One day after the events in part 2:

Shamir Nevrand could not believe what a sentimental, weepy creature she had become. Not that she actually wept or even showed any emotion at all—that would be ridiculous—but as her best friend lay in need of medical attention she found herself actually being concerned for once in her damn life. She glanced around at the inside of the shack out of city bounds where she was hunkering out. Cold and looking like it was about to collapse at any moment. But given that the entire city of Fhirdiad had already collapsed, this didn't seem so bad.

Besides, the cold had healing properties. She heard whispers of it while she was a mercenary in Dagda. The commanders always stayed by a fire at night, but the common soldiers were the ones to heal better because the cold air helped patch their wounds. Mercenaries were often idiots—which was fortunate, since that meant Shamir could surpass the competition by putting in almost no effort at all—but after she started looking she couldn't help but see the rapid healing that came from soldiers left to lick their own wounds in the cold.

It was tough love, but Catherine was a big girl.

"Can't believe that… twerp got the better of me," Catherine said.

"Twerp." Shamir smirked. "He's almost as interesting as that professor. Both of them went missing during a battle where they should have died. And here they are, both missing again. Be prepared when Claude von Riegan wants to finish the job, Catherine."

Catherine scowled. "I could beat him in a duel any day. I'll let him pick the weapons. Except bows, because that's cheating."

"Cheating, hm?" Shamir twirled an arrow in her hand. "This is getting pathetic, Catherine."

Catherine sat up, straining her bandages. What a dumbass.

"Pathetic? Me? I'll go out there and show you-"

"That's exactly what is sad. You lost, Catherine. Admit it, stop your showboating, and be prepared for next time."

"If there is a next time." Catherine looked at the ground.

People gave Shamir odd looks for refusing to grovel at Rhea's feet, and Catherine herself gasped the first time Shamir said that she was going to leave the Knights of Seiros as soon as her debt to Rhea was repaid. But here Catherine was, her sole purpose in life crushed to pieces before her eyes while Shamir had a full life of travelling and killing ahead of her. So who was the real fool?

"Knights will still be needed," Shamir said. "I'm sure you'll be able to find work."

"I will not serve Edelgard." The fire in her eyes remined Shamir of a child who was refusing to do their chores.

"Then you will die. I'll attend your funeral."

A sigh. Catherine slumped back against the shack wall.

"You can't give me this just once, Shamir? You know, like lie to me and say that everything's going to work out?"

"It might, if you let go of Rhea and don't act like an idiot. Now that the Kingdom's gone, you're not a wanted criminal here anymore."

"That is true." Catherine's face darkened again. "But to become an Imperial dog…"

"Why not? I bet it pays well."

"You of all people should hate the Empire, Shamir. Didn't they ravage your homeland?"

"Their exploits in Dagda were greatly exaggerated. Besides, that has nothing to do with me. Maybe I'll put an arrow through the minister of war Count Bergliez if I get petty, but otherwise I don't see why I should hold that decision against the thousands of people who didn't make it."

"You know, Shamir. That almost sounded profound. I bet there's something in there about salvation and forgiveness."

"Forgiveness is for the weak. Not wasting my energy on pointless squabbles is the goal."

Catherine crossed her arms. "So why are you here, Shamir? Why are you patching me up and hiding out in this shack if the Knights of Seiros are done for?"

"Because…" She knew the answer, but saying it out loud was awkward. Those were words that were supposed to belong to other people.

"Because?" Catherine said.

Shamir scowled. "Because I care about you, okay? Now shut up and sit still while I change your bandages."

"So you're not a heartless monster after all. Who would have guessed?"

"Hmph. I like you despite your idiocy, you know. The least you could do is be understanding of my personality."

"So being an idiot is my personality?"

"You're a meathead. Are you denying it?"

Catherine laughed. "You're ruthless."

"And you're not denying the truth."

A shrug. "If that's what gives me strength, so be it."

"And that's what I find attractive about you."

Catherine jolted up straight in her sitting position. "Did you just say…?"

"When you go out and cut through swaths of enemies, it makes me think I'm in love," Shamir said. "I know you're going to laugh, but it's really not funny. I experience attraction like everyone else."

"Yeah, but you're…" Catherine gestured for Shamir to finish.

"I'm what?"

A smile. "You know."

"I don't."

Catherine paused. "You don't seem like the romantic type."

"I experience romantic feelings. Though I may stop experiencing those romantic feelings for a certain someone if you don't let me change your bandages. If you must die, I'll accept it. But I refuse to let you go down to an infection."

"Aw, what a sweetheart. I love you too."

Too casual. Shamir wanted those words to mean something. Most people in this world were boring, little more than machines with a slightly more complicated routine, but Catherine was different. Shamir would never get tired of her smooth sword strokes, her laugh as enemy blood sprayed in her face, her smile as she limped out of a fight bleeding from a dozen spots on her body. It was almost like… him.

Shamir hadn't told Catherine about him yet. Not that she was hiding the information, but there was no reason to talk to anyone about her past. Especially when there was no chance Catherine was ever going to meet him.

Súile ar an duais. That was what he always used to tell her in Dagdan. Eyes on the prize. Was Shamir letting herself get distracted by Catherine, or was Catherine her future?

As Shamir reached for Catherine's bandages, a knock sounded on the door to the shack. Shamir grabbed her bow and crept towards the door. Without even thinking, she walked in a way that kept her footsteps silent. Catherine's breathing was obnoxiously loud, but Shamir couldn't draw attention to it without creating more noise. Thank goodness Catherine at least had the sense to stay still and not say anything.

Shamir peeked outside a hole in the shack and saw Rhea standing outside. As a human this time, not whatever monstrosity she had turned into in Fhirdiad. Fódlan was such a strange land, where mythical monsters and autonomous war machines were the norm. It was crazier than the kids' stories she scoffed at as a child in Dagda.

But Rhea being here presented a conundrum. If she knew that Shamir deserted to avoid the bloodshed that Claude and Annette were going to unleash at the school of sorcery, her life was forfeit. But if she tried to ward Rhea off and her game was discovered, she might give herself away as a deserter unprompted. The smart move here was to stay still and wait for Rhea to leave. Shamir looked back at Catherine.

Damn it.

Rhea was already reaching for the door when Shamir opened it, which made her feel better about the decision. Rhea's eyes widened in surprise as Shamir came face to face with her.

"Ah, my apologies," Rhea said. "I didn't think there was anyone here. Is it okay if I rest inside for a while?"

"Lady Rhea." Catherine rose to her feet. "I'm so glad that you're alive."

Rhea cocked her head. "I… think you have the wrong person."

Shamir narrowed her eyes. This was definitely Rhea. There were a few nicks on her face that Shamir recognized, ruling out the possibility of an identical twin.

"Well, why don't you come in out of the cold?" Shamir said.

"Thank you."

Rhea stepped inside and sat down, rubbing her arms.

"Lady Rhea," Catherine said, "If this is some sort of test, I still wish to serve you. My blade is yours."

"I…" Rhea turned to Shamir. "Is this your friend? Do you know what she's going on about?"

"We both know you," Shamir said.

"But that's not my name."

"Please, Lady Rhea," Catherine said. "I owe you my life. You don't need to do… whatever this is."

"Quiet, Catherine," Shamir said. To Rhea, "What is your name, then?"

"Seiros. And you are?"

Shamir and Catherine exchanged a glance. So far as Shamir knew, Fódlan people didn't name themselves after saints. Catherine furrowing her brows while simultaneously raising one confirmed that for her.

"Did I say something weird?" Rhea asked. "I know it's not a common name, but it's not that odd." A frown. "You are both humans, yes?"

Catherine blinked. "What else would we be?"

"I know you're not children of the goddess," Rhea said. "And I don't think you're with… them, either."

"Seiros," Shamir said. "May I ask you what year it is?"

Rhea blinked. "That depends where we are, right? I take it we're in the northern providences?"

"We're in Faerghus, yes," Catherine said. "Outside of Fhirdiad."

"Faerghus?" Rhea looked between Catherine and Shamir. "Fhirdiad?"

"Wait," Shamir said, "You're not using the Imperial calendar, Seiros?"

"Imperial… what empire? To you it might seem like your human city-states and kingdoms are large, but that's not how we see it."

"You've forgotten about the Adrestian Empire too?" Catherine said. "We're at war with them."

Classic Catherine. Well, Shamir wasn't going to waste this opportunity to get some more information out of Rhea. If her stories were consistent with those about Saint Seiros… well, Shamir didn't know exactly what that could mean, but now was her chance to ask.

"Do you know people by the names of Cichol, Cethleann, Indech, and Macuil?" Shamir said.

Rhea nodded. "I'm a little surprised that humans know them. I didn't think they got out much." A smirk emerged at the corner of her lips.

"What about a man named Nemesis?" Shamir said.

"Nemesis…" Rhea frowned. "That doesn't sound familiar to me."

"Shamir," Catherine said. "Where are you going with this? I thought you didn't even know our Fódlan myths and history."

"It seems our friend here believes that she is Saint Seiros," Shamir said, "From a time before the Adrestian Empire existed. Is it so odd to find that curious?"

"I never claimed I was a saint," Rhea said.

Well, that made sense. The person Rhea was now predated the Church of Seiros.

"Now that things are more interesting," Shamir said, "We should make plans for you and Rhea to regroup with the others, Catherine. She has a lot of explaining to do to them, and you hae a lot of explaining to do to her. Maybe you can jog her memory by mentioning some of what's happened since the founding the Adrestian Empire."

"Shamir, you don't actually think…" Catherine said.

"Despite the fact that this is marginally more interesting than the rest of you Fódlan people, I don't especially care. After you're healed up and you set off with Rhea to regroup with the knights, I'm out."

"You're…" Catherine frowned. "What? We need you now more than ever, Shamir."

"Too late. I deserted back in Fhirdiad. No point in defending a city on fire. If the knights see me again, my head will become a nice decoration atop some gate or another."

Catherine's eyes widened. "You didn't."

"You're only alive because I made the right choice, Catherine. Claude and Annette were going to kill me if I stayed and fought, and then I wouldn't be here to tend to your wounds. And then Rhea would have been left wandering the snowfields of Faerghus on her own with no memory. Sometimes life works out."

"We're going to have a long discussion later about this, Shamir," Catherine said.

"A discussion of words, or blades?"

"I haven't decided yet. But I can't turn you in."

"I'm sure Cristophe's spirit is laughing at you for saying that."

"He didn't save my life like you're doing, Shamir. I… You said you care about me, and I care about you too. We'll find some way to make this work."

Shamir glanced at Rhea. "Really? We're getting sentimental in front of a third party?"

Catherine scowled. "Fuck off. I just said I care about you, Shamir."

"Ah, there's the Catherine I know."

"I don't entirely understand what's going on," Rhea said, "But it looks like I'm best following the two of you for now."

Catherine nodded, and then smiled at Shamir. Despite everything, it looked like there was some joy to be found in the aftermath of a battlefield.

Shamir hadn't realized how much she needed it before saying goodbye.

Slowly, the aromantic author gets more comfortable writing romantic subtext.

I realized today that I haven't spoken a word out loud to anyone since Wednesday morning. I think the pandemic is finally wearing down on me after six months. It really does help to know that there are people reading the stuff I put out in the world, so thank you all for that. :)

But enough of my personal stuff. One of the criticisms people have of Silver Snow is that Rhea's barely in it. But if she were present as her archbishop self, she'd stifle the arcs of other characters by being a force of authority that they must learn to live without. So I thought the easiest solution to have more Rhea is to give her amnesia about the last 1000 years so she can be in the story without dominating every scene she's in.

Besides that, it was a lot of fun to write Shamir. Highly recommend. :)

Notes:

-Shamir fought in the war between Dagda and the Adrestian Empire, which is referenced here. It's discussed at length in her support conversations with Caspar, whose father is the Minister of War.

-Shamir has an unnamed lover that rarely comes up in discussion. She never seems awkward about it so I gave her the reasoning that she just doesn't think it's worth bringing up.

-The "Dagdan" I have here is Irish, since Dagda is an Irish word.