She was standing with her back to him, a gentle breeze playing with her soft looking hair. It was rather picturesque, if he thought so himself, and lonely.

"Yo." Guts greeted.

He joined her on the secluded breezeway as it overlooked the castle garden. How did he get there? Well, after training for a few hours he got bored. Nobody had any time for him right now what with the wedding preparations and all, so he had been wandering the grounds for a little while. Guts realized he hadn't really had a chance to talk to Casca since he got back; she was the only one he hadn't caught up with.

"How Eloquent." She said sharply, sending a glare his way.

Great, Casca was in one of her moods. He wondered if it were her time of the… the look on her face stopped him from even finishing those thoughts. She would probably be able to smell what he was thinking and then focus even more of her anger on him.

She then sighed as she realized what she'd said. Her shoulders sagged a bit. Casca then went back to looking at whatever she had been studying before he interrupted her.

"I'm sorry," She said, "I'm just a little stressed."

Not saying anything, Guts walked up to the railing next to Casca and followed her gaze to the subject, or rather subjects of her attention.

The Princess Charlotte, accompanied by her fiance Griffith. They were in the gardens, arm in arm, casually talking. Even from this distance one could tell they seemed to be in their own little world despite the many chaperones surrounding them.

Charlotte was in love with Griffith, Casca was in love with Griffith, hell, half the court was in love with Griffith, and Guts wished it were just the women. And while some, the Princess included, believed Griffith was motivated by love, most with half a brain figured he just wanted to be king one day, and as far as Guts knew the latter were right. It was and honest to God miracle that the engagement had even happened in the first place, and foul play seemed to be in effect at least partially. Some were angry that a man of such low birth was going to be their ruler, but others were impressed that such a brilliant man made it. They knew if his ambitions included helping the kingdom prosper surely he would be able to do it. Classic Griffith.

Looking back at Casca, Guts was struck with realization. He sighed and started, "You have to understa-"

"I know, okay?" She interrupted, "She is the only way to fulfil his dream without breaking this peace, and he is probably fulfilling her dream of being swept away by a knight in shining armor."

Guts was confused, what would a princess want with a lowly knight? He tried to hide his puzzlement, but Casca saw through the facade.

"I always forget you never had a childhood," She said, "There's a lot of fairy tales that talk of heroic princes and knights that rescues the damsel in distress from the evil monster. Most little girls dream of such things, even real princesses it seems." She looked down at her hands resting on the railing, "I'm happy for them, really I am."

The venom in her persona earlier had faded away to a tired, defeated demeanor. Emotion thickened her voice, "I just- just-"

She wasn't going to cry, was she? Guts didn't know how to help if she started crying. Casca's voice broke him out of his inner turmoil, "It's just," She choked out, "I realized I never had a chance to begin with." Tears started welling in her eyes, "Not in a million years, Not with the stars aligned." A single tear trace down her cheek, "I thought I could be satisfied with being his sword, but I can't even be that anymore. He's just soaring so far out of reach. It was the dream of a stupid woman and I woke up."

She wobbled a bit, and with her so close to railing it made him a little nervous. There was a sizable drop, and it wasn't like there was a river under this fall too. Gently as he could, Guts grasped her shoulders and lead her away from the edge to a bench. She all but collapsed on him as soon as they sat down.

"You two," She choked out, the sobs starting, "Always go on and- and on about your dreams, so you should understand."

Guts awkwardly put his arms around her as she cried in earnest. He didn't say anything; he didn't know what to say. Casca's sobs were muffled by his chest and her tears soaked through his shirt. It was strange to see Casca in such a state, it was a side she trusted few people with. So fragile, so open.

If not for the reason he was holding her and the fact she was crying, the situation would have been pretty great. She was a woman, a pretty one to say the least, and she felt small, almost delicate if not for her muscles. He wondered how she would take that if he told her. Probably as an insult, but Guts didn't mean it that way. He didn't exactly know how he meant it, but it was definitely a good thing.

At least, unlike when they first met, she stopped hating him so much. In fact if Judeau was to be believed, hatred was on the opposite of she felt for him. While he trusted Judeau on many things, Guts wasn't so sure.

Guts didn't know how much time passed before the crying finally stopped, and as much as he had wanted her to, once she did he would lose the excuse to hold her. And Guts found he liked her in his arms very much. It felt as right as a sword in his hand, and yet completely different as well.

The sobs eventually turned into sniffles, that eventually stopped all together. She didn't move from where she was sitting which was practically his lap. Guts wasn't complaining.

Casca's voice was still raw from crying when she started apologising, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine." He said, cutting her off. She loosened her embrace and Guts did the the same, allowing her to grab an embroidered tissue from her pocket. She wiped the tears from her eyes and blew her nose.

Quietly he asked, "Do you now know why I had to leave?"

"Maybe." Her voice was small.

Casca crumpled the tissue, which upon closer inspection had the symbol of the Band of the Hawk embroidered on it. As she was putting it back in her pocket, Guts asked in jest, "We have personalized snot rags, eh? A lot has changed since I left."

Casca looked confused until she saw the sigil. "Oh, actually the princess made this one. Earlier she invited me to join her in embroidery. I couldn't exactly refuse…" her voice trailed off as her thoughts drifted back briefly, "I couldn't think of a way to explain I haven't sewed for fun since before I left home. She tried to teach me, but…"

He smiled gently, "The famed lady commander of the hawks, master of the sword and war is bested by a needle." He laughed lightly, "I'd believe that from the way you patch me up."

She rolled her eyes, "Like you can do better."

"I don't need to, I'm not a woman."

She punched him, almost playfully, a hint of a smile on her lips.

After a thought crossed his mind he asked, "Can I see it?"

"What?"

"The one you made"

"Oh," She rummaged around her pocket, "Sure."

She pulled out a square of fabric identical to the first one except for the sigil on it. This one was messy, barely recognizable except for the color and general shape. The stitches were uneven and there were stains that looked suspiciously like blood. There were places where the stitches had been obviously taken out and redone possibly multiple times. But Casca had made it. She had created this.

Guts couldn't remember if he had ever made anything for the purpose of making it. No, maybe for the purpose of killing, but not art.

Seeing the smile on his face, a smile he hadn't realized was there still, Casca said, "Look I already know it's bad, so no need to tease me."

"No, I really like it." Guts said sincerely.

Casca narrowed her eyes in skepticism. "Really?"

"Really."

"Well," she said, "If you like it so much, why don't you keep it."

"Okay."

Guts put the cloth in his pocket. Casca wasn't expecting that.

"What, are you going to show that to the guys or something?" Why was it hard to accept he liked her- something of hers? It's not like he ever mocked her, in fact Guts respected Casca a great deal. It was her that was always cold in the past. That was how he remembered it at least.

He answered her question with a look and she grew quiet.

"I'm sorry, that's not fair of me." She said, the fragility returning to her voice, "Here you were comforting me in my selfishness and I don't even have the decency to thank you."

"Nothing to thank." He responded.

Casca stood up and saw the dark tear spots on his shirt. Their eyes met and Guts thought of something, "The next time I go, I - um," he wasn't blushing but he could feel his face and neck heating up, "Two people looking for a dream will probably have a better chance than one."

She looked at him oddly and smiled shyly.

"Thank you." Casca said quietly, and then flashing a look of determination quickly swept in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She then effectively ran away as dignified as she could, his eyes following her retreat until she turned the corner and was out of sight.

He stood up and turned back toward the balcony. Griffith was still talking to the princess, she seemed to be enraptured in his words. Although it hurt now, Casca was strong and had sense to her, this would all work out for the best. Or was he just thinking that because she had kissed him? Either way, the future was full of opportunity.

Turning the opposite way Casca went, Guts continued his stroll down the breezeway.