L'Amour Detruit

by SousChefSean

The Breidablik creates a contract between Summoner and Hero, giving the two a much stronger bond than they would have otherwise. But very rarely, the contract and bond become too strong. And the Hero becomes far too attached to the Summoner... (Yandere One Shots)

9. Minerva - Self-Harming Type

AN: The title should really be warning enough, but just in case: this chapter deals with very heavy themes. Reader discretion is advised.

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Minerva – Self-Harming Type

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The scars you don't see are the ones that heal the worst

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Swing. Dodge. Thrust. Parry. Duck.

One by one, with practically no time between the motions, Minerva went through the daily paces of her training. The habit to practice her paces had been long-engrained from childhood – the fact that she was now in a different world made no difference to that fact. Askr was in dire need of Heroes willing to raise their blades to protect it, and she wasn't the kind of cur who would ignore such an earnest call for aid.

The fact that it got her away from the stress of driving Macedon into the dirt certainly didn't hurt either.

Once she heard the plea resound through her head as she hunched against her mount after another disastrous crop report, she immediately accepted it, if only for the chance to be granted some form of reprieve. Naturally, while she didn't really expect to be whisked out of Archanea entirely, she was happy to stay once it was explained to her just what was at stake in the new world she found herself in. Especially since she was immediately informed that time was effectively frozen for her – once she was returned, she'd appear at the exact same spot and moment she'd been summoned from.

In Askr, there were no politics and no governance to attend to. Here, she was no longer forced to bear the guilt of driving hungry commoners so desperate that there were rumblings of rebellion. Now, all she had to do what swing her axe from atop Krios' saddle, not bear the ever-increasing weight of an ill-fitting crown. The straightforward simplicity of her new responsibilities would've been more than enough to lift the creases from her brow, but there were other, more personal factors that made the Order of Heroes such a pleasant experience.

Like the chance to spend more quality time with her darling little sister. Maria was actually one of the Order's most veteran members (which produced a small but volatile burst of indignation from Minerva when she thought the cleric's participation may have been coerced) and had taken it upon herself to act as a tour guide. Maria hailed from a Macedon that was only a couple weeks past Medeus' defeat, and as such hadn't yet gotten the chance to watch her homeland fall apart at the seams. Minerva's actual little sister, the one still back at home, had spent increasingly more time off by herself doing Gods knew what, which she knew had to be the girl's form of escapism from the daily struggles of Minerva's farce of a court. This Maria, however, was still mostly innocent and wide-eyed (Michalis' execution notwithstanding), giving the both of them a rare and appreciated opportunity to just be sisters and not princesses.

Also waiting in Askr as a pleasant surprise was Palla. And not just any Palla – she was a Palla from roughly the same time as Minerva. On account of her and Catria's expedition across the ocean to Valentia to rescue Est from pirates, she'd not seen any of her Whitewings in some months. Likewise, the green-haired pegasus knight hadn't beheld her liege in the same time, so both of them were eager to reunite and make up for lost time. While Maria helped her settle in domestically, Palla made sure Minerva properly adapted to all the martial matters of Zenith. One part of that was the fact that they were now, strictly speaking, equals in station – Palla's superior was a brunette named Tanith from some land called Tellius, while Minerva was now subordinate to a cyclopean narcoleptic from the same realm known as Haar. She thought the man was a sick joke at first, but Palla assured her that he was more than capable from astride a wyvern. And, after serving under him in battle, she had to admit that his command was well-placed – however much he napped off the battlefield, he was decisive and clear-headed when it counted.

The showing of Haar's competence led to her being assured of another's capabilities: the Summoner, Kiran. She wasn't sure what to think of him upon being summoned – he seemed a touch scrawny for a Great Hero – but hearing Maria sing his praises was enough to brush away any initial misgivings about his character. Of course, even if her little sister was a decent enough judge of character, she wasn't a tactician, and so Minerva withheld judgement on those matters until she could see his performance for herself (especially on account of whom he'd placed in command of the wyvern riders).

Well, after a battle in the Utfrysning Mountains, she was ready to admit that his position as tactician was well-placed. Haar performed beyond her expectations and Kiran himself masterminded the whole affair as well as anyone else she'd served under. She was suitably impressed by the way he conducted himself – and apparently, the feeling was mutual. He specifically sought her ought after the fact to praise her skills, which she accepted (she took comfort in knowing that, however awful she was at ruling, her combative skills were still sharp) and then reciprocated.

Apparently, she made quite the impression, because Kiran consistently sought her out from that point on to get her advice on possible formations or strategies. She was happy to oblige him (if only to feel needed and useful), and he in turn tried to repay her as best he could by arranging for her to have her pick of sparring partners (the likes of Ephraim were in high demand). What was more, every successful patrol or skirmish was met with further praise – even if Kiran himself hadn't actually been present to witness her performance. "It's my job to know who can do what, so I'm sure that if anyone was responsible for bringing home another victory, it was you," he more or less said with an encouraging smile every time she asked why he was so confident in her skills. She did her part, to be sure, but she never did quite understand what motivated his ceaseless accolades.

And now, for some unfathomable reason, he had seen fit to deliver his compliments in a physical form. After what she saw as a routine clearing out of an old, rundown ruin, he presented her with, of all things, a Brave Axe in reward for her service. "You've been setting the standard ever since you arrived," he said, unusually nervous for the nature of the conversation, "so I thought it was only right to get you a little something for all your hard work."

A Brave Axe was a rare and expensive weapon, so it was anything but 'a little something'. She said as much and asked for further reason as to why she, specifically, should have it. After all, the likes of Hector or Edelgard would surely make just as if not better use of it than she could. In response, he just pushed it further into her arms and said she was the only one he wanted to give it to. Upon saying so, he did an about face and made for Naga knew where, leaving her alone to clutch her new weapon. She still didn't understand why she was the one to end up holding it, but hold it she did, and so she was determined to make good use of it.

Hence, her current sparring session with Melady, a fellow wyvern rider from Elibe, where she tried to see what she was capable of with double the strikes. They were both careful – Minerva deliberately avoided striking anywhere near her opponent's center of mass and swung with the blunt end – and the experience was proving to be mutually beneficial. Melady was improving her own evasion skills and Minerva was growing used to carrying her momentum beyond where her instincts told her to stop.

Finally, their bout reached its clear end when Minerva broke Melady's guard by driving her brave axe's follow up attack into the other redhead's lance shaft while the latter was still trying to recover from a frantic dodge. Her blunted spear went crashing down to the ground, leaving the two of them to smile, catch their breaths and bid their mounts to be still again. "Well, you certainly seem to be a fast learner." Melady complimented. "Are you sure you haven't secretly been wielding that for years now?"

"Considering this has been my first match with it, let's just chalk my victory up to good fortune." Minerva rationalized. "I won't consider myself to have properly learned to use this until I can repeat my success against a variety of opponents."

"A wise verdict," she judged, "though I still doubt it'll take long for that to happen. This was a rewarding experience, Princess Minerva. Thank you for sparring with me, and best wishes with the rest of your training."

"The feeling is mutual, Melady. I look forward to the chance when we can cross blades again." The two nodded to each other and the Bern knight began descending to retrieve her lance. Minerva continued to have Krios hover in place while she contemplated what next to do – she wasn't particularly exhausted, so she probably had another spar in her, but lunch was just close enough that any potential spars might not reach a satisfying conclusion…

Her musing was interrupted by the flapping of downy wings approaching from below. She glanced down to see Palla approaching, an amiable grin on her face. "Good morning, Minerva! How goes training today?"

She returned the smile and lowered Krios to meet Palla halfway. "It goes well. I just bested Melady," she brandished her Brave Axe, "but I feel I've another bout in me before we need to break for a meal."

Upon taking in her new weapon, Palla's eyes widened. "Goodness, is that what I think it is? How did you ever manage to get your hands on one of those?"

"Not by intent, believe it or not. It was a gift from Kiran, though I'm still not sure why he gave it to me. He claims it's a reward for my hard work, but I've not heard of anyone else ever receiving something similar."

Palla didn't reply right away – her already wide eyes opened just a bit further before closing half-lidded, and her lips slowly curled up into a sly smile. "Oh?" She said in a tone of voice that Minerva knew promised nothing good. "You know, now that you mention it, I can't say I've ever seen him give gifts to anyone else in the whole year I've been here. He said it was a reward for hard work?"

She chose to ignore Palla's odd change in demeanor for the moment. "Indeed. He's been very forward with praise from the moment I began serving in battles, so I suppose this is the natural conclusion of that. He was awfully quick to rush off after giving it to me though…"

"Forward with praise, hm?" Palla hummed and started leaning towards her. "So, he constantly goes out of his way to tell you how great you are and one day just gives you a very precious weapon unprompted?" Minerva nodded, causing Palla to break out into a full-tooth grin and lay her hand on her shoulder. "Minerva, you sly thief you! How did you manage to steal our summoner's heart without even trying?"

She blinked in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"Come now, there's no need to be coy! There's only one reason for a man to be showering you in compliments every chance he gets and giving you expensive gifts: he's courting you!"

Minerva gave her subordinate a deadpan look. "Palla, please. It was a gesture of gratitude for my dedicated service, nothing more."

The greenette rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Right, which is why he was so shy about giving it that he got away as soon as he could. Minerva, trust me, nobody else has ever gotten a 'gesture of gratitude'. Nobody else gets anything more than some one-off flattery when he sees us do something exceptional."

Now, Minerva mimicked the movement of her eyes. "Palla, this is absurd. I'm not blind – there are so many beautiful women in the Order it can make your head spin. If Kiran was looking to court somebody, it wouldn't be me."

The Whitewing rested her free hand on her hips and set her face in a pout. "It isn't absurd – it's cute! And you need to be more self-assured. You've a unique beauty all your own! Kiran's lucky to have fallen for you."

"He isn't and he hasn't." She flatly denied and rubbed her eyes. "Palla, we have better things to do than gossip about nonexistent crushes. Let's be responsible and get back to more important affairs, like training."

To her annoyance, Palla didn't agree and return to her prior business. Instead, her playful insistence took on a more serious mien. "No, I'd rather figure out what's going through your head. You've never been the most positive person in Archanea, Minerva, but you're being awfully dismissive about this. If you just don't find Kiran attractive, that's fine, but you're acting like the mere thought he could have feelings for you is inconceivable."

Minerva sighed – she could admit that the fantasy Palla was entertaining was flattering, but that didn't make it true. "I don't know if you've forgotten, but my reputation as a hard-nosed knight has kept the suitors at bay ever since I was a girl. I haven't caught a man's eye in years, so what do you think Kiran of all people has suddenly seen in me?"

Palla frustratedly huffed. "Well, I don't know! Why don't you go ask him?"

"Because I'd rather not look like a desperate soon-to-be spinster to my supreme commanding officer. Did you not consider how this would play out if you were wrong?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I know much better than you what happens if you twiddle your thumbs when love rears its head. Believe me, it is far preferable to take the risk of briefly looking foolish than to let an opportunity slip by. Again, if the thought of being with Kiran doesn't do anything for you, then there's no reason to worry about regrets. But if you could see yourself with him, seize the day and give him a chance!"

As far as Minerva was concerned, risk didn't factor into the question – Kiran didn't feel anything for her, simple as that. When he was as busy as he was, she wasn't going to trouble him with delusions of love like a sheltered maiden. But it was becoming clear that Palla wasn't going to accept that, and so needed to be placated. "I'll…think about it."

That 'concession' appeared to have done the trick – Palla smiled again and let her hand gently rest on Minerva's upper arm. "Not quite what I hoped for, but it's a start. Trust me, Minerva, this could be the start of something beautiful!"

It wouldn't be, but she appreciated the thought, however misplaced it was. With a friendly wave and wink, Palla guided her pegasus away to tend to other matters. Their exchange had killed enough time that there'd be no point in trying to set up another spar, so Minerva relented that her morning was spent and made for the ground. She took Krios back to the stables, making sure he had both a full trough of water and a fresh chunk of meat so that he'd be able to recover his strength for the afternoon. For what little time remained before lunch, she decided to practice her grounded axework on a training dummy or two.

At least, that was her intent, but when she shifted into a combative stance and gripped the Brave Axe, she was unable to stop herself from remembering how it first felt to have Kiran shove it into her hands. She similarly found herself trying to recall the look on his face when he presented it to her – it was probably nothing, but had there been something in his eyes that she'd overlooked…?

This is ridiculous. She chastised herself and shook her head. She needed to train, not indulge Palla's fantasies! But no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't find the proper focus. Her strikes lacked strength and her swings were imprecise, so when lunch arrived, she was a ball of frustrated stress. …I just need to clear my head. She'd break for a meal and have a fresh start for the afternoon.

The dining hall was packed as usual, which made it impossible to find Maria. Rather than waste time trying to find the sprightly redhead amidst a sea of bodies, she just stood in line and got her meal: a stew of pheasant, bagged by Rebecca and Sue over the past couple days and prepared by Oscar. She wasn't in the mood for conversation, so she just picked a random spot near a throng of Heroes from Jugdral where nobody was likely to bother her. As she swallowed a mouthwatering spoonful, she realized her choice of seating had given her a perfect view of the implicit source of her earlier distractions.

Kiran chatted away a few tables away right in the center of her vision. Though there wasn't a chance in hell of hearing what he was saying, she couldn't help but imagine his lips were letting loose more unprompted praise. With a muffled groan, she pressed her hand against her head and fought to keep her face from going flush. After a few seconds to get her overactive imagination under control, she looked ahead again and went rigid when she and Kiran happened to catch each other's eyes. They were both still for a moment before he smiled and nodded towards her.

Before she could make any kind of response, his attention was pulled away, leaving her with nothing but the flash of heat in her cheeks. A flash that wouldn't be there if it weren't for Palla! That had just been a friendly little gesture from across the room, likely given to any Hero who happened to catch his eye, and now all of the sudden she was looking far too deeply into it. I need to get over this now. She swore, already anxious at the thought of all the training this could interfere with. She tried to force all other thoughts out of her mind and focus solely on her meal and the stances she'd exercise in the afternoon.

Unfortunately, her plan didn't remotely pan out. From noon to sundown, it didn't feel like she got anything done. Kiran wasn't even around, and she couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering to him. It wasn't like Palla's fantasy had been a bad one – in fact, Kiran was far from the worst person who could be occupying her thoughts. He wasn't the fittest man in the Order, but she had brawn enough for any relationship. In fact, considering how poorly she handled peacetime affairs, she probably had too much brawn and could thus use some brains to balance herself out.

But she shouldn't have been thinking about how best to do that or with whom when she was trying to train! She spent an entire afternoon with axe in hand and had nothing to show for it, which was absolutely unacceptable. The only problem was that there was no way to fix the issue – giving Palla an earful at some point would make her feel better, but it wouldn't solve anything. Dinner had been spent without Kiran in line of sight, so at least things hadn't gotten any worse, but they weren't any better either. Disappointed and frustrated, she finally admitted the day had been lost when the sky had long since gone dark

Curse you, Palla… She thought as she dragged herself back to her bedroom. Delusions of romance were the last thing she needed, and this wasted day was proof of why! She heaved a tired sigh as she opened the door, which then turned into a groan when she saw what her roommate was doing: Maria was holding up the emergency dagger Minerva kept under her pillow against the flame of a candle to see how it caught the light.

Her vocalized annoyance got her little sister to jump a bit and throw her hands behind her back. "Maria, how many times do I have to tell you that that isn't a toy?"

Maria's shoulders slumped and she defeatedly held out the knife for Minerva to reclaim. "I wasn't playing with it! I just like seeing how it shines because of how clean it is! There aren't a whole lot of unnicked blades in the Order, you know!"

"You shouldn't be captivated by the glimmer of any weapon." She scolded and returned it to its proper place. "Attractive gleams are the purpose of jewelry, not blades."

"I know, I know." Maria defended in the same tone of voice all children used when being told a lesson for the dozenth time. Minerva sat at their vanity and began unclasping the buckles on her armor, noting that her sister had already changed into her nightgown. While she went through her nightly ritual, Maria started creeping up behind her, her hands once again clasped behind her back. "Aaaanyway, I heard a little something today."

"Oh?" Minerva asked as she pulled off her breastplate, already weary at the singsong way Maria said that.

"Yeah." She slid close enough that both their reflections appeared in the mirror, allowing Minerva to see her impish grin. "Apparently, a certain someone has an admirer~."

While Maria practically wiggled her eyebrows, Minerva hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Maria, whatever Palla might say, Kiran is not courting me."

"Ha! I didn't even say his name and you knew who I was talking about!" Minerva suppressed another groan while Maria started bouncing on her heels and gripping her arm. "So, how far along is it? Did he confess yet? How much longer are you going to play it cool? When's the wedding? I get to be a bridesmaid, right? Is the honeymoon going to be here or in Macedon?"

"Maria!" Minerva cut her off. "There is nothing going on. Telling yourself otherwise is just setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Uh-huh, sure there isn't. Kiran decided to give you an expensive new axe just because he could."

Oh, for the love of…! This was becoming absolutely ludicrous! "How many times do I have to explain that it was nothing but a professional gesture of gratitude?! I've been diligent in my duties and rewarded accordingly. That's it."

Down to the last detail, Maria imitated Palla's earlier deadpan look. "I practically kept his arm from falling off once, and I sure didn't get a new Restore staff out of it. Of course, it's obvious why: Kiran knows I'd be better as his sister-in-law than wife! So, stop waiting and make him part of the family!"

Minerva had had enough. She knelt down, gripped both of Maria's shoulders, and gave her a very stern glare. "Maria, be quiet and go to sleep. I will not hear any more of this nonsense, so still your tongue and drop it." Her sister's face scrunched up in the usual defiance, so Minerva tightened her grip and repeated, "Drop. It."

Thankfully, Maria realized she wasn't in the mood for her antics and trudged away to her bed with a pout and slumped shoulders. Almost inaudibly, Minerva sighed and turned back to the vanity to finish changing. Just as she got back to stripping off her greaves, Maria said, "You know, Kiran really is a great guy. You should give him a chance."

Minerva gave no response. Though she would never admit it, not even to herself, she spent every minute from then until she fell asleep trying to ignore how much it hurt that Kiran didn't want any chances from her in the first place.

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Life continued on through to the end of the year, though she'd had two new headaches to deal with. First, she had to fend off Maria and Palla's incessant attempts to get her to think about or do something for Kiran. No matter how much she tried to set them straight, neither of them relented in their insistence that she had a place in their summoner's heart. The sole reprieve had only come in the past few days, just after the Winter Festival, where they appeared to be too caught up in the celebrations to bother her.

The other headache was her own inability to stop trying to read into Kiran's behavior.

He carried on as usual, giving her praise for every small thing ("Great work out in the training fields today!" or "If everyone was as strong as you, I wouldn't even need to summon anymore."), but now she had to fight to stop any blushes from creeping into her cheeks. She knew there was nothing unusual about his compliments, but Maria and Palla had forced their preposterous notion into her head and now she couldn't get it back out. During particularly idle moments, she sometimes even found herself indulging in fantasies of accepting his affection and starting a relationship. Those distractions became increasingly pervasive, and their negative impact on her training was matched only by the disappointment of remembering they would never be anything more than passing fancies.

When he gifted her a freshly constructed saddle for the Winter Festival, she tried to ignore both Palla and Maria's 'oohs' and 'ahhs' and the fact that she never saw him giving anybody else anything. He gave the same justification for giving the saddle as he did for the axe, and just like then made his escape before she could interrogate him with any real scrutiny. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't keep herself from wondering if his haste had in fact been motivated by romantic bashfulness as Palla had judged.

Well, for tonight at least, she was supposed to be rid of such concerns: the New Year's celebrations had been set up the second the Winter Festival's were taken down, and she had made plans to attend it with Palla and Maria. For the sake of sparing her own sanity, she had also invited Melady to join them, since having a third party along would keep her fellow Macedonians from being too forward with their insinuations. With the four of them adorned in a vibrant array of Hoshidian garments, they strolled down the streets of Holms Village and perused the variety of stalls.

"Oooh, look, they've got yakitori!" Maria pointed at an especially busy vendor, clad in a snow-white garb. When all three of her companions gave her a confused look, she explained, "Sakura told me about it. It's chicken skewered on a stick and grilled. It's supposed to be really tasty and savory!"

"The Hoshidians must've been busy getting the Askr locals up to speed if they've even got the cuisine prepared." Melady mused in her maroon yukata.

"Unfortunately for us," Minerva, wearing a crimson kimono, began with a teasing grin, "we've already had our fill of the yakisoba you insisted we all try."

Maria made an exaggerated show of disappointment, prompting Palla, wrapped up in her own emerald dress, to jokingly bemoan, "I can't believe I trusted you, Princess Maria – I was hoping to try some new form of chicken, but then you went and made me have all those noodles…"

They all had a laugh, and Minerva basked in their shared happiness. Days of light and laughter like this had started to become a distant memory, so she was elated to be making new moments to remember down the line. Someday, when the crown was sinking into her skull again, she hoped she'd be able to use this to alleviate the inevitable stress. With no real reluctance, they continued on their stroll, occasionally stopping to exchange words with a Hero or watch one struggle with some manner of game.

They must've carried on like that for an hour before another run-in changed the course of the evening entirely. "Hey!" A voice called from ahead, earning all of their attention. Down the street, she saw Princess Sharena, Lord Roy…and Kiran, all wearing their own yukata. Sharena started skipping towards them, forcing Roy and Kiran to pick up their paces to catch up with her. "How's it going, ladies? Enjoying the festival?"

"We're having a great time!" Maria answered, the rest of them nodding in term. Minerva didn't spare much thought for Sharena's question; she was too focused on trying not to catch Kiran's eye. That task proved impossible when she realized he was constantly stealing glances at her.

"That's good to hear!" Roy said. "After such a long year of strife, it's important to have a night like this to unwind."

"You talk as though we weren't dressing up in red, fur-lined coats less than a week ago" Melady teased.

"Well, one or two extra nights like this at the end of the year can't hurt." Roy countered. "Oh, before I forget. Melady, Cecilia was looking for you earlier. Something about wanting Bern and Etruria to spend a night of revelry together? In any case, she asked me to bring you to her if I found you."

"Ah, damn, I completely forgot!" She went to Roy's side and shot their group an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry about this, but I did make arrangements with Cecilia to meet up at some point."

"Think nothing of it, Melady." Minerva assured her, internally noting that there was nothing left to hold back Palla and Maria. Especially considering whom their current company was. "You were a wonderful companion. Please, give Cecilia my best regards."

"And mine as well." Palla said. "Have a wonderful rest of the evening, Melady."

"Bye, Melady!" Maria chimed in. "Let's have fun together again sometime, okay?"

"I'd be happy to. Best wishes, girls." She waved and started ambling away with Roy before the latter could get any goodbyes from his own group.

Kiran looked like he was about to make a comment, but Sharena cut him off with unusually well-placed timing. "You know, that reminds me too! Palla, Maria, didn't you ask me to tell you about how Askr's festivals usually go?"

Palla gasped as if on cue, and Minerva began to realize that this meeting hadn't been by chance. "That's right, we did! We've only gotten to experience the ones influenced by the Order, after all."

"Well, now that you're here, we can explore the festival while you fill us in!" Maria exclaimed, and the three moved in step to form their own little trio. "Sorry, about this, Minerva! I know this isn't really your thing, so we'll have to split up, but I'm sure you and Kiran can find some way to fill the time!"

You crafty little…! Without another word, the three began waving and slipped off into the crowd as fast as they could. Now alone with Kiran and a rising heat in her cheeks, she knew beyond any doubt that everything about that encounter had been planned. Which means Melady sold me out!

"Whelp, we just got played like a couple of fiddles." Kiran noted, looking like he'd very much rather have pockets to shove his wayward hands into. He awkwardly cleared his throat and looked to the side. "Well, I won't say no to your company if you won't say no to mine."

"N-no, of course not." She assured him, cursing the stutter in her voice. He gestured his head down the street, indicating the direction for them to start walking in. Minerva noted that his desire for pockets was well-placed, because she was very cognizant of how close their hands were as they walked side-by-side. This is nothing but a walk with a friend. She tried to tell herself and calm her quickly beating heart. Palla and Maria have no idea what they're talking about!

Barely five minutes into their awkward stroll, Kiran sighed and looked at her, causing her to look at him and take notice that his cheeks were practically as red as her kimono. "Okay, I've been told that a more direct approach is a good idea at this point, so, uh, here goes nothing." He swallowed and met her eyes. "I…I like you. A lot. In, you know, a romantic way." Did…did I just hear that right? "I've been trying to show that without outright saying it – you know, telling you great you are, giving you presents – but you never act any different, so I can't tell if you just don't like me or if you didn't know what I was trying to say with all that."

He gripped his left sleeve and Minerva had no idea how she could possibly have been so stupid to as deny what Palla and Maria had been telling her for a solid month. "If it's the former, could you please just come out and say it so I can stop making a complete jackass of myself?"

"No!" She instantly refuted, earning several confused glances from other festival goers. "I-I mean…" Kiran, sensing the discomfort the attention brought, took them away from the busy street to a more isolated spot of the town with naught much but lanterns and benches. As their level of isolation rose, Minerva's cheeks began burning just as brightly as Kiran's.

Once they were seated, she wrung her hands together and searched for the right words. "To be completely honest, I've been aware of your feelings for about a month now. I just…" she sighed and turned her head away, "I didn't believe it was actually true. That you were smitten with me, of all women."

"What's so hard to believe about that?" He asked. "I wasn't making things up all those times I complimented you! Minerva, you're strong, courageous, reliable, loyal – everything anyone could ever want in a partner. And, well," she sensed that he was twisting his own head away, "I also think you're really pretty."

Gods almighty, it felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest. But, for however flattered she was, the initial uncertainty still persisted. She wanted to accept this confession, but couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow…misplaced. "Kiran, that's all very sweet, and I'm quite sure my face is redder than my kimono, but I still don't understand. Plenty of other women are all those things and definitely more beautiful than I am. I just can't see why you'd develop feelings for me, specifically."

She felt a hand fall upon her shoulder, making her turn back to see Kiran's embarrassment diluted by condolence. "Because I don't like 'other women', I like you. It might be too soon to call it this, but love doesn't have to have a reason or make sense. Plus, you know, beauty is in the eye of beholder." He flashed her a warm grin. "And right now, I'm beholding the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

After all those compliments, I guess it's no surprise he can be such a smooth talker. She thought with a happy smile and brought her hand to her shoulder to rest atop his. In all honesty, she still wasn't certain she grasped what the root of his attraction was. In fact, as overjoyed as this moment was making her, something about it…didn't feel quite right. He was offering his heart to her, but what had she actually done to deserve it? Fell a few scores of hapless conscripts? Compared to the kinds of constant blunders she subjected Macedon to before being summoned, that was nothing. Taken in the greater scheme of things, this was like she was being rewarded for her travesty of a rule. A travesty that she would be dragging him into if she accepted his confession…

As her face began to fall, she instinctively wrapped her fingers around Kiran's. "…You're far too kind." She uttered. "But, for your own sake, it may be for the best if give someone else space in your heart."

Several seconds passed before he dejectedly sighed, the sound of which made her heart twist into knots. "The old 'it's not you, it's me' routine, huh? Minerva, I understand if you don't feel the same as me, but I'd much prefer if you'd just come out and say it."

"I do feel the same!" She insisted. "Kiran, hearing you profess your love makes me happier than I can describe. It's just that," she mirrored his sigh and rubbed his knuckles, "I do not have what is required of a ruler. During my time ruling in place of my brother…I have allowed rebellion, been captured, and displayed my own powerlessness and disgrace. To reciprocate your love would also be to force you to share in my countless self-made burdens. And I could never let you shoulder what should be mine alone to bear…"

She stared forlorn at the ground, trying to ignore the ever-increasing ache in her chest. Her gloom was such that she almost didn't notice when Kiran pulled his hand free and extended his arm to wrap around her shoulders and pull her close. "I know about Macedon, Minerva." He began, his voice soothing and gentle. "There are Heroes from Archanea who come from all sorts of different points in time, so I've put together a pretty good picture of how everything went. And that means I know about how hard it's been on you since even before the War of Shadows started." He rubbed her arm, and, against her better judgement, Minerva gave into her instinct to lean into him. "Nobody should ever have to deal with all that by themselves. I don't want you to have to deal with it by yourself. I want to be the one who's always there beside you, helping you overcome whatever life throws your way." He leaned down himself, allowing their heads to rest against each other. "That's what it means to love someone."

Without even really thinking about it, Minerva brought her arm around his back, putting them both in a mutual hug. Her other hand locked fingers around his laying in his lap. "…You have a unique quality about you." She said, not surprised to hear that she was choking up. "You make me feel as if…as if I still have much I can accomplish." She craned her head so that he could see her smile. "Thank you for that. I swear to not give up and look to the future – a future where you and I stand together, arm in arm."

"So…does that mean–"

"Yes." She interrupted with a chuckle. "I love you too, Kiran." They pulled each other tighter, basking in their shared warmth. This happiness was unlike any she'd ever experienced, and she was all too eager to bask in how light it made her feel, as if there were no concerns in the whole world. "Though, I would have a single question answered." He raised an expectant eyebrow. "You said you were 'advised' to be more direct. By whom?"

He laughed and patted his fingers against her shoulder. "By the same person who said it'd be a good idea to give you that Brave Axe. I didn't know how to court you, so went for advice from the one man I could think of who married the woman closest to your personality: Lex!"

"That axe cavalier from Jugdral? Whom did he wed?"

"The very same! He married Ayra – not our Ayra, she never got with anybody, but the Ayra in his world – and said the fastest way to a warrior princess' heart was through her weapons. Apparently, he got her to give him a chance by giving her a Brave Sword once. Didn't have any good advice for where I was supposed to get a Brave Axe, though. He said he got his from a magic lake fairy or something. I ended up just asking Anna to keep an ear out through her merchant contacts until something popped up."

"I'll have to remember to thank him for his role in bringing us together." She closed her eyes and just embraced the peace of being together with Kiran. "From now until the end of our days, I swear to be the shield that keeps you safe. Gods willing, I hope we're never separated."

---

The best and worst part of the next day was Palla and Maria's reactions. On the one hand, they were overjoyed to point of practically squealing in glee, and their never-ending barrage of questions gave her ample opportunity to recall the pleasure of Kiran's confession. On the other hand, they both held an expected aura of insufferable smugness that she had no way of diminishing. Whether she liked it or not, she had been denying their correct assessment for a month, and so deserved it when they boasted about how they'd just known Kiran loved her.

The other Heroes weren't quite so polarizing. Melady, Roy and Sharena apologized for setting her up, but were likewise elated to see their efforts bear fruit. From there, so many other Heroes offered their congratulations or, more ashamedly, expressed surprise that it had taken so long for them to become an item that it made her head spin. Was she the only person in the entire Order who hadn't realized Kiran had been courting her?

Well, however dense she was, that was all in the past. They were together now, and that was the important part. The new year began with brighter optimism than she'd ever experienced before in her life, and she saw the results of her raised spirits right away. Whereas before, she'd been distracted in her training, she was now driven to become as strong and skilled as possible. While her sleep used to be fitful on account of the worries marring her brow, she now slept as peacefully as a babe. Every time she saw or embraced her new lover, she felt hope unlike any she'd felt in years, and that translated to every other aspect of her life.

Of course, life wasn't perfect, and she still ran into her fair share of headaches. Such as right now, when Minerva had to bite back a sigh of disappointment. She knew that the Order didn't exactly have the strictest discipline of any force in history, but still – it was nothing short of absurd for the training grounds to be as desolate as they were.

Given that she always rose before the sun, she was usually among the first to be out with poleaxe in hand, so she was used to a low number of fellow Heroes training around her. But that typically only lasted for the first couple hours of dawn, and sparring matches usually dotted her vision aplenty by 9:00 AM. Yet today it was now nearly an hour to noon, and still she alone was making strikes at training dummies. She had decided to give Krios the day to rest while she focused on her dismounted axeplay and had hoped to make the most of the change of pace by dueling a wide variety of opponents. Her frustration at her solitude was surpassed only by the disappointment of realizing some of her fellows were not as driven as she'd once believed.

I intend to repay them in kind for the wasted opportunities their sloth has brought. She swore, impaling the dummy with a particularly vicious stab. To think that even the likes of Ike and Emperor Rudolf are willing to indulge in some lazing about…does nobody have a sense of discipline anymore?

Annoyed as she was, she knew that letting her thoughts linger on their absence would only dull her focus. So, she pushed her irritation out of her mind as best she could and redoubled her efforts in her drills. She'd barely been at it for five minutes before a voice suddenly called out and drew her attention away.

"Now how did I know you were going to be here like always?" A smile tugged at her lips, and she dropped her stance to turn around and face her lover. Even now, two months after becoming a couple, she still felt just as strong a passion for Kiran as she did when accepting his confession. Case in point, her exasperation faded away as she drank in the sight of him approaching…with a different outfit and an unusually large package filling his hands? It was quite elaborately wrapped, with white lace ribbons tied into a heart-shaped bow. Clothing wise, his cloak had been abandoned in favor of a short, white tunic and khaki pants.

A gift, now of all times? "Perhaps because I've made it clear that I'd be remiss to neglect even a single day of training." She ignored her confusion for the moment and leaned in to let her and Kiran briefly wrap an arm around each other. "I only wish the other Heroes had the drive to share in my dedication."

"Oh, come on!" He remarked with a wry smile once he pulled back, "Training is all well and good, but you can't expect everyone to be swinging swords when today is what it is."

She raised an eyebrow. "…I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you know, the festival is on. I mean, sure, some Heroes are spending the day at the tournament, but most people are just giving flowers and enjoying the food. And speaking of giving," he thrust the wrapped (and surprisingly heavy) package into her free hand with a beaming grin, "I hope you like it. I know gifts aren't really your thing, but I wanted to get into the spirit of the holiday, you know?"

She tilted her head down to blankly stare at the present before pulling back to blink at him. "Kiran, I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about."

The second the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. For once he heard them, an expression of shocked hurt flashed across his face before being quashed and replaced with a notable faker smile. "Oh, well, I can't really blame you. Askr's got so many holidays that you're bound to lose track sooner or later, right? Well, no time like the present – today's the Day of Devotion!"

…

That was today…? She could vaguely recall hearing rumblings about that, but she hadn't paid them any real attention. Like most festivals, it was almost certainly being held in nearby Holms Village, which would explain where everybody was – unlike her, they must've all cared enough about their loved ones to set the day aside. Actually, now that she thought about it, she did remember seeing Palla and Maria shoot her some impish looks over the past few days. In hindsight, that had probably been eager speculation on their part about what she and Kiran would do together…

Oh, Gods… Her eyes widened and she clutched his gift much more tenderly. How on earth could she possibly have forgotten this day was approaching? "Kiran, I-I – you've no idea how ashamed I am right now. Words alone couldn't possibly…" By Naga, what was wrong with her? He'd been putting effort and thought into a present to celebrate their love, and she hadn't spared a second for anything but the swings of her axe.

"Aw, don't worry about it." He assured her, his happiness still strained despite his best efforts. "Just go ahead and open that up. I want to see what you think!"

She analyzed the wrapping again, this time much more cognizant of how much care had gone into the intricate presentation. A dagger of guilt pierced her heart when she realized the level of work Kiran had gone to regardless of the gift's contents, especially in contrast to her own negligence. "I…I shouldn't." She murmured and tried to hand it back. "This day is supposed to be a celebration of mutual love, and I've nothing to offer you in exchange. I don't deserve anything you have to give me, let alone something as painstakingly prepared as this."

Her shame was such that she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes anymore and diverted her gaze to some nondescript patch of grass. That changed when she felt one of his hands tenderly cup around her own and try to pull her closer. She looked back and saw his false cheer replaced by genuine condolence. "Minerva, it's not about 'deserving' a present. I love you, and that means I want to make you happy with a gift. So what if you don't have anything for me? That shouldn't make me stop wanting to see you smile."

"It isn't right…" She continued to insist, though the slight squeeze he gave her wrist weakened her resolve.

"Just open it." He instructed, his lips curled back into a small grin whose sincerity she couldn't doubt. Against her instinct, she reciprocated it and set the package on the ground to begin tearing at the wrapping paper after undoing the intricate bow. Her efforts revealed a wooden box, the lid of which she wasted no time removing.

The nature of Kiran's gift was readily apparent, even if most of it wasn't visible due to being in a stack: a pair of shining pauldrons and a purple breastplate greeted her, denoting the box's contents as being a new set of armor. She began setting each piece out on the ground to form the outfit's full shape and started excitedly grinning when she had it all assembled. It was much less monochromatic than her typical armor, as well as…wilder. The subdued, dignified garnet pallet of her normal outfit was a far cry from the blazing crimson that dotted these new faulds and colored the freshly sewn bodysuit. These garments lacked any patterns as detailed as the royal Macedonian insignias she wore now, but made up for it with more expression in the geometry. And, best of all, she could tell that it was armor first and foremost – the striking design provided function every bit as much as it did form.

"Kiran, this is…" she breathed, unable to properly describe how wonderful a gift it was. As she searched for the words, she began to notice other details that made her excitement wither away and shameful bile begin rising in her throat. The bodysuit was freshly sewn…and it had been made out of exceptionally high-quality silk. The breastplate was polished to a sheen, allowing her to make out the extraordinary craftsmanship and material quality that had gone into making it. Every stitch on the belts, every fold on the greaves, every curve on the circlet – they had all been done with the utmost care.

These aren't the kind of items you can casually purchase or order as a normal commission – every single one of these must've been specially ordered. This…this must be worth a small fortune…

"So, do you like it? I was originally just going to get the circlet, gauntlets and greaves done, but then I figured, 'hey, why not go the full nine yards' and decided to have a full suit made. I must've hit up at least a dozen different smiths and craftsmen to get it all assembled in time, and I'm still kind of worried parts of it clash. So, you know, I'm sort of eager to hear how you feel about it!"

She felt sick. The time, money and effort that went into this would be astonishing in any context – and in this context, it was being gifted to a selfish, inconsiderate bitch like her. Kiran had been planning to surprise her with this on the Day of Devotion for months, perhaps even before they had actually become an item. Meanwhile, she hadn't bothered to do anything but the bare minimum of smiling and occasionally hugging him. She hadn't once so much as thought about getting him something, even though this had all started when he gifted her a Brave Axe. On a day dedicated to couples, she must've been the worst lover in the land by a mile.

"I-I can't…" She choked out and turned her head away, too ashamed to face him.

"…It's really that bad, huh?" Kiran said, his voice wracked with disappointment.

"No!" Minerva may have felt absolutely humiliated, but she wasn't so contrite that she'd let Kiran believe that he was the one at fault. "Kiran, this – it's splendid. I adore it, truly," she clenched her hands, "but I'm not worthy to wear something so wonderful. Even ignoring the cost of all this, the sheer dedication it took to create it all is more than I could ever have hoped from you. You went to so much trouble…and I've absolutely nothing to offer in return."

He quietly sighed. "Minerva, I already told you–"

"No, Kiran." She cut him off with a quick shake of her head. "A relationship is supposed to be a mutual affair. To accept this would be all take and no give on my part. That isn't love – it's parasitism."

They stood there for a few silent moments while Kiran gathered his thoughts. "…You know, I don't really have experience with any of this, but I'm pretty sure it's unhealthy to insist on always 'paying back' your boyfriend when he gets you something. This isn't a business transaction; I wanted to give you a special present you'd like, and you do like it. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that should matter."

She tried her best to block out the way his face fell when she shook her head again. "For random presents, I could accept that. But today is special, and there's no excuse for me to have forgotten about it. If I had anything to give back, anything at all, I wouldn't be so persistent. I've no doubt I'd still feel inadequate – I'm simply not creative enough to match something like this – but at least I'd have properly conveyed my love. As it is…" she dared to reach out and hold his hand, "you must feel disenchanted, no matter how much you insist otherwise."

He curled his fingers around hers and gave her palm a light squeeze, which made her feel better and worse at the same time. "Alright, I see what you mean. So, you just need to give me something to feel better and be willing to take the armor?"

"Something of substance," she clarified, "but yes. And considering that all the shops have doubtless been cleaned out by now on account of the festivities…"

"Don't worry, that won't be a problem – I know exactly what I want, and it's something only you can give." She raised an eyebrow in response, prompting him to pull her close so he could rest his hands on the small of her back. "I want you to attend the festival with me for the entire rest of the day."

Despite herself, a faint heat grew in her cheeks, though it was tempered by an understanding that he was only trying to make her feel better. "Kiran, that's suitably romantic, truly, but that alone is nowhere near–"

"It's not about the gift," he cut her off, "but about the spirit in which it's given. Being able to spend the day with you would make me happy, and like I said, that's all that matters. Let's be completely honest here, Minerva: what would you seriously have been able to get me even if you hadn't forgotten about the holiday? Flowers and chocolates? Those are nice, sure, but not as nice as being with you."

"I'm sure I'd have been able to think of something!"

"Great!" He chirped, much to her confusion. "Then just get that something to me whenever you come up with and have the time – I don't mind it being belated. Now, the festival awaits!" He grabbed her arm and began dragging her away.

"W-wait – Kiran, the armor–!"

"Oh, yeah." He stopped and sheepishly smiled at her. "Lemme just put it all back in the box and drop it off at your crate in the armory."

He started storing it away, as if her thoughtlessness was a nonissue that would be easily fixed by a delay. "Kiran, we need to keep talking about–!"

"What kind of stuff has been set up at the festival?" He cut off, oblivious to how exasperated his blithe attitude made her. "Good idea! Personally, my plan was to go find Maria – I'll bet if anyone knows the good spots by now, it's her."

She was ready to argue the point about presents further, but stopped once he mentioned her little sister. She remembered that, carefree as he might have been acting, he was a tactician – in all likelihood, bringing up Maria was a calculated move intended to remind her that he hadn't been the only one missing her at the festival. She had friends who were hoping to see her there as well, so a continued reluctance to attend would be disappointing to more people than she'd first thought.

"I'll just go put this away and we can be off for the town!" He announced, the recompleted box back in his arms.

"…Okay." She conceded, a small, sad smile on her lips.

He rubbed her shoulder. "Don't focus on the negative, Minerva. We're going to have a great time together today." Then, before she could muster any kind of defense, her leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. Without giving her a chance to react, he hauled his cargo off to the armory, leaving her to do nothing but rub her cheek and blush up a storm.

If his aim was to give her a distraction so she wouldn't stew in self-flagellation anymore, that kiss had worked like a charm. By the time she stopped being redder than a tomato and replaying the moment in her head, he was crossing the training field to be by her side again. "Alright, off we go!" He declared and pulled on her hand again. This time, she didn't try to dig her feet into the ground and willingly went along.

Of course, her compliance had an ulterior motive beyond wanting to make sure Maria didn't worry. Once she was stepping in pace with him, she tapped his shoulder. When he turned to look at her, she took her chance to press her lips against his for half a second. Though she could feel her entire face go red, she still smirked at the sight of his own blush. "Now we're even."

Once he got his composure again, he smiled back and squeezed her hand. With just the two of them walking together, she was able to somewhat ignore the guilt still nesting in her heart. Logically, she knew his ceaseless patience was misplaced, but her heart was singing too loudly to pay her head much heed.

Once they actually reached the town proper, it became a different story.

The Day of Devotion was a love festival, which naturally meant the town was filled to the brim with adoring couples for her to measure herself against. In particular, there wasn't a single pair of lovebirds she didn't see where both the woman and man had a unique something or other that had clearly been gifted. Just the sight of Alms' flower necklace matching Celica's flower crown was enough to put a pit back in her stomach, but then some of the veteran pairs deigned to see how the newest relationship was doing.

"There you are, Minerva!" Caeda sang, wrapped around Marth's arm. "I swear, I thought you weren't going to attend for a second there. Luckily, Marth knew better and told me to just have faith."

The prince in question as wearing a new fur-lined cape that directly matched with Caeda's new furred scarf. "I know these kinds of revelries have never really been your thing, but I'm glad to see you here. You didn't need to wear your armor, though!" Self-consciously, she glanced at her jagged, unflattering set of plate mail. The other women were wearing beautiful dresses that accentuated their curves, and she'd even seen makeup on a few that didn't usually bother. They'd gone to extra trouble to look nice for their lovers, while she was doing even less than the bare minimum. Now that she had other men to compare against, she realized that Kiran too had changed his wardrobe for the celebration. Marth, sensing the discomfort his jape had unintentionally caused, tried to backpedal, "Well, it's not like the clothes are what matter today – it's being together with the one you love that's important. I hope that, like us, you're able to forget the war's usual troubles for today."

They went on their way, just in time for Minerva's eyes to become downcast and for her to start trailing a finger down her bust-flattening breastplate. "Hey," Kiran gently called out, "it's like Marth said – clothes don't matter. You're beautiful no matter what you're wearing, you hear me?" She glumly nodded without looking at him, prompting him to pull her closer. "C'mon, let's go find Maria." They trudged through the jubilant streets, every step serving to lower Minerva's mood further. Everywhere she looked, she saw a woman doing something she wasn't: wearing pretty clothes, giving nice gifts, playing carefree games.

It didn't matter what metric she measured by – she always came up short.

As she took it all in, the ache in her chest began to physically hurt. It was downright painful to see firsthand how poor of a lover she was. Even worse, she noticed that her depression was infectious: Kiran's steps were lacking in the pep they'd had on the way into town. It wasn't bad enough that she'd tainted his day with disappointment by forgetting about it – no, now she had to actively ruin it by dragging down what good mood he still had.

The lump in her throat grew heavier and heavier until she thought it'd burst entirely, but their march of misery was interrupted before it could. Out of nowhere, a bundle of energy slammed into her and wrapped its arms around her waist. "Minerva, you're finally here!" Maria exclaimed, nuzzling into your stomach. Her little sister peered up at her, an excited smile on her face. "So, what'd you get Kiran?! Palla and I have a bet going and I just know I'm right!" When she did nothing but quiver her lips and look away, Maria's face began to fall.

She braced for the cavalcade of disappointment and disillusion when Kiran abruptly pulled Maria off and said, "That's for me to know and you to never find out." Shocked, Minerva looked at him and saw his lie had been delivered with a witty grin.

"What?!" Maria yelled, Minerva's earlier consternation apparently forgotten. "That's not fair! Come on, tell me!"

"I'll make you a deal: you tell us all the best spots at the festival, and maybe I'll fill you in tomorrow."

"Hmmm…" Maria hummed, a finger tapping her chin. "How do I know you won't try to weasel your way out of it? Why can't you just show me what you got?"

"Well, I didn't get the kind of thing you can show someone else…" He trailed off, his words insinuating something (though Minerva hadn't a clue what it was).

"Oh…?" Maria asked before her eyes went wide all of the sudden and her face erupted in a crimson blush. "OH! Oh, Gods, I–I, um…" She flickered her eyes back and forth between them, and Minerva finally caught on to what Kiran had led her to believe. "Darn it, that means Palla wins!" She hissed under her breath. What the hell did those two bet on? "O-okay, uh, sure, I'll tell you where to go." She proceeded to ramble off a list of particularly fun games, food stalls and even music setups. By the end, she looked like she desperately wanted to be somewhere else. "Just, um, you know…remember that you're in public." She immediately scampered off into the crowd, leaving the pair to their own devices once more.

She turned to Kiran, halfway torn between melancholy at the true nature of what she'd 'gifted' him and indignation about the thoughts he'd put in her sister's head. "Just what was that supposed to be?"

"A way to get what we wanted without raising suspicions. And hey, I didn't actually say anything – whatever conclusion Maria came to, she did it on her own. You want to chew someone out, do it to Palla. Sounds to me like she's the one who got Maria thinking a certain way."

His explanation soothed her ire, leaving only despondency that she expressed with a sigh. "…We should've been honest. It does Maria no good to mistakenly place me on a pedestal."

"Who said I lied?" He squeezed her hand and encouragingly smiled. "You did give me something: your first kiss."

In any other context, she'd have gone rosy in the cheeks. But after the discouraging sights of the festival, his romantic reassurance barely had any effect. "You know that doesn't count." She uttered, eyes shot towards the ground.

He tugged on her arm. "Come on, maybe going down Maria's list will make you feel better."

His optimism was well-meaning, but ultimately misplaced. Visiting the festival highlights did nothing to improve her mood; on the contrary, without the likes of Maria to distract her with her antics, she had nothing but her own observations to occupy her thoughts. It didn't matter what they played, ate, or listened to – everything just made her feel worse and brought back the suffocating pain in her chest. Pretending that she was just as good a lover as the other women walking around was a pathetic farce. In fact, acting like she was fit to attend the festival at all was a sick joke, with Kiran as the punchline.

By the time the sun was sinking below the horizon, she felt the worst she ever had since arriving in Askr. It was becoming thoroughly agonizing to endure the ceaseless barrage of reminders that she was the worst partner in all of Zenith. Kiran had to spend so much time trying in vain to make her feel better that his entire day had been lost, which only compounded her guilt. Holding his hand didn't bring an iota of solace when she knew the mere act of doing so was killing his chances of enjoying a festival that only came once a year.

She had to leave. She couldn't bear to be in that town for a second longer.

As the celebrations got their second wind on account of nightfall, she pulled her hand free and looked away from Kiran's curious glance. "I'm retiring for the evening." She curtly explained and tried to make her escape.

Unfortunately, Kiran wouldn't let her slip away so easily – he reached out to grab her shoulder. "Hey, it's fine if you want to leave. We can get something to eat in the castle and spend the rest of the night together."

"No." She flatly refused. "You haven't had any fun all day. I want you to stay here and enjoy yourself, if only for a bit."

"Minerva, I'm not–"

"Don't lie – I've seen the creases on your brow. I know this whole experience has been far from pleasurable. I'm the reason for that, so let me solve the problem."

Despite her insistence, he refused to budge. "I told you when we got together: I won't leave you alone. Not ever, but especially not when you're thinking like this."

"Kiran, please." She beseeched, her whisper barely audible above the hum of the crowd. "It hurts to actively ruin your day. Let me make it right, for my own sake if not yours."

He made no verbal reply; instead, he pulled her towards him for a hug, though she was too dejected to mirror his arm wrap. "I love you." He softly spoke into her ear and pulled back. "If this'll really make you feel better…then okay. But we'll talk about it tomorrow, alright?"

She forced her lips into a vacant smile. "Alright." Without him holding her back, she was free to abscond from the village. If she got any curious glances as she left, she paid them no mind. Just getting away from the music was enough to lighten her step, if only by a hair. The castle itself was naturally still more or less deserted, so she didn't have to worry about any confused questions when she slipped back into its walls. In no time at all, she was back in her and Maria's room, which she had all to herself since the other occupant would be out for at least several more hours. Mechanically, she began to undress herself and try to avoid dwelling on the seemingly endless list of mistakes she'd made that day.

Her upper undergarments now discarded alongside her armor in the corner, Minerva took time to drink in the sight of her body in the mirror on the vanity. A litany of scars greeted her, dotted in random patterns like the waypoints on a treasure map. Absentmindedly, she traced her fingers over a particularly long one located just under her left breast. Once upon a time, that had been a gash she suffered trying to help subjugate bandits in her youth. In all her inexperience, still used to neither steadying the reins of a pegasus or swinging a lance, she'd foolishly overextended and given the brute a chance to cut through her armor. The wound hadn't been particularly dangerous and was healed in short order, but the shock of sustaining it had stuck in her memory to that day.

As a matter of fact, she could remember the origin of every scar with only a moment's thought. The cross on her shoulder where an arrow had slipped through the folds in her pauldrons, the curve on her waist where she'd barely stopped an axe from burying to a lethal depth…even the circle on her thigh where a disgruntled peasant had thrusted a pitchfork after she failed to adequately relieve the troubles brought about by a poor harvest. Each mark was a memory, etched irreversibly into her mind.

But not just any kind of memory. She noted with lidded eyes. These are reminders of my failures – of every time I came up short and suffered for it. From that perspective, her disfigured flesh was even more depressing than it first seemed. For the sheer density of former injuries spoke of a lifetime of incompetence. The sole silver lining was the variety on display – if nothing else, she at least managed to avoid making the same mistakes often. And, if she was being particularly optimistic, having the scars as reminders helped keep her from forgetting the lessons of the past. This wasn't the first time she found herself reminiscing about the errors of distant yesteryear, after all.

Suddenly, she was struck by a bolt of realization that jolted away whatever misplaced satisfaction she'd been feeling. If she used her scars as a record of failures to learn from…what about the missteps that hadn't inflicted any physical damage? Had that upset farmer not taken a stab at her as she toured his village, would she have one day forgotten about the near famine that drove him to such lengths? She couldn't think of any examples at that moment, but than in and of itself could be taken as proof of the necessity of her newfound concern. What if, at some point over the years, it had been her fault that Michalis treaded down the path he did, and she only failed to notice because of a lack of any corporeal punishment for the failing? It only stood to reason that interpersonal missteps wouldn't leave visible evidence. Missteps like…like…

…Like my poor performance as Kiran's lover. She concluded, her head ducked in shame.

He was far too kind to say so outright, but she knew better than to think that he wasn't pained by her negligence. How long would it take for her to forget the flicker of hurt on his face when she reacted with confusion to his Day of Devotion gift? After all, her regret and embarrassment were only emotions that were ultimately fleeting. And once they faded, it would be all too easy to let herself overlook another important romantic event. Then, that oversight too would slip from her mind, enabling history to repeat itself over and over. And, understanding as he may have been, even Kiran's patience surely had its limits – once he grew weary of her inattention to the relationship, it would only be natural for him to…seek greener pastures.

I can never allow that to pass. She declared, her eyes drawn to a particularly unblemished spot on her left wrist. I cannot allow myself to ever forget today's mistake.

She needed a permanent mark to remember her failure. She needed a reminder to ensure the guilt never died down and keep her from ever putting that pain in Kiran's eyes again.

She needed to be punished for her crime.

At once, she reached under her pillow for her small safety dagger. It had never seen actual use, but as she pulled the pristine blade from its sheath, she couldn't help but think this was the true reason she'd had it all along. This was supposed to be used as a last resort when all else failed, and what else could qualify as that but a need to go to any lengths necessary for her love? Besides, weapons were meant to be used – if this one never got the chance to spill blood in self-defense, it was only proper to give it another purpose.

Her nerves surprisingly calm, she rested the sharpened edge against her fragile skin. A slow, but meaningful drag across the wrist would suffice for leaving a notable scar once healed. With the slightest bit of pressure, she pressed the blade into her flesh, producing a small pool of scarlet to stain the spotless steel. She lightly hissed as she dragged the handle towards her, small streams of blood falling down her arm in different directions along the growing cut. Once nearly a full half circle had been carved into the underside of her arm, she pulled the dagger back to drink in her handiwork.

By the standards of its fellows, the wound wasn't particularly threatening or even painful, but she still felt a beam of pride watching her blood drip onto the stone floor. Her previous scars served a vital role in providing memories, but they were accidental – had she not suffered them despite faltering, she wouldn't have thought to go back and add stand-ins after the fact. This, on the other hand, had been deliberate; it was the proof of both her awareness of and dedication to her love for Kiran. Her willingness to spill her own blood to ensure she was a proper partner for her beloved gave her hope that transgressions such as overlooking the Day of Devotion would not be repeat offenses.

And, should she be so weak as to fail Kiran once again, she needed only to give herself lasting reminders of said failures to put herself back on track.

---

As Spring approached, Minerva felt more of the optimism she had at the beginning of the year. Before, that had been because of the naïve belief that everything would somehow magically work out despite her inclination towards failure. Now, it was because she was confident that her inevitable missteps would always be learned from and make her all the stronger for it.

Already, six new scars had been carved into her skin, and nobody was any the wiser.

Kiran and she had talked after the Day of Devotion, just as promised, and he was surprised to see her in such strong spirits. She assured him that she would never let him down like that ever again and sealed the promise with another bold kiss. His surprise at her self-assured demeanor was insignificant compared to his relief that she didn't appear to be dwelling on the prior day's events, so he didn't mind quickly putting it behind them.

The other mistakes to earn an etching on her body weren't as severe as the Day of Devotion debacle, but she remembered them crystal clear all the same. Once, she'd gotten so caught up in training that she missed dinner with him, and so dragged the knife across the underside of her calf. Another time, she tried cooking for him, but the meal had been "pretty bland" by the standards of everyone who tried it, him included (despite his initial attempts to feign approval). That night, she'd cut into her hip right after bathing.

The lessons she learned remained permanently burned into the forefront of her mind: Don't let any business become more important than time with Kiran and Don't do anything for Kiran unless you do it right for those two incidents. Now, she was implementing the first lesson she'd ever learned from her small dagger: Don't forget about festivals Kiran wants to attend with you. The bunny suit she'd had Maria help put together looked absurd, but it was in the spirit of the holiday and, more importantly, gave emphasis to her more feminine traits that she'd failed to show off at the Day of Devotion.

With a goofy bunny lance clutched in her hand, she waited in the early dawn at the castle gates with Maria and Palla (each clad in their own rabbit-themes outfits) for Kiran to come out and join her. Heart racing with anticipation at what he'd wear or what he'd think of her outfit, she adjusted her tiny top hat. "Minerva, relax!" Palla instructed. "We both attended this last year, so trust us: however silly you may feel, the Spring Festival is wonderful fun."

"I don't doubt it is," she assured them, "I'm just not used to clothing like this. Especially the heels…"

"Did someone say heels?" She heard Kiran approaching through the gateway and spun around to present herself. "I can't believe you would…would…" He crossed through the entrance and went slack jawed at the sight of her. His eyes trailed from her top to her bottom – and she would admit to pride at the way his sight lingered on her pantyhose clad thighs. "Holy shit." He uttered, hand over his mouth.

"Don't swear, Kiran!" Maria chastised with no real reprimand. "If you're going to talk like that, I don't think I should be around to hear it. But I'm too young to walk around without a chaperone…"

"Well then, how about I look after you on the way to Holms Village?" Everyone knew damn well Maria went around on her own all the time, but Minerva was more than willing to ignore that fact in lieu of Palla's suggestion. As fast as they could, they made for the hills, leaving her and Kiran alone. Now that she wasn't focused on his appraisal, she noticed that he wasn't wearing anything special for the holiday.

"Not one for rabbit suits?" She asked, knowing from Palla's testimony that the kind of form-fitting outfits designed for this festival were better suited to hugging the curves of women than the broad shoulders of men.

"I will let Alfonse and Sharena dunk me in a pig trough before I let them stuff me into one of those. No offense or anything!" He hastily added. "But where I'm from, we, uh, have those bunny suits too. And they're exclusively worn by women. So, you know…"

"It's a cultural divide, then." She finished for him and walked up to lock their arms. "Well, I don't mind – clothes don't matter as much as spending time together, right?"

"Right!" Using Marth's platitude went a long way towards convincing Kiran that she was over the Day of Devotion and wouldn't linger on it. "So, shall we be off?"

She smiled and nodded, leaning in for a kiss before they got on their way. There was no lingering dread in the back of her mind during their approach to the village like there had been on the Day of Devotion. No, this time, she knew she was doing things right and was prepared for a whimsical day of joy and gaiety. When they reached the village and she drank in the sight of all the fanciful outfits, she took pride in knowing she had done her part to properly engage in the celebrations.

And engage they did: egg tossing, egg searching, egg smashing, and countless other egg-themed events awaited their participation. Truthfully, it was all childish beyond belief, but that didn't seem to matter when she and Kiran were sharing a laugh while cleaning a splash of decorative yolk off his face. They were having fun, and they were doing it together. For the sake of mutual mirth with her beloved, she was ready to submit to any manner of immature entertainment.

Case in point, their present activity. At midday, they'd met up for a friendly 'competition' with Pall and Maria, along with Fae, Idunn, and Inigo. At present, the young Divine Dragon of Elibe was chatting her up with stars in her eyes while the others waited for a cake to arrive so they could have some kind of eating contest. "Can you do all kinds of cool moves with that?!" Fae asked, pointing at her 'lance'.

"Well, I'm more inclined towards axes these days, but I did once wield a lance from astride a pegasus…" she tapped her chin in a false gesture of thought, "so yes, I should be able to do maneuvers with this."

"Show me, show me!" She implored, clapping her hands.

Minerva awkwardly chuckled and ran a hand through her hair, wondering if she'd once have a child as easily amazed as Fae. "Well…alright." She conceded, weak to the demands of little girls on account of being around Maria for so long.

"Yay!" At Minerva's gesturing, she stood back to give her space. Minerva tried to recall the old motions of training routines she hadn't seriously gone through in years. Slowly, she started going through the steps, trying both to amuse Fae with some flashy twirls and keep her balance on the unfamiliar high heels. Her memory steadily became sharper, and her muscles began to recall the familiar movement, enabling her to move more smoothly. She got so caught up in her swings and spins that she forgot she wasn't moving on the sturdy flats of combat boots.

When she lost her footing, she accidentally thrust the lance in a random direction – and felt her heart sink into her stomach when it made contact with something.

She got her bearings just in time to see Kiran (of course you'd hit himhissed a vicious voice in the back of her mind) get sent reeling…straight into Lucina, who arrived with a massive cake balanced on a plate between her hands. One second, there was a stumbling summoner and a towering confectionery, and the next there was naught but a pile of baked sweets covering her lover.

"Ah, dude." He moaned from under the mass of cake and popped up to rub the back of his head. He looked around at the mess he was in and deadpanned, "I guess that was a real cake up call."

His ridiculous pun and its impassive delivery earned a chorus of chortles and snickers from everyone around him. Everyone except her, that was. She couldn't even hear the laughter – she was too focused on the way her scars started simultaneously aching. She just struck her beloved like some kind of abuser and made him the laughingstock of a whole throng of Heroes. Yet again, she was faced with a situation that forced her to ask: what was wrong with her?! For gods' sakes, she ruined everything without even trying!

Instinctively, her hand reached up to rest over her breast, where a small knife was weighing down her coat from within its pocket. She felt it call her name, just as she felt all six of her scars as if they'd been freshly carved, and knew that she couldn't wait until the evening to make up for this.

This crime demanded punishment immediately.

She dropped her lance to the ground and took off for some distant corner of the town, ignoring the cries of her name. It didn't matter where, specifically, she went – just so long as it was out of the way and gave her space to make amends without any prying eyes catching sight. She stumbled occasionally from the unfamiliarity of running in heels, but soon found what she was looking for: a run down, abandoned house on the edge of the village with nobody nearby. It was locked up tight, she just settled for going around to the back of it and leaning against the wall.

She pulled the trusted dagger out from her coat pocket and tore it from its sheath. The only question that remained now was where to use it. Her wrists had already been extensively marked and were barely being covered by her gloves anyway. And besides, a little cut on her arm was nowhere near appropriate penance for the transgression she'd committed. A deeper gash on her legs might've sufficed, but the torn pantyhose would be a dead giveaway that could only be avoided if she stripped them off altogether – which, given she was in a leotard, would take time she could ill afford. No, there was only one spot on her body that could be easily reached and still have thick enough fabric to avoid arousing suspicion.

Immediately, took off the mini-jacket and undid the buttons on her blouse, exposing her brassiere and the milky skin just beneath it. She had conscience enough to avoid marring her breasts (for Kiran's eventual sake if nobody else's), which just left her lower chest as the only appropriate place to deliver her punishment. She didn't rest the blade's edge on her flesh this time; no, that would cause far too shallow an injury. There needed to be pain, and more than that, a lasting discomfort. She needed to be waking up sore and aching for the next week at the least.

With that goal in mind, she angled the dagger's tip to be poised against the surface of her body. She groaned under her breath as she drove the weapon into her skin, using all her experience taking injuries to know what would cause true damage and what would merely give the agony she so desperately sought. When the blade was about half an inch deep, just outside the threshold of her organs, she began dragging it sideways along the underside of her ribs. Whenever she felt the urge to moan in pain, she visualized the sight of Kiran, humiliated under a pile of cake and rubbing his sore head, and was able to repress the instinctive weakness. This was all for his sake, both to make sure she received proper retribution and to give herself a permanent reminder of how she'd publicly disgraced him. As such, nothing was going to stop her from spilling her blood.

At least, so she thought before a distraught gasp snapped her focus.

The dagger halfway across her chest, she swiveled her head to find her beloved younger sister staring at her in unrelenting horror with her hands covering her mouth. "Minerva…" she breathed after several tense seconds of staring each other down, "w-what are you doing?!"

With no small measure of disappointment, she pulled the dagger free and tried to ignore how Maria winced at the sight of blood dripping from her chest. "Maria, you need to listen to me–"

In barely a second, Maria crossed the distance between them and waved her healing staff to close the wound (much to Minerva's chagrin). "Y-you were stabbing and c-cutting yourself!" She cried, tears spilling forth to stain her snow-white bunny suit. "Why?! Why would you ever want to h-hurt yourself?!

Minerva kneeled down to grip her sister's shaking shoulders. "Maria, please, you have to calm down." She herself blanched upon realizing that her gloves had become stained in her crimson fluids and were now sullying Maria's clothes in turn. "I can explain this, I swear, but you must steady yourself first."

She gazed into the little princess' eyes and was reminded that, despite her youth, Maria had awareness and perhaps even wisdom beyond her years. Her breathing did slow, but Minerva could see that, at heart, nothing she said was ever going to convince her that she'd been doing the right thing. "Why, Minerva?" She repeated, her words now delivered equal parts pained and accusing. "I thought you were just embarrassed after knocking Kiran into that cake, so I wanted to cheer you up, a-and I found you slashing your chest with a knife! W-why in the world–"

She started to sob again, which prompted Minerva to rest their foreheads against one another. "Maria," she whispered, "this is very difficult to put into words, but…" She swallowed and began rubbing the back of Maria's head. "I've lived through many battles, you know that. And over the years, I've accumulated many scars, each of which serve as reminders of my shortcomings. When I look at them, it helps keep me from making the same mistake twice."

"Is that what this was…?" Maria choked out before she could elaborate further, her voice cracked from the tears she was barely holding back. "Y-you think that knocking a cake onto Kiran is just as bad as someone almost killing you?!"

"There's more to it than that, Maria." She tried to keep the small flame of frustration in her heart under control – though she knew this was an exercise in futility, she was determined to exhaust every avenue that might alleviate Maria's distress. "I struck him in the back of the head with my lance and made him a laughingstock. I've hurt and humiliated him, and since we both know he's far too kind to demand I make amends…"

"Amends?!" Maria repeated, somehow even more incensed than before. "Minerva, he doesn't care! Nobody cares! The second you ran away, we all laughed it off and I healed the bump on his head! H-how could ever think a little mishap like that is worth spilling your own blood?!" Before Minerva could offer a rebuttal, Maria's face went ashen and she pulled away from her hold.

Her eyes wide with abject horror and her lips shaking like a leaf in the wind, she stammered out, "H-have you…have you done this before?" Minerva winced for barely half a second, but for Maria, that might as well have been a showcase of all her self-inflicted wounds. "Oh Gods…" Tears began streaming from her eyes like a burst dam and she lunged forward to wrap Minerva in an unexpectedly strong hug. "No! Please, Minerva, p-please stop! There's never a good reason to hurt yourself! Whatever you think is wrong, you can talk to someone about it! Talk to Kiran! Talk to me! Just please, don't do anything to yourself anymore! Please…please just don't…" Maria's composure collapsed entirely, leaving her to do nothing but wail into her sister's chest.

"Maria…" She uttered, her hands absentmindedly running along the girl's back. She was so young – too young to understand what was at stake here. Trying to explain herself had proven to be pointless, but that didn't mean she couldn't still give her peace of mind. "I'm sorry, I just – it was the first thing that came to mind and I didn't see any other way. I'm strong enough to stop, so you can dry your tears." Little white lies were ultimately harmless, especially when said to children. Minerva would need to be more cautious about when and where she turned her blade on herself, but the added hassle would be well worth it to see Maria's happiness restored. "I only ask that you please hold your tongue regarding this – there's no reason to give anyone cause for concern when this will all be in the past."

"…Every night…" Maria mumbled against her skin, drawing a confused frown from Minerva.

"What was that, Maria?"

She pulled her head up, allowing Minerva to see that her distraught eyes now carried the same obstinance they had when she had insisted on serving in the army after Marth freed her from the Castle Deil dungeons. "I want to give you a checkup every night before bed and every morning before breakfast. I love you, Minerva, and I want to trust you…but you've already tried to hide this once. I'll give you one chance to get better on your own – but if I find out you're still trying to hurt yourself, I'll tell everyone, including Kiran. Then we'll make you get better. No protesting!"

She always was a stubborn one… Minerva thought, her lips taut with frustration. She needed to be able to carve her failures into her flesh; it wasn't a matter of if she would falter, but when. Challenging Michalis' rule, rescuing Maria, liberating and subsequently ruling Macedon – her entire life as of late was a never-ending string of mistakes whose disastrous consequences were kept in check solely by the interventions of third parties. Right from the outset, her relationship with Kiran had been the exact same story, so how was she to learn from her faults if she couldn't remember them?

"…Okay." She reluctantly acquiesced to Maria's ultimatum, her mind racing to find some loophole. Perhaps she could do it during battle, when nobody's attention would be on her and the causes of injuries would be overlooked anyway? "If that's what it takes to soothe your concerns, then I've no issues accepting your terms."

"Great!" She chirped and hugged her with more affection than distress. "Don't worry, Minerva, you'll get through this. It'll take time, but everything's going to be okay!"

No. So long as she couldn't keep track of her failures, nothing would be okay.

---

Her skin was crawling. Every waking moment, Minerva felt some kind of tingling sensation along her arms that demanded she dig her nails into the skin and rip it open.

But she couldn't do that – not anymore, not with Maria watching her like a hawk. For two weeks now, her little sister had meticulously scanned her body twice a day, looking for anything out of place. She'd even made an extensive catalogue of existing scars so that Minerva wouldn't be able to hide any new ones under extensive healing. Her first act had been to confiscate Minerva's dagger, but she honestly needn't have bothered when she was so thorough that there was never a chance to use it anyway.

She couldn't remember anything specifically, but she just knew that, at some point in those two weeks, she'd screwed up somehow and should've been letting her blood pool into the ground. That must've been why she was so anxious to cut herself – her mind instinctively knew she'd missed something and was trying to get her back in parity. Whatever she'd done, at least Kiran didn't seem bothered by it. He didn't notice anything amiss either, which at least meant Maria was keeping up her end of the bargain.

But things couldn't go on like this any longer. Luckily, she was now in the middle of a battle on the edge of the Fýri Forest. It hadn't happened yet, but she was sure to have an opportunity at some point to turn her axe on herself when nobody was looking. That necessitated trying to put herself on the edge of the battle, but nobody let her be alone. And if someone was watching and she tried to just ascend to the clouds to do it there, it wouldn't be hard for Maria to ask around and figure out what happened. She had no choice but to endure and wait for an opportunity, but damn it, Tana wouldn't leave her be!

They felled Emblian after Emblian, but no proper break in the fighting ever came. Tana hovered nearby at all times, belting out encouraging platitudes with every won bout. By the time the Emblians stopped coming, she was a hair's breadth away from dragging her Brave Axe across the length of her arm, witnesses be damned. But she was nothing if not composed, and so forced the desire away with a deep exhale.

"We are victorious, Princess Minerva!" Tana cheered, her bubbly voice like nails on a chalkboard when Minerva's patience was as thin as it was.

"Indeed we are." She ground out. "It behooves us to return to the main group."

"That it does! By all means, lead the way." Minerva did as she asked, guiding Krios back towards their command center. As they approached, however, it was immediately clear that something was wrong: most of the Heroes were crowded around a single point near the back of their line. Sharing a confused glance with the Frelian, they drew closer to see what was going on.

When they lowered themselves towards the ground, they were just close enough to see Kiran being airlifted away on Haar's wyvern, an arrow lodged square in his chest.

Minerva's blood turned to ice and the crawling sensation on her skin dissipated in an instant. Long ingrained muscle memory was the only thing that kept her from dropping her weapon, but she couldn't feel it anymore. She barely heard Tana make a horrified gasp and fly up next to her. "Minerva, I…" she touched Minerva's shoulder, which she didn't react to, "go to him. He needs you right now."

Without being told to, Krios carried out Tana's instruction and began following after Haar. Her mind was vacant, shocked into oblivion, save for one thought: she was supposed to protect Kiran. She was supposed to be by his side, keeping him safe from harm. On the night they'd confessed their love, she even swore to be his shield.

And she had forsaken that oath so she could chase after a chance to cut herself.

It was all her fault. It was always her fault. By the Gods, why hadn't she seen this coming?! If only she hadn't let Kiran believe he could depend on her; if only she hadn't deluded herself into believing that she could protect him. Had she not selfishly clung onto his misguided affection like a starved babe, he could've moved on to someone genuinely reliable.

But it was too late for regrets and 'what-ifs'. The damage had already been done, and that meant mental lashes were a waste. No, now was the time for action – now was the time to do what was necessary to make sure this tragedy would never repeat itself. Minerva had been the cause of this disaster…and that meant she had to make sure she'd never be able to cause such catastrophe ever again.

For the sake of everyone in Macedon and Askr, she had to be stopped – permanently.

Krios landed outside the castle gates just in time for her to watch a group of healers rush Kiran towards the healing hall. A few gracious Heroes nearby came up and offered to guide Krios back to the wyvern stables and take her weapons back to the armory for storage. Numbly, distantly, she nodded and didn't register the comforting words and pats on her shoulder. When a few tried to press her, she spun on her heel and made for emptier areas.

After all, it wouldn't do to have anyone nearby when she delivered her final punishment.

Her axe had been taken away, so she had nothing on hand to carry out her sentence. But that wouldn't be a difficult problem to solve, since there were plenty of sharpened blades lying around for her to use. A quick stop by the training fields was all she needed; news of Kiran's critical condition had doubtless spread like wildfire, so the grounds were deserted and littered with steel weapons that had been abandoned in their wielder's haste.

She grabbed a particularly fresh-looking sword and became almost hypnotized by the way the sun reflected off the shining metal. In no time at all, it would be soaked hilt to tip in her blood. Whose was it, she wondered? Was it a prized tool whose owner feel guilt over how she was about to use it, or was it just a random weapon with no particular warrior to swing it? Whatever its nature, it was a strange turn of fate that led to it being chosen as the last blade she'd ever wield.

On that subject, now that she had everything she needed, it was only a matter of finding a suitable place to do it. It only took a few seconds for the answer to come to her: her bedroom, where she'd first started down the path that led to this moment. Doing it within the castle would cause all manner of turmoil, but she would rather not be a coward and die in the woods somewhere she may not be found or accidentally shift blame from herself to anything else. The residential wing would be devoid of life for the reason the training grounds were empty, and maids would be through to clean the rooms before the sun set, so she could do what needed to be done without interruption and be found before…

…Before Maria turns in for the evening. She finished with a nervous swallow. The thought of her adorable little sister managed to briefly put pause in her step; Minerva knew there was no other option just as well as she knew that Maria would never understand. The poor cleric wouldn't be merely upset or even distraught – she'd be absolutely crushed. Losing her elder sister would destroy her regardless of the circumstance, and for it to happen this way…

Then it's a good thing she isn't losing her elder sister. Minerva reminded herself and shook her head. Maria had another Minerva safe and sound back in her own Archanea, so the void she left would be filled once she returned home after Askr was safe. As did Palla, whom she had no doubt would be able to master her own grief well enough to offer Maria some comfort, and the other Whitewings, should they ever be summoned.

That just left the subject of her beloved, who may not even survive the night because of her. Even if fortune should smile upon him, he'd be safer without her around to bring ruination upon him, though his continued misguided attraction to her made it clear he'd never see it that way. Still, it was better for him to have a justification he disagreed with than nothing at all. The only one with any inkling of her motivation was Maria, and she wouldn't be in any shape to explain anything for the immediate future. Which would mean that Palla too would be left with naught but a corpse and no rationale for its creation…

…

..I'll pen a short note beforehand. Nothing particularly elaborate, just a few lines to give some context. She was known to be plainspoken, so brevity would probably be appreciated anyway. That would be her final delay – once the words were put to paper, she'd accept the ultimate consequence of her mistakes.

Her last matters sorted out, she made haste for her final destination. She did take a wider path than usual to avoid any potential traffic (and any uncomfortable inquiries about her distance from Kiran), but was confident it would save her more time than she lost. Without being accosted or even seen, she was soon walking through the empty residential halls. Though she had drive in her steps, the day's events had left her emotionally drained to the point that she stalked through the corridors like a ghost – her spirit had practically left the world already and was merely waiting for her body to catch up with it.

She cracked the door open to make sure Maria wasn't napping or some such and entered altogether when she saw nothing but an empty room. She set the borrowed sword on her bed and sat down at the desk to put her final words to paper. After a brief moment fighting off the urge to drive the quill's sharpened tip into her arm, she dipped it into the inkwell and rested it against the blank parchment.

To whomever should discover this note,

I apologize for the distress I've inflicted on account of the state you've found me in. Though it may be hard to believe, I did this for your sake and the sake of everyone else in the Order. For the sake of my homeland as well, it is necessary that my life should be forfeit.

To give a brief explanation: I am not a successful woman. I failed Archanea when I did not decisively challenge my brother's usurpation, I failed my dear younger sister when I allowed her life to be used as a bargaining chip against me, and I have repeatedly failed Macedon and her people with my sham of a rule. It is solely thanks to stronger souls, such as Prince Marth or my faithful Whitewings, that my mistakes did not bring about greater destruction.

And now, my failure has struck too closely for me to ignore any longer. For reasons I still do not understand, our summoner, Kiran, decided to offer his heart to me. Though I knew at my core that I was unworthy of his love and incapable of being a proper lover to him, I selfishly accepted his affection. I have since repaid his ardor with nothing but disgrace, neglect and pain. Now, because I allowed him to believe he could depend on me to protect him, he lies on death's door while I continue to draw breath unimpeded.

This cannot be allowed to continue any longer.

Whether we both depart the world together or I leave him free to live without my dangerous incompetence is irrelevant – either way, this is what I deserve for the sins I've committed.

My death is the only way to make things right.

Farewell,

Minerva of Macedon

As she signed her name, Minerva realized that her eyes had begun to blur with tears. She'd been caught up in thoughts like this countless times, but…it still hurt to put it all out in the open like that. She read over her last words and found it longer than she intended, but was unwilling to cut anything out or write it all over again. After thinking on it for a moment, she picked the quill back up and made three last additions to the bottom of the page.

Maria, I'm sorry for putting you through this. I hope that, someday, you'll understand why I had no other choice. Please, grow up safe and remember that big sister has loved and will always love you.

Palla, never forget that you and your sisters were the greatest subordinates I could ever have had the pleasure to command. And know that you personally were my truest friend.

Kiran, should fate smile on you, and you get the chance to read this, I want you to know that you bear no responsibility for any of this. This is my fault and mine alone. I only wish I could've been a better partner to you.

Even now, I still love you.

With that, there was nothing more to say. And thus, only one thing left to do. She rose from her seat, undid the clasps on her breastplate and threw it aside, leaving her upper body completely unguarded. She grabbed her sword from its resting place on her bed and took its spot, briefly musing on how horrible it would be to wash the bloodstains out of the clean white sheets. She angled the blade towards herself and wondered, where shall I strike? Disembowelment would be appropriately painful but may risk taking too long to kill her. In addition, it would leave her in the worst possible state to be seen – she didn't want a pool of organs to be what Maria remembered whenever she saw her own Minerva again. Her ribs would likewise make it a tad too difficult to accurately pierce her heart with the proper strength.

My throat, then. She decided and held the cold steel against her neck. The strength to make one slash – that was all she needed. It would be a quick, clean death; better than she deserved, but well-suited to sparing the senses of her friends and family. She closed her eyes, tightened her grip, and exhaled her final breath.

"MINERVA, STOP!"

Before she could fully register the panicked scream that tore through the room, she felt a pair of hands begin grappling for her weapon. Years of combat experience made her body instinctively work to throw off the intruder and give her proper space to defend herself. Without even realizing what was happening, she pulled away from her opponent and slammed her elbow into their face. While they were stunned and their grip weakened, Minerva leapt back into the corner of the room and kept the blade halfway turned between the assailant and herself.

Once she had room to breathe, Minerva finally realized just who had stopped her: the green haired woman was unmistakable, as was younger redhead at her side. Palla pressed a palm into her now bleeding nose while she and Maria stared at her with naked panic. "What are you doing here?" Minerva asked, angling the sword back towards herself now that it was obvious nobody but herself meant her any harm.

The sight of the blade being directed away from them earned even more frantic breaths and wider eyes. "Minerva," the eldest Whitewing called out in a deceptively calm voice with her hands raised, "please, just put the sword down."

"Why are you here?!" She demanded, her patience hanging by a thread – she'd been so close, but now she might have to work around Maria trying to 'save' her with her healing staff.

"Because we were worried about you!" Her sister answered, her face already becoming soaked in tears. "When Kiran came in as injured as he was, and everybody said you r-ran away to be by yourself, I just knew you were going to try to hurt yourself again! I asked Palla to help me find you and told her everything while we looked, so she could stop you from cutting yourself!" Maria began to cry so profusely that it became difficult for her to form words. "B-but that wasn't just a c-cut! Y-you were t-trying to – trying t-to–!"

Her voice failed entirely, leaving Palla to pick up the thread. "Minerva, it doesn't matter what's happened or who's to blame for it – suicide is never the solution."

Despite herself, Minerva winced upon hearing Palla use that word. It had been (and still was) her intent to do as much, but she's always avoided describing it that way to herself. "You don't understand." She hissed. "I doubt you've ever understood."

"Understood what?!" Maria demanded.

But Minerva didn't acknowledge her sister – she just continued to stare her subordinate down, both of their eyes pooling with nearly-shed tears. "How many times, Palla? How many times have I had you and your sisters clean up the broken shards of my failures? How many debacles could've been avoided if only somebody else was in my shoes?"

"I don't know," Palla admitted, her voice low, "but I do know it's fewer than all the glorious victories you've led us to. I know that it's unthinkable to believe anybody could've done better than you with the hand you've been dealt. And that's why I know the only real mistake would be to do what you're thinking right now."

In spite of it all – the tension, the tears, the weight of the sword in her hand – Minerva couldn't help herself: she started to laugh. It was a weak, pathetic gasping sound devoid of any mirth whatsoever. When the tears finally broke forth across her cheeks, the laughter became punctuated by a series of rhythmic, choking sobs. "Nobody could've done better?" She repeated, her voice cracking. "Then why is death hovering over Kiran's bed while I sit here without a scratch?"

Palla flinched and tried to reach out a comforting hand. "Minerva–"

"You know why!" She interrupted, bringing the tip of the blade to rest between her breasts. "It's the same reason Maria was imprisoned in the dungeons of Castle Deil! It's the same reason Macedon teeters on the brink of civil war after ceaseless hardships! Because of me!"

"That isn't true!" Maria rebuked, forcing herself to Palla's front. "Michalis is the one who put me in the Deil dungeons! He's the one messed up Macedon by dragging us into war! It was all his fault, not yours! And even after he did all of that, I still love him! Just like I still love you!"

"And who was he trying to control with your imprisonment, Maria?! Who failed to realize what was amiss and challenge him after he murdered our father?!"

"Minerva, there was nothing you or any of us could've done at that moment!" Palla implored. "Without someone like Prince Marth to champion a continent-wide cause first, challenging Michalis would've only sparked a civil war that Dolhr would've used to conquer us outright! You did the best you could! That your actions were not perfect is no cause for attempting to kill yourself!"

"Very well, then." Minerva said, her tone making it clear the concession wasn't remotely genuine. "Let's suppose you're right. Let's ignore my utterly disastrous rule for the moment and pretend Macedon's woes truly weren't my fault. You still haven't addressed the original question: why is Kiran dying from a wound he was trusting me to prevent?"

The question gave Palla and Maria both pause, the former nervously swallowing and flittering her eyes downward in thought. "Minerva, you can't expect–"

"Don't even bother." Minerva cut her off, the sword shaking in her hand. "We both know you wouldn't believe whatever you said. Because we both know that, had it happened to Catria or Est under your watch, you'd be every bit as contrite as me."

The imagery she presented earned a fearful blanch from the eldest Whitewing, who only regained her composure when Maria gripped her hand. "…I suppose my guilt would indeed be unfathomable. If they died, I doubt I'd ever sleep soundly again. But," she met Minerva's gaze, her eyes steelier than her lance, "I would never see suicide as an acceptable way of coping with the grief."

"'Coping'?" Minerva repeated, her hand jerking down to cut the fabric of her undershirt. "Is that what you think this is? I'm not trying to manage or deal with my sins – I'm trying to atone for them!"

"For whose sake?!" Maria asked. "This won't help anybody, Minerva! Not you, not us, and not Kiran!"

"I keep telling you–!" The Red Dragoon began before frustratedly exhaling and shaking her head. "Enough of this – we just keep going in circles. There'll be no more debate." She stared the both of them down and tried to project as much authority as she could still muster. "As ruler of Macedon, I order you to leave me be and not interfere!"

To her disappointment, the both of them stood their ground and refused to move an inch. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but that's one command I refuse to obey."

"We're not going anywhere, Minerva!" Maria chimed in, a great deal of her initial distress having been converted into obstinate defiance. "It doesn't matter what happens – even if you try to hurt yourself again, I'll heal you in a flash! I'll never stop fighting to keep you safe!"

They were at an impasse. Any move by her subordinate or sister would be met with a frantic suicide attempt, and, despite the latter's bluster, she knew the both of them would rather avoid any harm to come to her. By contrast, if she tried to kill herself with them watching, she'd be foiled before the wound became fatal. At least, she thought she'd be foiled – was there any kind of wound that could inflict lethal damage in an instant that she capable of delivering? Gods damn it, there had to be something she could do! She couldn't sit there and let Palla and Maria's misguided altruism enable her to cause further damage down the road!

You're as pathetic as ever. I knew even executing me wouldn't be enough to give you a spine.

Her racing mind came to a screeching halt and she went stiff as a board. "Minerva…?" She thought she heard Maria say, but she paid her no mind in favor of focusing on the disturbingly familiar voice ringing in her head. Why, of all people, would she be hearing Michalis' voice?

You just need someone to give you the proper encouragement, Your Highness. Michalis is merely reminding you that you've always been weak-willed, just as I'm simply reminding you that you've never been able to accomplish anything on your own and needed me and my sisters to do your dirty work for you.

Was that…Catria?

They've got some pretty good points, Lady Minerva! You have always been pretty worthless and weak, but now's your chance to turn things around! Michalis might say otherwise, but you do have a spine – all you have to do is sever it, and not even Princess Maria will be able to fix you in time!

She even heard Est…but more clearly, she heard the points they were all making. This was her chance to seize destiny with her own two hands, to finally do something with her own power on her own terms. She heeded their instructions and pointed the sword's tip to her throat rather than its flat.

"Minerva, don't!" Palla beseeched, legs coiled so as to leap forward the second a drop of blood was shed. "Think of all you have to live for! Think of the heartbreak and suffering your death would bring upon everyone in the Order, not just us!"

Her hands began uncontrollable shaking and she realized she was unable to drive them towards her neck. She knew she wanted to do it, but…but she couldn't. Not with Palla and Maria both watching her. She'd intended to be found by an unlucky maid, not force her loved ones to endure watching her commit suicide. She didn't doubt that they loved her as much as they claimed (misguided as the affection was) and had hoped to spare them the worst of her demise.

Please, don't tell me you actually believe me. Surely you know better, Minerva!

W-what? That…sounded like Palla…but how could she possibly…

Must I truly spell it out for you? I'll put it this way: do you honestly believe that Est just happened to be captured by pirates clear across the ocean right after you started running Macedon into the ground?

…No, t-there was no way that–

Don't lie to yourself, Minerva. You know exactly why we really left. You know what we all think of you at heart. Now are you going to sit there and swallow my lies or finally get this over with?

"Minerva, please, look at me!" That sounded like Palla too, but it nowhere near as clear as the Palla in her head. The Palla outside sounded muffled, like she was underwater; and in any case, she wasn't making as much sense as the new one. Everything fit together – the Whitewings had gotten sick of chafing under her inept command during the War of Shadows and didn't want to stick around to see how much damage she would do with the throne in her hands. It wasn't like she didn't understand – had she been in their boots, she'd have been just as eager to be far away from Macedon. She should've known better than to believe their excuse and dupe herself into thinking any of them actually cared about her.

The only remaining guilt she had over dying before her witnesses was in regard to poor, innocent Maria. No matter how she tried, she just couldn't move the blade with her sister's tearful gaze on her. She'd already been given clarity by her brother and subordinates to know what they all really thought of her. If Maria were to speak freely, what would her honest thoughts be? What did she truly feel for the older sister whose defiance earned her a cold cell to languish in? If she strained her thoughts, she could barely make out the small, disquieted voice at the barest edge of her mind.

Why didn't you do something sooner, Minerva? Why did you leave me in Deil for so long? It's not like you weren't a rebel to Macedon after Prince Marth freed me – so why didn't you save me as soon as you could? You could've rescued me and flown us away on your wyvern, but you never did. You just got someone else to do it for you – like you didn't really care about me at all…

…Yes, that sounded about right. Maria surely resented her for dragging her feet and letting her rot in a dungeon for so long. She was too sweet to not still love her, of course, but it couldn't be anywhere near as much as she professed herself to. It would still surely devastate her to watch Minerva die…but there was also likely to be a small nugget of vindication deep inside her that would cushion the blow.

That was good enough for Minerva.

Palla had asked Minerva to look at her, hadn't she? That was the least she could do as her final act. She held the sword with both hands, steadied her grip and raised her head to meet Palla's gaze. Once their eyes locked, she felt…confused. She knew Palla didn't honestly care for her, so why couldn't she see any of that apathy? Why couldn't she see the contempt that had motivated her to abandon Macedon once it was in Minerva's hands? Looking over to Maria, she was just as baffled – where was the kernel of bitterness that was supposed to be there?

Why was she only just now noticing how desperate Palla and Maria looked?

Her further hesitation after an apparent bout of determination tempered their desperation with a spark of hope. "Minerva," Maria softly began, "it's all going to be alright. We're here for you, and we're going to help you get through this. No more protesting, okay?"

IT'S A RUSE! A voice that sounded like a combination of both her siblings and all the Whitewings screamed in her mind. They don't love you! You know that nobody could ever be foolish enough to love you! So stop delaying and do it!

No, that…that wasn't true. Even if Palla and Maria were putting up a front…Kiran still loved her. She didn't believe she deserved that love, but she knew it was genuine all the same. So then why was she trying to tell herself otherwise?

"Minerva, please, just put the sword down." Palla said, her own voice as gentle as Maria's.

One thrust is all it'll take! DO IT! END IT ALL!

"You helped me be strong after Castle Deil, so let me return the favor like any sister would!"

STOP WAITING!

It– it was all too much! She didn't know what to believe! She couldn't tell what was real anymore! Why did she think Palla didn't care about her when she was trying so hard to keep her alive?! Why didn't Maria resent her like she was supposed to?!

"Just let go of the handle – we'll take care of the rest."

KILL YOURSELF!

"Please, Minerva!"

IT'S WHAT KIRAN WANTS!

CLANG!

The cacophony of voices, both internal and external, fell silent in the blink of an eye. Lips quivering and eyes blurring with tears, Minerva stared at her empty, shaking palms, incredulous at how much lighter they felt without the sword weighing them down. She was so focused on how there was no more cold steel pressing against her skin that she barely registered the feeling of two pairs of arms wrapping around her in an iron grip. Once she began directing her attention outward, she also started to hear muffled sniffles from her two embracers.

"It's all o-okay, Minerva." Maria sobbed into her undershirt. "You're safe now. E-everything's going to be alright."

"Oh, thank the Gods…" Palla prayed while she rubbed her hands across the back of Minerva's hair.

Slowly, hesitantly, Minerva began to reach her own arms around their backs. Simultaneously, the three of them tightened their holds and pulled each other closer together. In turn, the proverbial dam burst, and she joined them in their weeping. "That isn't true…" She breathed. "He'd never want that…"

"Minerva?" Maria asked.

"I-I wanted to do it." She started explaining. "I told myself you both h-hated me, but couldn't understand why you kept trying to save me." She turned her head towards Palla and gripped her dress. "I…I heard you and your sisters telling me to get it over with. I heard you saying you only left for Valentia to get away from me…"

"That isn't–!" Her denial was cut off by her own distraught gasps for air. "Minerva, there is not a single Whitewing in any world who wanted anything more than to rescue Est! You have to believe that!"

"I do." Minerva assured her by rubbing her hand along her back. "Just like I know I shouldn't have listened to the Maria I heard accuse me of not rescuing her sooner because I didn't really love her."

"Minerva, I would never–!"

"I know you wouldn't." She leaned over to plant a kiss on top of Maria's head. "But I was willing to believe you did and just needed to figure out why you were stopping me. And then," she anxiously swallowed, "then the voices said Kiran didn't love me and wanted me to kill myself too…" Another wave of tears threatened to break what little composure she still had. When she paused to get control over her hiccups and sniffles, a series of comforting pats on her back gave her the strength to stay her course. "Kiran shouldn't love me – from the outset, I've never believed that I deserve to have his heart. But, deserving or no, I still have it. And I know he'd never want to see me dead."

"So then why?!" She beseeched, no longer bothering to try and maintain any semblance of collectedness. "Why did I try to tell myself he wanted me to commit suicide?! Why was I able to think either of you didn't care about me?! What's wrong with me?!"

"Whatever's happened to you, you won't have to deal with it alone." Palla swore, one hand pulling back to hold hers. "Not anymore."

Maria pulled her head back so they could look each other in the eyes. "I tell you as many times as it takes: everything's going to be okay, Minerva. Palla and I will always be here whenever you need us." Her little sister's lips curled up into a comforting, uplifting smile. "And when Kiran's all better, you'll have him too."

Kiran… Her ineligibility for his love had been the start of all this…but then his love had been what saved her from making a terrible mistake. She still felt like she was responsible for his suffering. She still believed that she was a wholly inadequate lover that Kiran would be better off without. And she still thought that he was more likely to perish from his injuries than not.

But, after such a draining ordeal, Maria's words gave her a spark of optimism that perhaps he would live to see the dawn. Her and Palla's pledges let her take the risk to consider that perhaps, with their help, she could grow stronger – possibly strong enough to not need fresh scars anymore. And one day…she might be truly worthy of Kiran's love.

Maybe, if she tried to recall the long-lost idealism of her youth, Minerva could even dare to hope that everything would be okay.

---

Given what the rest of our 'heroines' have been like, this may seem like a confusing type. As I see it, because the 'yan' in yandere comes from 'yanderu', meaning 'sick' or 'unwell', a yandere is any character whose love has resulted in mental instability that causes said love to manifest in destructive and unhinged ways. Traditionally, that means what we've been seeing – kidnapping, murder, stalking, brainwashing – but I would think that self-harming and suicidal impulses born out of insecurities about one's performance as a romantic partner count as 'destructive' and 'unhinged'.

Minerva was a Self-Harming Type, which could actually have meant one of two things. One, we've just seen: she compulsively hurts herself as a form of contrition for perceived shortcomings in the relationship, which ultimately results in attempted suicide when she thinks she's screwed up too much to fix. The other possibility has the yandere use the threat of self-harm as a means of controlling and manipulating their lover into doing what they want (the actual implementation would be a lot more subtle, but think of something along the lines of, "If you don't stop talking to that girl, I'll cut myself."). The gaslighting and manipulation will come in time, so I went with the former for the sake of variety. But who knows? I've nothing planned, but maybe the second form will be realized someday…

I agonized constantly over whether or not this should have ended with Minerva going all the way and committing suicide. And you know what? There have been enough miserable endings in this fic so far. Bonus chapters are a lot of things, one of which being that they're a place for me to ramp up the suffering. If I'm going to write Maria watching helplessly as her older sister stabs herself in the throat, it should happen there, not in the main chapter. Considering that Minerva is pretty obviously at the top of the sympathy pole (as opposed to the likes of Caeda, who's sitting on the bottom), I felt like it was only right that she be given a chance for healing and happiness in the distant future.

Also, to those who read my Ao3 comments, yes, Minerva is not the Fódlan girl I claimed back in January she would be. The chapter order has gotten shuffled around is all. I originally had her around Girl #10 or so, at least partially to space the Archanea girls out more. As it is, we're done with that continent now (at least as far as new girls are concerned). Actually, I noticed something as I was writing this: Caeda was all blood-soaked insanity, Minerva was all self-loathing depression, and then Catria was sort of the middle ground between them. I didn't plan for them to fit together on a spectrum like that, but it's sort of neat they turned out that way.

Please leave comments, good or bad, since your feedback is how I learn. Thank you for reading.