it?”

“Yes. I became a first class mage to keep learning. And I can still do that with you, don't you think?”

“Of course. I know magic you could never imagine,” Frieren produced a smile. She had been learning so much from Methode, and being able to reciprocate felt right. The idea was thrilling.

“There you go,” Methode grinned. “Though I’d still take subjugation requests from the association, if they happen to cross our path, among other responsibilities.”

“And is Serie going to be fine with that?” Frieren raised an eyebrow.

Methode chuckled. “We're not her slaves, you know? I can go wherever I please and take on the missions I desire.”

Frieren could hardly believe that this moment was happening. That they were sitting on a bench in the middle of the night, discussing the details of how their life together would be. It felt surreal.

But there was something she still needed to address.

“You spoke of wanting to marry, to have children,” Frieren pursed her lips. “I can give you one, but not the other.”

“Well, perhaps it's too soon to be thinking so far ahead,” Methode said.

“No,” Frieren said. “I don't want you to give up on what matters to you.”

Methode remained quiet for several moments, and at last, she said, “Let’s play it by ear.”

“Let's play what by ear?”

Methode chuckled. “It means, let's take it as it comes. Besides, there is more than one way to have a family.”

Frieren smiled, her thoughts going to Fern and Stark. “I guess you're right.”

“Wait,” Methode frowned. “Did you- did you just say that you'd marry me?”

Frieren smirked. “Let's play it by ear.”

“Why you…” Methode let her mouth hanging open for a few seconds, and then she laughed as she brought Frieren to sit sideways on her lap.

“Frieren,” Methode stroked her cheek.

“Hm?”

“I truly love you.”

Frieren stared at her in silence, and at last, she returned the caress, allowing those words to wash over her, to echo in her head. How warm, what she felt. How sublime.

“I like how that makes me feel, Methode.” She smiled.

Methode smiled back with a tender gaze, and then Frieren twisted her lips a little. “It might take me a while to be able to say it back, though…”

Methode smiled again. She didn't need to hear it. She already knew, even if Frieren didn't. “That's okay.”

“But,” Frieren wrapped her arms around Methode's neck, “I love being with you.”

Methode’s gaze softened even more. This elf would be the sweet death of her.

“Come here…” she whispered, rubbing their noses together, arms tight around each other, and they gave into a slow, sweet kiss. At last, the warm, soul soothing welcome their hearts had been longing for.

It was only natural that they paid no attention to the clip-clop approaching, or to the vehicle pulling over. They simply kept relishing in their kiss.

“Ahem. First Class Mage Methode?”

They pulled away to find a coachman looking down at them from the driver box.

“Ride for First Class Mage Methode,” the man looked like he would rather be enjoying his bed instead of having to do a last-hour pick-up.

Methode looked at Frieren.

“Methode,” Frieren tightened her hold possessively. “I want you to stay.”

Methode smiled, stroking Frieren's face with the back of her hand, and at last looked at the Coachman.

“Apologies, sir. It seems that I won't be needing your services after all.”

The man glared at her, and finally sighed. He loudly complained about his valuable time being wasted as he guided the horse away.

“My, my, Someone doesn’t like to have his sleep disturbed,” Methode chuckled.

“Speaking of which,” Frieren buried her fingers in Methode’s hair. “If you need me to wake up early and we don’t have time to do that nice ear rubbing, you'll have to help me get dressed and do my hair.”

“Oh?”

“And sometimes feed me, and carry me on your back if it's too cold.”

“I see,” Methode quipped. The little, spoiled princess. “What else?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out,” Frieren mirrored Methode's quip. “Someone wise told me that the joy of being with someone lies in getting to know them.”

“True,” Methode raised an eyebrow, though her grin was now perennial. “Why do I feel that I have quite a few surprises waiting for me?”

“Perhaps,” Frieren got up and offered Methode her hand, and then both started walking back to the inn, Frieren's arm hooked around Methode's.

“Methode?”

“Yes?”

“It’s a little scary, still.”

“I know,” Methode took Frieren’s hand to her lips, placing a soft kiss on it.

“But I'm also excited.”

“Me too, Frieren. Very.”

“By the way, I rented your room back.”

“You did? That's nice-”

"Do you want to go there and knock boots?”

“What?” Methode laughed. “Oh my! Frieren!”

“Sein explained what that phrase meant,” Frieren said with a ridiculously proud smirk.

“Well…” Methode patted her healing stomach.

“It was a jest,” Frieren kept smirking. “I just wanted to see your face when I said it.”

“Did you, now?” Methode leaned over and gave a quick bite to one ticklish, pointed ear. “Ask me again in about a week. Let's see what faces you make me do then.”

Frieren licked her lips as a pleasant shudder ran down her spine. “This will be fun, won't it? You and I.”

“I'm counting on it,” Methode pecked her cheek. “Fun, and so much more.”

Frieren smiled up at Methode and allowed herself to feel, to just feel, and all of what her heart sang back to her was beautiful, just like those deep blue eyes.

TBC

Chapter Text

“How long do you think Frieren is going to be gone?” Sein asked as he cut his meat. Fern, Stark, and himself were having breakfast in the tavern situated in the lower level of the inn, and there was no saying how preoccupied they had been with the events of the past day.

“Who knows,” Stark shrugged. “Her letter said soon, but with Frieren, you never know what that means.”

Fern buttered her bread.

“Well, I doubt it will be that long anyway,” Sein said. “Whatever happens with Methode-San will happen right away. They either make up, or they don’t. Those things get resolved pretty fast when the feelings involved are this strong.”

“Really?” Stark blinked. “If they are strong, they get resolved fast?”

“Yeah, well, as long as they get gutsy. And our Frieren here finally did, hm?” Sein rested his hands behind his neck as he leaned back on his chair. “Honestly, I’m proud of her.”

Stark snuck a glance at Fern, pursed his lips, and then kept eating.

“Frieren-Sama and Methode-San already returned,” Fern informed them.

“What?” Sein flattened his hands on the table. “When did that happen?”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Stark asked.

“I’m telling you now,” Fern looked at them. “ I sensed them coming back a little after midnight.”

“I see,” Sein ruffled his goatee. “So, that elf did it, hm? Good for her.”

“She must be happy,” Stark grinned. “Both of them,” then turned to Fern, who seemed focused on adding the exact amount of sugar to her tea. “Fern? Are you okay with it? It doesn't upset you, right?”

Fern put the spoon down and looked at them, and then she shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “No. I’m very happy for Frieren-Sama.”

“Good,” Sein smiled, arms crossed. “Speaking of…”

Methode came down the stairs and approached them.

“Good morning,” she smiled at them.

“Ah, I see that Frieren managed to get you back,” Sein said. “Welcome back, Methode-San.”

“Yeah, welcome!” Stark got up and brought a chair from the nearest table.

“Thank you,” Methode smiled and sat down. “Listen everyone, I must apologize about yesterday’s little tumult.”

“No need to apologize, Methode-Sama,” Fern said. “As Sein-Sama said, we’re glad to have you back.”

“Sama? Fern-san,” Methode waved a hand in front of her as she shook her head. “No need to be so formal at all.”

“You better take it,” Stark said. “Believe me, it’s a good thing.”

“Oh?” Methode looked at Fern, and she couldn't believe it when the girl offered her an easy smile.

“Also, there’s no fighting it,” Stark sighed, his voice dripping with resignation.

“Stark-Sama!” Fern started punching his arm.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Methode cupped her cheek and laughed. What was this?

Sein however, shook his head at those two, and then directed his attention back to Methode. “So, you’re joining our merry little party after all?”

“I am,” Methode said. “Frieren and I have reached an understanding.”

“I see. That’s good. Where is she, by the way?”

“Sleeping still, no doubt,” Fern took a bite of her bread. “Methode-Sama, you must be careful not to spoil her too much, or she will turn into a brat.”

“Seriously?” Stark raised an eyebrow. “Fern, you give her shoulder rubs and spoon-feed her when she wakes up early- no! Stop hitting me!”

Methode chuckled as she surveyed the trio: the pair of teenagers bickering, and Sein, with a look of forbearance, trying to make them stop.

She smiled. She couldn’t wait to keep knowing them all.

After breakfast, Fern decided to go out and start shopping for supplies before they continued with their journey. Stark offered to accompany her, although he kept silent the entire time.

“Stark-Sama?”

“Uh? Oh! Yes!” He straightened his back. “Yes?”

“You're awfully quiet,” Fern said as she handed him the bag with spices that she had just bought.

“Sorry.”

“Is something the matter?”

“No.”

They kept waking.

“Yes.”

“Oh?” Fern stopped. “What is it?”

Stark looked away, shifted the bags in his arms, and cleared his throat.

“Stark-Sama?”

“It's nothing.”

Fern observed him with narrowed eyes. “You're acting odd this morning, aren't you?” She went ahead.

“No, wait,” Stark called and closed the new gap with a couple of strides. “I’d like to ask you something.”

Fern turned to him with a frown on her face. “You're worrying me.”

Stark stayed still for a few moments, as if he were gathering his courage, and then he put the groceries on the bench besides them, rubbed his nape, and at last, looked at Fern.

“We haven't had a second date.”

Fern stared at him, lips pursed, and nodded. “That's true.”

“We should,” Stark reached for Fern’s hands and hooked his pinky finger with hers.

“Stark-Sama…?”

“We should have a second date, and a third, and more,” he said. Both could see the other’s face blushing deeply. “Fern, would you please have a second date with me?”

Fern looked down. Stark held his breath. And then, purple eyes lit up with a shy smile as Fern slid her fingers between Stark’s.

“I'd like that.”

Stark felt his face exploding into a grin.

“A second, and a third date would be nice,” Fern combed her hair behind her ear.

And then, eyes wide, she took a hand to her cheek, there, where Stark had just placed a little kiss.

“Great,” the warrior squeezed her hand and picked the groceries back up with a single arm.

They kept on shopping, hand in hand.

Frieren opened one eye, then the other, and stretched.

“Good morning, sleepy head.”

That voice. Frieren took in her surroundings. It was last morning all over again. Frieren was in the same room, the same bed, a mug and a plate awaiting her on the bedside table, and Methode was sitting at the desk, quill in hand, and a soft smile for her.

Except that everything had changed.

“...Morning,” she yawned and sat up, reaching for the mug and taking a sip. She savored it. “Tea’s still hot.”

“Good,” Methode returned to her writing.

Frieren had her tea and fruit as she observed her… mate? She supposed that that was what Methode was to her now. It would take her some time to get used to that. Hah. Look at that. She was coupled.

“Letter to Serie, I suppose, letting her know that you can't tend to her summoning,” she asked after a while.

“Hm-hm,” Methode looked over her shoulder. “And for a long time,” she winked.

Frieren felt a satisfied smile pushing her cheeks aside. She put her mug down and lay on the bed again.

“I’m cold. Come cuddle me.”

“My,” Methode chuckled adoringly. “Fern-San warned me about this.”

“About what?”

Methode shook her head and got up, and a moment later she was spooning Frieren, rubbing their cheeks together affectionately. “But there's no helping it.”

“What are you talking about?” Frieren snuggled back against her.

“Nevermind, my sweet, little elf,” Methode released a happy sigh. “All is fine.”

Frieren smiled. Never before, for her, had those words felt so right.

TBC

Sketch by Ardilla Coreana. Coloring by me.

Chapter Text

Three months after reaching Aureole.
The travel back from the North.

It had been two years since Methode had joined Frieren’s party -or as Frieren liked to say, since they had become mates-, and three months after they had reached the fabled Aureole, which, to their astonishment, had not been a fable at all.

Once there, Frieren, Fern, Stark, and Sein had voyaged into its light, though Methode had chosen to stay at its fringe.

This will be my last destination one day, she had told them. I think I’d like to be surprised.

Methode didn’t know what had befallen in that mystical land. She hadn’t asked, and no one ever spoke about it, neither with her nor among each other. Yet, there was no saying how intimate the experience must have been. Frieren, in particular, seemed to have lived something there that brought a new layer of peace to those already serene eyes.

They were now making their way back from the frigid Northern lands, and the night found them settled in an inn, shielded from the cold winds roaring outside.

For Frieren, this moment had become familiar. Familiar, expected, and sought after, for there she was, nestled in her mate’s embrace while her breathing and her heart took their sweet time to return to their normal pace.

Frieren sighed with content as she indulged in those sensations; Methode’s arms around her body, her cheek kept warm against her chest, her hips encased by those long legs, their naked skin in full contact, and Methode’s fingers raking her scalp, soothing her as they relished in their afterglow.

Sometimes, Frieren wished she could stay like this forever.

She chuckled. She had never before entertained such thoughts. Forever, huh?

A fallacy, of course. She knew this very well. And yet, having that fleeting longing was pleasant. She never thought she’d be able to feel like this.

So, this is what bittersweet felt like.

“What's funny?” Methode asked as she kept up her strokes.

Frieren shrugged. “I was thinking about how much I like this,” she sighed and rubbed her cheek right above Methode's left breast. “I like to hear your heartbeat slowing down.”

“You keep saying that you don't know how to speak of romance, or passion, and then you come and tell me these things,” Methode said, now tracing patterns with her fingernails over Frieren’s naked back.

“What’s so special about it? I just say what is in my mind,” Frieren placed her hand on Methode's chest, and rested her chin on top of it so she could look at her.

“That makes it even better.”

“How so?”

“You still don’t understand, do you, my sweet elf?” Methode smiled. “How pure you are?”

“What’s pure about this?” Frieren smirked before biting a breast playfully, making Methode laugh.

“I mean- alright, alright, you’re one sinful, wicked woman. Happy?”

Frieren released another of those self satisfied chuckles of hers, which earned her a kiss and renewed caresses.

“Methode?” She asked after a while.

“Hm?”

“Have you thought about what you want to do once we leave the deep North?”

“Well, we did promise to visit Eisen-San, didn’t we?”

“That we did. Stark can’t wait to tell him about his and Fern’s engagement in person.”

“That’s going to be just adorable,” Methode cooed.

“I predict that he’ll faint from anxiety before telling him, and Fern will pinch him back to consciousness,” Frieren smirked.

“Most probably,” Methode chuckled.

Frieren closed her eyes as she listened to the winds hollering outside.

“Something strange is happening to me,” she confessed.

“What is it?”

“There is a trepidation in me that arises whenever I think about the end of our journey.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Frieren shrugged.

“Well,” Methode stroked Frieren’s ear lazily. “Parties do part ways after their adventure is over. Do you think that might be it?”

Frieren pursed her lips and snuggled closer to her. “Perhaps.”

Methode sighed. “That’s a real possibility. Sein hasn't spoken about what he'd like to do, but I think that Fern will surely want a home, and Stark will want to be wherever she is.”

“What about you?” Frieren looked up at Methode. “Does Methode want a home as well?”

“Well…”

“You must tell the truth.”

Methode sucked on her lip, and then nodded. “It would be nice to settle down, at least for a while. But I don’t want to chain your itchy feet-”

“My feet don’t itch.”

“I mean, I don’t want to stop you from traveling, if that’s what you want.”

Frieren snorted. “Methode. Once I was ready to spend ten years in the smallest village you could imagine so I could hang out with an old friend of mine. Don’t you think that I’d do the same thing for you, and beyond?”

Methode’s smile was slow to form. She cupped Frieren’s cheek. “Truly, Frieren?”

“Of course- oh! I know. Let’s live with Fern and Stark.”

Methode winced, closing one eye. “That might not be a good idea.”

“What? Why Not?”

“Well, they might want some privacy once they start their married life.”

Frieren frowned. “Knowing Fern, you might be right…”

“But we could live nearby,” Methode added, once she noticed Frieren’s little pout, and then smiled adoringly as Frieren grinned.

“It will be fine,” she gave her a squeeze. “You’ll see.”

Frieren rested her cheek on Methode's chest again. “Perfect. Once we have all of that figured out, I’ll go find a ring for you.”

Methode stopped making patterns over Frieren’s back.

“A… a ring?”

“Should I get something else? Does your clan have a different custom?”

Methode released a little noise that was between a gasp and a scoff. “What- what kind of ring are you talking about?”

Frieren used her elbows to raise her upper body and look at Methode. “For our own wedding, of course.”

The next noise to leave Methode was now between a scoff and a chuckle. “Are you- Frieren, are you- are you asking me to marry you?”

“Oh,” Frieren frowned and sat up, the sheets sliding down her body. “I think I did this wrong.”

Methode sat up as well, eyes as wide as they could go. “Frieren…?”

“Right,” Frieren sighed, her ears angling down. “I meant to first buy the ring and then ask you, but I was too comfortable right now and I got carried away.”

Methode was speechless, her mouth open, eyes still round.

“Sorry,” Frieren twisted the sheets between her fingers. “I ruined it.”

“No,” Methode brought her to straddle her lap. “No, you didn’t,” she pressed her forehead against Frieren’s shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Frieren looked at her, but Methode only nodded, her face hidden for Frieren.

And then she heard a muffled sniffle.

“...Methode?” Frieren cupped Methode’s cheek and brought her face up to find her eyes glistening with tears.

“I made you sad…” Frieren pouted.

“No,” Methode sniffled again and shook her head. “I’m happy.”

“You… are?”

Methode nodded and crushed Frieren into a tight hug, and Frieren, confused, and somewhat worried, hugged her back.

“How not to?” Methode’s voice was shaky. “The love of my life just asked me to marry her!”

“Oh,” Frieren blinked, her mate's words echoing in her head, and then she smiled. “I suppose that I did, hm?”

“You’re impossible,” Methode laughed as she pulled away, and Frieren cleaned her tears away with her thumbs.

“I’ll do it better when I get that ring,” she said in a shy tone. “You’ll see.”

“Nonsense, this was perfect,” Methode hugged Frieren again, bringing her down with her onto the bed, arms tight around each other as they rested on their sides.

“Are you happy?” Frieren asked, her index tracing Methode’s eyebrow, her nose.

“Hm-hm. I said I was,” Methode whispered, her gaze soft.

“I want to hear it again,” Frieren trailed Methode's lips next.

“I’m happy,” Methode captured Frieren’s hand, kissing her palm, her fingers. “Blissfully happy. I love you so much.”

Frieren felt that familiar feeling blossoming in her chest whenever Methode said those words to her, it was so grand, so vast and engulfing. And It was not that Frieren didn’t want to say them back. It’s that she didn’t think that they sufficed.

So instead of saying, she acted.

She brought Methode into a kiss, their legs tangling up, their hands venturing into well known, well loved peaks and valleys, into expertly mapped mounds and nooks. All of them conquered and claimed once and again.

Submerged into that sea of sensations, Frieren felt free and zealous in ways that had been unknown to her for so long, too long, and so she was greedy now, taking every touch and kiss for herself, wallowing in their frenzy, her fingers persistently massaging Methode’s depths, her core, and Methode's own fingers buried deeply inside her, sliding in and out, fighting the occasional twitches that preceded her exquisite plateau.

Their ragged breathing became moans, and whimpers, and then at last, those turned into heated cries as they brought each other to climax, as they called out their names.

And again, they ended up tangled around each other, exhausted, floating in the plenitude of their release and still trembling with the occasional spasm.

“Mine,” Methode said as she cocooned Frieren with arms and legs. “All mine.”

Frieren took in their scent, engraving, defining and categorizing every aspect of this instant into her impeccable memory as she allowed herself to get lost in the vestiges of their coupling.

“I can hear you thinking,” Methode hummed, her fingers returning to stroke Frieren's scalp.

“Can you, now? Curious spell you got there,” Frieren smirked.

“You little jester,” Methode chuckled. “What's on your mind, hm?”

“The now.”

“What about it?”

“It's perfect,” Frieren said. “That’s all.”

“It is, isn't it?”

A hum, a nod, and Frieren closed her eyes.

One day, she knew, the memory of these moments would be the only thing she would have left from Methode. However, that day was not here yet, and Frieren had learned that the more she allowed herself to live, to feel like this, the slower time went by.

So she just needed to live like this a lot.

And she would.

The End.

Frieren and Methode's love story continues…

Chapter Text

From Chapter 15: The town guard detect Frieren’s mana released
Omake idea: SpacePi

Stark was startled awake by loud noises, and it took him a couple of seconds to realize that someone was banging on his door.

What? Why? At this hour?

More loud banging, and then came a voice he knew all too well.

“Stark-Sama!”

What now? What did he do? He hadn’t drank any juice - not any that Fern knew about, anyway.

“I’m coming…” he called out, rubbed his face, and put on his boots.

“Stark-Sama please I need you to-”

Stark opened the door wide to find Fern standing in front of him with her fist raised in mid-air, and wearing her black cloak over her sleeping gown. And her face. Goddess save them all. Her face. It sent cold shivers down his spine.

“Fern… what- Oi!”

“Come with me,” Fern grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out of his room and into the hallway.

“What’s going on? Fern, what’s wrong? My axe-”

“You don’t need it. No time to explain.” Fern made him come down the stairs. She sounded stern, tired, and pissed. This was by far Stark’s least favorite kind of Fern.

“At least tell me what you want me to do,” he grumbled when they found themselves outside the inn, right in the middle of the cold night. He didn’t detect any threat, and yet Fern looked ready to fight a demon.

Wait. Was she… was Fern blushing?

“Just agree with me, if necessary,” Fern kept her eyes set on the street ahead of them, as if she were expecting someone to come, and indeed, a few seconds later, Stark could make out several figures approaching them. Four soldiers, a priest, and a mage, all of them dressed in official city robes.

“What the hell…”

“I swear, Frieren-Sama…” Stern stood straight, chin up, and allowed herself a sigh.

Before Stark could ask something else that would not be answered either, the entourage reached them, and Fern took a step forward.

“Good evening. I believe that I know why you are here,” she said in a rather solemn tone.

The men stood in front of Fern and Stark, studying them.

“Good evening, miss,” one of them, the mage, said. “There was an overwhelming mana release not long ago, and we believe that this inn is the source.”

“It was a most suspicious mana,” added the priest, his gaze severe.

Stark saw Fern swallow, then nod, as if accepting a mea culpa. “That is correct. That was me.”

“You?” The mage raised his eyebrows. “Just you alone? We were expecting to find an entire coven.”

“It was just me,” Fern assured them. She produced her First Class Mage certificate, handing it to the mage, who studied it.

“The mana I detected…” the priest added, “was of a very, very special kind. It was… well… it communicated quite a lot.” He raised a high, critical eyebrow as he looked at Fern up and down, and Stark tensed as his attention turned to him. Why was he being judged so harshly? What had he done?

“I was just practicing mana concealment techniques,” Fern pursed her lips.

“It's hard to believe that that was it,” the mage raised an eyebrow.

Fern looked down, her blushing intensifying.

“My apologies,” She turned to Stark and, to his utter surprise, took his hand, and then, with the shyest voice, she added, “we- we got carried away.”

The mage gave them a surprised look, while the priest shook his head in clear disapproval. The soldiers seemed to have no idea about what was happening.

“Well, this is…” the mage cleared his throat and rubbed his nape, as if he were embarrassed himself. “To think that First class mages possess this amount of mana,” he chuckled. “Just… make sure to keep it under control the next time you two-”

“Yes, I will. Again, my deepest apologies,” Fern bowed, her hand sweating in Stark’s.

“Alright. You gave us quite a scare.” The mage returned the certification. “Well, again, make sure to control that mana of yours, hm? And… uh… carry on, I guess.”

Fern could not make herself say another word. A nod was all she could manage, and she pinched her nose as the men turned and left, whispering among themselves.

Stark had never been so baffled in his life.

“Fern?”

Fern kept pressing on her nose, and her blush would not let up.

“We will never speak of this again,” she said at last. “To anyone. Ever.”

“I don’t even know what this is,” Stark scratched his head.

“Believe me. That’s a good thing,” Fern sighed, glaring up at the inn, straight to the room where she knew Frieren and Methode were causing her this ludicrously embarrassing kind of trouble.

Stark felt like retorting, but he wisely chose self preservation, and let it go with a quick sigh.

“Fern?”

“Yes?”

“Can you let go of my hand now?”

Fern’s blush returned with a vengeance, and she dropped Stark’s hand as if burned. She pivoted in place and strode back to the inn without another word.

Stark shook his head, and after a loud sigh, he followed after her.

Sein observed them go back in from his own window, rolling his eyes. Well, that was amusing to watch.

Ah, Frieren, Frieren. Truly, that damn elf had the very luck of the devil himself.

From Chapter 15: Serie detects Frieren’s mana released
Omake idea: Guest

All kinds of creatures desired power in this world. They wanted omnipotence, even omniscience, and did all kinds of acts to achieve it, some commendable, some reprehensible, and some outright deplorable.

Serie put on her sleeping gown and slammed her chamber doors open with a flick of her hand.

Fools. The lot of them. Fools. They had no idea what power entailed. True, it allowed one to do monumental feats, to destroy and create, command, and change. Yes, power was incredible, but it could be a terrible thing as well.

She made it into her studio, where she started to pace.

Power engulfed, it smothered, it dug deep, it demanded as much as it gave, it allowed its user to see parts of the world that were better left undiscovered. Forsaken.

Indeed, there were things that Serie wished with all her might to have never known, like the cursed moment in which she felt Frieren releasing her mana as she orgasmed. The seven sages of destruction damn her! Orgasmed! And with one of Serie’s own students nonetheless!

She would allow herself this little, puerile expression. Just this one. It was justified after all.

Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.

And why did Frieren keep taking her things away from her?

“Did you call, Serie-Sama?” Lerner walked in, his hair in disarray, and his robe hastily thrown around his shoulders.

“Did you feel it, Lerner?”

Lerner frowned. “Feel what, Serie-Sama?”

“Of course you didn’t, it’s too far away for you,” Series snorted. “Send a letter to Methode. Ask her to come back immediately.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Do as you’re told,” Serie glared at him. “And while you’re at it, lift Frieren’s ban.”

“Serie-Sama?”

“And summon her so I can ban her again.”

Learned blinked, his forehead marked with multiple creases.

Serie sighed. “Yes, you’re right, she doesn’t deserve that much attention. Just summon Methode back.”

“Of course, Serie-Sama,” a quite confused Lerner bowed, and left.

Serien rubbed her temples and briefly considered casting a forgetting spell on herself, but decided against it in the end.

A couple of weeks later, a vein popped in her forehead when Methode, instead of returning, announced that she’d be taking a sabbatical to journey along with Frieren for a couple of years.

Sense was the fool who implemented the policy of temporary leave for all First Class mages. Naturally, Serie gave her the cold shoulder for a month.

From Chapters 17-19: Frieren takes care of a wounded Methode
Omake idea: Cat O'Moss

That first night, Frieren didn’t know if Methode would live long enough to see another daybreak, so she prepared herself for the agonizing possibility of never seeing those deep blue eyes looking back at her again.

She was deliberately slow and gentle when she cleaned as much blood and dirt as she could from Methode. Sein had told her not to disturb her torso, so Frieren focused her attention on the woman’s blood-matted hair, her face, her hands, and as she did, she made sure to engrave the exact color of her tresses, not quite blonde, not quite brown, but a warm golden hue instead. And since her lips were pale and cracked, Frieren focused on their shape instead.

How beautiful she was to her.

At last, she held her hand in hers to learn its frame by heart. The healing hand that had saved Fern.

In that moment, more than ever, she wanted to believe in the Goddess, and so, she prayed.

---

The second night found Frieren relishing in her relief. Fern was stable and rapidly recovering color and strength, and, despite the odds, Methode had held on to life just long enough to give Sein time to recover his mana and bring her back from the brink of death.

Methode was far from healthy, but she would live.

Frieren felt too much, her emotions swirling and saturating her, making her dizzy. But drained and tired as she was, she preferred not to dwell on those feelings for now. Besides, that night, after sleeping for most of the day, Methode had opened her eyes and smiled for her, just for a moment, before returning to her healing slumber.

Frieren’s heart felt as if it had grown three sizes.

No aureole for Methode. Not yet, anyway.

---

“Does it hurt?” Frieren asked as she helped Methode to sit up against a wall.

“It’s bearable,” Methode fought a flinch, releasing a sigh when she found a comfortable position.

Frieren fixed the blanket over Methode’s lap, and then offered her a spoonful of apple mash.

“Frieren, I can do that,” Methode said, her voice faint.

“You can’t,” Frieren looked at her, then offered the spoon again. “Why would you pretend otherwise?”

“Pride, I guess,” Methode studied the food, and at last opened her mouth to receive her first meal in three days. She winced when her tastebuds tingled with the sudden sensory overload.

“I’ve found that pride is quite useless,” Frieren nodded approvingly when Methode swallowed. “It generally is fear with another name.” She got more fruit on the spoon and offered it again, finding Methode’s soft gaze on her.

“What?”

Methode smiled. “Nothing. You’re right. I don’t need pride. Not with you.” She opened her mouth.

Frieren, patiently, fed her, got her to drink some water, and then helped her to lie down again, and due to some unexplainable spell, Frieren fell under the hypnotic allure of watching Methode fall asleep.

---

“Methode?” Frieren whispered as she lay next to her on the fourth night.

“Hm?” Methode opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Methode frowned, trying to discern Frieren’s features in the midst of the night.

“Why?” She asked at last.

“Fern says that self-reproach doesn’t fit me,” Frieren kept her voice quiet. “But I’m still sorry.”

“For this?” Methode patted her own belly, and Frieren nodded.

They remained quiet for a while, until Methode took Frieren’s hand in hers and led it to her healing wound.

“I understand guilt,” she said while she stroked that hand. “And I know how useless it is to ask you not to feel that way, Frieren. It will take time. I know that.

Frieren pursed her lips and pressed her forehead against Methode’s temple as she felt the warm skin under her palm.

“But it’s okay,” Methode spoke again with a gentle tone. “I have no space in my heart for your guilt, anyway.”

It was Frieren’s turn to frown, and Methode smiled for her. “Well, it’s already full.”

“What do you mean?”

Methode closed her eyes. “It’s full of other good things. So, once you’re ready to part with that guilt, you can just let it slide, alright?”

Frieren stayed quiet for long moments, and at last, she sighed. “Okay.”

What Methode didn’t specify was that all those good things already filling her heart were all for Frieren.

After Chapter 23: Himmel and Heiter react to Frieren dating Methode
Omake idea: Friendly Guest

Where Himmel was could not be called a place, and yet, it existed.

What Himmel was, was, and wasn’t. Nonetheless, he had never been more real.

When Himmel existed couldn’t be called the present. However, it was today, and tomorrow, and yesterday. And always, and never.

It was simply unexplainably perfect. Having said that, perfection surpassed itself one non-day.

“You’re smiling,” Heiter approached him.

“I am,” Himmel said. He had conjured himself a field of flowers and was placidly sitting in the middle of it. He looked up. “You too. You saw her, your daughter.”

Heiter’s serene eyes softened even more. “I did. She’s everything I ever wanted for her.”

“And what is that, Heiter?”

“Happy,” Heiter sat next to Himmel. “She’s happy.”

“I’m glad,” when Himmel smiled, somewhere, a gorgeous sunrise warmed the land.

“What about you, Himmel? You spoke with Frieren quite a lot.”

Nostalgia within bliss was such a unique thing to feel. Himmel lay down, butterflies flying around him as he rested his head on his bent arms. “She’s as beautiful as I remember, perhaps even more.”

Heiter joined Himmel on the field of flowers, and some seconds of an eternity went by.

“She found love again,” Himmel spoke again.

“Did she, now?” Heiter said. He knew, of course. He had, too, spoken with Frieren.

Himmel nodded. “And she’s allowing herself to feel it this time. She had quite a lot to tell me about her.”

“And how do you feel about that, Himmel?”

Himmel looked at Heiter, his smile serene. “I’m very happy for her. I’m proud of her too. Her heart has opened. There is still healing for her to do, but she will, Heiter.”

“Of course she will. That’s our Frieren,” Heiter said.

“That’s our Frieren,” Himmel echoed.

“You know, she reproached me.”

“Oh? About that?” Heiter blinked.

“Well, apparently my intentions towards her were never clear. She claims that all I needed to do was use my words and simply state my feelings.”

Heiter’s laughter was loud and melodious, and Himmel couldn’t help joining in his joy.

“She’s not wrong. I meant to avoid her pain, and myself as well,” Himmel sighed. “But I’m always with her, and when she feels lost, she wonders what I would do, you know? That’s what she said.”

Heiter nodded. “She’s truly carrying your memory, as she promised she would.”

“Yea, and even here, she managed to heal something in me, too,” Himmel felt his chest. “I now know what perfect bliss feels like.”

Heiter sat up and looked down at Himmel, nodding. “If anyone deserves it, that’s you, my friend.”

Himmel wanted to say something, say thank you, or have the perfect words to such a heartfelt declaration, but that was not necessary, not there, not with them.

They rested on that field of flowers for an eternity, or perhaps a few instants. In Aureole, that mattered not.

After Chapter 23: Eisen meets Methode
Omake idea: Cat O'Moss

“Hey Methode,” Stark approached Methode in the tavern, his special mirror clutched in a hand. “My master wants to talk with you.”

“Oh?” Methode, who was busying herself with a drink, looked up. “With me?”

“Yeah, he wants to meet you,” Stark handed her the mirror.

Methode took it, eyebrows raised, and quite unsure about what she was supposed to say.

“Eh… hello?” She stared into it to find two penetrating eyes looking back at her.

“Methode-San, I assume,” Eisen said.

“Yes. Good evening, Eisen-Sama.”

“That’s my master.” Stark sat next to Methode. “Isn’t he cool looking?”

“Stark, a warrior does not look cool,” Eisen said.

“Oh but you do,” Methode smiled as she cupped her cheek. “You look quite impressive, Eisen-Sama. I’m very pleased to meet you. Your student is a most formidable warrior himself.”

Stark beamed, and Eisen stroked his beard.

There was silence, and even through the mirror, Methode felt the studious stare of the dwarf.

“Say, is Frieren a good mate?” He asked at last.

“Yeah, that’s my cue,” Stark said and stood up, leaving at once to go find the others.

“Oh my,” Methode chuckled, blushing a little. “Well, yes, of course she is.”

“And are you?” Eisen asked.

Where was that coming from? Methode wished she could read the dwarf’s expression under that beard and helmet.

“I absolutely try my best,” she finally said.

“I see,” Eisen nodded. “Good. Very good. I’m pleased to meet you, too.”

“Thank you,” Methode sighed inwardly, having the certainty that she had passed some sort of test.

“Pardon if I seem like I am prying,” Eisen went on. “I was curious.”

“Oh?” About me?” Methode blinked.

“Yes. Frieren speaks highly of you, and I needed to meet the person who had gotten through that millennial, thick skull of hers.”

“My, I’m not sure what to say to that,” Methode chuckled.

“No need to say anything,” Eisen smiled. Perhaps. Methode couldn’t really tell. “You’ll make sure that she doesn’t get lost in her own sense of time, won’t you?”

“Yes, Eisen-Sama,” Methode said. Ah. She understood now. “I try to make every day count.”

“Good,” Eisen stroked his beard. “You’re a good woman, Methode. I can tell.”

“Thank you,” Methode smiled. “And you’re a good friend to my sweet elf. I can also tell.”

Eisen seemed to be the kind of person to deal poorly with compliments, Methode mused, but to the dwarf’s luck, the others returned in that moment.

“Sein, come meet my master!” Stark said, and after saying good bye, Methode gladly relinquished the mirror to the priest, and while he, Fern, and Stark took over her table to talk with Eisen, she joined Frieren at a different one.

“I see you spoke with Eisen.” Frieren said. “Isn’t he great?”

“Yes, really great,” Methode smiled as she took Frieren’s hand in hers. “I can’t wait to meet him for real.”

“Just don’t pat his head. He’s shorter than me, but he won’t like it if you find him cute,” Frieren warned.

“Duly noted,” Methode chuckled.

Not long after, once they had said goodbye to Eisen, the party shared a good meal before continuing their journey to the North.

After Chapter 23: Stark proposes to Fern. They kiss.
Omake idea: Sobeke and Patrick

Stark fixed his jacket. The little northern town where they were staying was a perfect spot for a well deserved date. And didn’t Fern look adorable that afternoon? With that cute dress of hers, her hair shining with the sun, and her face, sweet and demure. Indeed, despite the many dates they had had, Fern still blushed and acted coy around him. They hadn’t even kissed, not yet, except for the little pecks on the cheek that they allowed themselves.

This was Stark’s favorite thing in the world; walking next to the purple haired girl, hand in hand, as they visited this or that store, ate snacks, and enjoyed their walk. He loved to see her blush when he called her pretty, when he complimented her dress.

He simply loved her.

They were now at a viewpoint, observing the snowy mountains beyond the town, and the more he looked at Fern, how the wind moved her hair, the faster his heart beat. His hands were sweaty, and he couldn’t stop shifting his weight from one leg to the other while his fingers played with the little, velvety box hidden in his pocket.

“Stark-Sama?” Fern turned to him. “Is there something wrong? You look terribly restless.”

Stark took a deep breath and looked at her, at those purple eyes, and a wave of calmness suddenly washed over him.

This was no dragon. This is what Stark desired the most.

“Nothing is wrong at all,” Stark said, reaching for Fern’s hand. “It’s just that now that we’ve reached Aureole, I have been wondering what our next adventure will be. But I already know.”

“Oh?” Fern sided her head, looking at him, and then her eyes widened when Stark bent his knee, her hand still in his.

“Stark-Sama…?”

“Fern,” Stark produced the box, opening it with one hand, and there, a golden ring with the design of a mirrored lotus in full bloom rested.

“Please, be my wife. Let us live every new adventure together.”

Fern’s mouth was agape, her own heart galloping in her chest, and a moment later she made Stark stand to his feet, crushing him in her arms, her face hidden in his chest.

“Fern…” Stark wrapped his arms around her, and his face split in a grin when he felt her nod.

“Y-yes?”

He received another series of nods from Fern.

Stark yelled his joy. He picked her up by the waist, pivoting with her, uncaring of the onlookers, and then he crushed her into his arms again, and Fern was laughing! She was laughing with him!

She pulled away at last, her eyes teary, and finally offered her hand.

“Yes!” She swallowed, her smile shaky. “Yes! I’ll marry you!”

Stark slid the ring into her finger, and then, gently, careful, pressed his lips to hers to share their first kiss.

They remained in each other’s arms well beyond the sunset.