Even ridiculously exuberant, axe-swinging seeq pirate kings have bad days.

Doesn't mean it's not rough to watch your husband go through them, though.

"I'd like you to stay behind this time, love," Qrrog said to me as he threw his fur cape over his shoulders to look more official.

"Oh—okay," I said as I handed him his horned helmet. When your combat class is Viking, and you're on official pirate king business, you gotta look the part. I know, a Viking pirate—it's weird Ivalice semantics. But none can deny that it pretty much makes him sound twice as cool. "Are you sure you don't want me to help?" I couldn't resist adding. "Ever since Hesketh and I figured out that inner-ear spell, seasickness hasn't been a problem for me anymore." Best spell ever invented.

"Aye, and I'm glad fer that," Qrrog said, leaning toward the mirror and carefully adjusting his helmet to find the maximum awesomeness angle. "But I'm dealin' with some tough folk this time around. They're merchants from up north, close to Archades, and from all accounts they're not pleasant." He sighed, his broad shoulders sagging and tail drooping. "You know the type—out fer money at whatever cost, always with that look on their face like they're silently judgin' ye…"

He looked back over his shoulder at me with a roguish grin. "On top of everythin' else, I'd hate to have to deck 'em every time they criticized me wife."

I chuckled. "Ah, I guess that's a fair point," I said. "You know how people like that wear me out. Thanks for protecting me from them."

My husband gave my shoulders a squeeze. "Any time, love," he said. Grabbing his trusty battleaxe, he slipped the weapon into its holster at his side. "I'll be back in five days. Will you be okay 'til then?"

As I followed him to the door, I nodded. "I'll sure miss you," I said, "but I'll be looking forward to when you come home."

In the hallway, Qrrog smiled bittersweetly. "So will I," he said.

I could tell that this was not a political visit that he was excited about, and I felt awful for him. Jumping in front of him, I grabbed his hand. "I'll figure out something that will cheer you up when you get back!" I said. "I promise! Then you can forget all about those snobs!"

He looked surprised for a moment, then gave my hand a squeeze in return. "All I could ever ask for is yer company, love," he said. "Don't you worry about it none."

"Okay… I'll try," I said. "But you know how bad I am at not worrying."

With a grin, he patted my head. "That's what I'm here for," he said. "I'll see you soon."

I am bad at not worrying. But sometimes my worries are well-founded. When Qrrog came back, I could tell right away something was wrong. The light in his eyes was dim, and his steps were heavy. Everything about him looked downtrodden, and I didn't think it was just jet lag (er, airship lag?).

I ran to him and caught him up in a big hug. "I'm so glad you're back," I said. "Are you okay?"

For a moment he didn't say anything, just held me and bumped his snout to my head. "I'm exhausted," he said, and the way in which he said it made me want to cry. I hugged him tighter like I could squeeze all of his stress away.

"The business deals fell through," he admitted as we headed inside from where the Juggernaut was docked. "Those louts are impossible to work with—so stubborn and self-centered, they just all want things their way, and don't wanna give quarter to anybody else's needs." He let out a frustrated snort. "It's a blasted shame, because we really could have used their alliance."

"I'm so sorry," I said. "Maybe a better opportunity will come along."

He gave me a faint smile. "Aye, perhaps so. I'm not sure I could've stomached workin' with 'em long-term anyway."

When we got to our room, he put away his axe and helmet and flopped down on the bed. "I'm sorry, love," he said. "I'm actin' downright pathetic. You don't need this."

"Hey, you're allowed to have rough days," I said. "You're allowed to get upset about stuff. You're such a wise, caring person—of course small-mindedness would frustrate you. I feel the same way. I just want to try to cheer you up. After everything you've been through this week, you need lots of attention from your biggest fan." I patted his shoulder. "Now c'mon, let's get you into some comfy clothes. I think that'll help you feel a whole lot better."

I helped Qrrog change from his kingly trappings into more casual fare, and then he vented and I listened, doing my best to sympathize and comfort him. Still, I wished there was something more I could do. He's always so awesome at cheering me up when I get anxious about stuff—I felt like I just had to return the favor now that he was in a low place and needed me to be Super Wife.

Thankfully, we've been married long enough now that I know that he really, really likes food. "Let me make you something in the kitchen," I said once I got him situated, nestled in bed with a good book. "Whatever you want. What are you craving?"

Qrrog scratched his chin. "Ah, well…" Glancing aside, he poked out his tongue a bit while he thought. "I'm really cravin' somethin' sweet, but I don't wanna be too much trouble—"

"No trouble at all," I said confidently. Sure, I don't consider myself the best at desserts, but my husband's happiness was on the line. "What are you in the mood for? Chocolate, fruit, frosting?"

"Fruit sounds good," he said. His eyes lit up. "If—if it's not too much to ask, I'd love a big fruit tart, actually!" He sat up and put down his book to gesture for emphasis. "At the meetin', they had these li'l fancy hors d'oeuvres, and - I probably coulda eaten the whole table, let's be real – but my favorite were the fruit tarts! But I just couldn't get enough of 'em!" He held up his finger and thumb claw about two inches apart with a dismayed look. "That's not even the size of one bite for a seeq! They were gone too soon!"

I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a chuckle. "Ugh, that's the worst," I said. "What's the point of delicious food if you can't enjoy it?" I put my hands on my hips. "Okay—I'm going to make you a fruit tart—an enormous fruit tart! Just sit tight! I'll get started on it right now!"

[LINE BREAK]

I'm determined, not stupid. I knew I was going to need help. So naturally, I went to the garage.

"Winn!" I called as I wandered among various pieces of technology, past a few magitek armor units attached to power cables. "Winn, are you busy?"

"Not particularly, kupo!" came the reply. A moment later, Winnifrith's moogle head popped out from behind a machine, pompom bobbing merrily. "Just doing some tinkering, kupo! Whaddya need?"

"Uhm…" I poked my fingers together. "I… kinda told Qrrog I'd bake him an enormous fruit tart. And you actually know how to bake, so…"

She jumped down from her perch and flew over to me. "Qrrog's back, kupo?"

"Yeah… but it didn't go well," I said. "He's really sad about it."

Winn's ears drooped. "Kupopo… he does need something sweet to cheer him up. Well, let's get to work!" She tossed her spanner onto a table and wiped her hands on the rag tucked into her toolbelt. "You came to the right moogle, kupo!"

Thankfully, she made sure to wash up properly before she got to the kitchen and started working with food. Winn's a natural at baking, and she had a tart recipe all ready to go. She put me in charge of working on the crust while she sliced the fruit, since she's better at presentation than I am. It must be the whole engineer thing—she's great at putting stuff together.

It took a little while to bake, but Winn passed the time by telling me about hers and Vasily's latest projects. Apparently they've been making improvements to her original magitek armor design, and coming up with variations with different capabilities. It all sounded very fun and I'm excited to see what comes of it.

Once the tart came out of the oven, it was my turn to contribute. Although Blizzard spells are known mostly for their effect on the battlefield, they're actually just part of a wider range of temperature-altering magick. It was no problem at all to instantly cool the tart to an edible state. And then we whisked it off to Qrrog to make his day better.

"Beautiful!" he said when he saw it. "You lasses have really outdone yerselves!"

"Well, Winn did most of the work," I said. "But thank you."

"Thanks, kupo!" Winn said, beaming. "Dig in! I want to see how you like it, kupo!"

With an enormous grin, Qrrog lifted a slice and took a big bite. For one moment, he had a huge smile on his face—and then it turned into a bit of a curious expression. He stared at the tart and kept chewing, looking more like he was trying to figure out what he was eating than that he was enjoying it.

My humble smile dropped. "What is it?" I asked.

Winnifrith didn't wait to find out. She snatched up a slice and took a bite, and grimaced. "Kupopo! The crust is kupo salty!" She glowered at me. "Terra! You had one job, kupo!"

I mashed my hand against my face in embarrassment. "Oh no! I must have doubled the salt wrong! But okay, to be fair, three-fourths of a teaspoon is kind of tricky to double!"

Winn lowered her eyelids. "It's one and a half teaspoons, kupo. It's simple math."

Feeling my face heat up, I ducked my head. "Sorry… math has never been my strong suit… Qrrog, I'm sorry. I was trying to make your day better and instead I just kinda added to the list of unfortunate events."

My husband shook his head. "No, no, not at all, love. I appreciate this gesture. What matters to me is that you were tryin' to cheer me up. That means the world to me. Thank you." He paused to take another bite of the tart. "And actually, I was goin' to say, I think it tastes good! The salt really adds a new dimension to the flavor!"

Winn and I stared at him in disbelief for a moment, and then laughed. "Of course, kupo," the moogle said. "You're a seeq—you think everything tastes good."

"Aye, it is a perk," Qrrog said as he munched on the crust. "See, Brighteyes? You cheered me up plenty! I couldn't have asked fer more!"

"Thanks," I said, "but I owe you a better tart."

"Only if you feel like it," Qrrog said. "I like this one just fine, trust me. I'm just sad that I can't share it with the rest of you."

"Don't even worry about that," I said. "I'm just enjoying watching you enjoy it." I smiled. "I love you, and I want to be someone who you feel safe going to when you're having a rough day. I want to be someone who makes it better, not worse. Because you do that for me."

My husband looked up from his snack, berry stains on his snout, and grinned. "You are, trust me," he said. "I love you too. It means oceans to know that you've got me back." He glanced up at Winn. "And thanks fer helpin', Pipsqueak."

Winn folded her arms and nodded. "It kinda makes me want to purposely invent horrible recipes, kupo," she said, "and see if there's anything you actually think tastes bad. Like salmon lemon meringue pie, or tomato chocolate chip cookies, kupo."

"I could go fer those," Qrrog said. "In fact, they sound pretty tasty…"

"Ugh, no, I was joking, kupo!" Winn said in horror, thrusting out her hands. "The kitchen would smell terrible if I did that!"

Qrrog laughed, and I joined in, and then Winn got to laughing, too.

Everybody has bad days. But that's what family's for—to wipe the tears away and flood you with love.