Note: For phrenotobe.
It's finally over. They've begun their last march: back to Ylisse.
It's leisurely. Many of them still bear unhealed wounds, and Robin's absence is heavy about camp, but the joy and relief, more than anything, is what keeps their pace slow. Even Frederick can't seem to find it in himself to push them harder when they stop to enjoy a meal or a pleasant view.
They're getting a late and sleepy start that morning. Sumia watches the tents from the hill she'd climbed with Cordelia after breakfast. The sunshine is warm on her head and back, and the grass tickles her legs, outstretched before her. Cordelia's long, silky hair tickles too, as she dozes with her head in Sumia's lap. Sumia watches the glow of sunlight on her straight nose and bow-shaped lips, how it lights up within her hair like coals smouldering in firewood. Then she spots a white wildflower blooming between her bandaged knees, and leans forward, careful not to wake her lover, as she plucks it.
One petal. Two. She lets them fall on Cordelia's face, smiling as she mumbles and wrinkles her nose. Three. Four.
"Don't tell me you're doing those silly fortunes again," Cordelia says. She keeps her eyes closed against the sunlight. Sumia leans forward again to shade her face with the frizzy cloud of her curls.
"This one isn't silly. It's very important."
Five. Six. Cordelia shakes the petals off her face and cracks her eyes open.
"Oh?"
Seven. Eight. Nine. Sumia stares at the bare stem in her hand and murmurs,
"I have to do it again."
"What's this one for, Sumia?"
She opens her mouth to reply but falters, feeling foolish. Her hands comb the grass at her sides, swishing over like little wings until she finds another flower to pull up. One. Two. Three. Four.
"Sumia?"
Cordelia sits up, thin eyebrows drawn, and Sumia curls in her knees and admits,
"For our happiness. I did a flower fortune for every battle, and we won them all…but there's so much ahead of us, still. So many years. No matter what, I want to make sure that if nothing else lasts, you and I will still be together."
Five. Six. And then Cordelia snatches the flower right out of her hand and crushes it in a fist.
"Cordelia! That could've been the one!"
"I love you," she says, "but I won't abide this any longer. Battle is one thing, but if you need answers about this—about us—find a better way."
"Like what?" Sumia asks, her voice high and bewildered before Cordelia's mouth presses fiercely to hers, stern and unrelenting. She's as brilliant at kissing as she is at everything else, and before Sumia can react her delicate tongue is swiping along her lips, slipping between them, and she goes completely boneless. Cordelia follows her down to the grass and gentles the kiss, makes it soft and careful and reassuring. Sumia can hardly speak when it's over, and Cordelia, amused, begins pressing her lips to her cheek and jaw.
"Next time," Cordelia says into her ear, "try this, or at least come speak with me directly. The flowers are useless in comparison."
She's always right. Sumia nods, the heat in her cheeks from much more than the rising daylight. They lie there together for a long moment, trading her new fortunes tenderly, before they make their way back to camp for the day's journey.