For Emmit, with whom I've discussed the consequences of stuffing Xenolith into a kotatsu.
Flonne's wiggling her toes underneath the blue and white checkered blanket that she has placed over the low table when Xenolith pokes his head through the throne room's main entrance. Having caught a glimpse of his red hair, she waves a hand excitedly.
"Xenolith!" she calls out, in the practiced volume that she observes whenever speaking with him. Making him cringe this time around would be no good.
Much to her relief, he doesn't so much as flinch, and, as he often does, gives her a nod of greeting. "Flonne," he says, before taking a step back, already moving to leave as quickly as he came.
Rising to her feet and slipping into her shoes, she waves again. "Wait!" Footsteps muffled by the hall's carpeting, she runs up to him, careful not to trip on the extension cord she has pulled out.
Xenolith obliges, wordlessly blinking at her even as she reaches him.
After catching her breath with a hand over her chest, she asks, "Are you looking for Etna?"
She receives another nod in return.
"Why don't we look together? It'll be more fun!"
His eyes leave hers, momentarily resting on the table she has left behind.
"Oh, you're right," she says, following his gaze. "I should turn it off for now."
When she looks back at him, Flonne finds the slightest furrowing of his brow. "The table?"
"The heater under the table," she says, beaming. "Would you like to see?"
He doesn't answer, looking away once more.
She nods. "Right. Etna. Let's go!"
Closing his eyes, Xenolith shakes his head minutely. "It's fine. I can manage."
Flonne frowns. "The castle's pretty big though." Not that Xenolith would get lost, simply that he might exhaust himself sooner if he's going to search on his own. Tapping a hand against her cheek lightly, she tries a different angle. "Do you two have plans?"
"We haven't discussed anything," comes his soft reply.
Clapping her hands, she beams. "If that's the case, when you find her, can you both come back here?"
He tilts his head ever so slightly.
She skips a little to the side, giving him a clearer view. "The table. It looks very nice and comfortable, don't you think? Maybe we can all share it. But, well, are you sure you're going to be alright, looking for Etna by yourself?"
Xenolith nods.
"Okay!" she says, bouncing on her heels. "I'll go look for Laharl and Sicily then. I'll bring snacks, too. So, if it's alright, won't you please bring Etna back with you?"
"If I find her," he says.
She nods. "Tell her about the snacks!"
It might have been simply her imagination, but it would really be nice if Xenolith did smile at that before he turned to look somewhere else. She can't really be sure, however. Xenolith has always been a little difficult to read, even for her.
She looks back at the table. Kotatsu, she has heard people call it. Perhaps they can even make some of Laharl's favorite Netherworld Stew while gathered around it, too.
Nodding, she leaves through the same way Xenolith has left. Laharl isn't in his room. She has already taken a peek there. Maybe in the kitchen?
It's Sicily whom she comes across first. Hoping to try her hand at baking a vanilla sponge cake, the little one has been perusing cookbooks and has just come out of the castle library when Flonne bumps into her. She, too, however, has no idea where her brother has gone.
"Why are you looking for him?" Sicily asks, a few books held in her arms.
"I found something good and I want to show everyone," Flonne says. "You, too, Sicily. It's in the throne room! But, oh, I might not be able to find everyone today after all." She doesn't want to sound disheartened, but, before she knew it, her shoulders have already slumped. Maybe she should have waited for a slower day after all.
"I'll help!" Sicily says, smiling. "Maybe Big Brother just went off somewhere. I'll ask Meaver."
Flonne lightens up. "Oh! That's a great idea! Thank you. I'll try the kitchen then. I have a few things to do there, too."
Sicily's smile disappears for a moment, but it returns quickly after a few seconds. This one looks different though, but she can't quite put her finger on what makes it different. "The kitchen? What are you going to do there?"
"I'm going to get a few snacks," Flonne says. "And maybe a few other things, too. I haven't completely decided. We do have a portable stove, right?"
Sicily's eyes widen. "A portable stove?" she echoes in a small voice. "I think we have one, but what are you planning on doing with it? Should I come with you?"
"It's alright! I can just ask the Prinnies to help me if they're all too heavy." There's the stove, then the snacks, then the ingredients for the stew. Maybe they should have tea, too. Or maybe something like fruit juice. Perhaps there are still some fruit from Agul Eviland left. Xenolith has just come back with a basket the day before. It couldn't have all been eaten by now, could it?
"Okay," Sicily says. "But if you need any help cooking or anything like that, just ask, okay?"
"I will," Flonne says, nodding.
"Alright. I guess I'll go ask Meaver now?"
"Yes, please! Thank you!" As Sicily walks away towards the direction of the Dimensional Gatekeeper, Flonne waves a hand. She has been about to leave for the kitchen herself when she hears Sicily call out again.
"Just ask, Flonne!"
She looks back and beams. "There's no need to worry, Sicily!"
For far too long, Sicily stands rooted to the spot. "Okay," the little one manages after a while, clutching her books tighter to her chest. "Okay."
She looks alarmed. Perhaps Flonne can ask her about that later. Maybe she can help!
Much to her disappointment, there isn't a single fruit left in the basket. Laharl's not in the kitchen either.
Hoping that Sicily would have gotten more luck in her search, Flonne sets to work. Fortunately, the Prinnies have been willing to help her with the preparations. It might have been her imagination, but they have seemed almost desperate to take the ingredients off of her hands, too. Their insistence have left her nothing else to do but to recover the stove from one of the cupboards and a few rice crackers from another.
Before long, the ingredients are placed into bowls of various sizes, which are then set on trays. Perhaps the Prinnies are eager to return to their jobs this time around, for a few of them guides her out of the kitchen as quickly as their peg legs could carry them.
Portable stove in her hands, Flonne soon finds herself in the throne room once again. Carefully, she sets down the stove next to the low table. The Prinny who has brought the pot for her sets it down above the stove before scampering away. The rest, having placed the trays down beside the stove, follow suit.
Flonne smiles. Their efficiency is a strange yet pleasing sight. Still, they could have at least stayed for a few moments. She hasn't given Xenolith and Sicily a set time, after all, so she might have to wait for a while.
Partially sliding off the lid of one of the trays, she takes a wooden bowl filled with the rice crackers she has been able to find and sets it on the table.
After plugging in the heater and sitting on her spot once more, she takes a cracker and nibbles. One or two won't ruin her appetite. They never do.
"Flonne. Hey, Flonne! Oh, for the… Flonne, wake up!"
With a pair of hands violently shaking her by the shoulders, Flonne opens her eyes.
A dreamy smile makes its way to her lips, and she tilts her head. "Good morning, Etna."
She only gets a leer in response.
Looking past Etna's shoulders, Flonne catches Xenolith's eye. He gives her a nod once again, which she returns with one of her own. It's only polite, after all.
Next to Xenolith stands Laharl, whose arms are folded while his eyes are as narrow as Etna's. That's strange. "You had Sicily disturb my training for this?" she hears him mutter, but before she can even think of a reply, Sicily waves a hand to catch her attention.
"Sorry for the wait, Flonne," Sicily says. Her books are no longer in her arms. She probably put them away. In her room, maybe?
"Flonne," Etna says, hands still on her shoulders. "What's this?" She glances at the table for a moment before looking at her straight in the eyes once more.
What traces of sleep that have clung to her eyelids leave her, and she perks up in an instant. "It's a table with a heater," she says, beaming. "Please make yourselves comfortable!"
"A heater," Etna echoes, removing her hands from Flonne's shoulders and taking a few steps back. "A heater. Flonne, it's already hot in here. What were you thinking?"
"Oh, it's fine, Etna," Flonne says, pouting. Meeting Xenolith's eyes instead, she pats the empty cushion next to her. "Why don't you try it, Xenolith? It's really nice."
Xenolith glances at his sister, and they stay like that, silent for a while. They might be having a secret conversation. Maybe some siblings can communicate through thoughts alone. The concept sounds exciting. She should ask Etna about it some time soon.
"Do whatever you want," Etna finally says, waving her hand before taking a seat on the cushion next to the one Flonne indicated for Xenolith. "I still think we don't need something like this," she mutters, removing her shoes and placing them at the side before shoving her feet under the table.
Beaming, Flonne nudges Etna's feet with one of her own.
"Flonne!" Etna cries out, sputtering. She pulls out her legs and pushes the blanket away from her.
Still giggling, Flonne pats the seat next to her again. "Give it a try, too, Xenolith."
Xenolith purses his lips, glancing down at his own legs before looking back at Flonne.
"It's alright!" Flonne says, nodding. "I'm sure we'll all fit!"
"No, we won't," Etna says dryly.
Flonne briefly puffs up her cheeks. "Yes, we will. I'll fold my legs!"
Another set of legs joins Flonne's underneath the table. Laharl, who has sat down, frowns in disapproval. He withdraws, crossing his legs instead before covering them with the blanket. "You should have done that in the first place."
"Oh!" Flonne cries out. "I'm sorry."
In a hurry, but careful not to disturb the trays behind her, she tucks her legs under her and scoots closer to the table. Next to Laharl, Sicily copies Flonne, although her movements are much more careful in comparison. That's fine. This way, they'll all fit.
"My legs will die if I do that," Etna says, wrinkling her nose.
Xenolith looks at her in alarm, his eyes a fraction wider than usual. "Perhaps I," he starts, but Flonne won't have that. This is for everyone.
At least, Flonne would have very much liked to tell him that she won't have that. Instead, Etna leers at her brother and spits, "Just sit down already. You look like an idiot, standing around like that."
Xenolith stares back at her, his brow furrowed. However, Etna doesn't relent, and, eventually, Xenolith gives in, toeing off his shoes before taking his seat.
Flonne looks at him in anticipation, but neither complaints nor praises come out of his mouth.
"Alright," Laharl drawls, drawing her attention. "Now what?"
Flonne turns and removes the lids covering the ingredients. "Look, look," she says, placing one bowl after another on the table. "We can cook some Netherworld Stew with these!"
"Stew?" Etna echoes. "In this heat? I thought you said you were bringing snacks. This isn't a snack, Flonne!"
Laharl folds his arms. "A good Netherworld Stew is appropriate for any weather."
Etna looks away. "That's just your opinion, Prince."
Huffing, Laharl holds his head high. "It's the Hotpot General's opinion."
Furrowing her brow, Sicily asks, "There's a Hotpot General?"
Laharl looks at her in the eye.
Sicily laughs nervously. "You're the Hotpot General, Big Brother?"
Grinning, Laharl nods. "Obviously."
"I'm surprised you didn't name yourself the Hotpot Emperor," Etna mutters.
"What did you say?" Laharl snaps at her.
Etna gives him a cat-like smile. "Nothing of importance, Prince." Humming, she peers at the bowls. "Still, I'm surprised they're cut so well, Flonne," she says, grinning. "Isn't that a little impossible for you?"
Flonne has been trying to place the portable stove on top of the table. "Etna!" she says, giving the stove one powerful push, "How mean!"
Laharl takes one of the bowls and scrutinizes it. "What? You cut them up?"
She twiddles her fingers. "N-no," she stammers, looking away. "The Prinnies helped me."
"More like they did everything," Etna says, her grin only growing wider.
"Oh, Etna!"
Sicily holds up her hands. "It's fine, it's fine!" She peers at the ingredients—earthworms, hairy caterpillars, newts, and vipers. Flonne has even asked the Prinnies for vegetables that would go along well with the stew to balance it.
"These," Sicily starts, voice trailing off, before smiling at Flonne. "These are interesting ingredients, Flonne. A-are you sure these are the right ones?"
She nods. "Yes!" She looks at Laharl for confirmation. "They are, aren't they?"
Taking one of the crackers from the wooden bowl, Laharl grins. "So you can do something right. This should be fine."
Flonne beams. "I also asked the Prinnies if they can make us some tea. They should be bringing it in shortly." She mustn't have dozed off for very long. They would have brought it in by now. Unless they have forgotten. Hopefully, that's not the case.
"First, a heater in this blazing heat. Then some hot stew. Now scalding tea? Are you trying to get me killed, Flonne?" Etna demands.
"It's not so bad. You don't even know if the tea would be scalding or not."
"No?" Etna smiles gingerly. "How about this? Stupid Big Brother doesn't even like tea."
Hands over her mouth, Flonne gasps. "Really? I'm sorry. Xenolith," she starts, shifting her attention towards Etna's older brother. However, the next words do not come. Instead, what comes out is a surprised, "Oh."
Taking half of the cracker dangling from his mouth, Laharl hums. Soon after swallowing, he grins, his eyes gleaming. "Sleeping in the presence of his Overlord," he says, reaching over the table with slight difficulty, bracing himself with his free hand, and barely missing some of the bowls by inches. Without hesitation, he lifts the hair over Xenolith's eyes with the back of the hand holding the rest of the cracker.
Xenolith, who has apparently nodded off to sleep, doesn't stir. Even with his shoulders slumped and head down, as Laharl still has his hand pushing his hair away from his eyes, Flonne can see most of his face, and she can no longer catch a glimpse of any of the usual worry lines that would often be etched on his face. Even his breathing pattern has become even.
Flonne herself finds it hard to breathe now. The slightest noise could wake him up, perhaps, and that would be such a waste.
Laharl, however, has other plans. "How bold," he says, taking his hand away and leaving crumbs falling onto Xenolith's hair.
As Flonne taps the back of Laharl's hand lightly in reprimand, Laharl huffs. Without looking away, he says to the side, "Sicily, get me a marker."
Still seemingly transfixed at the sight of Xenolith sleeping peacefully, Sicily frowns. "What for?"
"What else?" Popping the rest of the cracker into his mouth, Laharl wipes his hands on his pants as he stands. "I'm going to doodle on his face."
"That's horrible!" Sicily protests.
Leaving the task of scolding Laharl to his little sister, Flonne peers at Xenolith's hair and begins plucking out the crumbs. With a far too amused look gracing her face, Etna soon joins in, flicking whatever she finds at Laharl's direction.
"This is not the time to be praising me," Flonne hears in the background. "It's the time to be getting me that marker."
"No," Sicily says firmly.
All those times practicing in her room in front of the mirror must be paying off. Flonne can't help smiling in pride.
"This is the first time I've seen Xenolith look so peaceful," Sicily adds. "I won't let you."
Laharl clucks his tongue. "Etna," he says, turning towards her, his unspoken command hanging in the air.
"Oh?" Etna tilts her head in consideration, to the lack of Flonne's surprise yet still very much to her horror. What if they have considered doing that to her, too?
Putting on her best disapproving face, Flonne wraps a hand around Laharl's wrist and gently tugs. "You'll wake him up," she says. Sleep is important. Of all people, Laharl should know that.
Laharl narrows his eyes at her, and she meets his glare head-on. If she didn't, he would have his way easily. That won't do.
Jerking his hand away, Laharl folds his arms and sits down once more. "What kind of vassals are you?"
Flonne beams.
"It's not a compliment," Laharl says, before looking away and flicking his fingers at the leaves of one of the vegetables.
Satisfied, Flonne looks back at Etna, who's watching her brother's face, her arm propped against the table and her chin on her hand as she did so.
"I think he likes it," Flonne says.
Glancing at her, Etna raises an eyebrow. "Ya think?"
Pleased with the turn of events, Flonne giggles. "It's nice that he does." Careful not to wake him, she lays Xenolith down, gently pulling the cushion he used as a seat and sliding it under his head. Maybe it would be nicer if he had an actual pillow, and if the blanket covered his upper body as well. She'll ask the Prinny who brings in their tea. This will have to do for now, though. At the very least, she hasn't disturbed his sleep.
Nodding in satisfaction, she faces the rest. "Now, why don't we make some stew?"
Lagniappe
After the Prinnies have cleaned up the mess they've made in the throne room, Etna pulls Flonne aside. "We're never doing that again."
Hugging a few cushions to her chest, Flonne furrows her brow. "Why not? I think Xenolith liked it a lot."
Etna glances at her traitorous brother, who's enjoying a stern lecture from the Prince. Well, not really a lecture. She's not really sure what that even is. At the very least, she can see the tips of his ears tinged with a shade very close to that of his hair. Whatever it is, serves him right, dozing off from the start and leaving her to fend for herself.
"We're surrounded by lava, you know," Etna says, turning her attention back at Flonne. "Just shove it back into what storage room you dragged it out from."
Flonne pouts. A real, actual pout. Unbelievable. "Can't I just give it to him? I think it would be nice for Xenolith."
Etna leans away. "Seriously?"
Smiling far too widely, Flonne nods. "We can put it in his room. It will be surprise!"
"I don't think it counts as a surprise anymore. Not if you say it loudly like that while he's only standing there," she says dryly, gesturing towards his direction.
Gasping, Flonne covers her mouth. "Oh no," she says. Voice still muffled by her hand, she asks, "But I can still give it to him, right?"
Etna stares, and stares, and stares. "You know what?" she asks, pumping as much sickening sweetness into her voice as possible. "Why don't you do just that?"
To her surprise, Flonne grasps one of her hands and shakes it up and down. "Oh, I will, Etna! Thank you!"
Pulling her hand away, Etna sighs. "You didn't have to ask me about it," she mutters.
Well, they'll just have to see how this goes. If she's lucky, Stupid Big Brother will just take it and never let her suffer that awful table ever again. That way, they'll all live happily ever after.
Etna nods, pleased with herself, as Flonne skips her merry way to dump the table into her brother's room. Sounds like a plan.