Another chance.
--
"Why don'tcha like men, Heather?"
She was afraid this question would come up eventually. Heather always wondered when it would rear its ugly face since she joined in all this mercenary fun.
Nephenee tilted her head to one side and waited for an answer as she sat across the blonde woman, the wooden chair she sat in creaked from the movement.
"'cuz, ya know, I don't really swing the way you-"
Heather wore a disgusted face and threw her hands on the table. "Eww, I don't swing that way! …Sheesh, where do you idiots get these ideas?"
Nephenee giggled before saying, "Alrighty. But then, why do ya dislike 'em?"
"Well, for a few reasons…" The blonde replied.
"Like…?"
"Um, they're unclean, and rude, and… masculine."
Nephenee gave her an odd look.
"Well… I just, um…" Heather wasn't sure what to tell the other woman, not wanting to sound awkward. "I had a bad experience…"
Nephenee's eyes shined with curiosity, slightly fading into worry. "What happened? Are ya alright?"
Heather waved a hand, assuring her friend. "No, no, it's okay. It's all in the past. I'm over it now." She smiled weakly, but she knew Nephenee was perceiving her actions to be selfish.
"Heather, ya don't have ta be like that. Just tell me. It might make ya feel right better."
Heather looked down at her hands folded over her lap in the creaky wooden chair, thinking slowly.
"I'd rather not talk about it. Sorry, Neph." The air in the tent fell with an awkward silence; neither of the two women spoke any more. But Nephenee could not help but wonder what had happened. But if it hurts her friend to say it, then she wouldn't bring it up anymore.
Finally the silence was ended with the bustle and preparations of battle outside the tent. Armored suits clacking, swords and spears being knocked over by clumsy soldiers (usually Makalov), and the horses' neighs as their owners mounted them.
Suddenly, the tent flap opened to reveal the troop's tactician. Nephenee recognized him and stood up from her chair, it creaked loudly; causing Heather to snap back into reality.
Heather saw the dark haired man, she had seen him before, but they never spoke much except for when he needed to discuss the battle plan with her. She hadn't even caught his name… What was it?
"It's time to head out. Heather, you're in the back with Mist. Nephenee, find Ike and stay by him."
Nephenee nodded to Soren before picking up her lance that sat by her chair.
"See ya around, Heather." With that, she left the tent, leaving Heather alone with the mage. Heather glanced at him as he turned to leave; his robes slapped the air with each step he took.
"Um, excuse me." Heather said, trying her best to sound comfortable around him. While clearly she was not.
Soren turned ever slightly back at her, waiting for her to continue.
"Am I so weak that I am forced to the back of the group?" she asked.
"…No. While the others clear the area, you will stay behind and open chests." With that, Soren walked out of the tent.
Heather stared, the thing was- men never really listened to her. She felt as though everything she ever said to any man just swiftly crawled through one ear and out the other. It was frustrating. This is why she did not like men.
But there was more than one reason…
-x-
The sun was high in the sky; it would have been rather hot if not for the grey clouds over casting the great light in the heavens.
Heather twirled her knife around her fingers, bored. There weren't many chests to open, and the one she did open only had a useless item in it.
She sighed, wishing she could just get this over with. She only joined this rag-tag team of do-gooders so she could raise money for her ailing mother back home.
Her mother… She had been ill since she was very young. Heather remembers her mother being ill ever since she began to hate the male race.
That was the reason. Heather hated thinking about the one man that she hated the most, that one piece of filth on the earth that caused her hatred of all men in existence.
"Heather?" a voice came. It snapped the blonde out of her thoughts and back onto the battlefield; she looked at the girl the voice had come from. This girl with the rusty-amber hair…
"…Mist, was it?" Heather asked.
"Yeah, that's me." Mist smiled brightly. "Sorry if I startled you… You just looked so deep in thought. Ike says to stay focused."
"Oh…right. I'm sorry about that, I'll pay more attention." Heather smiled at the younger girl.
"Alright, good. My father would be disappointed to see that Ike hired a slacker. Haha."
Heather clenched a fist without thinking.
Mist looked worried. "Heather?"
Heather started walking, ignoring the girl. "… Please don't mention that word around me again, sweetie."
"Word? …what word?" Mist appeared baffled, starting to follow the blonde. She didn't do anything wrong, did she?
Heather stopped in her tracks, as did Mist. "… It must be nice to have a father that loved you."
Mist could hardly hear what the blonde whispered, but she could tell that it hurt Heather to talk about it. "… You don't have a father, Heather?"
Heather tried her best to stay composed, but her emotions were hanging on by a thread; moments away from falling apart.
"My father left when I was young… All I remember about him is all the cruel things he would say to my mother's face, or the times he came home late at night after drinking barrelfuls at the nearby tavern…"
Mist fiddled with the bottom of her skirt self-consciously. "I'm sorry..."
Heather wiped a tear from her eye and smiled. "It's alright. It's in the past… But I just can't help but think all men are the same."
Mist shook her head. "They aren't, though."
Heather gave her an odd look.
"Some of them just don't know how to treat a girl. But…Ike, he's my brother. And I love him because he is always there when I am sad, or when I'm in trouble."
The rusty-haired girl looked around the battlefield to find Ike and smiled.
"And then there's Rolf, he is always there to support me when I need it as well."
Heather sighed. "I have no such luck… I once met a guy, he was nice at first. But… then he turned and stole my money from me…"
Mist looked at her to go on.
"Men; you just cannot trust them." Heather found another chest and began to pick the lock as Mist watched her.
"But… Wait. So you're saying you will never like men again?"
"Yes. Who needs them, anyway?" she found a bag of coins in the chest and held it up high proudly. "Not me. Not when I can have female friends that won't ever betray me, and money that will keep my life supported."
Mist scowled now, becoming frustrated that the blonde wouldn't listen to her reasoning.
"Someday Heather, you will need a man by your side. You will want a man by your side."
Heather stomped a foot in the ground. "And what would you know? You're awfully young to be giving a grown woman love advice!"
With that Mist scowled even more and stomped away. Heather didn't care, either way. She didn't need a teenage girl to tell her what to do; she was capable of taking care of herself.
But she couldn't help but shed a tear at the thoughts of her childhood. Mist only reminded her of the childhood that she did not have, a childhood she wished she had.
-x-
A very young looking Heather came into the room, following soft whimpers from the other side of the house.
"…Momma?"
She found her mother sitting on the floor in front of the doorway, sobbing softly over a pile of broken glass.
Heather curiously peered at the floor and recognized the glass from a vase the family was keeping their savings in, but she did not see any of the coins that were housed in it before the destruction.
The older woman looked up, her eyes red and swollen with tears, and found her young child in the doorway.
"I'm sorry, Heather…" she sobbed.
Heather appeared confused, not leaving the threshold. What had happened, where was her father?
"Your father…Has left us, Heather. I'm so, so sorry…"
Heather took a step back, hiding half of her small body behind the doorway's wall.
"Father is… Gone?" her small voice squeaked.
Heather's father had never come back from the tavern last night; Heather fell asleep before knowing he had returned.
Judging by the bruises on her mother's face, he must have returned before morning, drunk and angry. And then left, never to return … With all of their funds.
Her mother began to have a coughing spell in between her sobs; Heather winced at the sound of her mother's suffering.
She had a chronic disease since she was a child, and her husband never ceased to abuse her for it.
It was a terrible sight for such a young child to watch every day, but Heather was forced to live this life.
"… D-don't worry, momma." The small blonde began to say, "I-I'll take good care of you. A-and I'll find us money. Don't worry…" she began to shed a tear before leaping into her mother's arms.
"Oh, my baby. I'm sorry…" her mother embraced her with warm, loving care. Nothing her father would have ever given. No, nothing any man would ever have given her.
From then on, Heather thought all men were cruel, abusive, drunken, knaves.
Would she ever be proven wrong…?
-x-
The battle was over, and Heather barely had anything to do. Usually she would find Nephenee, Mia or Ilyana to talk to, but she wasn't in the mood.
Heather felt alone, actually. Like the cold coins in her hand would be the only friend she ever had. She shook her hand and stirred the coins making them clang together in a symphony of sorrow in the empty air she stood in.
"Lonely?" Heather snapped around from behind her to find the voice that spoke.
She found a tall, dark haired man who wore a bandana over his face standing there.
Heather stared. He wasn't all too hard on the eyes, and he had a mysterious look about him that just made Heather curious.
But she would never admit to that feeling. So she scoffed and said, "Can I help you?"
The man smirked, or at least Heather thought he did. It was hard to tell with that bandana over his face.
"No. Just wondering if you had room for another over here."
"What of it?" Heather raised a brow. "I don't want anything to do with you…"
"Well, I just wanted to see this 'pretty female thief' I heard so much about."
Heather's eyes widened as she felt her face warm, she knew it had probably turned a shade of pink. How embarrassing…
"S-someone told you about me?" she said, brushing some of her long hair into her face to hide the blush.
The man smirked again before saying, "Five thousand."
"Five… Thousand?" she blinked in confusion.
"I'll tell you, but at the price of five thousand gold."
Heather chuckled. "Ha, I'm not going to give you a cent. Maybe whoever told you about me forgot a minor detail; I don't like men."
"Really? That's too bad."
Heather blinked again. "W-what?"
"I happen to like you're attitude, Heather." He pulled his bandana off his face. Heather didn't recognize him, but he did look appealing, she noted. If she liked men.
"I-I… um…" for some reason, she found herself almost speechless. "J-just who d-do you think you are!?"
"My name is Volke."
Heather almost darted off to leave until he continued,
"I'm sorry about what happened. When you were young, I mean."
How? How in the world would he know about that?
"Why the hell do you know about my past?!" Heather demanded.
"I did a background check. I always do with all the new recruits that show up. Can't let any traitors in now, can we?" he smirked again. It would have been charming if she weren't so mad.
"It's none of your business." She said coldly. "And I don't need a man's sympathy."
"I said I was sorry. But I don't think you should hold a grudge."
Heather had to let that comment process through her mind for a moment before responding. "And why not? I have every reason to-"
"Not all men are the same, Heather. And for your information, women can be just as cruel."
"Excuse me?" Heather was getting furious. "Women are the perfect species of human! We are clean, polite, and far more intelligent than men!"
"…Has anyone told you," Volke began, getting closer to the blonde. "That you have very closed mind?"
"No, but that's not the-"
"The point is- Maybe you just need to give yourself another chance." He turned away, starting to leave her again in the cold, lonely void she lived in. Heather couldn't help it. That was probably the longest conversation she ever held with a man, and for some reason… She felt happy to have spoken with him, even if it meant reviewing her past.
She almost shed a tear watching him leave again, leaving her alone with the cold coins in her hand.
And then he turned back. "…By the way," he started.
"Y-yeah?" she called back, wiping the tear from her eye, in fear he would see them.
"This conversation… Will cost you a fee of ten thousand."
Heather almost burst into fury, but instead laughed.
"Of course." She threw her satchel of coins his way, and he caught if effortlessly. "I don't need them anymore, anyway."
She saw him smirk one more time before he left off into the distance back to camp.
Heather couldn't help but smile; he was kind and did not hit or raise his voice to her. Sure, he robbed her of her money, but it was worth it now in her mind. Those coins only made her feel emptier. But now she would remember to give life a second chance. No… To give men a second chance.
And possibly start with Volke, he was good looking and he was the one that gave her this hope in the first place.
The End.
A/N: I do hope you enjoyed this and hope you leave a review, it'd mean a whole lot to me. :)