A Thief and His Angel- Part I
Character(s): Julian, Lena, Rickard, and others of Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon.
Rating: T
Summary: The War of Shadows has reached an end, and with it, Marth's army is no longer needed. Everyone must carve out a new place in this time of peace, except for one thief. There's only one place for him to go.
Timeline: Immediately following the final battle in Shadow Dragon
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
A/N: Hey, so, I feel like the only person on the planet who can say this- I don't have Fire Emblem Awakening. I want it, really, really badly though. Every little scrap of knowledge I've collected about it makes it seem so ridiculously cool. Ehm, anyway, aside from my Fire Emblem: Awakening woes, I've recently played through my Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon game again. It took me a while, but I completed it, and ended up on Fanfiction seeing if there were any stories that could catch my eye. I always really enjoyed the implied Julian/Lena pairing throughout the game and was thrilled to see a few awesome writers felt the same way. So, I decided to throw my own hand in the game, and voile! Here ya go.
I know this isn't a popular set of characters, which is all I seem to write now a days, but I would really appreciate a review. I welcome any form of criticism, complements, or general comments! Thanx.
2/14/14: Happy Valentine's Day! Guess what I did today instead of actually spending time with loved ones? I edited this out. And I might add, I shall never post anything without editing it again (yeesh this took a while). But, anyway, thanks to all those who have reviewed/faved this story! It is great appreciated. I apologize for the glaring typos~
5/17/14: I split this into three chapter to attempt to make for an easier read. Enjoy~!
It wasn't the first sunset Julian had ever seen, and he knew wasn't his last. But as he slouched by the stone brick wall, decorated with discarded weapons from battle, this one seemed different- special. A great evil had been defeated and the world was resetting.
The final battle had been long and the strong fortress of Dohlr Keep was as menacing as its reputation had granted it. The walls alone held a looming eeriness that seemed to emanate the evil it had housed. Julian, who once had lived in the dreadful Ghouls Teeth, had never seen such a deprived place. The keep's appearance became the least of their worries though, as Prince Marth lead them off into battle. The army had deterred in the main entrance, forced to fight their way through hordes of prepared enemy soldiers. Prince Marth had charged them onward though as they battled their way through the wicked corridors of Medeus' home.
Julian himself had remained further behind the group, scouting for any sort of equipment or treasure that would be of assistance. He hadn't been able to salvage much, seeing as the fighting had intensified and had forced him to retreat. A silver sword he had swiped from a corpse during a previous battle had come in great use though as he slashed and defended himself and his comrades around. Ogma and Navarre had been leading the front of the charge, allowing the swords master to smoothly dispatch the enemies. All the while, Gordon's arrows twirled through the air embedding mortal wounds in their targets. It had been a gruesome sight, blood poured onto the marble floors- the enemies sacrifice for their Lord. Julian had held little interest in the dead though, his only action was holding back the forces as Marth, with his mighty Falceon, pressed to the throne room with Princess Ceada at his heel.
And without him having witnessed anything himself, the battle was won- Marth had vanquished the evil. When the mighty prince had reemerged from the heart of the fight, his weapon brandished, the remaining advisories needed no explanation when Marth demanded their immediate surrender. Many of the forces did just that; however, those who resisted were put down by the sword.
The army hadn't lingered in the inner halls long, only collecting supplies from the enemy's stores before returning to the outside landscape. It had been decided they were to set up camp there and an afternoon of celebration commenced.
Many of the men had decided to have their own feast with the food they had raided from Dohlr's personal stores. It seemed though mad dragon many have been wicked, his appetite appeared to have been of finer taste. Salted and smoked pig was passed around the campfires and few had even gotten their hands on some ale and were enjoying the rare benefit from their battle. Julian had indulged some, but had accepted no drink, choosing instead to wander off away from the festivities.
At first, he had positioned himself in the entranceway of Keep and sat himself under the shade of the menacing statue of Lord Medeus, the dark dragon. He had watched Marth scurry back in forth from the camp to the open hallways of the fortress. The Prince was always with someone different, discussing another new topic under the long list of responsibilities that had been placed on his shoulders by the kingdoms new freedom. Minerva was at his side often, arguing and planning arrangements about future treaties and diplomacy. The two swooped by often enough that, to Julian, they reminded him of the blue jays and robins that lived in the trees at the foot of the Soothsire's Mountains. The two passed by him every time they crossed the chiseled stone steps, but they said nothing to him. Julian just rested there, twiddling a pocket knife. No one noticed.
He didn't remain there all day. After a while, he returned to the edge of the campsite, adjacent to the fortress, and positioned himself comfortably against one of the looming grey walls. Julian didn't doze. He would never do so out in the open, years of living with other thieves had taught him that, but his mind did drift a little as he was ensorcelled by the captivating sight of the sunset over the horizon in this strange land. He was so distracted he didn't even notice a figure from the close campsite approach him.
"Julian, what are you doing over here?" The voice was soft, inquisitive, not demanding, but the sudden proximity of the sound pulled him from thought. He startled backwards, his back hitting the wall, painfully jarring a minor wound to his shoulder he had acquired during the battle. He hissed at the pain and then lost his balance enough to slide down into a crouch against the stone. He groaned and blinked at the person who had snuck up on him.
It was a young woman, her hair flowing a crimson red down to her shoulders. Bleached robes, tussled slightly from travel and battle, remained a starch white drape over her thin figure. A pair of slender hands peeked out from under her long sleeves, revealing a glimpse of unblemished skin- a world's difference to Julian's own calloused and scared fingers. There were no marks anywhere on her, only smudges of dirt from a day's toil, but even that couldn't spoil her perfection-her beauty. Julian was quickly drawn to her eyes. She had a pair of soft, inviting, brown eyes, which seemed to speak kindness and concern without her saying a word. There was no judgment in them, no question, no pity-Lena was so open, so kind, so everything he never was. He loved her more for it.
Lena looked down at him, as Julian attempted not to gawk at her lovely features and averted his gaze to the ground, taking his chance to sit down. He crossed his legs a second later in an afterthought.
As he did so, Lena got onto her knees in front of him, apologizing as she did so. "Oh, Julian, are you ok? I didn't mean to startle you! I thought you could see me walking over. You didn't just hurt yourself, right?" Her delicate hands reached for his shoulder, half hidden by a thick scarf. He looked back up at her worried face. He almost wanted to tell her to stand up, not to blemish herself by lowering herself for his sake. But he didn't, he found the action too comforting.
"No, No, I'm fine, Lena. You just surprised me. I know it's not too widely known, but I do have a brain in this head, and I'm afraid I let it wander for a little too long." Julian smiled and placed his hand on top of Lena's, which still rested on his shoulder. Then, with a reluctant motion, he respectfully brushed them off. He wished that would be the end of it, for her to drop her worry, but Lena was much too compassionate, and had too much of a cleric instinct for her own good.
She leaned in, her breath so close he could feel the warmth on his right cheek as she scrutinized his shoulder. "Are you sure, because that seemed to be a pretty painful jolt. Are you bruised? I can use my healing staff if you'd like…"
The thief chuckled at her flustered care, loving her kindness as she worried about something as minuscule as a bruise. Though, he really also enjoyed her sudden proximity. He hadn't really seen her all day, seeing as she hadn't participated in the battle and been caring for the wounded afterwards. Although she had been in his thoughts, her presence was much more sustaining than a mere memory.
He put up his hands in false defense for himself. "It's alright, Lena. No need to use your magic, I'm sure there are lots of others in need of it." He pointed towards the camp, ignoring the small throb in his upper right shoulder. In truth, he did have an injury from the battle, but it was nowhere bad enough to warrant a healing. However, Lena would worry carelessly over any wound he sustained, so there was no need to bring it up.
Lena leaned back, her face still full of concern, but also genuine confusion. "We are fully supplied, I have plenty of staffs and have already healed most of the injured in the camp already." A soft smile crossed her face. "So there's no need to be a hero about it."
Julian chuckled and straightened himself out, shaking his head. "I think you'd be mistaking me with Princey. I'm not trying to be a hero about anything."
Lena smiled, knowing his lie; he had been a hero to her, an unlikely one, a rather useless one in the end, but a hero none the less. "Alright, if you say so..." She turned her face to the camp, away from him for a moment. Her shy tone returned, and Julian had figured out in the short amount of time together that she had a question. "Well, I just came over here to see if you wanted to…Uhm, I guess, ask if you… If you… I mean, I saw you sitting over here by yourself, and I thought..." Her words are a jumbled mess, but he doesn't stop her or correct her in any way. Her flustered state is nothing less than cute.
"I don't want you to sit out here all alone, would you like to come back to the camp and sit with me?" A blush came to her face, and she quickly corrected herself. "With us, if you want to. I wasn't sure if you'd eaten or not, but there is still plenty left."
Julian nodded, inwardly happy that she wanted to be around him. And he'd be damned if he'd displease her or dishonor her request after she came out of her way for him. "I actually haven't had that much to eat, probably best to snatch some up before it's gone, right?" He hoisted himself up by using the wall as support and then he held his hand out to her. "And of course, I can't say no when you ask so nicely." He winked at her, and she smiled shyly, but then placed her hand in his own. Like the first time he had helped her out of the Soothsire's cage, her hands were soft and warm- almost calming. And for a moment, everything just felt right, prefect even. His hand in hers, her hand in his- it was a sensation he always hated to lose; although, he was a thief after all. When he swiped something nice, there was always reluctance to let it go.
Julian pulled the cleric to her feet, and she swayed for a moment until he balanced her with a steady grip. He did not let go of her hand when she was planted on the ground though, and if she was bothered by it, she said nothing.
"Alright, let's go. Show me where your tent is, I'll start a fire for us." He pushed forward, not even guessing the direction he needed to go in the camp. He knew where her tent was, he always did.
Lena followed behind, without complaint or question to his surprisingly accurate knowledge of where they were headed. She just walked a pace behind as they held hands and he brushed between the blue material of the Altean Armies tents.
They walked into the encampment with Julian leading. The camp itself was buzzing with activity, men boasting victory with pints of ale.
Lena's tent was more secluded and off to the side, being the only medic she had been allowed that privilege. However, he had to pass by a many of the other tents, which proved to be much more difficult than intended since many of the men had shed their amour quickly and left them spewed across the ground, cluttering and leaving little room to walk. Julian himself had fine footing and had no problem avoiding such a thing, but Lena was not the silver-tongued sure footed liar he was. She was a delicate, modest, healer who had no experience of sneaking around anywhere. So with her, the task became more laborious as they side stepped and avoided discarded spears and painted armor.
"I'm surprised our Altean prince would let it get this bad." Julian remarked as he tugged Lena's hand and stepped over a horse saddle. The beasts had been released hours ago to feed on what little grass was around these darks lands. Julian had little qualms that the horses were absent from the camp. He wasn't one for animals.
Lena followed behind, tiptoeing along, not exactly looking awkward, but certainty not looking comfortable. She had probably been treating others in her tent and had not seen the mess of their campsite. "I'm sure he's quite busy, Julian. Prince Marth and Princess Manerva have to reorganize their entire kingdoms again. Lord Hardin still has to reclaim his own lands."
Julian smiled at her defense of the prince and his other royal cohorts. She wasn't even from Altea and she was fighting for its prince. Her goals were pure with the desire to help other instead of just letting her talents go to waste. She genuinely cared for her country, and had stayed out of love for her country- for everyone. Julian wished his motives were as innocent, but he was only here for one reason- and it wasn't out of loyalty for the righteous Prince Marth. He had only one love now, and it wasn't thievery.
Julian and Lena continued through the camp, passing many of those already beside their own fire in merriment. Cain and Able were sporting their own ale around a fire side and giving toasts to the Altea army and their Lords; other loyal men from the army cheered back at their acclimation. It was a strange sight for a Soothsire, who had had no love for any of his cohorts. Seeing the two Paladin's shoulder in shoulder in an almost kinship display of loyalty was a foreign concept to him. Although, the peering looks of a certain Pegasus rider Julian could identify with. Est sat with her sisters around the campfire, eyes only on her green haired knight. Yes, he could understand the youngest of the sisters well, even if her hair color was one of the strangest sights he'd ever seen in all of the strange land of Meadus.
They passed by the joyful Altean warriors and smiling Pegasus riders almost like shadows as no one acknowledged them. Julian had almost come to the destination of Lena's tent when he passed another cluster of tents and a blue head popped out from beside a nearby fire.
"Hey, Chief! We're you escorting your lovely lady?" Julian glanced over to Rickard, who waved widely from his spot by the fire. He wasn't alone. Ogma sat by the fire as well, but didn't seem interested Rickard as he sat consuming a large turkey leg. The scar faced mercenary scanned the conversations around him with little interest, but his gaze would inevitably trail off to the swords master, Navarre, who was leaning against an opened crate with his eyes closed next to his own tent. He was in the shadow of the sun, and concealed rather well by those who passed by, but Julian doubted his restfulness. Ogma seemed to be thinking the same as he kept an eye on his adversary, attempting to feign disinterest. In response, Navarre never batted an eye at the scarred blonde.
Rickard sat in between the two, but he looked to be ignored by both other men. It made sense as to why though- Rickard was a fellow thief. He was young, rather naïve, and over reaching at times, but he was pretty open as a crook could get. But Ogma was a loyal follower of Princess Ceada, the Princess of truth and loyalty, and she had passed her values onto Ogma at one point or another. So even though that Rickard was a rather open and more pacifistic type of thief, he was still a possible enemy to Ogma, and the mercenary didn't seem interested in dissuading his trust in anyway. Why Navarre paid the younger man no notice was simpler. Rickard was slim built, tiny, and almost the literal opposite of what someone would expect from a Soothsire. Yet, that was exactly what Rickard was excellent at. He used his stature, his bizarre short sky blue hair, and innocence to fool his targets and enemies. Rickard was much older than his young features, only a couple of years under Julian, but his appearance put on a façade of ignorance and instability. And that was why Navarre wasn't acquainted with him, Navarre didn't fall for traps. Although, he probably wouldn't befriend him even if Rickard wasn't just conning everyone; Navarre didn't really like anyone.
"I was just showing Lena back to her tent." Julian explained simply, turning away with Lena still in hand. He didn't mind Rickard, the two had gotten to be as close as two scoundrels could get, but the man had an annoying tendency to like to cause mischief, particularly, when bored. And he had to be bored sitting between a silent Ogma and Navarre having a non-existent glare-off.
Rickard's eyebrows shot up at Julian's words, and a smooth smile appeared. "Oh, are you two off to go have some private fun now?" Julian froze, and his jaw went still in irritation as he heard Rickard's words. Lena expression went blank as well, and her cheeks puffed up in a flushed pink as the words also hit meaning with her. She turned her face away from him in embarrassment, and Julian released her hands as she squirmed suddenly uncomfortable of any contact with him. He willingly dropped their hand contact, but the sudden loss of her touch was unpleasant. He glared at Rickard. The other reason he had a great detest of Rickard because the brat had quickly figured out his motives for joining the Altean army, and the idiot liked to poke and jab at him about it as much as possible.
The red head didn't snap back though, and softened the glare at Rickard to a cocky smile and waved him off with a flick of the wrist. "Of course not, we were going to cook ourselves food as well."
Rickard perked up, his smile still present. "Oh, really!? Well, why don't you just stay here, we've got plenty of food, right, Navarre?"
Rickard looked over to Navarre still sitting upright against the crate of food, but the sword master didn't even flinch. He just gave a sound 'hmp' out of annoyance. Taking that a sign of acknowledgment, Rickard nodded. "Yep, see, perfect. No need for you to go off by yourselves when you could have company by the fire…." He paused, his smile expanding as he cupped his right cheek with a free hand. "Unless of course you two really want to…."
Julian's reared up at that, realizing that Rickard was implying. No way would he be able to refute that without seeming defensive, or further subjecting Lena to embarrassment on his behalf. That only left him with one, undesirable, action.
"No, of course, that sounds just fine." He grinded out with as much false cheerfulness at the decision as he could muster. He then turned to Lena. "Is that alright with you? I can take you back to your tent… if ya really want to of course…"
The healer shook her head. She appeared much more composed now, but Julian was sure if her brother happened to wonder by he would be assaulted for his sister flustered state.
If that happens, Rickard's going to be the running. Julian thought, as he sat down next to Rickard, leaving about a six inch gap between the two so he wouldn't be tempted to harm the other man for his impudence. The cleric followed suit and sat down on one of the mats placed on the ground. She folded her legs under her and placed her hands in her lap. And although she did not bring her hands together, as she often did in prayer, the sight remained a familiar pose.
"So what's going on, Chief? I haven't seen you since before we took the keep. Did ya keep yourself out of trouble?" Julian frowned at the question, and turned his thought away from the beautiful maiden beside him to the bothersome manipulator to his right. For a moment, he gave into his desire to physically take out some of his irritation on the other. He leaned over and slapped his lightly on the back of his head.
"I should be the one asking you that question, not the other way around." He replied, lowly. Rickard groaned and rubbed his head as though Julian had dealt him a blow with the hilt of a sword.
Lena gave a small smirk at his actions, but reprimanded him all the same. "Julian, be kind. He was only inquiring about your well-being."
Rickard nodded at that and his lower lip came out in a pout as he dropped his hands from the back of his head. He smiled gratefully at Lena, like she had said the exact thing he had anticipated. "Yeah, seriously, I only wanted to know how your day faired. You should be nicer, Chief. Or at the very least listen to your girl-"
Before Rickard could end his chatter, Julian lifted the bottom of his boot and slammed it into Rickard's own foot. Luckily for Julian, Rickard had discarded all but his wool socks, so the quick action shut the younger up rather efficiently.
Rickard yelped in pain, and jumped back clutching his throbbing foot as Julian snickered in satisfaction. Lena didn't seem to have noticed Rickard's remark, but she appeared sympathetic to Rickard's plight as she looked at him grumble over his injury. It didn't surprise Julian, she wasn't one to watch others pain and do nothing about it.
"Julian, stop that." She commanded softly, and then turned to Rickard. "Are you alright, do you want me to look at it for you?" Rickard stopped his fussing, and gained a confused expression at her words. He did not seem to expect such kindness.
"No, I was purposefully riling up Mr. Grouchy over here. He shook his head and jabbed a finger at Julian, who only crossed his arms, refusing any sort of apology. "It was my own fault." Besides, it really didn't hurt that much."
Julian wasn't so sure about that. He had been trying purposefully to cause pain to the other thief, so he suspected that he had least given him a nice bruise. But like him, he didn't seem to want to put Lena out of her way, especially from her sudden kindness. For that, Julian wouldn't hit him again.
Lena looked reproachful, but did not get up from her spot, being won over by his words. "Alright, if you're are sure."
Rickard smiled brightly and gave a quick thumbs up. "Oh, I'm sure, sweetheart." Julian rolled his eyes at the younger's flattery.
"Are you going to give us anything to eat already? I'm tired of hearing you talk." Julian complained as he leaned forward and put his palms up, facing the fire and feeling the warmth on his hands. The blue haired thief gave a short laugh and nodded and then turned to face the box Navarre had claimed as his resting place. As Rickard pulled off the lid to the box, the sword master gave a short glare to the younger man, but he didn't move an inch. Rickard pulled out two legs of lambs and then brought them over to the fire. Pans lay scattered around the fire in a pile of condensed disarray, but Rickard easily pick one out.
"Here ya go, Chief. Cook 'er up." He passed the wooden handle into Julian's hands rather unexpectedly, but the red head caught it none the less, fumbling only for a moment. Julian gripped the pan and outreached it over the fire and then placed the two pieces of raw meat into the pan. It sizzled initially and sweet scent of meat wafted into the air, overpowering the smoke. Julian tilted the pan back and forth, holding it level. Rickard came up behind him and observed his work.
"Steady, Chief. Don't want to drop it, do you?" Julian barely honored the other with a glance and simply gave a short huff. He moved closer the fire, leaning over it a little, but mindful of his white scarf, which was wrapped loosely around his neck.
"Back off, I can cook my own meal." Rickard smiled at the dismissal, seemingly enjoying the rebuffs.
The blue haired thief rolled his eyes and wandered to Julian's right side. "Alright, I know, I know. I just want to make sure you don't burn your own meal and the lovely Lena's." He gave a sweep of his arm to Lena, who was quietly sitting on the ground. She was observing them, but nothing but a warm smile sat upon her face. Julian had no idea how she managed to put up with Rickard's words to her- 'lovely Lena', 'sweetheart', 'beauty'- but she did, and with such grace. Julian had decided a while ago that he would have to be the one to be angry for her.
"Rickard, I know wha-" Julian started to tell the other man off, but as soon as he did the shorter man had bridged the gap between them and swung his arm around to pat Julian on the shoulder. He laughed as he did so, finding the humor to attempt to stifle Julian's words. But instead of stifling his words, Rickard managed to banish them entirely. Unintentionally, Rickard had hit his injured shoulder and unexpected pain made Julian stutter to a stop. He let loose a sharp breath and the pan in his hand cluttered into the fire, sliding down the burning wood to the rim of the fire pit.
Rickard felt the tense reaction and jumped back immediately, realizing he had brought on the action. His eyes became almost comically wide as Julian attempted to compose himself.
"Chief?" Rickard questioned, his joking tone suddenly absent. At Rickard's tone, Lena's own eyes darted up to Julian, and the red head noticed how she shifted to stand. A look of apparent worry filled her eyes.
"Jillian, are you alright?" The thief nodded, instinctively, and took a step back from the fire.
Julian slumped down onto one of the mats on the ground and heaved loudly to try and breathe through the sudden throe of agony. Before, when he had slammed the shoulder into the wall, he had managed to avoid direct contact with the injury, but the careless slap of Rickard's hand had caused the pain he had received from the original wound to flare up.
"Julian?" Lena was beside him, leaning close to him her strawberry red hair so close that it brushed against his uninjured shoulder. He hadn't noticed her move over to him, but her sudden closeness, which was usually only pleasant, made him nervous because he knew he wouldn't be able to lie to her at face value like he could everyone else. He couldn't. And yet, he would have to try.
"I-I'm ok, Lena." He brushed off with a watery grin, attempting to hide his discomfort. Although, he was using all his inner constraint to not clutch his shoulder.
Lena didn't move, her face tilting slightly as she stared at him unblinking. Her brown eyes flickered between concern and confusion. Julian watched as her lips turned into a thin line, as she searched him with her gaze. He didn't like her scrutiny, but he allowed it as he tried to give her no hint of where he was injured. If she couldn't find it, she wouldn't press it. He knew she wouldn't.
Rickard hovered in the background, silent, as Lena looked him over. Her gaze ended on his left shoulder though and it lingered there for a few moments. And as her features tensed, Julian knew he had been discovered. Her words only sealed the deal.
"No, no you're not. Julian, please let me look at it." She had him cornered him like a rat in a trap. It would be effort to deny it any longer, but the disappointment from Lena was too much to handle. And it was worth a fight still.
Julian put up his hands, defensively. "No, really. It's ok. It's not that bad." Rickard, who had been a curious spectator suddenly lit up with understanding from behind Lena.
"Oh, Chief! You're hurt?" Julian sent the nastiest glare he could spare at the blue hair thief and did not say anything. He turned back to Lena.
"Really, it's fine." Her expression darkened at his words, and she leaned away from him for a moment.
"Julian, you will tell me how you are hurt, so I can help you." Her tone was abrasive, and he could hear the irritation (the first he'd ever heard) in her voice, but it was gone as quickly as it had come on. And just as he feared, he watched as tears came to the edge of her eye lids and her entire visage turned sad. "Please."
Julian would have ripped off his shirt and tossed it to the wind if he thought that would have cheered her. However, he knew that would not be the case and instead nodded, slowly, and brought his hands up to the buttons on his shirt. After only a moment, the sandy colored shirt was discarded to the ground next of him, his favorite white scarf placed on top of it a second later, leaving his chest and back completely bare.
Not a speck of red could be seen on him, Julian had ensured that when he had wrapped the wound. All that was visible against his flesh was the white of the bandages he had swiped from Maria's supplies after the battle. By the time he had gotten the supplies, it had stopped bleeding heavily, so it had been easier to conceal.
Lena looked down at his self-applied bandages with concern and delicately placed a hand on his bandaged shoulder. Her fingers gently probed the edge of the white cotton material and peeled it back, attempting not to jar him. However, the wound had sluggishly bled onto the bandage and dried, so as she peeled dried blood from his shoulder she pulled at the torn skin that remained. He let out a hiss of pain, but Lena did not stop removing the bandage.
"Julian…" She whispered, lowly, the second she had fully removed the bandages. The injury itself was, at worst, a flesh wound; however, it didn't make the wound look any less painful. The cut had been a fine slice below the back of his neck to his right underarm and was a congealed mess of torn flesh caked with dried blood and dirt. Julian knew it looked ghastly, he did. But it really wasn't as bad as it appeared, and he would make case for that.
"It's not so bad, Lena. I swear." He pledged as she continued to stare at his back. She didn't flinch at the sight of it, but her eyes remained sad. Rickard crept in from behind and also got a good peek and whistled lowly.
"Wow, Chief. That's a pretty nasty wound. Who'd you manage that?" Seemingly over the shock from Julian's injury, Rickard hovered closely as Lena analyzed the wound. Julian only gave a short glare at Rickard before continuing to plea with his healer.
"Really, Lena. There's no need t-" He began again, trying to convince her that he was as fine as he could be. But, before he could finish, the cleric cut him off.
"Julian." It couldn't have been louder than a whisper, but at her proximity he could hear her clearly. Her tone was quiet, scarcely there, but intense nonetheless. The way she said his name so simply, almost pleading, shut him up faster than anything else could. "Please, stop talking."
His first instinct was to question her- to rebuttal. He had never been good at taking orders- one of the perks of being a thief because rarely in life did he have to listen to anyone. Yes, sometimes he would oblige to the instruction of the other Soothsires', but it had been to receive a profit. There had no greater motive than that. So, naturally, his mind began creating a witty comeback or a wise crack to contribute to the situation. But, at the sight of Lena, with her usually warm and kind face so downtrodden and sullen, he kept his mouth shut.
Lena leaned closer to his shoulder, so close that he could feel her light breaths on the back of his neck. Her nose was only about an inch or two away from the cut, and even it if she was only searching his wound, he did not like the sudden scrutiny she had on his body. He wasn't shy or anything, but her gaze was focused to the degree that she was almost like a swords master inspecting her blade for imperfection before battle.
He fidgeted under the stare, until she unexpectedly pulled herself to her feet. Her face wasn't aggressive, Lena could never manage that, but a look of disappointment decorated her features. "Stay still, I'll be right back with a healing rod." And with that, she turned her heel and rushed off to her tent.
She wouldn't be gone long, not with him sitting like this, but Rickard didn't seem to care that his window of opportunity was small. "Awww, I think you ticked her off, Chief."
Julian swiftly turned a glare toward Rickard. "Really, you kick an injured man while he's down? Surely your mother must have taught you better." It was a joke, but Julian knew he was casting a low blow at the younger thief. He didn't know much about Rickard's past, but the little he did know was valuable, and more often than not, vulnerable.
Rickard's smile wavered for a second; however, it did not slip into a frown. The mask never dropped from the blue haired man. "I'm afraid she didn't have time to teach me that when she was trying to sell me for pocket money."
Rickard moved to sit back down next to Julian and they faced each other. The sly grin still remained on the younger man's face, so Julian knew that the subject would be changed. Rickard never seriously talked about his old life with anything akin to a smile on his face. "Don't change the subject though, Chief. You never did explain how you got that." He gave a flourishing gesture towards Julian's bare back with a flick of the hand. "Your princess doesn't seem pleased that you hid it, so you must be trying to cover something up."
Julian straightened up a little, and cast a look to Ogma across from them. The mercenary didn't seem to take much note in their position aside from a side glance at Julian's shoulder. It was true that the Mercenary didn't have much love for Rickard, but the same was also true for Julian. It seemed thieves had little place in his heart.
Ogma's disinterest was a good thing though, seeing as Julian didn't want to broadcast his injury to the entire encampment. The red head turned back to Rickard. "I'm not covering up anything."
Rickard rolled his eyes. "Suuureee you aren't..." There was only a minimal chance Rickard was just going to let this go. And to dissuade the possibility of rumors, there would be no other choice but to come clean.
"Look, it was just an accident, ok? Sometimes the other side gets a lucky shot when you're fighting in a battle." Julian emphasized his final word. Injuries happened in war, he wasn't dead so there was no point in chatting about it. However, Rickard was difficult to dissuade.
"But, Chief, that's a pretty nasty cut. I can't believe you got that from a one-one sword fight. What happened, did a paladin plow through you or sumthin'?
Even with the teasing mannerisms, the question did retain legitimacy. During the battle, many of the enemy's cavilers had managed their way into the fortress and had caused great injury to the Altean side. If it hadn't been for their archers, who managed to counteract the horsemen, they would have lost many good soldiers. Julian hadn't been aware that Rickard had been inside the fortress because he hadn't been ordered to be there, but it wasn't really a surprise. Rickard wasn't very competent in combat and had probably found his own way around the battle.
Julian sighed and leaned back a little, careful not to move his shoulder. "No, I managed to avoid most of that. The same way you did, I suspect."
Rickard cocked his head. "Well, then what stuck you up then?"
"Snuck into a back storage room and got a little overconfident. An enemy swords man nicked me from behind." Rickard snorted at that, and Julian's frown only deepened as he traced a light scar on his bare forearm, intentionally looking away from Rickard for a moment. The brat couldn't even fake sympathy and it was obnoxious.
"Well, I'm sure you showed him." Rickard smiled, while Julian refused to say anything. The younger thief unexpectedly leaned in towards him, their shoulder's managing to almost touch. The almost brushing of shoulder's had a lightning effect on Julian. In an attempt to remove Rickard from his personal space, he shot to the side and onto the mat Lena had previously been sitting. Rickard let out a girlish laugh at the reaction.
"Ha, I hope you at least got something from the stores of some use!" Julian scowled, and Rickard only became more amused as he assumed an answer. "You did, didn't you?"
Julian was not in the best mood already with having Lena catch him red handed in a comforting lie, but the mockery against his character was only adding fuel to the fire. And with the sting of a wound, both mentally and psychically, the red headed thief felt his insides churn in frustrated outrage. The sensation was instantaneous and felt as if someone had pressed a firm hand on his wound, coiling painful adrenaline. The brat could accuse him of many things- lying, cheating, or even falling for an angel like Lena- but accusing him of not knowing how to do his job… it was insulting, even to what little honor a thief held.
Julian's brow thickened and his lips turned into a fine, barely visible, sneer. His usual nonchalant gaze darkened towards Rickard. "Of course, I did." He provided a loud huff of aggravation as his words continued to spill out. "I always get the job done, you know that. Get the job done, no matter what the consequences, right? That's how we thieves live- we do exactly what we're paid to do. So no worries, I would never let the youngling prince down, even if everyone in this encampment would just rather have me serve my own head up on a silver platter to the enemy and save them the trouble of sharping their own swords." Julian stopped for a moment, his gaze distracted in his venting, but he refocused back on Rickard. The other thief seemed amused by his words; however, his eyes flittered to Julian and then to the space behind his back. Julian's anger ran cold.
He turned around, hesitantly, to see the sight he dreaded- Lena. She appeared as he saw her before still dressed in her full cleric garb, although, a Mend staff was loosely held in her hands. Her features though went through a sweep of emotions right before his very eyes. At first, he could see the initial pity that he always expected to see out of her. She loved everything, and everyone, and if she saw a person struggling with any kind of misfortune she'd willingly give them all her sympathy. So the pity was expected, what followed though was peculiar. Her features darkened and her mouth twitched into a frown, and although Julian couldn't see it, Lena's aura changed to a prickly sort of emotion- one he certainly didn't want to approach.
"Julian!" She exclaimed her voice not loud, but held certain a high pitch that made him cringe.
Great, she'd mad I insulted the Princeling, isn't she? Damn. Julian thought to himself, troubled, as he tried to reason Lena's sudden anger towards him. He brought his hands up in front of his chest, defensively.
"Lena, wha-" He began, trying to make her calm down and apologize profusely for saying any sort of aggressive words about the Altea's young leader. However, the usually meek Lena interrupted him with a firm voice.
"Julian, how could you say such a horrible thing?! You're not just a thief here. You have helped the entire nation be free of evil. How could you insinuate what you've done has been so unimportant!? And, think yourself so evil for doing it that every man in the camp would want to cut you down… Why, Julian?" She questioned, appalled, at his reasoning. But any attempt to rebuttal her were stalled as Julian realized her source of anger was not at the insult he'd thrown out about his 'comrades'. No, she was mad because he had been insulting himself.
Julian expression remained in a shocked stupor as his mouth unhinged and, without his consent, dropped open. Only a moment later, when he recovered some semblance of wit, he tried to talk himself out of it with a half-lame smile and an insecure joke. "But that's what we thieves are, we're the bad guys."
Lena's flustered questions ceased at his attempt to jest and her words became quite enough that he was pretty confident not even the nosey Rickard could hear. "Then, you are no true thief, Julian." He was left at a loss for words as Lena's face tipped down and became covered by the white hood she wore. She stepped close, her hands brushing his shoulder as the staff suddenly resumed importance. "Now let me fix your wound."
Right, the wound, he'd forgotten. He leaned forward and averted his eyes to the ground. Lena's staff shone a bright blue as she waved it slowly over his wound. The gash tingled slightly and he forced himself not to shift during the procedure.
Rickard stood, looking amused at Julian's trodden persona. And even though he didn't deserve the smug expression from the other man, he said nothing.
A few years ago he would never have allowed a woman to speak so harshly to him. A few years ago no woman would have ever made him feel anything, or, at least not like how Lena did. Now he felt some semblance of shame at his words, but only because Lena seemed to make him care. He wasn't sure if that was a bad or a good thing anymore.
Lena slowly shifted the staff up and down his shoulder, allowing the rod to heal the puncture completely. And as she did this, Rickard seemed to decide that the sudden silence was excessive. And seeing as Ogma had moved away, unnoticed sometime during their conversation, the little blue haired man had no one else to bother. Well, except Navarre.
"So, you didn't answer the question. What did ya get~?" Julian looked up at Rickard without a scowl this time, but he shook his head at the ill-timed question and took a long breath.
"Silver weapons are useful." Julian replied, defensively, knowing Rickard would continue to be a nuisance if he gave him a truthful answer.
"But, Chief, we have tons of those in the convoy." He paused for a moment when Rickard noticed Julian didn't seem keen on answering the question straightforwardly. "Could you at least use it?"
Julian grimaced as he felt the staff begin to stitch skin back together. It wasn't particularly painful, but it prickled like small individual needles puncturing his skin. His features smoothed out a moment later though as the sensation vanished and he blinked realizing Rickard had asked another question.
"Well, we don't have many silver lances." Rickard cocked his head to the side, making the simple act annoying to witness.
"But you can't use a lance." Julian glared as the staff's light began to fade and the scarring from the wound vanished.
"Yes I can." Julian rebuffed, confidently. Rickard shook his head.
"No, you can't. I've seen you handle an axe before, Chief!" He glanced to Lena, who wasn't looking at him, but he made a side comment in her direction anyway. "Trust me, it is not a pleasant sight. I can only imagine what he'd do with a lance."
Lena ignored Rickard's comment and eyed Julian's back, inspecting her work. After a breathless moment, she nodded and moved away. "I'm finished. There's no visible scaring." She fingered her staff as his eyes drifted to the ground. "Here," She leaned over and picked up Julian's discarded shirt from the ground and placed it into his lap. "You can put that back on." She didn't seem as angry before, but Julian had never seen Lena so indifferent towards him except for their first encounter. But, he couldn't fault her for that, seeing as he had tried to be a wiseass when she had been locked up in the Samsooth's mountains.
She picked herself up and swiftly dusted off the hem of her dress. She eyed both Rickard and Julian, not coldly, but with purposeful avoidance. "I'll see you two later." She turned her heal towards her tent once again.
Julian knew now was the moment he should say something- apologize, beg forgiveness, explain himself. Something. Anything. He shouldn't just let her walk away, not when she was so openly disappointed in him. Somehow, he had managed ruin the little respect that Lena held for him, and he couldn't let that continue. Otherwise, she would stop caring about him- as she should. But something about Lena leaving made him feel fear that not even battle brought on.
"Lena, wait," He managed weakly, realizing that she had already gone too far to call back to him easily. Now he had to choose whether to follow after her, but he suddenly felt a nervous weight in his legs that wouldn't let him rise.
Rickard strolled forward, unaffected, and looked to the direction Lena had gone off. He gave a low appreciate whistle. "Wow, Chief. You really pissed her off."
Julian wanted to glare at the other thief, but his words only left a sense of defeat within him that he couldn't shrug off. "Apparently."
There was a moment of silence between the two as Julian looked to the discarded shirt in his lap as though it were Lena's final parting gift to him. He picked it up tenderly and slipped it on over his head, relaxing easier now that his shoulder no longer ached.
"You really fell hard for her, didn't you, Chief?" Julian almost jumped in surprise at quiet words from the other man. He wore a smile still, but the quality of it seemed much more genuine than before. The suddenness of the question, that sounded more like an affirmative statement to Julian, caught him off guard and he didn't answer. The lack of response, for once, didn't seem to bother Rickard though.
"Will you go with her, after tomorrow?" Julian swallowed hard, but this time, he did know his answer.
"Yes, if she'll allow me." Rickard regained his cocky smile, produced a loud sigh, and threw his hands in the air as a sign of surrender. The motion seemed a strange response to Julian, who only lifted an eyebrow in question. "What?"
"Oh, nothing, I just realized another honorable thief has given up his ways of debauchery because he's found his true love. Now I'll have no one to share in my spoils from this war that Prince Marth has promised me." He paused, for effect, and added a mischievous wink. "Or, at least, he might as well have promised me."
Julian looked up at Rickard, owlishly, before the joke set in. Julian laughed.