#AN: If hindsight is 2020, I don't want any. This chapter had me beat until a particular shade gave me a bit of inspiration and... while I wouldn't say it fell neatly into place or anything like that, it at least happened before 2021. For me, at least. Also, a big shoutout to recycling! ;)


Chapter 27: A Series of Fortunate Events

The first thing Siesta noticed was the sun in her face. Which was strange, the servant quarters didn't have something so fancy as windows... It was like waking up back home. Nostalgia assaulted her and she sighed. She hadn't had to chase away a nightmare or monster under the bed in ages, but the sensation of stroking her sister's hair idly while they cuddled in bed was so real-

Eh!?

Her eyes flew open just in time to see her hand disappear over the crest of a pink pile, gently caressing the long locks seemingly of its own volition. Long practice allowed her to avoid flinching or panic, her well-trained sister reflexes saving her from rousing the sleeping noble child and the awkward questions that would follow.

And goodness, would they be awkward! Miss Vallière was apparently a... well, calling her a "cuddler" was perhaps understating the case. She had buried her face in Siesta's bosom, one of her hands rested comfortably on her posterior, and a leg had worked it's way between her thighs.

It was altogether much too intimate to be called mere cuddling, then. It was the embrace of a... of a... lo-

Lord deliver me from temptation!

Siesta was up to the task, of course, extracting herself and ensuring the young Miss was wrapped around a pillow undisturbed, she busied herself with tidying the room while she reflected on the choices that had led her to this situation.


Their meeting was something of a bad joke. It was the very same night after the students' familiar summonings and she was doing her evening rounds, turning down the lamps. The door behind her opened and she willed herself to be unnoticeably unobtrusive. Alas, it was not meant to be.

"Ah, excellent! You there, maid, fetch me a glass of warm milk. My familiar is having a hard time getting back to sleep." Startled, Siesta turned to the haughty teen that had delivered the order. It was as she feared: Louise de la Vallière, who the grapevine assured her was perpetually annoyed for no reason at all. Also, responsible for more than half of all explosions in the academy.

Please don't try to use magic!

"Oh, good evening, Miss Vallière!" She feigned a cheer she definitely did not feel. Although... even in the dim light of the hallway, it was obvious the young noble wasn't in any condition to be casting spells, even if she had had a wand. She put up a stern front, but her stance spoke of agitation, and distracted concern lined her face. The curious combination of defiance to hide vulnerability... it was all too similar to how her cousin Jessica used to push through tears and fears in the dead of night. "Warm milk was it? Please be at ease, I will be back very soon."

She might be an explosive little girl, but she's still a little girl, Siesta rationalised to herself. Nobles could be monsters, but they didn't have to be. Another memory resurfaced, her grandfather talking about the soul of hospitality winning hearts and minds. I hope you're right, 祖父...

"R-right. I'll leave the door unbolted; just bring it right in." She smiled gently and started in the direction of the kitchens, returning a few minutes later with the requested mug.

"Oh, good work." The words were short, gruff; but there, in her own room, late at night, her guard was down and her gratitude was plain. She really meant it. "Here, Tabitha." Taking the proffered vessel, she eased it into the hands of the third girl in the room.

So the rumours were true. She summoned a classmate at the ritual. The enigmatic "Tabitha" (no family name) was similarly well known in the gossip mill for reasons Siesta couldn't fathom with how boring the girl was.

"I'm afraid I must return to my duties. Please leave the cup on the nightstand and the cleaning staff will take care of it on their rounds. Miss Vallière; Miss Tabitha, I bid you good night." They were absorbed with each other, and she retreated safely before she could be pressed into service again. It was going to be difficult to catch up with her tasks as it was.


That would have been the end of it had she not, in her exhaustion the next morning, made the mistake of picking up a stray perfume bottle and ended up embroiled in a spat between a serial philanderer and two of his "conquests".

And then Louise de la Vallière saved her.

That was when Siesta decided that maybe there truly was something more to the distressing detonation damsel.

Henceforth, in little ways, whenever she could, Siesta endeavoured to repay that debt of gratitude: making sure meals were hearty, serving tea when she had guests, shelving her books in the library... and most importantly, regularly bringing warm milk at a certain time of night for her nightmare-prone bedmate.

She made a number of discoveries in the process. Most important among these, however, was that Louise de la Vallière cared. She cared a lot. About her studies, her goals, her ideals and every person who treated her with any kindness. Even the ones she vociferously denied any attachment to, like Miss Zerbst (who had amusingly risen to prominence in the gossip circles again by mellowing considerably and not teasing various boys, which apparently meant she had picked one and was keeping him quiet).

She even cared about the castle staff... after a fashion. It was subtle, and she would easily be able to deny it if asked, but there was a sort of unstated respect in how she didn't go out of her way to make their lives worse and only called upon those who appeared free from pressing burdens. It was almost quaint to find a noble, especially a child, who seemed to believe common folk like her were anything but trash.

And then Louise de la Vallière and her small retinue disappeared for nearly a week, returning worn and weary. Instincts honed through years of minding siblings and cousins told her the cargo she bore would be needed.

It had.

And so Siesta's understanding of Louise de la Vallière underwent yet another shift.

By the time Louise begged her to stay with that cute little voice... it was like something deep inside her settled into place with a satisfying rumble. She sighed, smiling indulgently. Fine, fine, I know when I'm beat. It's as though she's as young as she looks. How cute.

Louise wasn't family, not even remotely. Their stations in life were so different it beggared belief that the situation was even possible. But in that moment, trusted with the warmth of another for the first time in months, Siesta felt that it couldn't hurt to pretend.


I can't believe I did all that! She was blushing furiously at her audacity, barely focusing on the cleaning she had started to take her mind off of... thinking about it brought back the phantom sensation of warmth and a goofy smile to- she shook her head vigorously. As refreshing as it had been to dote on someone properly again, it was a fluke and she could not allow it to affect her work.

She finished her (unnecessary, self-imposed) tidying and stood near the bed, watching. Every little exhale caused a lock of hair to flutter and tickle. She stifled a giggle and reached out to tuck it behind Louise's ear.

The touch lingered.

Before she could catch herself, before she even consciously understood her actions, she leaned down and gently kissed Louise de la Vallière's exposed forehead.


Louise never appeared at breakfast. It was the Void Day, so she didn't have any obligation to leave her room. And yet...

After the night she had...

When she didn't appear for lunch either, Siesta took action.

I'm the only one who knows what she's going through, she reasoned. Right now, I'm all she has...

She made a perfunctory knock, but opened the door on her own initiative.

"Miss Vallière, I've brought you lunch." She spoke gently, in case her self-appointed charge was asleep. What she found was possibly more worrisome. Louise de la Vallière was, if nothing else, always impeccably conscious of how she presented herself. The same could not be said for the unkempt mess that currently brooded on her bed, acknowledging Siesta's presence with a short look and nothing else. "If my memory serves, you quite enjoyed this fish when it was last served, and the wine should pair well with it."

No reaction. Sighing internally, she set a place at the tea table.

She tried again. "Would you like anything else, Miss?" The silence was as good as a dismissal. She trundled the handcart to the door and out. Pausing in the portal, she looked back, the suffocating silence stretching to a breaking point.

"Please, do remember to eat, Miss Vallière. If not for yourself, then for the people who love you."

She scurried away before she could reap the consequence of speaking out of turn like that.

I just hope that got through to her...


"Siesta," an insistent voice demanded her attention.

"Kya!" Reflexively, she tensed, ready to... "Yes, how might I serve, milady?" ...gracefully turn and offer a stock service platitude. It took a beat for her brain to catch up and recognise it was (the top of) Miss Vallière('s head) that had called for her. (She quickly adjusted her line of sight downward.)

"Good, it is you." She seemed a little proud for some reason, so Siesta indulged her with a thin smile. All considered, she was just a little relieved to see the girl up and about so soon (and, more importantly, seemingly willing to let her earlier impertinence slide). "Can you gather whatever pottery, boxes, dishes... things of that nature... anything you can think of that is due for disposal, and bring it all out to the East gate?"

Siesta blinked. It was an... odd request. And a request, for sure - one quickly learned the difference, in her line of work, between requests and orders phrased as requests - which only served to tug further at her heartstrings.

I fear this is spinning rapidly out of control...

Still smiling blandly, she rapidly went through the kitchenware inventory in her head.

"I cannot say for sure we have objects of that nature on hand." They did not. To begin with, they didn't have space to keep broken or unusable things around. She resisted the urge to give the poor girl a hug, looking so much like a kicked puppy. "But I will check with the kitchen staff and bring anything I can find."

Perhaps Marceau would have some... opinions... on items that could safely "go missing" or suddenly break. The quick rebound to pleased determination in Louise's expression was worth it.

So unfair, this noble, she thought fondly.

It ended up Marceau did in fact, have a list of "expendable" objects. A substantial one. Siesta availed herself of the first dozen things he raged most fervently about and carted them dutifully out the gate to find Louise... stretching? Limbering up?

Looking furtively back to see who had arrived, she got that little spark of recognition in her eyes upon seeing Siesta and the pile.

"Excellent. Those will make admirable targets."

"Targets, Miss?"

"That is rather the problem, yes," she replied lightly, a sly smile on her face, "a problem I've decided to see about fixing. Ah, before I forget, you may want to fetch yourself some hearing protection."

Suddenly, I'm less confident in the wisdom of being here...


In some sense, it was a boring job.

Stand clear, watch Louise throw spells repeatedly, offer occasional tips passed on from Grandfather, watch for signs of where those spells went, politely ignore her more...

"But noooo, can't risk poor widdle Wooweese and her widdle feewings even enough to tell her what's going on! She's too helpless to live, so just skulk off in the dead of night and don't deal with her dumb hangups because she's useless! Can't even hit the broad side of a... a... whatever that dish is!"

...heated tirades, congratulate her politely when one connected, and then take the next "target" down range to set up on the stump Louise had accidentally created earlier in the day with a...

"Son of an ogre whore! Rat licking elf mongler! Betray me, will you, even after the boat and the garden!? I'll kill you so hard your mom will feel it!"

...with a particularly violent shot.

It would have been almost relaxing if Louise had been anything like a normal mage and each motion and vehement venting wasn't punctuated by an explosion that ranged from "loud pop" to "bone-rattling boom". And she wouldn't stop, insisting that she would destroy each target. Nor would she accept moving the targets closer-in than the arbitrary distance they'd had for much of the afternoon.

"YESSSSS!" Louise whooped, drawing her to look down range at the empty spot where the final piece no longer rested. Panting, Louise stumbled over and looked up at her, grinning ear-to-ear. "There! Hahh... hahh... I win! And now, hahh... now you know not to... hahh... doubt me!" And then she pitched forward into Siesta's chest, out like a light.

"Fufu, well done, Miss Vallière, prevailing over such fierce opposition. You sure showed me."


Another day, just like any other. It was morning, the sun just peeking through the gap in the curtains to disturb the slumber of a petite pink-haired girl: one Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. Eventually giving in to the futility of continued attempts at sleep with the insistent warmth of the local star shining on her back, her eyes fluttered open to the sight of...

Cleavage. Cleavage as far as the eye could see at a distance of three inches; bountiful breasts barely contained by...

Wait... eh? Eeeeeh!?

...really, just bountiful breasts, full stop. Pale, unblemished, and not contained by anything. And they aren't Kirche's, she distantly noted in some clinical part of her mind that wasn't being cooked by the blush she knew was dyeing her entire face as she became more and more aware of the other sensations. (That she was quite so certain they weren't Kirche's was something she wouldn't really remember to freak out about until later.)

Barely lucid enough to make sense of the situation, she noted with groggy embarrassment that, whoever this woman was, they were twined together... rather tightly. Very tightly, even. And she was the probably the aggressor, clinging, sticky with sweat and...

"How did this happen."

Still blushing hotly, she screwed up the courage to tear her eyes away from the breasts(!) and look at the face they were attached(?) to.

"Good morning, Miss Vallière," greeted a blushing, nonplussed Siesta, "I trust you had a restful sleep?"

Nope.

Louise closed her eyes and buried her face back in the cleavage.