In which Henry makes Maribelle's job five times more difficult for no apparent reason. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem

At this point, Maribelle decided privately, she would have preferred almost any other patient to the bothersome dark mage who sat before her in the medical tent. Even Gaius, who nearly always demanded a candy reward after having his wounds treated. Or Lon'qu—the worst thing he would do was brandish a sword and growl if she stood closer than ten paces from him.

She held her parasol in a tight-fisted grip—she was fairly certain that keeping her hands occupied was the only thing preventing her from strangling the target of her annoyed glare. "Might I remind you, Henry, that this is an eye exam?" she began, and then had to force herself to think of something pleasant, because murderous intent was definitely not the sort of emotion that a graceful lady should show on her face, no matter how justified the cause. "And being such, it would be much easier on the both of us if you would actually open your eyes!"

At this, Henry laughed, turned his very-closed-eyed gaze back in her direction, and said, "Oh, come on, my eyes are always open, ha ha!" with an obnoxious amount of cheer.

Maribelle briefly wondered if it was possible to show murderous intent and still be a graceful lady. For her sake, she hoped so. "Open them," she snapped, and prodded the man with the pointy end of her parasol.

"They're open."

"Open them!"

"They're open!"

Maribelle let out a high-pitched little screech of rage and stabbed the parasol forward with extra vengeance. "You, sir, are a maddening, beastly, and uncooperative brute!"

Seemingly unconcerned about the prospect of being skewered by a flowery white parasol, Henry's only response was to arrange his expression into a pout. "Hey, I wouldn't say I'm uncooperative."

"Well, whatever you call it, then." The troubadour gave him one last jab for good measure, and then buried her head in her hands with a deep sigh. Peeking through her fingers, she could see Henry shooting her a quizzical look. "So," the dark mage ventured, "why an eye exam, anyway?"

"Oh, it was Robin's idea, not mine, as you can most likely tell."

"Is everyone else getting checked, too?"

"Only you, thank Naga for that. After yesterday's battle, Robin is concerned that your eyesight might be affecting your ability to aim spells."

For once, the smile had slipped off Henry's face, and he looked terribly offended by this revelation. "What? My aim is fine! I blew up more bad guys than Ricken and Miriel combined!"

"Yes, yes, that's true. But I also recall you accidentally hitting Virion with some sort of ghastly vomiting curse."

"Oh, that's what Robin is worried about?"

The troubadour glared. Her parasol had returned to its death grip between her hands. "Yes. That."

There was a brief pause, then Henry said, "Well, that wasn't bad aiming. I'd just remembered that hex and wanted to try it out, but there weren't any enemies within range yet. Aha ha ha."

Maribelle saw red, and the parasol clenched in her hands snapped with a splintering crack.

Ricken later found Henry sitting in an unceremonious heap outside the medical tent, giggling through a thick waterfall of blood pouring from his nose. The boy immediately crouched down, biting his lip in concern. "You're… you're bleeding! Here, I've got a vulnerary you can—"

The dark mage laughed, spraying flecks of blood everywhere. "I'm fine, I'm fine! Maribelle just hit me with Nosferatu."

"She hit you with…" Ricken knit his eyebrows together in obvious confusion. "Wait, how can that be? I didn't think troubadours were trained to use tomes, let alone dark magic spells like Nosferatu…"

"Oh, they're not," Henry said cheerfully. "She just chucked the book at my face!"