The earth was chilled beneath her bare toes. Crickets chirped in rhythm with her ragged breaths as a young, faired-haired woman swung her sword into the solid bark of a tree. She breathed deeply, a slash perfectly in tune between each sharp intake. The night was clear, yet she missed the point of impact that would shatter the scratch littered front into a scatter of sharp splitters and thick shards.

"Dorothea!"

Dorothea screamed at the thoughts that ran like knives through her heart. She dropped to her knees, clutching the hilt of her sword and thrusting it into the soft ground. Tears fell over her cheeks and she furiously wiped them back, standing again to thrust the blade into the ruined trunk. Her wrist twisted painfully when she swung without consciousness of her correct form, and the blade clattered away from her with a reverberating dull ring.

She leaned her head against the tree, red eyes dead as she watched the weapon on the ground, motionless between the thin grass blades. Gyurk had come with her here once. Long ago when they both had still been children, when the vision of the dancing night fireflies had still been something she held in wonder with her past child-like view of the world. She'd have been a witless fool if she wished it back now.

"Do you not trust me?…"

"Don't say my name," she whispered, the tears refusing her pride as the wails slipped past her lips. She clutched herself, shivering and cold suddenly in the nightgown she'd fled in, her anger dissolving into something she did not want to claim. When had it turned to something like this? In a situation where she was weak.

She was leader of the White House now. This was no time for tears and useless whines alone, not when so many others depended on her to be strong. Dorothea lifted the sword from where it had been thrown and ran her finger along the edge slowly, then struck it out to her left, the ring a high pitched tune rather than the dreary thud the bark had created. The glittering blue eyes of Regimental Commander Casper Von Peine appraised her from above, his sword held up in a block from where she'd nearly struck into his neck.

"Commander," she began, ignoring when his gaze strayed to her tear stained cheeks and curious clothing. She did not lower her blade. "What brings you out this late at night?"

"I would inquire the same," he answered simply, as if he had not been absent from Naudars for nearly three years. "Dorothea…"

"Don't say my name." Dorothea tried to shake away the tears from which the familiarity of her name on his tongue brought her. She turned quickly, attempting to shield her face when she slid her blade from his. Casper stepped from behind her, lightly touching the back of her wrist so, so gently that her tears cascaded when he slowly embraced her.

"Commander," she warned quietly, the fight in her lost, but the old rebellious spark at his teasing actions ignited.

"That little boy hurt you," he said, striking right through her. Dorothea tried to push him away, but he only held tighter. "Dorothea. Look at me."

She turned to him slowly, her head raised in defiance. She nearly broke when she saw the same chiseled face from a past she wished to leave behind. "Ah," he said with a small smile. "I missed those eyes."

And without a question, or without the blatant demand Gyurk would have used, Casper broke her down like a little sniveling little girl, as if she were not once the woman who had been the Witch of Mjolnir, slaying men with her demonic crimson gaze alone. This same woman fell into the arms of this man and cried this night.

If only to forget the lost embrace of another.

I really doubt anyone will read this. Dorothea isn't really well known. I haven't even been able to find it on any manga sites...

Note: The commander's name is spelled differently based on pronunciation. I saw it as either Kasper or Casper. But Casper was used in the majority of the manga. Paaaain. .