Genres/Ratings: Friendship, Mystery, Trust, Conspiracy, Romance. (T)

Characters: Warin, Flayn, Seteth, Shamir.

Summary: Over and over she had heard the same words, that her father could be not be trusted, and that Rhea was their enemy due to her secrecy, and her involvement in the lives of her professor, and her professor's dear brother. She had mourned for them when they had lost their father, she had returned when the day of the promise had come, and yet the times of hiding her unease about them could go on no longer. Warin had rooted her out so easily, a wolf in comparison to his sister's lioness, and she felt like a rabbit caught in those sharp, calculating navy eyes. What was it she could say, now that he had pulled the rug so cleanly out from under her feet? Only the truth, she supposed. Only the truth.

Blue Sea Moon

Garreg Mach (Infirmary)

Noontime

Flayn felt as if she had just been struck in the chest, and she feared even to breathe as Warin's calm, placid navy stare kept her pinned to her seat despite all of her sudden desire to stand and flee. Her mind spun with both fright and shame, and she wondered how painfully obvious her behaviour had to be for him to be calling her out on it so boldly and assuredly. Though he was not a man easy to get close to, Flayn knew well enough that Warin was honest to a fault, and every inch the mercenary he looked. He didn't suffer fools or liars, and while he did indeed have a softer, kinder side when it came to his family, to Shamir, or children... He still did not dole out mercy often. Here, seated across from him in the infirmary and realizing he knew everything she had been up to in the past several weeks, Flayn's blood ran cold, and her lips felt numb as she began to croak out, "Th-That's-"

"You can deny it, if you like, but we both know that would be a lie. Also poor behaviour for a lady, as I imagine you well know. Don't bother making an attempt, and making a fool of yourself, Flayn. Simply be honest. It will be much easier that way for the both of us." Warin cautioned her patiently, and he watched the way her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, and the way her pupils dilated in a show of fear. It almost made him wince, knowing he could scare her so easily, but he also knew approaching her in any other manner but forward would be doing her a disservice. She was owed a straight shot, and not a long, bumbling beating about the bush. So he spoke factually, calmly, not allowing an ounce of emotion to show in his face or voice when he explained, "I'm aware you've been listening in on our meetings, at every opportunity you can muster. I'm aware you must have overheard much, and that what you did hear likely weighed quite heavily on you. And, if I'm to guess even further, you were listening in on the conversation we just had in the library, and that is why you're so upset. Something we said in there displeased you, yes?"

Flayn gaped at him, both with wonder, and with no small trace of fright and confusion. If he had known for so long, why had he allowed it to continue? Why hadn't he stopped her the moment he had realized? She had been listening in at every opportunity, and had overheard much that wasn't meant for her ears, and yet he had continued to speak freely, knowing full well she would either be there to listen, or would be making attempts? It made no sense, especially for a man like him. He was private incarnate, never sharing anything of himself, and yet he had opened up not only himself, but his sister, Dimitri, and all of their generals to her snooping? It simply made no sense, and left her at a complete loss as she questioned him shakily, "H-How long have you...?"

"Since that night Raine took her generals to task last moon, I believe. It aligns up with your sudden appearances, everywhere we went, and you began acting rather skittishly around then, as well." Warin replied honestly, and he watched the guilt warring with the fear of being caught rising in her eyes, and he leaned back in his seat to make himself more comfortable. Her reactions were of great interest to him, answering all the questions he had been biting back, and it allowed him to be open and blunt with her in return as he continued to explain for her, "You lost quite a bit of your spark, though you tried to hide it well enough. Checking up on Raine with Raphael, under the guise of following him about for something to do... Shadowing your father until even he got irritated with the fact that you were almost constantly underfoot... You put up a good front, but you aren't quite cut out for spy work. You usually avoid the training grounds, as well as the knight's barracks, considering what happened to you with the Death Knight. You were hoping to overhear more conversations between Raine, Dimitri and I, yes?"

Flayn bit her lower lip as her hands curled into fists about the frail lace of her skirt. So thoroughly caught and laid out in the light, without any trace of effort on his part... She wondered if she should feel more shame for her lack of ability to hide herself, or for the fact that he didn't seem all that disappointed by her. As if he had come to accept her actions as regular, instead of something to grow intensely infuriated by. She was, after all, her father's daughter, and a pious, and strong, member of the Church of Seiros. She was everything he hated, everything he suspected, and he had proven it all without even lifting a finger to uncover her. Her eyes lowered to her hands, watching her knuckles whitening and the trembling in her fingers as she answered him quietly, tiredly, "Yes. I was hoping to hear your meetings, and your opinions... I listened in at every possible opportunity, and I overheard much I imagine you wanted no one to hear."

"I imagine hearing us disparage you father was a blow for you. My apologies for that. I can understand it couldn't have been easy, hearing your comrades, your professor, speaking so lowly of a man you love out in the open." Warin accepted her confession readily enough, glad that she was not trying to hide or lie, as she had already proven she was utterly terrible at both. It would be easier, much easier, this way, even if she looked ready to bolt from her chair at any given moment should she get the opportunity. Still, he wasn't entirely pleased to be having this conversation. It would only open up more wounds, and pour salt onto the already gaping ones.

"Are you concerned that I am being a spy for my father?"

The question, though he supposed was one fair enough to ask, still caught him off guard momentarily. Flayn was still not looking at him, preferring to stare down at her clenched fists, and Warin took pause as he wondered how best it was to answer her accusation. She was right to suspect that was his understanding of the situation, considering all she likely had heard and surmised, and yet... Warin shook his head slowly, leaning back further in his chair before he answered honestly, firmly, "Not a whit."

"Why? I am my father's daughter. You have said, many a time, that my father's loyalty is stronger to Rhea than to the two of you... Would the same not be true for me, as his daughter?" Flayn challenged him abruptly, and her eyes flashed seafoam-coloured fire as she finally looked up a his casual dismissal. She disliked how easily he could speak of these things, how easily he came to judgement, but she knew that was not a personal affront. He simply was as he was, after many, many years of fighting and commanding at his father's side. Making judgements, no matter how quickly or brutally, was the way of a mercenary, and it had kept him alive all the time he had been in exile. Yet now...? When he had every right to be suspicious and angry, he was relaxing his standards? "Do you not worry I have been reporting back everything I have heard to him?"

"You wouldn't be looking nearly as guilty, or making the argument against yourself, if that was the case." Warin responded calmly, meeting her gaze with a quiet, certain one of his own. It almost amused him, how fiercely she was trying to put herself into a box where she simply didn't fit, but he could understand why. She did not always see things as her father did, and sometimes felt smothered, but it didn't mean she loved him any less. They were family, and family was paramount... but sometimes, loyalties twisted and bent all the same, which made him continue on in that same placid voice, "And, to be frank, even if you were, it wouldn't be of any harm to us. What we've said, he knows. Most of our secrets are in the open at this juncture. The few that we have left are unfortunately the ones being kept from us, and not the other way around. We've nothing to hide from Seteth, so if you are reporting to him on what you hear, it would not be an act I'd find particularly troublesome."

"Why? Is that not a betrayal of your trust?" Flayn's eyes remained sharp and piercing, and she wondered how easily Warin could keep his expression neutral when he was prodded and poked. She had seen his temper in action, she had seen what it had cost him, and yet... When the one thing that had been done that earned his wrath more than anything, he looked completely at ease with the world, and with her. It was mystifying, and it was hurtful. She had expected anger or disappointment... Not understanding, or acceptance. That only made the guilt chew worse deep inside of her stomach and tightened her lips into a scowl. "Am I not like them, keeping secrets from you?"

"If you were doing it, perhaps. But you aren't... So comparing yourself to Rhea, or your father, is rather disingenuous." Warin answered with a slow shake of his head, and he carefully folded his arms as he watched Flayn wince at the name of the archbishop and promptly look away again. It wasn't surprising, but he felt no anger. They were all close, and he was well aware of it. Rhea's fright and worry when Flayn had been kidnapped had been genuine, as if she was searching for her own child, and Flayn's concern over Rhea was a direct mirror. The two were indeed family, but it did not mean that Rhea's secrets were Flayn's to hold, just as Raine's were not his, and he continued pointedly, "If you knew anything of what we sought, I have a feeling you'd have told us long ago because of the guilt you'd feel. You do have your secrets, but those secrets are for you to hold, not for us, and keeping them to yourself is a matter for you and you only. You love your father, and you love Rhea... but you also love Raine, do you not? You wouldn't hurt her if you could help it."

"I did not attend to Raine's wounds after the battle of Grondor. In fact, I argued against the techniques that Mercedes, Dorothea and Professor Manuela decided on using. Did that not make you suspicious of if I cared for the professor?" Flayn wondered where her words were coming from, but as they poured freely from her mouth, she began to understand it was guilt again. Guilt at feeling powerless, guilt at allowing her fear to overwhelm her better sense, and guilt at standing by and doing nothing but acting from the sidelines when she could have been helping the woman who had spent a year mentoring her when she had no reason to do so. She had felt so useless, so paralysed, and even now she felt so much shame for acting so immaturely.

"You act as if you saw her laying on the ground and turned heel and walked away. I don't remember it happening in quite that fashion." Warin pointed out with a raised eyebrow as he heard the depth of her guilt and self-loathing, and he wondered just how deeply she had been burying these feelings. It sounded as if it had started before Grondor, as if she had been carrying some sort of weight on her shoulders at the same time Raine had, though he knew that simply could be her empathetic nature speaking. She was a kind soul, fiery and determined, but gentle at heart... A perfect healer. Shifting in his seat again, Warin held her eyes before he remarked, "I know you were against the coma, but it wasn't as if you refused to have anything to do with her even when you were overruled. You tended to those tending to Raine, didn't you? And you checked in on her, too, whenever you had the time. You were against the method of her healing, but you didn't wish her harm, and you certainly didn't wish her dead. You did your work, albeit indirectly. And not a soul thinks you selfish, cowardly, or worse, a traitor for that."

"But you think my father to not be on your side."

"Because he isn't, Flayn. And as much as it must pain you to hear that... It is how it is, and I know you know it. You wouldn't look so torn if you weren't aware we had our rights to be acting as we were." Warin kept his voice neutral and calm, not wishing to leap into an argument, but also not wanting to lie to spare her feelings. It was not his way, not even for her, and she would know that and be suitably offended if he even tried. He shook his head again, allowing himself a deep, tired sigh before he leaned forward this time, his voice softening as he continued sincerely, "Flayn, you are not your father, though you may be his flesh and blood. And you are close to Rhea. We know this. But we don't think ill of you, nor do we mistrust you for who your family is. If it was otherwise, I would have told Raine you were listening in on us, and relocated our conversations to a safer place. You know that I would have."

Flayn struggled for a reply, biting her lower lip and straining her jaw in a frown as she looked at him with both disappointment, hurt, and anger. He was such an enigma, and for the life of her, she couldn't piece him together quite properly. Every time she believed to have him pinned down, he easily slipped away with an act or a word she never expected from him, and she had to step back to reassess her thoughts on him all over again. But, what he was saying here and now was true enough. Had he thought her to be causing harm, he would have interceded on his own account long before this, and most certainly not so kindly. "Then why do you believe I was listening in on you?"

"To see if our feelings for your father, for Rhea, extended to you. You never heard your name mentioned, so you were unsure. But you heard plenty of your father, and of Rhea, and that upset you, as it rightfully should have." Warin's answer came immediately, but his voice was solemn and gentle all the same. There was no tone of condemnation or annoyance. Not even a hint of disappointment or anger. Just understanding and sympathy, which, unfortunately, did not make her feel any better despite his efforts. He could see it by the way she slouched away from him in her chair, her body folding in on itself uncomfortably, and he tried in vain to reassure her, "It's not wrong to wonder where you stand, Flayn. And it's frightening to have that conversation, I imagine... All you've heard are poor, angry things about your family. It's understandable you were hesitant, and concerned, and so you listened in hopes of finding out. Unfortunately, you only heard things that hurt you, and things that didn't give you straight answers. You formed an opinion on that, and it's begun to shake you. Am I right?"

Again, Flayn didn't wish to give him an answer, and she shifted her weight in her stool uncomfortably. His eyes were so piercing, and his words were even moreso. She disliked that about him. He wouldn't know the word subtle if it leapt out of the pond to bite him, but he didn't seem to really care. He spoke only what he thought to be the truth, and though he was bitter, though he was blunt, he was always honest. She respected him for that, but she also hated his ability to see through people as if they were nothing more than pieces of parchment. It was as if nothing personal was sacred when he spoke to people... Though she knew to go that far was hyperbolic. He was genuinely kind... It just took certain people, and certain circumstances, for him to show it. It made her wonder why she, apparently, was included in this list, and she asked raggedly, "Do you hate me, Sir Warin? As a servant of the church? Of the Goddess? Of Rhea, and my father?"

It was Warin's turn to pause at the words, at the accusations that felt more like she was trying to give him reasons to be cruel, and he could only watch her closely in response for a moment. She wanted his anger, for reasons he could not quite fathom, and it saddened him to know it. He knew he was frightening and had a reputation of being stern and even cruel, but he didn't want her to wish that for herself from him. That was a lance to the chest, and he shook his head again, clarifying for her as firmly, but gently, as he could manage, "You're no servant. You're your own woman, with your own opinions and will. Even your father has seen that in the past few moons. You do not take orders lightly, or willingly. You demand equal treatment, despite your age, and you are owed it because of your talents and knowledge. True, you are devout, but I don't find that to be a bad thing."

"You hate the Church. And do not say you do not, Sir Warin." Flayn pointed out with narrowed eyes, and she cut him off quickly before he could try to argue her point. If he did, it would only be a lie, and that was something they both knew. This time she was the one to cross her arms, and she looked at him sharply, piercingly, trying to see underneath that mask of calm composure that had yet to slip an inch off of his face ever since they had started to speak. How long had he been anticipating this, to not be moved at all? She didn't want to know. It would be too much to know, and so she continued on somewhat tightly, "It is not secret knowledge how you feel about the Church of Seiros, or about Rhea. You have made that very clear in the past several years, and now, your stance is growing more and more fierce."

"I dislike the Church of Seiros as an institution, Flayn, but I have no qualms about the faith. I have never had problems with those of any faith, colour, or creed. I've worked alongside apostates, faithful, and those who have no beliefs at all in my time as a mercenary, and I've treated all of them the same. What you believe in, who you believe in, if you believe at all, is not something that is any business of mine." Warin countered firmly, and he hated that once again he was being put in a position where he had to defend his dislike of the hand and influence of the Church, and not what it preached. The two were vastly different things, and he had long ago realized this and let go of his grudges and biases. He had to, if he was to function in such a multifaceted world as it was as a mercenary. "Having faith can lead a person far, and well, in life, and I find that admirable. Living to devote yourself to a god, goddess, or spirit, in order to better yourself and the world about you is not wrong, nor is it something to scorn. But those in power are not the same as those who are devout, and their decisions aren't always for the good of their flock. Greed and power go hand in hand, whether it be for nobility, or for those in churches and other places of worship. I can dislike Rhea without disliking the idea of the Goddess she worships. I can dislike Garreg Mach, and not all who come here to study, worship, find peace, or train. They do not have to be mutually exclusive."

Flayn was silent as she drank in his words, and she wondered at the truth of them. He, and his sister, were both horrible liars, and she knew what he was saying was his honest opinion. And his actions, ever since his arrival, were also evidence to it. He kept himself away from the chapel, but never showed distaste for those who attended. He worked well amongst the Knights of Seiros, at least those who could see beyond his dislike of the Church, and had proven himself strong and capable despite any situation. She let out another tired breath, and tugged nervously at her hair before she muttered, "Then... If I may ask... What is it that you think of me, even knowing I have been spying on you? Even if not for my father, even if only for myself...?"

"I think you're one of my sister's precious students, and like every single one of the Blue Lions, you would never do her harm." Warin answered in a calm and matter-of-fact tone that brooked no further questioning. His eyes watched her closely, studying her furrowing brow, her tightening lips, but he continued on regardless, with his voice growing more serious with his every word, "Your loyalties have always been clear. To your family, to your Goddess, to your Church... But that doesn't mean you don't feel loyalty to Raine. You do, and that's why you're torn. But if the chips were down, if push came to shove... I believe you'd do right by her. Regardless of everything else. You have my trust, Flayn. You always have, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. You spied out of fear, not out of malice... And your intent changes the meaning of your actions."

"And what of the professor?"

"I think you know the answer to that without me needing to say so." Warin shook his head with gentle admonishment colouring his tone at the question of his sister. It didn't need explanation. At least, he didn't believe so. His sister had made it perfectly clear that her devotion to her students was paramount, even over her own well-being. Still, with everything that was happening, he supposed he could understand her concern, and her uncertainty. He leaned forward, face softening before he continued gently, "When has my sister ever given you reason to believe she distrusts you? And I know, your father is one thing and a man you love dearly, but how she sees him does not impact how she sees you. Does she treat you differently than the students she's taken under her wing? Or Petra, or Raphael? Allegiances, homeland, bloodlines... None of those things matter to her, either. You're all her students, and she'd put her life on the line for you. And she doesn't doubt for a moment you would do the same."

Flayn was quiet, and she looked down at her loosening hands as she took in his words once more and thought deeply on them. It was true. She could see it well enough... Raine had invited both Petra and Raphael into the Blue Lions without an ounce of hesitation, and had treated them as if they had been her own students right from the beginning. And, further, she had impressed on her house that they were to do the same. She took both active and passive measures to ensure cohesion, and that was what she valued most. Cohesion. Unity. It made her smile, albeit sadly, and she twisted her fingers into her hair as she murmured, "I realize... that what you are saying is the truth. And I ask you forgiveness for my intrusions on your meetings... I was wrong to doubt the professor... To think that she would think of me poorly. She has always trusted her students... and I am remiss in not giving her that same trust in return."

"Not so much remiss, I'd say... More hurt, and concerned. Which is reasonable." Warin disagreed with a shake of his head, and he offered her a small, sad smile of his own in response. He understood her, better than she thought he did. He had been watching them for the entirety of their tutelage underneath his sister, after all. And he had watched them even more closely since the beginning of the war. "Everyone, every single person here, has changed in some way... Has gone through trauma, and loss, and heartbreak. Everyone has secrets, everyone has something, or someone, they can't forgive or abide by... It's not wrong to have that cloud your judgement, and make you wonder, or hesitate... but don't let it dictate your actions from now on. Trust the people about you to do right by you, unless they give you reason not to."

"That is sage advice, Sir Warin... You are old beyond your years." Flayn mused with a slow, sombre shake of her head. He reminded her painfully of things she had lost, things she missed with an intense and ceaseless aching, and she wondered how much of it was his personality, his experience, or inheritance from his parents. Jeralt had been a wise man, too, if clumsy and grizzled... His son was much like him, looking one way, but acting another underneath the mask. As did his sister... It had to be a family trait, which made her frown all the more deeply as she looked at her hands sadly, "This war has changed all of us. It makes me wish that things had not gone this way. That somehow, there could have been a means to coexist with those we now call our enemies... but, despite things, I... I am aware that is not how the world works. You are right. There are some things... Some people... that we cannot forgive, nor abide by. They are all different for every person, which is what causes such conflict... Is it inevitable? Will there always be war?"

"Humanity is flawed... We learn, but slowly. We aren't inclined to change. Nor are we patient. We're greedy, and weak, and always yearning for more, better things that are always just out of our reach... But that wanting, that desire for better things... I can't say that it's always a flaw." Warin took his turn to muse, and he turned his head slightly, beyond the closed door and in the direction of the library where he had left Dimitri and his sister. They were fighting for better things. For more than the hand they had been dealt... He knew it would never last, because things were never meant to last, but he couldn't call them, or their ideals, foolish. After all, he was there, fighting with them, wasn't he? "From the start of history, we've been fighting. I don't see that changing in my generation, nor in the generations to follow. It might be millennia, before we as a species are wise enough to understand violence breeds nothing but suffering. Maybe we never understand... But a few good people, with the right hearts, minds, and strength can change the world a little bit at a time, all the same. That's worth keeping in mind when things seem bleak."

Flayn tilted her head, watching the way his eyes turned, and that warmth that flickered up in the depth of his navy irises. He was speaking of his sister. His face always gentled, and the stern lines in his brow always disappeared whenever he thought of her. He was pessimistic, and he didn't have much faith in his kind, or in most others... but he did have full belief in his sister, regardless of what experience had taught him. He was and always would be her most fervent supporter, her closest ally, and her left hand, no matter where she went, or what she did. They were family, and that simple fact came before anything and everything that stood before them.

It made her ache, and she wondered when she had begun to doubt, and to hesitate and worry. Perhaps it had been long, long ago, when she had first seen blood. Or perhaps it had been later, when she had looked up into those friendly, formerly navy eyes, and seen a kind soul flickering in those eyes that had once seemed so flat and emotionless. Her professor was a kind woman. Kinder than she deserved to be, after all she had lost and suffered through... and that suffering had touched Flayn's soul deeply. Pain was her antithesis. She hated to see anyone wounded, whether physically or spiritually. And the hurt her professor carried, silently, carefully, gingerly... She let out a long, trembling breath, and closed her eyes tightly for a moment.

She was a traitor, regardless of what Warin said. She was aware of it now. Back then, she had been happy to follow after her father and Rhea, believing they knew best, but now...? Now, she was not so sure. Her faith had been shaken, and she had been questioning ever since the enormity of it all had fallen onto her shoulders. Questions, so many questions, had run through her head, and made her wonder... but she still had no answers. Rhea was gone, and her father guarded her secrets zealously. She could not give her professor, or her brother, what they sought, even though she wished she could. It would only be pieces, tiny, scattered pieces, that would make no sense to them without Rhea there to give them the entirety of the picture.

Another breath escaped her, but she also felt strength beginning to return to her spine as she did so. She remembered Raphael's playful advice about exercise, his sage wisdom of mourning, and his unending kindness in indulging her whenever she asked for his attention. He had taught her much, and she loved him so for it. He, too, was wise beyond his years, and he never failed to extend a hand whether it was needed or not... and she was well aware, painfully aware, of the fact that without Raine and Warin, she would have never met him, and likely never would have experienced life as a student, a comrade, or a friend.

Flayn opened her eyes and sought out Warin's gaze as she felt that spirit of hers, inherited by her loving, late mother, sparked back into existence. Everything she had questioned was no more, and once again she was settled in herself and her ways. She knew her path now, and there was no time, or need, to look away from it any longer. She held Warin's stare, firm, unwavering, and spoke in a calm, clear voice now, "Sir Warin... When the time comes, I will tell you, and your sister, all of my secrets. They will help you, in the time to come... but I am afraid I cannot do it on my own. I will need my father, as well as Rhea, to be able to paint you the entirety of the truth you seek. As am I now, what I would say would not make sense to you, and I doubt you would believe it. Furthermore, what I know is not entirely what you seek, and therefore would not help you where you wish for it. But, when Rhea is rescued, and all comes to light... I will be you ally, as I have always been. I swear to you, and to the professor... that I will not sway from your side."

"That's unnecessary... but I appreciate the sentiment, all the same. You should speak to Raine sometime this week, though, not me. She's the one who would benefit most from hearing your worries, and you from her easing your fears." Warin answered her with a shake of his head, but his lips quirked nonetheless despite his words. It was a genuine and touching gesture, and one he knew not to discount. It was nice, to be spoken to so genuinely without heat or acid, though he admitted he wasn't entirely sure how to handle it. Flayn, after all, was Raine's student, and he dealt with them only in professional settings rather than personal ones. The one upholding the code was gone, but he still kept to himself out of habit. He supposed that was just another flaw of his, and what he missed out on as consequence was only a thing of his own doing.

"Perhaps I will, when she is feeling better... And speaking of such matters... I'd see you arm again, Sir Warin." Flayn shook away the remnants of tension in her body, and without preamble she again reached for Warin's arm with firm gentleness and no brooking of arguments. Warin was an easy patient, always willing to be handled and follow instructs without complaint, and he never questioned those he thought to be more skilled than he was. She appreciated that about him, his professionalism that allowed him to see beyond her youthful features and accept her talent and skill for what it was, rather than what others thought it to be. Careful, inquisitive fingers traced along his skin with purpose now, and she murmured idly as she detected the remaining damage without much trouble, "The bones are setting nicely, but I'm afraid it will be at least a week longer before I can allow you to return to training... And you've had no problems with movement, or numbness?"

"No, it's as it always has been. Flares of pain occasionally, but nothing I haven't come to expect. It's manageable as it is. I've no need for tonics or ale to keep it away." Warin answered positively, and he gave her exactly what he knew she wanted to know. She seemed to be quite aware of the habits of mercenaries and dealing with wounds, and she had given him due warning to stay far and away from the taverns, and he had kept to her advice sagely. He had no desire to drink as it was, as he knew it was only a momentary salve, and a quick way to form a terrible habit. "The burn on my free arm however feels to have healed properly. I've no pain there any longer... but I don't intend to train until both of my arms have your seal of approval."

"As it should be. The last thing we need is to have you crippled... but your blood is strong... You respond very well to healing magic, and that saved you from permanent injury. Though, that's to be expected, with the Crest you bear." Flayn nodded in approval, and her fingertips began to spark a gentle shade of green as she laid her palm over the worst of the hurt she had detected in her search. Warin closed his eyes, holding himself still for her, and she was quick and efficient as she spread her magic across his forearm to allow it to sink in deep where it as needed most. "You're hardy, and strong. You'll heal well, once this is over. I imagine I will only need a day or two more of our visits, and then you will be free to rest for the remainder of the week before you can return to your usual routine. That will not trouble you, I hope?"

"No. It'll be fine. I've books to read in the interim, so it's not as if I'll be bored." Warin answered with an errant shrug of his shoulders, and as Flayn withdrew her hand as her magic subsided in a sizzle of sparks, he began to flex his fingers slowly. There was still an ache deep, deep in his forearm, but the pain was numb and dull. It was nowhere near as bad as it had been, and he could feel her magic numbing the pain still further to allow his muscles and bones to mend. He glanced up, watching as Flayn took in a deep breath, and he questioned with a slight tilt to his head, "And you? Will you be well after all of this?"

"Oh, this is nothing compared to how it can be on the battlefield, or right after a skirmish. We were quite lucky in Derdriu, all things considered. There were only several soldiers with grievous wounds, and with the Alliance forces now joining us here in Garreg Mach, we've no short supply of healers." Flayn waved away the concern, though she did appreciate the kindness in his asking. But she was being honest. The infirmary's numbers had bolstered with Marianne and Lindhart joining the rebellion's ranks, though she was aware the former Black Eagle had no intention of going to battle. He had only volunteered his services in healing because Lysithea had thrown in her lot with Raine and had made no question about her choosing to return to the fight when the truth had reached her ears. It seemed all quite personal for the white-haired sorceress, but Flayn knew better than to stick her nose where it wasn't wanted in those kind of matters. "Marianne and Lindhart are both extremely skilled, and they've taken the load off of Mercedes, Dorothea and Professor Manuela. Everyone is enjoying a break of sorts, with the bolstered numbers we now have... And it is very nice to see old friends again. Raphael hasn't stopped smiling in days."

"That sounds quite like him..." Warin flexed his fingers again before rolling his shoulder, and was satisfied when his movement was met with only a dull twinge of an ache. He stood slowly, stretching out his tense muscles and letting out a sigh as the weight he hadn't realized he had been carrying slid off of his shoulders. It felt good to have the secrecy cleared, to see Flayn relaxed and at home in her natural environment again. She would still need to clear the air with his sister, but he didn't doubt it'd happen soon enough. Raine would be back amongst her duties in a day or two after a well-earned break, and she would deal with it when she returned. He returned his arm to its sling, wincing slightly despite himself before asking idly, "Tomorrow, then? Same time?"

"Yes, that will be quite fine. I will be here, as always." Flayn replied with a nod, and she, too, stood and dusted off the edges of her skirt as she did so. Warin waited for her patiently, and she offered a small smile at this odd routine she had noticed. He never left before she did, at least, not when it was clear she had no other patients to be attending to for the day. He always, without fail, escorted her from the room before they parted ways. It was an odd act, one she wasn't entirely sure why he performed, but she appreciated his politeness nonetheless as he walked her to the door. She nodded to him kindly, her smile gentle and honest when she spoke again, "Have a good day, Sir Warin. I shall you again tomorrow."

"Likewise." Warin returned her nod with one of his own, watching as she turned down the hall for the staircase without another word. He waited, watching her disappear before he likewise began his exit. He, however, turned back for the library, checking out the window to see where the sun now stood in the sky to measure how long he had been in the infirmary with Flayn. Though it hadn't felt long, the sun was finished its cresting and was beginning to turn, a sign of the afternoon, and he sighed as he mused he wouldn't have much time to search the library. He was expected back in his quarters well before nightfall, a safety measure to ensure he wasn't training against orders, and he didn't want to once more be on the business end of an angry Shamir.

The library doors were cracked open, proof his sister and Dimitri had left long ago after their conversation with Claude. He could hear nothing from inside, and was glad to know he could have a few minutes without being disturbed. He knew where the book he wanted usually sat, if it hadn't been taken out already, so his chore wouldn't take too long if he was quick about it. He nudged open the doors with his shoulder, musing to himself as he went, "Third shelf from the right, bottom row... Seventh on the line, I think...?"

"Looking for this, are you?"

The sudden voice from inside nearly sent him leaping clear out of his skin, but what startled him most after he regained his composure was that the voice that had spoken to him had not been speaking to him in the native tongue of Fódlan. It had been in flawless, slightly accented Dagdan. He looked up sharply, and his face reddened as he spotted Shamir idly lounging on the end of one of the many long-tables farther in the library, the book he had been seeking dangling from her fingers as she waved it at him in greeting. The books he had been hiding in their room were piled up next to her on her right, more proof that he had been found out, and he was at a loss for words as those sharp, wine-coloured eyes watched him with that sadistic amusement he was quite used to seeing on her face these days.

"Oh? Can you not understand me?" Shamir continued in Dagdan, her smile catty and her eyes glinting both playfully and sharply as she set the book he had been seeking down on her knees. Warin's lack of movement was more than enough of an answer that he indeed did understand what she was saying, and the fact that his face had reddened so sharply was proof he hadn't wanted her to know. She admitted, she hadn't known what to think when she had discovered the volumes on Dagda's language hidden away in their shared quarters, but with his added lateness to return, she had decided it best to confront him rather than wait. She tapped on the book's hard covering with her nails, and she mused with a chuckle, never once slipping back into the native tongue of her employer's country as she did so, "If you've been studying as hard as it looks, you must be able to have a grasp of what I'm saying now."

"I understand you well enough, I think..." Warin's answer came calmly, smoothly, though his unease in speaking a language he clearly didn't have much practical use of showed in his pronunciation and inflection. He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing a hand through his hair before he coughed and shook his head. He switched back to his mother tongue, knowing full well his education hadn't gone on long enough for him to have a true conversation in full Dagdan without making himself out to look like a total fool as he sighed, "Caught out, I suppose... Are you angry with me?"

"Not so much angry as I am surprised." Shamir admitted, as she, too, dropped back into the more common language they were used to conversing in. She crossed her legs, watching him closely as his eyes flitted from her face, to the books by her knee, and then back to her. He looked ready to receive a lashing, though she didn't quite understand why. His education was his business, not hers, though she did admit she wasn't sure why he was bothering to study the language of her homeland. It wasn't as if she had any attachment to Dagda, and she had never spoken or even considered plans to return. Finding the books in their quarters had been a surprise, though not entirely an unpleasant one. He clearly didn't want her to know, for whatever reason that was, which was why she had chosen to catch him in the act in the first place. "Why are you studying this, and making such an effort to keep it a secret? Were you hoping to woo me with a shared language?"

"It was meant to be a surprise when I was more fluent... but unfortunately, I didn't hide my materials well enough. I'm not very good at picking up new languages, it seems. History is more my forte." Warin answered without a shred of shame, and he shrugged his shoulders before idly nosing the door behind him closed with his boot. He hadn't had anyone in the monastery to turn to in his studies, as no one here spoke Dagdan besides her, and going to her risked being turned down outright, or worse, mocked. "It's a useful skill, knowing how to speak more than one tongue... and it's your tongue. I assumed you'd be pleased to know I had tried to learn it."

"Tried being the operative word. I imagine you can write it better than you can speak it at the moment. You obviously haven't had many attempts to put your learning into practise." Shamir noted with a raised eyebrow, and Warin nodded absently in affirmation. His expression was partially embarrassed, partially awkward, but there wasn't a hint of guilt. He clearly didn't care that he had been caught as much as he felt he had been doing something she may have liked to be surprised by. And the thought, admittedly, did make her cheeks warm a little with pleasure. She had guessed it had to do with her, because there was no other reason for him to be doing it, but to have him admit it outright... She sighed, leaning back on her hands as she looked to him with a raised eyebrow, "I suppose I can help you with that, if I must. You'll never be able to speak fluently unless you actually practise."

"You... don't mind?"

"You picked it up for me, didn't you? I may as well help you. But I'm not a teacher, and you know full well I don't have the patience to try. If you want my help, you best not complain." Shamir replied flippantly, and she waved her hand in a vague gesture before settling it back down on the books she had nicked from his hiding place in their shared quarters. She paused and glanced down, looking at the silver band that had found its home on her ring finger, and abruptly her lips thinned as a tightness formed in her chest. She paused, her carefree expression furrowing into a slight frown, and she tapped one finger on the hard cover before she spoke again, not looking up to see his face when she did, "You know this isn't necessary, though, yeah? You learning Dagdan. I don't need to be reminded of where I was born. I don't miss it, nor the memories associated with it. That was another lifetime. One I've put behind me. You don't need to insert yourself into it."

"There's no such thing as another lifetime. You're alive here and now, and all your experiences have made you into who you are, including your time in Dagda. You may not miss it, but it's still a part of you, isn't it? I want to know that part of you, in whatever small ways I can." Warin answered bluntly, and Shamir blinked in surprise as he looked to her almost with a stern glint in his navy eyes. It was rare, outside of topics of politics or the church, or on the battlefield, that he ever spoke in a harsh tone to her. It didn't seem to come naturally to him to speak in his usual manner to a woman. That clipped, curt tone was a professional touch, one he used to keep people at bay, not to make a point. But now he was watching her closely, eyes narrowed and his body language tense as he continued on firmly, "I'm not attempting to walk in the shadow of a ghost, if that's your concern. I know you don't view me as a replacement, or a stand-in. I'm doing this for my own satisfaction, and for no other reason. I want to know the world you came from. Studying your language seemed like a good way to do so. If that bothers you, I'll quit, but don't brush aside your history so lightly in an attempt to placate me."

Shamir blinked several times, caught off guard and not quite sure what kind of response was appropriate to such a heated and sharp remark. He meant it. She knew he did. He wouldn't ever bare his fangs at her without a damned good reason, and he clearly believed this to be one. It made her hesitate, as well as wonder what had gotten into him to make him feel so intensely about it. She knew already he was a man of action over words, and he showed his affection in that way, too. Tokens, acts, gestures were all second nature to him, and she had learned quickly that it was all he really needed to get across the things he sometimes stumbled over when he spoke. And he could speak well, too many long, quiet nights laying in each other's arms, spent and slicked with sweat with sleep far off had proven he had the heart of a poet when he didn't allow his own mind to get in the way of his tongue.

Now, Shamir felt both humbled, and slightly ashamed by her own words. Their worldviews were usually much closer aligned than this, but he surprised her every so often with his philosophy, and his own, strange band of mercenary-like chivalry. She sat quiet, frowning, on the edge of the table as she wondered what was the best way, or if there even was a way, to really reply. He rarely brought up her partner, though she knew he was well aware of what had initially drawn her to him. He respected her privacy, he respected her history, but bringing it up meant it still weighed on him in some way, despite the fact that they had been sharing a bed now for moons. The thought was heavy, and furrowed her brow still further as she bit her lip and wondered why she felt lost for an answer.

Warin's expression softened as he realized he had struck a nerve, and he let out a long breath before he pulled himself away from the door. He was quiet, slow, in his approach, and Shamir watched him with careful, guarded eyes. She didn't move from where she sat, but nor did she look all that welcoming, but he didn't mind. He understood he had crossed a line, but... He paused when they were knee to knee, and with his good hand, he reached out to touch hers. She allowed him to pick it up, feeling his callused thumb brushing along the band he had given to her, and he squeezed gently before sighing in Dagdan, "Would it be so awful to say I love you like this?"

Shamir twitched, eyes widening a little at his voice speaking those words in a language she had almost stopped using years ago. His voice was not like her partner's, but the words were the same... yet the feeling in her chest couldn't be more different. It ached, deep and hot, in a way that she had never truly felt before. His voice was quiet, contemplative, and it hurt to hear him musing on the idea that she didn't want to hear him say he loved her. She swallowed, feeling a tight knot rising in her throat, and her fingers closed thoughtlessly on his hand to keep it about her own before she answered instinctively, "Not at all... I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me. I should know better by now."

Warin hesitated, brow furrowing as he failed to understand most of her murmured reply due to the volume of her voice. When she had first spoken to him her words had been clear and loud, easy for him to decipher, but now... Close as they were, he still wasn't practised enough to pick up on quietly muttered words, and it left him floundering. He shook his head after a moment of searching through his brain, trying to remember his lessons, but failing all the same. He finally pulled away slightly, looking away with a mixture of embarrassment and shame before he admitted as her hand clung too tightly to his to even allow him the thought of pulling out of her grasp, "I... I'm afraid I didn't catch all of that..."

Shamir smiled despite herself, realizing she had responded in her home tongue without meaning to at his declaration. It weighed heavy on her shoulders, but not in a way she found uncomfortable. It was more like a cloak, a thick, warm blanket to guard against the cold of the past and the grasping fingers of a history she wished to forget because of the pain of loss. While it stung, reminded of her losses, there was also something sweet to it, too... A balm, of sorts, she supposed. She tugged at his hand, pulling him closer as she slid down from the table in tandem. She leaned against his chest, closing her eyes as her free hand reached about his waist to hug him before she repeated quietly, "I'm sorry... It was thoughtless of me to be so harsh. I should know better by now that you don't do anything because you feel an obligation to do it. It's a sweet gesture, and one I should appreciate."

"If you don't appreciate it, I won't continue. I'm not about to do something that makes you uncomfortable." Warin reassured her quietly, and his good arm wrapped itself snugly about her hips as she nestled more closely into his chest. She was minding the sling despite how well it put a buffer between their bodies, and he wished he could pull his arm free, but he knew full well she'd scold him for it if he did. He could only manage with what he had, so he nuzzled against her cheek in lieu of holding her more tightly before he sighed, "I should have told you my intent rather than hiding it. That's my own fault. You could have told me from the outset if you didn't want me to do it."

"And ruin the surprise? That's not quite fair." Shamir answered with a slight shake to her head, and she pressed herself just a little bit closer before she allowed herself to pull back and look at him. His navy eyes were gentle, pools of dark, deep colour that made her want to drown in them, and she allowed herself a moment to just study him before she finally lifted her fingers and stroked his cheek. Automatically, thoughtlessly, they slid down to his throat, tracing his scar before it lost itself underneath his tunic's collar, and she mused as he tilted his head for her, allowing her as much room as she could get without question or complaint, "It truly isn't as if I dislike it... Honestly, hearing you say you love me in my own language... feels surprisingly nice. It's a little... much, to take in all at once, but I don't want you to stop on my account."

"You're sure?"

Shamir raised an eyebrow at the question that did not need asking, and Warin reflexively dropped his head in realization. She rolled her eyes slightly, exasperated by his willingness to bend to her will without so much as a word of protest. For all of his spine, and he had one made of the strongest ore she knew of, he was little more than putty between her fingers. It was something she loved about him, that he let everything go when they were together and had no use for masks or barriers, but sometimes it also felt as if she was taking advantage. She, still, had her defences up... and she hadn't realized it until he had pricked himself on her shields.

The guilt stung. He was so free with her, but she hadn't given him the same courtesy despite believing she had. Ever since their first night, when he had lost control and succumbed to fear, he hadn't bothered trying again to hide himself from her. She wouldn't let him even if he wanted to. He had ceded to her selfish demands to be at his side, day and night, and he had given her an open door rather than a key to let herself in whenever she pleased. She owed him that same trust and confidence. It wouldn't be fair if she gave him anything less. The thought made her sigh, and she stood a little taller before stealing a soft, quick kiss and murmuring, "I love you, you idiot... More than I know, sometimes, apparently. You're lucky you're wounded, or else I'd have you on the table right now."

Warin felt a plume of heat make its way both up into his face and deep into his groin at her flippant words, and his mind immediately began to wander with ideas that he knew he shouldn't be entertaining. He hadn't exactly locked the door behind him, and the risk that someone would walk into the library and catch them in the act was far too high for his comfort. Stealing moments late at night on the training grounds, or in hallways between their rounds was one thing, but here was pushing a boundary he wasn't willing to cross. He shifted his arm in the sling awkwardly, eyes darting for the door despite himself as he answered back uncertainly, "It's not as if I'd be complaining, but..."

"Don't start. You're still healing, and I won't be greedy and interrupt that for my own wants." Shamir replied with a gentle prod to his ribs, but her face had dusted itself pink to prove her own thoughts had begun to roam just as his had. She didn't exactly regret it, she was always forthright about how much she wanted him, and she wasn't shy about her body, or his, for that matter, either. She was confident and at home with her sex, and it had been a pleasant, and exciting journey to give him all of the experience she had under her belt. Still... He was warm and strong despite his injuries, and she did admittedly wish he would heal a little bit faster so she could feel both of his hands on her again soon. He had suffered a blow in Derdriu, and seeing it firsthand had been more than enough to remind her that he was in many ways still as fragile as he had been that first night they had shared a bed.

"Later, then..." Warin promised with a wry twist of a smile, and his good hand slid up the curves of her waist and side before his knuckles trailed along her cheek tenderly. She leaned into his touch, reaching to grasp his wrist to hold his hand to her face, and he was glad to oblige her by extending his fingers to cup her cheek. She nuzzled into his palm at once, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent, and he ached both emotionally and physically with want of her before he continued with a sigh of his own, "When I'm discharged, you can have me however you wish."

"Don't make that promise lightly. I might not let you sleep for a very long time. You owe me." Shamir warned him without opening her eyes, and her chest tightened despite itself with memory of how he had looked that day, ragged, bloody, dirty and defeated on the stones of Derdriu. The young Alliance girl had done her best to heal him, but the pain that had lined his face and the lifeless way his arms hung at his side... She had shuddered with fear and dismay, and had been overwhelmed with rage and self-hatred at the same time. If only she had gone with him, instead of allowing him to dive in by himself. The forces crossing the Almyran boats hadn't needed her bow as much as the ones inside of Derdriu clearly had, but there was nothing that could be done after the dust had settled. She supposed she would have to live with that, with the fear and worry and self-loathing, but it only made her all the more firm in her decision to be near him at all times. "Orders or no orders... You stay with me from now on."

"I think I can easily convince Raine that's a better idea than splitting us up again." Warin offered lightly, but he understood the tone under her words despite all of her best efforts to conceal it. He knew she had masked her worry with harsh words and anger in Derdriu, and she was still prickly even now... but considering the state of himself, he couldn't find the will to chastise her for it. After all, even if the odds were stacked against them, what they both wanted meant that they both had to come out of the war alive. It would be meaningless if the other died, even if it led to victory. He wrapped his arm again about her waist, pulling her gently to him before remarking errantly, "Considering the plans for the coming invasion of Merceus, I see no reason why she'd refuse anyway."

"That can be saved for later. I'd rather not talk work right now." Shamir dismissed him with an errant shake of her head, and she turned away from him before plucking the books she had snatched from their quarters off of the table. He watched her respectfully, clearly willing to follow her lead, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to hide her smile. Still putty in her fingers, but she adored him for it. She nodded to the door as she cradled the books to her chest and told him in a matter-of-fact tone, "On with you. Our quarters. You're still barred from training, so I may as well start with teaching you how to properly speak Dagdan in the meantime."

Warin fought a smile as Shamir dodged out of his arms and for the door, easily willing to leave him in the dust if he chose not to follow. He was quick to catch up and shadow her heels, glad to be behind her so he didn't have to hide his amusement at her antics. She was covering for her embarrassment at taking up a teaching role, and he knew already from her time with Cyril that she didn't consider herself much of a tutor. She was a mercenary, first and foremost, and skilled as she was, it didn't mean she could pass on her experience so easily. Cyril was simply stubborn and had a good eye for picking up things he watched, and he, himself, had learned from her through constant sparring matches. Still, he couldn't quite hide his humour as he asked her half-seriously, "Does that mean I'll have to start addressing you as my professor?"

"Do it, and I'll drop you faster than you can blink, you idiot..."

"Master, then. I can do that."

"I swear..."

AN:

Flayn and her interactions and her lack of a role in the aftermath of Grondor was questioned awhile ago, and while I always intended to address it, sadly time constraints made it something I had to put aside. There's just so much content I need to cover that things get swept up and pushed aside in order for me to focus on other more "pressing" topics. It's difficult, picking and choosing what material I need to reference and include, when I want to do everything I possibly can, but unfortunately that's the reality of doing a "rewrite" or even a "companion" story. It's a bit overwhelming at times, and with things being as they are, I'm feeling more and more stress about how I intend to continue this story. But I am trying my best, and want to draw this to a satisfying conclusion eventually... but it'll take more time than I wish it would.

As always, I've not been doing my best. Animal Crossing is a wonderful diversion, but I've been in a great deal of pain these past few weeks. Old injuries act up when the weather fluctuates, and things in my neck of the woods have been dropping and rising by ten or so degrees almost over the course of a single day. It's very hard on me physically, and I've been relying on painkillers more often than I've used to. Makes me super lethargic and robs me of motivation. This piece took a hell of a long time to complete as consequence, but I'm hoping the coming weeks will be kinder to me. Spring needs to settle its ass down!

Anywhosit... Thank you as always for reading this far, and please drop me a review should you feel the need. I always appreciate your feedback, and am glad to be able to provide entertainment in these annoying times. I hope you guys are staying healthy and amused in your own quarantine. Stay safe, everybody!

Mood: Sleepy.

Listening To: "Hallelujah" - The Canadian Tenors

~ Sky