Shadow of the Trenches

by MetalCrue

Thrown into WW1 upon his first death, Artur is transported to Lugnica upon his second. Shellshocked, with a crumbling mind, and struggling to adjust back to a life where the pounding of artillery isn't a constant sound, this is the story of a man who wants nothing more than a quiet, happy, simple life. With a certain half-elf by his side, can he recover? Chapter 1 is pre-Lugnica.

6. 006 - Your LuckyPenny, My FourLeafClover

Two weeks had passed since that fateful late night, the one which still left Artur scratching his head. There had been extremes from one end of the spectrum to the other – there were lows, without a doubt, but the most important thing to Artur, had been the highs.

The low, being that he had been ambushed the murderous, blue-haired sister of Ram's, and that he had been forced to inflict an almost mortal wound on her, one which he couldn't avoid causing without receiving a life-threatening injury himself. It was self-defence – that much had been confirmed by Rem herself, briefly upon regaining consciousness after being healed by Beatrice, and she had confessed to it again, after she had awoken in the mansion's cushy prison cell.

Rem had explained herself, and her premeditated actions, to everyone.

To Roswaal, her master, who she had betrayed the orders of entirely, and who she had proven to that she was not a dependable member of staff after all. Rem's actions had declared to Roswaal that she was willing to go against his orders, acting in direct defiance of his wishes, without any discussion with him, and, in fact, to go against his specific wishes directly, and with as important an issue as of life and death. Rem had proven that, if she thought she knew better, then she was unwilling to listen to others. That was how it had ultimately been perceived, at any rate.

To Ram, her sister and fellow maid, who Rem had broken the trust of, having not only risked both of their occupations within the Mathers Mansion, and also the entire lifestyle that they had come to know for the past six years, but also their lives. Rem couldn't comprehend it, when Ram had explained that the only reason she was alive was because of the man who she had tried to kill wishing clemency for her. It must have been a trick, Rem thought, but to what end? Why would the man, who she had tried to kill, grant her mercy? Regardless of the reason, the relationship between the two sisters had become extremely strained as a result of Rem's actions, and Ram had resolved that she would have to keep a closer eye on her sister – not only for Rem's protection, but also for the protection of the young man who had saved Rem's life, in spite of her trying to take his own.

Someone who Rem had not explained herself to, however, was Emilia, who had never once came close to approaching the maid while she was locked up in her cell, even after Emilia had overcome the trauma of that morning with the support of her Artur. It wasn't because she was indifferent to Rem, but the opposite. Emilia was angry. She was irate. She was furious, and indignant, and outraged, in fact. Rem had tried to take the life of her only friend, and her best friend. Even when Rem was released from her cell, back to fulfil her limited duties within the mansion, and when she had tried to bridge the gap between herself and the silver-haired half elf, Emilia had made an effort to avoid the blue-haired maid as much as possible – however, that was only possible for so long, in a mansion where there were only two servants (even if Frederica did, occasionally, help Ram out, motivated by her almost sister-like kinship with the pink-haired maid).

When Emilia finally had to face the blue-haired maid, however, and when said maid attempted to make amends with her… Emilia rejected Rem's apologies and words of attempted reconciliation outright, and without hesitation – something that not only shocked and surprised Puck, the spirit who had only ever seen the forgiving, merciful side of Emilia, who had never once held anything against anyone, even if she really should have, but it also surprised Artur himself. Despite knowing how beautiful Emilia's spirit was, and how important life and those who she cared about were to her, he had never anticipated that him almost dying might so deeply affect the silver-haired girl, but then, he had no grasp on how much he meant to Emilia.

It was a strange, psychological glitch in his mind – the inability to see that she was so attached to him, whilst at the same time, revelling in the constant affection and fondness that the two shared, without fail, whenever they were in each other's company. Emilia, though, had similar thoughts. She struggled to believe that the man was so good to her - the man who had told her that he loves her. Emilia had thought that it was genuinely impossible for a silver-haired half elf, such as her, to feel such genuine, overwhelming, incomparable happiness, nor for her to be so sincerely loved, as Artur so obviously loved her.

Even two weeks after his confession, Emilia still struggled to comprehend his words, or to accept the fact that they were actually directed towards her. She was unbothered, though, by the short amount of time that the two of them had known each other for, with her feelings for the young man not hinging on the idea of how long it was usual for it to take for someone to feel strongly for someone else – she only knew that, whatever it was that she felt for him an incredibly strong feeling, but that, most of all, it was good.

The others in the mansion, however, undoubtedly did see Artur's expression of love to Emilia as incredibly quick, and some of them – Puck especially – saw it as far, far too soon for such a development in what was still an incredibly short relationship. Who Artur's words affected the most, however, and whose only opinion really mattered at the end of the day, was Emilia – and Emilia was not concerned with the expeditiousness of Artur's words in the slightest. She, after all, had no frame of reference or grasp of concept for what a normal romantic relationship should be like, nor how long it would normally take for those kinds of feelings to develop, nor what romantic feelings even really felt like, or meant. All that mattered to Emilia, was that her Artur had meant it, and that she knew herself how she felt so strongly for him in return.

Emilia couldn't put words to name or describe the way she felt about him, but she knew that she had never felt this way about anyone else before, and she knew that she wanted to feel more of it. All of the sensations that Artur made her feel, she wanted to feel more of them.

That was one of the highs, after all. Artur had told Emilia that he loved her, in no uncertain terms, to the point of near breathlessness. He hadn't wanted to – not as quickly as he had, so soon after meeting the girl, but after essentially being coerced to by Ram, with the consequence of refusing being expulsion from the mansion, he didn't think he had a choice. He had been too transparent with his feelings for Emilia around the others, and it had backfired, as Ram could immediately recognise his feelings towards Emilia for what they were. To his utter bafflement, however, Emilia had responded extremely well, all things considered, and in fact had soaked him in her tears with a warm, heart-throbbing grin, to such a degree that he had never seen on her beautiful face before.

The other high, of course, was that Emilia had, after almost tearing the white-haired man's arm out of his socket, managed to persuade Artur into her room, and into her bed, so that they might hold each other not only during the day, but also through the night, while they both slumbered. He relented, of course, and went along with it – and he had not regretted it for even for a single moment. It was a further intimacy that they had shared, and in pressing himself so closely to Emilia, and in her trying to get herself as close to him as possible, Artur had learned to understand the concept of a 'happy place'. That place that people say that everybody has. A place where they would rather be nowhere else but there, and when a person is suffering, is the place that they endure that suffering for. Emilia's bed, with them spooning each other, their legs and arms intertwined with one another's, sharing each other's warmth, was his happy place. And he would fight whoever came between them if it meant that he could return there.

Of course, he knew that they couldn't just share the same bed willy-nilly. Emilia had been exceptionally shaken up by the violent events of that night – to a degree that Artur had almost forgotten that people could be – and he had confessed to her as ground-shattering a thing as his love, so it wasn't a surprise to him that Emilia wanted his support that night. To her sadness, however, in the nights following that occasion of sleeping next to each other, so warm under the blankets and enjoying the feeling of him pressed right up behind her, it hadn't happened again. For two weeks, they had slept in their own beds, and though Emilia wanted to use Artur's splintered bedroom door as an excuse for why he couldn't sleep in his own, along with the two shattered windows in the corridor, Roswaal had very quickly managed to arrange for replacements and repairs that rendered her desperate excuse for more comfy, prolonged contact moot.

Emilia, at the same time, had forgotten that even if Roswaal had not managed to arrange for Artur's bedroom repairs so quickly, that there were almost a million other bedrooms in the mansion that the white-haired man could have occupied.

Following Rem's murder attempt, Puck hadn't been happy with the sight he had awoken to in the morning. He wasn't happy in the slightest, in fact. He had almost frozen the room solid when he awoke in the morning to find Artur pressed up against Emilia's back, his face in her hair and his arms wrapped around her body, with Emilia's hands having found their way into his own, both of them so content and restful under the blankets. After less than a week of knowing each other, they were already sharing the same bed? That was absolutely unacceptable to Puck, and despite Emilia's protests, the spirit had begun to hold a certain coldness towards the young man who had sworn to give Emilia his everything. Though Puck couldn't fault the young man's intentions or feelings, he certainly would his actions.

Rem had ended up being released from her cell after a week, and as agreed, she was stripped of her status as head maid, along with a great number of other duties. She was no longer allowed to leave the mansion's grounds, and she could never again be unaccompanied. That meant that it was usually Ram who was glued to her sister, since there was nobody else who could really accommodate the new change. Emilia was not a servant, and even if she wanted to spend an entire day watching the blue-haired maid, she could not do so due to her intense studying that took up nearly her entire day. Emilia did most certainly not want to, either.

Frederica also could not accommodate such a thing, considering that she was no longer a maid for the Mathers estate, but the physical trainer and combat teacher to the young man who the blue-haired girl had targeted. Even when they weren't training together, Frederica tried to spend as much time with Artur as possible, although it was to her unconfessed and shameful dismay that he, instead, wanted to spend all of his own free time with Emilia. Although, Frederica had even less free time than she otherwise might have, thanks to Rem's aggression, since Roswaal had demanded a heightened training regimen for Artur, so that he might rapidly rise to the martial ability required of him. The change in regimen was ultimately a good thing, though, in Frederica's eyes – it meant more time around the young man that she had begun to grow feelings for, after all. Even if it wasn't as personal as she hoped, considering the physical exertion and combat-focus that their interactions tended to take.

Though when Roswaal had asked Freddie to come up with an even more extremely intensive training routine for him, Artur had worried that he might end up being overwhelmed by it, but he was met with the surprise that his new regimen was more or less similar to what he had went through in his six months training before being shipped off to continental Europe. A time in his life that felt like almost an aeon ago, when he thought about it. He found it funny that, ever since his first death, there had only been three even remotely good aspects of his life. Three. In the entire past two-and-a-bit years.

Two of them were, without any shadow of a doubt, Emilia and Frederica. He had grown to love both of the two girls, though of course, in entirely different ways – Emilia, as a lover, and a life partner. Someone that he wanted to be intimate with, to support through every step of her life, and eventually, to get married to and have children with. He wanted to spend every waking moment with her, to spend what little downtime he had with her, to know her every thought and her every feeling. And he wanted her to want all of those things with him, too – as much of a pipedream as that undoubtedly was, in Artur's mind.

His love for Frederica, however, was entirely different – she was like a sister to him, although whether an older or younger one, he couldn't exactly decide on. Perhaps, it was that she was more like a non-identical twin to him. They would banter, despite their differences in social status and positions in life, and they would support each other when either of them was having a rough go of it, or feeling down. In the short time that had passed since he had met Freddie, his relationship with her had grown to remind him of the ones he shared with his biological sisters – the two of them he had before the war. His real, biological sisters.

The third positive aspect in his life since the war was his adoptive brother – the brother of whoever Artur had taken over the body of. He didn't want to think about Malcolm, though, and he could feel his throat close up whenever he did so.

He dearly missed his family from before the war, but he tried not to think about it too hard. It only caused his heart to ache when he thought about how he would likely never see his little sisters again, who he wanted to see grow up to be happy, successful girls that would live happy lives. He tried not to think about his older brother, or his parents, either. It was just too painful for him. He felt the intense urge to cry when he thought about the family he had lost, for too long, but the tears wouldn't come. An emotional block from the war, but one that Artur hadn't recognised yet. How could he? He had never been a massive crier even before the war, so he supposed that his lack of tears was just a natural progression as he had gotten older, never once considering the psychological damage that the over two years of bloodshed and suffering might have caused in him.

Alas, it was immaterial. He was here, in Lugnica. In the Mathers mansion, around two people he dearly cared for, as well as one person that he was putting effort into becoming friends with, although it was strained, and one person… well, one that he didn't want to mourn the potential friendship they might have had, had she not tried to take his head off.

No, he would give it his all to try to not mourn, and to try and not bring everyone else around him down with him.

Especially not now – not in the situation he was currently in.

"Too slow, Artur! If you want to be Emilia-sama's Knight, you are going to have to be able to move a lot quicker than that!" Shouted the smiling, blonde-haired, sister-like figure that he had grown so attached to. In Artur's eyes, Frederica was truly beautiful, not only in appearance, but also in personality and spirit. He was glad to have her as a friend – not just a friend, in fact, for it would be no lie to say that he had truly grown to feel for her like a close sister, and thankfully without any of the typical bickering between siblings.

He had just swung his wooden sword in a horizontal arc, towards the girl's arm – but Frederica was quicker, and with her superhuman reflexes, she had flipped backwards, out of the way of his strike, allowing his training stick to sail harmlessly through the empty air she had previously occupied. He didn't let up though, and with the momentum from his sword carrying him forward, Artur rushed towards the dodging former-maid, in an attempt to close the distance. The sun was high in the sky, beating down hard, and he had to squint a bit from its glare as he pursued his blonde-haired friend.

"Then I'll just have to get faster, won't I?!" He shouted back, a smile on his face as he panted ever so slightly from exertion, as the sweat from his hair ran down his forehead and along his face, before coming to glide along his stubble-adorned face. He had finally found a razor in the past two weeks, which he was thankful for, however the rate at which his facial hair grew since coming to Lugnica had been astounding. He didn't know the cause of it, but he didn't think too hard on it, either.

He reached the sharp-toothed, smiling girl as she bounced on the balls of her feet in preparation for his attack, and this time, he swung his wooden sword towards her legs, in an attempt to control her movements. If he could make her jump in place to dodge his swing, then he could perhaps land more than the single strike he had on her a week ago.

Frederica easily leapt up in the air, bringing her knees to her chest in an effort to dodge Artur's strike, and predicting this, he swung his hand towards her in an attempt to grasp onto her dress and pin her to the ground. He couldn't bring himself to try to hit her – whenever it looked like he was actually going to strike his teacher, he couldn't help himself but to pull the punch, as he was doing now with an attempt to grapple, rather than to actually deliver a blow.

Freddie predicted his further attack, and she spun backwards in the air in an attempt of an evasive manoeuvre, but Artur had been watching observantly for any sign of avoidance – taking the chance while Frederica's eyes were off him, the young man dove towards her in an attempt to knock his training weapon against his demi-human teacher. He careened close to her, both of them in the air, and his weapon was mere centimetres away before the blonde-haired girl managed to bring her foot to sail rapidly towards the young man's wrist, causing his wooden sword to fly from his grasp and higher into the air.

Frederica had only affected the trajectory of his weapon, however, and not the young man himself – as he continued to sail towards her, unarmed, the young man barrelled into the former maid, who was still upside-down from her evasive manoeuvre. They met in the air, with Artur's shoulder coming to collide with Frederica's wrong-way up stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She let out a pained cry, and he recognised that the accidental blow he had dealt meant he had taken away her ability to correct her landing, as if she landed the way she was now, then she would land head, or neck, first. The white-haired Scot's protective instincts automatically took over on when he realised what was going to happen, and he immediately wrapped his arms around his teacher securely as they fell towards the ground, while he moved in such a way that he turned his back to face towards the ground as he defended his teacher from landing in a way that could cause her serious harm. He didn't know if he was being overprotective, but he didn't care.

Frederica didn't realise what the young man was doing until it was too late – with a thud that knocked the wind out of the young man, and sent a terribly sharp pain into his back, he collided with the stone ground. His teacher very quickly returned to the earth as he did, though the air was forced from his lungs even further as the blonde-haired girl instead landed on top of her student's muscular frame, rather than the rough ground below. Artur's arms quickly released Frederica when he subconsciously realised that she was safe, though he lay on the ground unmoving for a moment, attempting to gather his breath despite the pain.

The blonde-haired girl quickly jumped up off of her student, as the understanding of what he had done began setting into her mind. As she looked at the form of him lying on the stone ground, a certain warmth filled her chest as she realised that the intention of his action was to protect her. A slight redness came to rest on her cheeks – something that Artur would have agreed was adorable, if it wasn't for the fact that he was lying on the ground in pain. Frederica quickly grabbed a hold of herself, and fell to her knees by the right-hand side of the young man, before gripping his hand as concern rushed to her mind and onto her face.

"Artur! Are you okay? That sounded like you took a bad fall there, are you hurt?" Frederica said, her teeth showing as her mouth hung open in concern, while her eyes scanned all over the young man for any sign of open, compound fractures or any other indication of further injury than just a knock on his back. He had a pained expression on his face, and he did not have the air in his lungs to reply to his teacher right away, but as a few dozen seconds passed, with Frederica only rubbing his large, calloused right hand within both of her own smaller ones, he soon managed to send words back to her.

As the young man took the time to get his breath back, a smile came to rest on his face as he looked up at the concerned Frederica. The smile was fuelled by a mix of the gratefulness that he felt for Frederica being so concerned about him, and the happiness that being cared for by his friend brought. The expression was also fuelled, however, by the self-contempt he felt when he considered how much of a donkey he was, for worrying his teacher because he couldn't control his own attempts at acrobatics. He had almost actually hurt her, after all, and it was only thanks to his unconscious actions that he had managed to prevent Freddie from actually coming into harm.

He considered that Frederica probably would have been fine, anyway – she had incredibly impressive reflexes, something that he admired about her, and she handled her feats of gymnastics with incredible grace and mastery. He couldn't help, though, that his unconscious, without-a-thought act, was caused by his supernatural instinct to protect the people he felt close to. It was something that he had noticed had become incredibly strong when he had arrived in Lugnica, but it had only gradually become stronger and stronger as the days passed, and after almost three weeks of being in this new land, it felt like that desire – no, the need, to protect the people he cares about, occupied every aspect of his being.

He didn't understand what the cause of it was – he couldn't think of any kind of trigger for such a change in his psychology. That wasn't to say that, before the war, he didn't care about people, or that he didn't want to protect them, but that drive which he possessed now felt an animalistic, protective instinct taken to the extreme. He thought that it could have been induced by paranoia fuelled by Rem's attack on him, but he didn't think that was it. He remembered noticing it even before Rem had attacked him a fortnight ago, and it had only intensified since then.

Frederica's face grew heavier as he remained silent, his ruminations and reflections enveloping him. His face wasn't pained, like it was when he recalled the war, but it wasn't exactly a positive one, either.

"Artur, is it happening again?" Frederica asked, her eyes darting all over her student's face as her grip around his hand tightened unconsciously, both to reassure and protect her student, but to also receive that warm feeling of security, herself. That funny, hot, radiating feeling that felt like a warm, heavy blanket being draped over you, yet not at all hindering you. The feeling that only the young man she knelt beside seemed to be able to cause. Frederica questioned whether Emilia felt that same sensation when Artur was near, too, and she wondered whether that was part of the quick, intense coming-together of the pair's relationship and closeness. Freddie wondered if it was an aspect of what made Emilia seem to physically cling to her new friend, any time they were together.

She was worried for Artur, though. It would not be the first, second, or third, or even tenth time that his mind seemed to leave the present situation as he stared off at who-knows-what, or as it went to who-knows-when. Frederica didn't know what had happened to Artur to weigh him down like this, and to affect him so strongly, but it wasn't as though she didn't try to find out. More than once, Freddie had tried to get him to open up about his past, but he had never told her anything more than the fact that he had been a soldier in a war. He would never go into specifics. Whereas he was more than happy to get Frederica to open up to him, and he was pleased to be able to listen to all of her past, her thoughts and emotions, totally non-judgmental and empathetic. It bothered Freddie that he would never give her the chance to return the favour.

"Hm? Sorry Freddie, ignore me." He said, before giving a very forced smile that attempted to reassure the blonde-haired girl, but which failed spectacularly. His attempt at projecting emotions he didn't feel was very rarely successfully, and this time was no different.

Frederica only frowned further at his attempt at deception, and she was less than happy at the prospect of leaving the conversation as it was.

"Artur, I know that you don't wish to be a burden to others, but I've already told you before that talking would make you the furthest thing from a burden. Keeping your feelings inside will only lead them to build up and up and up, and the pressure will make them come rushing out when you least want them to." Frederica said with a mix of concern and frustration in her voice. She just wanted her friend to be happy, and to be both mentally and physically healthy. As far as she could tell, only that last thing was true of him. She stood up from her kneeling position, pulling her student up from the ground along with her – an act that would be a funny sight to most people who might have overseen it. The young man had taken a significant growth spurt in the just-shy-of three weeks he had been in Lugnica, now standing at 6 ft 1, compared to the 3-inch shorter Frederica standing at 5 ft 9.

"Anyway, what's next on the agenda? Offensive training should just about be over for today, right?" The young man asked, before trying to remove his hand from both of Frederica's so that he could dust himself off, before finding that he was unable to – Frederica had absolutely no intention of letting his hand go.

It wasn't uncommon for the two of them to hold hands, something that the young man didn't think too much about, although it was usually his blonde-haired teacher that initiated it. When it came to the few people he truly cherished in his life, he was an affectionate man, being more than willing to show his love, in whatever form of it that it took, through his actions as well as his words. As far as he could see it, him holding hands with his blonde-haired teacher was just an expression of the kind of love he had for her – the love that one held for a close family member, rather than only the fondness one might have for a friend.

"Let's take a short break. I know it's not on the schedule, but if you aggravate your back, you could be out of training for the rest of the day, or perhaps even longer." Frederica said, before releasing his hand from one of her own, though keeping her left one locked within his right. The young man gave hers' a little, gentle squeeze, sending waves of warmth through her fingers and up her arm, invoking a stark improvement in the frustration she was feeling. Slowly, gradually, Frederica's downturned mouth settled back into a smile, as she took in the sight of the young man who she had grown so fond of.

"Fair enough, Freddie. I wasn't the best at assessing fall injuries, so if my teacher says so, then I guess I've got no choice but to obey." He said, teasing a little, as his expression began to mirror Frederica's one of positivity. What reason was there to not be positive? The sun was shining brightly, the sky was cloudless, and the two good friends were enjoying the company of one another. There was a pressure on him to improve and gain competence quickly, but it didn't feel any stronger than it normally did, and he was content to just enjoy his time with his teacher. Frederica had said that Artur's physical development was ahead of her planned schedule and foresight, in fact, and so they could afford to take a break to breathe every now and again.

"That's a good student. You should listen to me more often, you know. I don't just say things for the sake of it!" Frederica said smiling, although she wondered what he meant when he referred to assessing injuries. She wondered if he had been a healer of some kind, but then, she had never seen him using magic even once in the fortnight they had known each other. Hell, Frederica didn't think he even used passive mana enhancement.

As she looked at the young man's smile, an idea came to her head. Her grin turned slightly mischievous as an idea came to her head, and she began to pull on the young man's hand.

"Speaking of listening to your teacher, I have an idea that I'm sure you'll like." Frederica said, before turning away from the young man, and dragging him along with her. The young man knew when to just go with the flow, and he had learned to let Frederica express her humour and mirth whenever it presented itself. He was the only person she had to let out those urges of hers' with, the only person she could really joke around with freely, and he liked Frederica far too much to ever turn her down.

The pair had been training in the garden behind Roswaal's mansion, in the massive field that was surrounded by forest on all sides bar the one that the mansion sat on. Frederica had insisted to the Margrave that she and her student would need a wide-open space if his training was to be successful, and the purple-haired man had been more than willing to accommodate. The young man wasn't surprised at that, to be frank – Roswaal hadn't even been the slightest bit upset when Artur had shattered two of his windows during The Rem Incident, and that apathetic attitude remained unchanged when either the student, or Frederica herself, ended up kicking up grass or occasionally scuffing a pathway or exterior wall.

Frederica led the pair along the grass, to a set of stairs that led to the porch-like elevation that the mansion entrance sat on. Unlike the other side of the mansion, however, this one's platformed area did not have a stone fence around it, meaning that one could easily sit at the edge of the porch's wall, and hang their legs over it. As they ascended the stairs, with Frederica still holding his hand and walking in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder what the oft-impish girl was planning.

"Take a seat, Artur." Frederica said, the mischief in her smile having grown as they approached the area she was set on. He didn't know what she was up to, but knowing Frederica, he doubted he'd regret going along with it. She had proven herself to have a good sense of humour, but when she was playing a joke, it had never been the physical, practical joke kind of humour. Frederica was pointing to the edge of the stone platformed ground as she spoke, and with a smile, the young man complied, walking over to the edge, and planting his bahookie down on the edge, with his legs hanging over and dangling without restraint.

He heard Frederica's footsteps behind him as she approached, and as he turned his head, he saw that she had kneeled down behind him, only a few centimetres distance so that she wasn't pressed right up against him.

"What are you…" He began to ask, but before he could finish, he was interrupted by the demi-human.

"T-Turn back around." She said, as her confidence seemed to suddenly lapse unexpectedly. A small blush had begun to come to her face, and it left the young man totally baffled. Why was she blushing? What was she planning on doing?

"Hm? Well, okay, Freddie…" He said with uncertainty. Giving her a slight, temporary smile, he turned his head slowly back around, so that he was looking back out over the grass field they had been practicing in, with trees as far as the eye could see bordering their training area.

After a few seconds, he felt a pair of hands press themselves to his shoulder, that began gripping and rubbing at his muscles. He jumped a little bit in response to her touch, but as he began to realise what she was doing, he began to relax, and a small smile came to his face as her selflessness warmed his heart a little bit.

"You don't have to do that, you know, Freddie. The fall really wasn't that bad." He said, not turning his head around to face her. Frederica was thankful that he kept on looking forward, because if he hadn't, he would have seen the biggest blush on her face that she might ever have felt in her life. Giving someone a massage that you wanted to get close to – she had read that in one of the romance novels that she poured over day after day, and thought to try and employ it on Artur.

"I-I'm not doing it because I have to, I'm doing it because I want to. You have definitely been a very good student, and there is never a time when you are not giving everything your entire effort – it has undoubtedly made my job easier because of it, however, you need to know when to take the time to relax." Frederica said, initially a little flustered, but gaining confidence in her voice as she began to inject a large amount of the professionalism she was so used to speaking with. It felt a bit awkward to try and be that way with Artur, however, and he tensed up a little as she suddenly started speaking to him with the same tone that she would with Roswaal.

"Ah- sorry, force of habit, Artur." She said, before her hands moved further down, rubbing at his upper back through the white t-shirt he always wore when he was training. It was saturated with sweat, but she would be lying if she said that she minded that fact. Frederica had learned that the young man had a certain… odour, when he was exerting himself, and she would admit to all of nobody that smelling said scent was a bit of a reward for her whenever he pushed himself to the extent that he began to sweat vigorously.

"That's alright, Freddie. You're really too good to me, you know that? It would've been so easy for you to just keep your distance from me, to keep everything completely professional and cold… but you didn't. You let us become friends, even though you didn't have to. I hope you know how much I appreciate you. How much you mean to me." He said earnestly, not a stutter or a hiccup in his voice as he spoke. It was a matter of fact, after all, and not an attempt at endearment or flattery. The lack of difficulty he had in saying those words, however, was not reflected in the impact he had on Frederica. Her blush had intensified at the words that touched her heart, and small beads of tears appeared in the corners of her eyes at the genuineness that he spoke with. Her chest swelled with emotion, but she knew she had to try and fight it back.

"H-Honestly, how can you just say those nice things out of the b-blue like that? It's me that should be grateful to you. I've never worked with someone like you, before… Nobody so kind, s-sweet, and gentle, who, at the same time, could kill a h-horde of Mabeasts if he had to." Frederica said, as her hands lowered further to working on his lower back, the main part of his back that he had landed on. Frederica was trying her hardest to keep her voice from shaking, and though she succeeded for the most part, she couldn't help for it to shudder a little bit as she tried to contain herself. Frederica had noticed that this young man seemed to have a certain way with breaking open a person's shell, and allowing their deepest feelings to want to flow out like water. Things that someone might never have ever told another soul… they might feel themselves compelled to tell them to this young man.

She had noticed it with how he was with Emilia, a girl who Frederica had never seen show such emotion and feeling before the young man had arrived at the mansion, and Frederica had certainly noticed it whenever she was talking to the young man. Was it his earnestness? How he was just happy to sit and listen for the most part, and to never seem to judge or condemn? How he immediately seemed to be able to cross over boundaries, as if they were never there, and to encourage the words to jump out of peoples' mouths? Frederica didn't know what it was, but what she know was that she had to be careful to not reveal every single intimate detail about herself to her student, despite how inclined to it she felt like.

"I don't think I'm that strong, Freddie. I'm not…" 'sweet, or kind, or gentle, either' he wanted to say, but he didn't want to throw his friend's words back in her face. He knew what kind of man he truly was, even if he might accidentally deceive the people all around him. They would learn his true colours eventually, regardless of how he tried to hide them, and he dreaded when that day would come. He didn't want to lose Emilia or Frederica, or Ram, but he had the niggling feeling in the back of his head that these warm days of contentedness would not last forever. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, a fragment in his soul that became embedded during the war, and one that had simply wedged itself too deeply to remove?

"You certainly are strong. It would not be accurate to say that you are as strong as you have the potential to be, but you will get there, or I'll die trying. Or are you doubting my teaching abilities?" Frederica asked firmly, a mixture of genuine frustration at the young man's self-deprecation, a desire for him to truly recognise his strengths, and a teasing that she knew he'd respond to well – a cocktail of desires, thoughts and emotions filling her voice as she spoke. She frowned a little bit, though, as she pressed her thumbs along either sides of his lumbar spine, and ran them up and down.

"Ah, Freddie!" The young man let out deeply, his back arching a little as a pleasant sensation ran up and down his spine, before a slight blush came to his face, and a feeling of horror began to fill him, when he realised that he'd actually moaned his teacher's name. Oh god, that isn't going to go down well, is it? The blonde-haired former maid, however, blushed a scarlet at the reaction she got out of the young man, though a self-satisfied smile began to creep up on her face, dispelling the previous frown she held, as thoughts of one-upmanship over a certain silver-haired half elf came to her mind. Frederica shifted herself a little bit closer to him, reckoning that it wouldn't be an unwelcome act, causing her knees now to press against his lower back as she remained kneeling. If the young man noticed, though, he gave no indication of the fact.

That smell of his that she was so fond of was even stronger now as Frederica got closer to him, and it made her feel that funny sensation that, before meeting Artur, she had only ever read about in her romance novels. Not that warmth in her chest that she so often felt around the young man, although that was certainly present at that moment. It was the sensation that she had steadily started to feel over the past two weeks since she had returned to the mansion, that she only ever felt around him.

Frederica had first noticed it when they were sparring a couple days after Rem's attack on him. The sun was beating down hard that day, much like it is today, but it was far, far more sweltering – and it was a sticky, humid heat that saturated your clothes in perspiration and dehydrated you quicker than anything. Sweat clung to the both of them as they drilled and drilled and drilled, and Artur had asked Frederica if she was okay with him taking off his t-shirt so he could try to cool down easier. Freddie didn't see anything wrong with that, and when he took off the white linen clothing from his upper body, that was when she first felt it.

As she looked at his muscular frame, the sweat dripping down his well-defined chest and abs, his pale skin reflecting the sun and drawing her eyes to him unconsciously, an intense, burning, achy feeling in the region below her tummy began to overwhelm her senses, taking her focus from anything but that sensation. Her heart rate had skyrocketed for reasons other than physical exertion during that afternoon, and as their training session went on, Frederica found it harder and harder to concentrate on teaching and sparring as those feelings from her novels began dominating all of her thinking.

Much to the young man's confusion, Freddie ended up cutting the training schedule short that day, and in the following days during the heatwave, when he had once again asked her if she was okay with him taking his t-shirt off, Frederica had had to reluctantly decline. She knew that if they wanted Artur to be up to scratch in Roswaal's eyes, that neither of them could afford any distraction – Frederica especially could never live with hurting her friend because she couldn't control her urges.

Artur hadn't complained with cutting the day short, because to him, it was the perfect opportunity to go and seek out Emilia, who had made him promise, with his newfound busy regimen, that he would try and find the time to come and chat with her whenever he could. The young man didn't need to be bound by a promise to do that, since spending time with Emilia when it was just the two of them had become his favourite thing to do in the world, but he had quickly learned that promises reassured Emilia far, far more than simply saying that he would do something.

That's exactly what he ended up doing – while Frederica had left to go and deal with her… botheredness, him and Emilia spent time in her bedroom, Emilia excitedly taking time out of her busy studying session to just spend time idly talking with the young man, about nothing important, the pair primarily using the time to simply enjoy each other's company and presence. Puck couldn't help himself but comment on how simple chatting involved so much physical contact, but he was quickly put in his place by none other than Emilia, while the young man watching smiled on at Emilia.

Emilia had been initiating a lot more of their physical contact ever since the night they shared the same bed, and it warmed his heart, but… she hadn't given him an answer yet. He didn't expect one after only two weeks, of course, but it still pained him to have admitted his love to her, even if it was a confession that was compelled by Ram, without having received anything in return from her. He did love her, though, and he wasn't lying when he said he'd wait a decade if that's how long it'd take for Emilia to be able to give him an answer. But, the thought of having to wait a decade, was…

Unfortunately, to the dismay of both Emilia and Artur, the pair of them simply being able to relax and bask in each other was something that had been becoming increasingly rarer as the weeks had went on, and even now, they didn't even see each other at breakfast or lunch, since his training regimen meant he rose earlier in the day than the rest of the mansion's occupants, and with his tutoring sessions with Ram taking up even more of his time than they previously had, he did not even have the chance to talk to Emilia at dinner either, most nights.

"My, my. I'm better at this than I thought I would be. The books don't lie!" Frederica said, closing her eyes in contentment as she continued to massage the young man's back, her previously cautious hands now wandering freely all over his spine, muscles, and anywhere else she could get away with touching her student without arousing suspicion, bringing the young man out of his thoughts as he returned to reality. Frederica's teasing didn't make him suspect anything, although, it did provoke a question from him.

"You're seriously really good at this, Freddie. Have you done this before?" He asked genuinely, and as he noticed that Frederica had closed the distance between them, he leaned back a little bit. The young girl was more than pleased at his reaction, misinterpreting his action to be able to listen to her easier as one wanting increased closeness, and at his question, she saw yet another opportunity for getting a tease in.

"Done this before? I can assure you that I most certainly have not," she said, and with a devious smile coming to rest on her face, Frederica moved her entire body against the young man now, making an effort to press her breasts into the young man's upper back, as Frederica wrapped her arms around the startled Artur's chest, with her hands coming to rest on his firm, stone-like pectorals. She moved her mouth towards his ear, and, while injecting faux hurt into her voice, whispered quietly, "You're not accusing me of being some kind of loose woman, now, are you?"

The young man's cheeks beamed a bright red at Frederica's actions and words, and though he knew she was only teasing him, he gulped as his heart began to race faster, as he began to worry about a stiffness more concerning than the one that could be found in his spine.

"I-I-I, uh…" The white-haired man began, trying to get some form of words out, but totally and utterly failing to. He was crimson with embarrassment, something that hadn't happened to him since he was in high school. "I might be your student, but I'm still a man, Freddie! This is a dangerous game you're playing!" He said, only humour audible in his voice, as he turned his head more towards the girl clinging to his back.

There was a certain amount of nervousness that came to occupy his chest after he spoke. Or perhaps it was guilt. It felt wrong, doing this kind of thing with somebody that wasn't Emilia, even though it was only Frederica teasing him. Maybe he was just being a boring stick in the mud, and this interaction with Frederica really was a harmless one? He didn't know, he had never been in this kind of situation before. He had always been a monogamous man in the past, however, and he'd be damned if he would ever betray that ideal, or the silver-haired girl that he was in love with.

In response to his words, Frederica brought her mouth even closer to the young man's ear, her lips millimetres away, and he could feel her hot breath that sent a shiver across him, as well as making his heart race even faster. Frederica was positively bathing in the young man's scent now, the bestial part of her demi-human instincts egging her on, and it served to fan the flames of her arousal that had already began to build since their 'short break' had started. She began to whisper, with a manner in her voice that he had never heard from her before. It almost sounded… lecherous, but surely, he must just have been severely misinterpreting. Right?

"Why's that, Artur? If I keep this going, might you try to… ravish me?" Frederica whispered, before her lips began to brush across the young man's ear, sending his breathing and heartbeat through the roof, and sending a burst of a shiver down his spine that made him shudder. Alarm bells were screaming, roaring in his ears now, and he was more and more beginning to worry that this wasn't just more teasing of Frederica's. Frederica's hands had begun to start wandering down from the young man's chest, slowly down and along his ribs, her hands gliding as her they became coated in the sticky sweat of exertion, before reaching the top of his stomach, past his belly button, to the bottom of his tummy, and then to-

No! This was too much. He didn't know, anymore, if this was just a joke on Frederica's part, or a genuine attempt at… whatever the hell it was an attempt at, but it felt wrong. Stick in the mud or not be damned, he knows what is right and what is not, and the part of his mind that wasn't goading him to give in to the temptation of arousal, was positively screaming at him that this isn't right. With a start, the young man climbed forward from his sitting position, before standing and turning around to face the blonde-haired girl that had been clinging to him.

"Okay, I think that is enough of a break, Freddie! Time that we get back to it, eh?" The young man asked, flustered, almost shouting to try and distract from the situation they were in. He wasn't used to being out of control of the situation like this – not in the slightest. As he took in Frederica's form, he noticed that her face was just as red as his was. Was this… his fault? She looked to be almost panting, and her pupils were dilated to a degree that wasn't typical of normal teasing…

"What? Are you okay, Artur, did I do something wrong?" Frederica asked, a look of concern coming to her face as she looked at the young man, worried that she had upset him somehow. She was only teasing him, right?

"Yep, I'm okay Freddie, everything's fine! I just don't want to slack too much, got to be up to scratch if I ever want to finally become Mili's Knight, after all!" The young man said, trying to get his breath back, as he put on a faux tone of high-energy that was completely uncharacteristic of him. He was normally very down-to-earth and steady, so for him to speak as though he was about to run a marathon, and for his voice to take on a pitch that was much higher than his regular deep, gruff tone, it made it clear to Frederica that everything was not fine. What stood out to her the most, however, was not the fact he sounded completely different when he was flustered, but…

"Uhuh, and are you sure that you're okay to get back to training, Artur?" Frederica asked, a self-satisfied smile coming to her face as she motioned for him to look downwards. As he did so, his eyes widened in surprise, but mostly horror, at the physical reaction she had provoked in him. He looked back up to her in shock, expecting to see her deeply offended or disgusted, but what he saw was the opposite. Frederica was smiling, almost proudly, and his mind felt like it was about to short circuit as he somehow tried to connect her reaction to his… male change.

What he did not understand, however, was that to an extent, Frederica was proud of herself. She hadn't been intentionally seeking this reaction from him, nor was she specifically trying to make her intentions or feelings clear to the young man, however… she couldn't say that she was disappointed. Although, she would be lying if she said she didn't feel a tightness in her chest when Artur mentioned Emilia, and especially by the nickname he had given her, which caused Frederica to feel a bit of disappointment in herself. She had been there, after all, when the young man had confessed his love to the young silver-haired girl, which made these conflicted feelings of hers' even more complicated. Frederica felt things for the young man, while wanting Emilia and Artur to both be happy, at the same time desperately hating the idea of Emilia's heart becoming broken. To say that Frederica's head and heart were a chaotic mess, would be an understatement.

The young man immediately plonked himself down on the ground, before crossing his legs to hide his shame, after which he lay his face in his hands in horror, shame, and out of an attempt to block out reality.

"I'm so sorry, Freddie! We've got a great friendship, and I don't want to ruin tha-" He began, before being interrupted by the blonde-haired girl in front of him, who had shuffled herself forward while still kneeling, and had firmly planted her hands on each of the young man's shoulders, causing him to lift his face from his hands, the embarrassment on his face clear for her to see. She was looking at him straight in the eye, and she held a little sheepish smile on her face, while being unable to banish the deep blush on her face.

"No, please don't apologise Artur. I forget that, while you're my dear student and friend, that you're still a man, and a teenaged one, at that. I took my teasing too far, and I forgot myself. I'm really sorry for that." Frederica said, gripping his shoulders tightly, her eyes flickering from one of his to the other as she spoke, and as she took in his reaction. She was smiling, with an unmistakeable trace of embarrassment on her face.

The young man's embarrassment faded slightly as he began to take deeps breaths to wrest control of himself once more, though the fluster had not evaporated entirely. He grabbed one of Frederica's hands that was on his shoulder, before giving it a little squeeze. A smile had come to his face, and he sighed audibly and sheepishly, while looking straight back at Frederica. She really did have pretty eyes, he couldn't help but notice.

"I guess we're just a couple of donkeys. Eh, Freddie?" He said, causing Frederica's smile to widen, her sharp teeth that Artur was a big fan of becoming revealed prominently, as her eyes closed in her smile. She brought the hand that wasn't being held by the young man's up to her face as she began to giggle lightly, provoked more out of the tension having been broken and the relief in seeing that neither of them had damaged their relationship, rather than out of genuinely finding his words funny. Her giggling was a relief to the young man as well, and it triggered the remnants of his own embarrassment to fade as he joined in on the laughter.

"I think you're right – although, I would say that you're more like a bear, and I like a cat, than anything else." She said, her blush beginning to fade, as she used her grip on Artur's shoulder to push herself up from the ground. She squeezed his hand once, before releasing it from his grip, and she took a little step towards the stairs of that porch-like elevation they had been 'relaxing' on.

"Shall we get back to training, my easily-teased Artur?" Frederica asked, her smile mischievous although not with the carnal trace that it had been before. He noticed that she referred to him as 'her' Artur, which caused him to internally raise an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything. Probably just a slip of the tongue, he supposed. He also found it curious that she had alluded to him being reminiscent of a bear, and while that would normally cause him to question it, what made him take note of it to an even greater extent was that Ram had said the exact same thing around two weeks ago, before The Rem Incident. He wasn't sure he could see the resemblance, himself.

"Hah, aye, probably not a bad idea, Freddie." He said, giving her a genuine smile back. As he went to stand up, he realised that that certain problem he had developed had not resolved itself, and he didn't want to embarrass himself by standing up and accidentally poking Frederica's eye out.

"Actually, Freddie, I think I'm going to need a minute." He said, before rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, and the redness on his face that had almost entirely disappeared now returning slightly in embarrassment.

"Oh?" Frederica asked, her mischievous grin falling slightly out of genuine concern that he might have done more damage to his back than they previously thought. A second passed, then two, then three… before finally…

"Oh!" Frederica almost shouted, realisation dawning on her, and as it did so, her eyes widened, before they unconsciously drifted downwards to the young man's lap. Her blush had returned in full force now, and she gulped as she realised just where she had looked when it had occurred to her what he had meant. Frederica looked back at his face, and then smiled a little, more than half satisfied with herself that she had managed to cause such a… prolonged effect on the young man.

"I'll give you a minute then, shall I?" Frederica asked, her smile not dissipating, as her eyes wandered up and down the young man. "Try not to take too long, though. Remember that our time is limited." She said, before she swivelled around, and began to walk down the stairs. The young man couldn't help but gulp as his eyes followed Freddie's rear as she walked – something that definitely did not help with that problem of his.

With that little blip out of the way, the rest of the day's training progressed as normal. Frederica worked Artur to the point of his total physical exhaustion, something that, through trial and error, they had discovered worked fantastically for not only developing his technique in both combat and agile movement, but also in muscle building. It was something that was not normally true – training to exhaustion constantly would usually lead to the detriment of someone's development in anything physical, as the body needs adequate time to heal, rest and recover. The fact that this was not true in Artur's case was one of the things that Frederica had learned to stop questioning too much, very quickly coming to the simple conclusion that her student was just built differently.

Upon learning of just how… 'unique' her student was, Frederica tailored Artur's training routine to him by over the course of the past two weeks to suit him to a T, and although the day to day might have slight variation, it usually went like this: He would wake up at roughly 06:00, where he would train his stamina through long-distance running, usually forty- or fifty-kilometre-long runs. The time it took him to run these distances were significantly shorter compared to what he had been capable of before coming to Lugnica, and his endurance and speed would be considered superhuman to the standards of humanity back on Earth.

At around 0800, him and Frederica would share a small breakfast, a couple of hours earlier than the relatively late breakfast that Emilia and Roswaal would eat. Frederica would then train him on various combat-related skills and drills, though they mainly focused on offensive ones due to his natural aptitude for the defence side of melee fighting, which would usually last until around 14:00. It was a fact hated by both Emilia and Artur, that due to the intensity of his training and needing to fit as much into the day as possible, they very rarely ever shared a mealtime in the dining room, though breakfast and lunch especially. It was born out of the perception that, if he was to become worthy, in the eyes of Roswaal, of becoming Emilia's Knight in the near future, then it was necessary to commit all of his time and energy into his training, as well as Roswaal deeming it even more necessary that he replace Rem's fighting power, as quickly as possible, now that she was permanently disarmed.

At around 14:00, to roughly around 18:00, Frederica would have him focus on strength-building exercises, designed to pack as much muscle onto the young man as possible. Frederica thought it was an unnecessary thing, since the young man was already fairly lean and muscular at any rate – something that seemed to be increasing naturally, even without muscle-mass training, Artur had noticed – however, Roswaal had insisted that it was absolutely required. She didn't understand why he was so insistent on that particular aspect, but she acceded to the Margrave's demand, and so Frederica directed the young man to devote time to it. He had an incredible, superhuman response to the resistance training that utilised only his own bodyweight, more often than not adding Frederica's to his own.

Even then, there were a few occasions where Frederica had the young man perform his strength-building exercises while carrying herself and Ram, and the young man would smile as he recalled that one afternoon where Emilia had visited Artur as he was performing push-ups, and upon Frederica's insistence, had Emilia sit on his back for the extra challenge. It wasn't much of an extra challenge, seeing as how Emilia is incredibly light, but the young half-elf giggled as the young man raised and lowered her with his exercises, and so he certainly wouldn't complain.

The level of progress that he was making was something that both Artur and Frederica struggled to get their heads around, and truth be told, Frederica had never seen anything like it, and the young man had quickly developed his body from lean and fairly muscular, to a slightly less lean, stockier, bulkier type of shape. It didn't bother the young man – if it made him more capable of protecting and serving Emilia, then fair enough – but he had some kind of instinctual, almost primeval feeling that, even if he hadn't been forced to perform targeted workouts at packing on mass, that he would have done so naturally anyway. He had already seen a little bit of that happen, before Frederica had even arrived, after all, and his training with her only seemed to have accelerated the phenomenon.

The late-finishing in the day of that particular aspect of his Roswaal-imposed regimen meant that he, once again, ended up missing a meal with the silver-haired girl that he didn't spend nearly enough time with for his liking, or for hers', either. He would share a larger dinner with Frederica, a calorie-dense diet that encouraged his packing on muscle and energy replenishment, before he would then have to attend further training. Only, this was not of the physical variety, but of the mental one. His reading and writing progress with Ram had been progressing at a rate that was satisfying to both the pink-haired maid, and her master, and just when Artur thought that he had become literate enough to no longer have to dedicate those hours of his day towards Ram, the Margrave had insisted that Ram aid him with his extreme deficit of knowledge about the land he now lived in. It was to both Ram and her master's great shock that he didn't even know the names of all of the world's nations, and it was deemed critical enough to further prolong his tutelage.

It felt almost as though the Margrave was trying to drive a wedge between the silver-haired girl and the white-haired boy, but of course, the young man realised he was probably just being paranoid. The Margrave had revealed himself to have the capacity for underhanded methods of achieving his goals, which he had proven through the 'test' he ordered Rem and Ram to carry out on Artur by simulating an attempt on his life, and the young man considered whether that would extend to anything else, and that it would be naïve to not hold a healthy dose of suspicion towards the Margrave in the future. Although, Artur also considered that the Margrave might have seen it as a necessary thing to do to figure out if the scar-faced boy actually had what it took to become Emilia's Knight, and so, he was willing to overlook Roswaal's deviousness, this time, if it was for the benefit of Emilia.

Artur was, as was unusual for him, actually in a good mood today, despite his idiocy with Frederica earlier in the afternoon. It was for one simple reason – today was, here in Lugnica, known as 'Finday', so-called because it was the final day of the week – or Friday, as he had known it back on Earth. Although he trained every day in the week, including on the weekend days of 'Odsday' (Saturday) and 'Volcaniday' (Sunday), Finday was special as his training finished in the early afternoon, rather than in the evening as it otherwise would. Although Frederica wanted to spend as much time with the young man as she could, she had insisted that, if it was absolutely essential that the young man train every day, that he at least take Finday easy, and the weekends even easier.

"So, what do you plan on doing with the rest of the day, Freddie?" The young man asked, wiping away the sweat that was running down his face with the outside of his arm, his eyes otherwise trained on his teacher who, despite the physical exertion and heat of the day, remained as graceful and elegant as ever, not a trace of sweat on her. If Artur didn't know better, he'd have thought that Frederica had taken a bath in anti-perspirant. The sun was still beating down hard, and it had just passed its highest point in the day – if the young man checked his timepiece, it would have told him that it was about two o'clock.

"I'm afraid that my afternoon isn't free. Ram-chan is visiting the village later on today for supply shopping, and she has asked that I lend her a hand." Frederica said, a small smile on her face, although her tone reflected the regret she was feeling. She was the furthest possible person from ever being considered workshy, however Frederica had been hoping that she might be able to use the half-day to spend some time with her student that didn't involve them either sparring, exercising, or eating ungodly amounts of protein. It wasn't to be, however.

"How come, Freddie?" Artur asked, an eyebrow raising in curiosity, not thinking about the question before he asked it, but immediately realising what the answer would be after the words had left his mouth.

"Well, normally Ram-chan and Rem-chan would go out for supplies together, but since Rem-chan is now confined to the mansion's grounds…" Frederica said, trailing off as the regret in her tone increased. She could see the internal pain that the white-haired young man was feeling, which had become reflected in his facial expression, and she gave him a small smile in an attempt to reassure him.

"Right, that makes sense… Sorry, Freddie." The young man said, guilt on his expression, as he raised a hand to the back of his head, before scratching his short hair. Harsher than was healthy. Seeing the young man's negative sentiment directed at himself, Frederica got closer, closing the distance between the two, until only half a metre separated the pair.

"Don't apologise, Artur. I know exactly what you're thinking, but what happened isn't your fault. The only person who is to blame for what happened to Rem, is Rem herself. You only did what you had to in order to survive." Frederica said, before placing a hand on the young man's forearm, and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Stop blaming yourself – nobody else does. Not even Ram-chan blames you. Please, stop it."

"I know that it's not my fault, I've come to accept that, but… I just can't help but think…" The young man said, his expression falling further as he began to spiral downwards, the twenty-ton mental anchor pulling him underwater, before his eyes registered the sight of Frederica's face, and he managed to stop himself. He was conscious that he had already shown Frederica how mentally weak he had become, and he didn't want to further reinforce that image of himself in her mind. Because she was his friend, yes, but also because of how that might affect him becoming Emilia's Knight. Frederica was, after all, technically assessing him – even if she had a better relationship with him than she did Roswaal.

"Sorry, Freddie. Just ignore me." He said, before shaking his head, as if to dispel the dark thoughts, after which he gave his blonde-haired teacher a forced, unconvincing smile.

Frederica did not look convinced by his fake expression in the slightest, and the corners of her mouth turned downwards, her eyebrows falling in turn, as her mood fell more than a little bit. She wanted her friend to confide in her – she wanted him to grow closer to her, to trust her with his innermost thoughts. Frederica wanted to know what it was that pained him, and yet, it felt like there was a barrier between her and his mind. Artur didn't want to be a burden to Freddie, but that is the last thing that she would consider him sharing his trauma with her as.

"I know what you're thinking, and… how did you put it earlier? You're being a 'donkey'." Frederica said in her soft voice, before a small, tiny smile came to rest on her face. It wasn't one of joy, or humour or happiness, but one that the young man could tell was purely for his benefit. He hated the impact he was having on people, and he couldn't help but feel that it would've been better if he never came to the mansion in the first place. He didn't think that Frederica really knew what he was thinking, though. How could she? He knew he had no poker face, but-

"You're thinking that everything would have been better if you had never arrived here, aren't you? Although it isn't my place to say it to one who is above my station-" Frederica began, before being interrupted by the young man. His face fell into a serious, firm expression, and he closed the distance between them even further, so that they were was only a few centimetres separating the pair. Artur raised his hand to Frederica's face, placing it gently yet firmly on her cheek, and casting his gaze downwards, looking intensely into her eyes. Frederica was startled by his quick movement in response to her words, and she began to blush as her breathing hitched at Artur's firm, bold treatment. In Frederica's head, however, she was not opposed to him being bold, and the idea of him even being assertive with her was… not an unwelcome one.

"Don't say that again, Frederica. We aren't Maid and Knight, got it? We're just Frederica and Artur. I thought I'd made that clear to you over past three weeks." The young man said firmly, though his eyes were soft, and though his face had initially worn a frown at Frederica falling back into the unwelcome habit of formality that she unconsciously did, he eventually held a small smile on his face in reassurance of the young girl. Frederica leaned her face into the young man's hand, her blush intensifying as his gaze became prolonged, and as his rough, calloused hand remained against her soft, pale cheek.

"You… you're right, please accept my apology, Artur." Frederica said, before raising one of her own hands up to Artur's that rested against her cheek. Her heart was pounding in her chest at their closeness, and the smell of Artur's exertion that she was so fond of wasn't helping either the warmth that radiated across her chest, exacerbating her desire to close the gap between her and the young man, nor was it helping the heat that spread throughout the lower half of her body.

"Don't be sorry, Freddie. You're my friend, and I understand that this dynamic is totally new to you… but you've got to understand that I'm in your corner. There's no 'you' and 'me', it's just us." The young man said, his intentions being to try and tear down the barriers between them as best as he could. She was his friend, and the idea that their relationship should be inhibited by an 'us vs them' mentality was an idea like cancer to him. He didn't notice the slight widening of Frederica's eyes at his words, nor how she began to slowly, very, very slowly, move her face closer to the young man's that was having a massive effect on her heart and body.

"Just… us?" Frederica asked, almost whispering painfully quietly, only barely audible to the young man who was so close to the young girl that it was painful for her. Artur couldn't comprehend that his words might have been misinterpreted by the young girl, seeing how he was entirely oblivious to her feelings for him – an understandable thing, however, when one considered that even Frederica wasn't fully sure how she felt about the young man. Frederica wasn't sure how to interpret the young man's words entirely, only being certain that his intention was for them to be even closer, an idea that fanned the flames of heat in her chest even further.

A few moments passed where neither of the teenagers said anything, Frederica having pressed her body into the young man's as she unconsciously moved her face towards his, but whether Artur was cognisant of her intentions or not was unclear, and before Frederica could entirely close the distance between their faces, the young man gave her a sincere, warm smile, before pulling away from her and putting a little bit more distance between them, his hand withdrawing from her cheek and falling by his side. The comfortable feeling that radiated over Frederica when Artur was so close to her lessened as he they separated, and she suddenly felt much colder than she had, as if something was missing.

"Sorry, Freddie, I interrupted you. You were going to say something." The young man reminded her, as he gave an encouraging smile. It was sincere, not a faux, mask-like smile used to try and shield his true feelings from the world.

"Huh? I…" Frederica mumbled, as she looked down at the ground in an attempt to remember what she had been saying. Her student seemed to have a bad habit of turning her mind to mush, and with such small gestures and words. She couldn't imagine what impact he would have on her if they were to… she blushed just thinking about it. After more than just a few moments, a lightbulb appeared above Frederica's head, recalling what she was going to say.

"That's right – I was… I was going to say, that if you think that it would have been better for you to have never come to the mansion, then you could not be more mistaken, Artur. Can't you see the impact that you've had on Emilia-sama? That you have had on me?" Frederica asked, the volume of her voice gradually increasing, feeling almost exasperated at the young man's denseness.

Artur didn't know what to say. If he hadn't come to the mansion, then none of the mess with Rem would have happened. Ram wouldn't have been inconvenienced with having to take up certain work without the aid of her sister, nor would she have had to endure the hardship of seeing her sister on death's door, and being unsure of whether she would live or die. Emilia would never have had to see such a bloody, gruesome wound, nor would she have had to try and save the life of a girl that, while they might not have been close, that she certainly knew. Roswaal wouldn't have had to go through the inconvenience of searching for new maids to hire, nor would he-

"Let me stop you right there, my donkey of a student. I know that I could not say exactly what it is that you're thinking, but I am fully certain that it cannot be good." Frederica said, pausing for a moment as she began to chew her lip – a most un-maid-like gesture that was the only blemish on her otherwise perfectly elegant countenance – something that he hadn't seen of her before.

"Listen to me, please, Artur. If you hadn't come to the mansion, then Emilia-sama would in no way be as happy, as cheerful… as spirited and lively as she is now. You haven't just brought her out of her shell – you broke her shell apart, and shattered it entirely. You took Emilia-sama into your protective embrace, and threw the fragments of her self-imposed prison over the edge of the Great Waterfall. Never have I seen her laugh, smile, and be so… vibrant as she is now. It is no mystery who it is that we have to thank for that." Frederica said, a wide smile on her face as she mentally compared the Emilia that she had known before leaving the mansion, to the Emilia she had been greeted by upon returning to it. Though the beautiful parts of Emilia's personality that made her who she was remained unchanged, she seemed less shy and timid, and when Frederica thought of how Emilia was when she was around her Knight-to-be, she considered how assertive and bold Emilia could be, and how it was mostly towards him.

"That's not even mentioning how grateful that I am towards you. This mansion was truly my happy place… perhaps, I would even go as far as saying… how did you put it? My, um… Langri-Sha?" Frederica asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall the words Artur had once used.

"Your Shangri-La." Artur replied helpfully, a little light-heartedness in his voice as he couldn't help but be amused at Frederica's mispronunciation, with a small smile on his face as he enjoyed that his otherworldly phrase was taken note of by his teacher. That Frederica, his friend, actually listened to him.

"Right… My Shangri-La. can't express how much it means to me that I most likely would not have returned were it not for you coming here – that I might never have seen the twins, or Emilia-sama, again. That is without even mentioning how important our… friendship is to me, Artur. There are not many people who would go out of their way to befriend a demi-human, especially one who… at least initially, was resistant to your advances due to social differences, and there are even fewer who would have called my teeth… beautiful, which I've been told before are 'scary'. Please don't trivialise how much of an impact you've had on us – it would be very unbecoming." Frederica said, a slight blush on her face as she recalled Artur's matter-of-fact way of complimenting her. She couldn't help but smile as she thought of the past few weeks, and how her relationship with her student had developed.

The young man wished she wouldn't describe his attempts at becoming friends with her, and at marginalising their difference in social status, as 'advances' – it made it sound lecherous and lewd, rather than the purely platonic, and sibling-like love he held for his blonde-haired cat teacher. He realised that Frederica probably didn't mean anything by it though, and it was just his usual over-analysing mind up to its old tricks. Ignoring that, though, it warmed his heart that Frederica would have such kind words to say to him. He supposed it was true that she wouldn't have come back to the mansion if it wasn't for him training to become Emilia's Knight, he couldn't argue with that. But to say that he was anything special for how he treated Emilia and Frederica… it angered him that they lived in such a world where his treatment of them was considered unique, or rare.

He would have supposed that Emilia finding someone to cherish her, and 'break her out of her shell' as Freddie had put it, would have happened regardless of whether he had met her. He would have supposed this, if it wasn't for how he had heard, straight from Emilia's own mouth, how horribly that people treated her simply because of her race, and her hair – her mere resemblance to a Hitler-like figure that had been dead for hundreds of years. He would have supposed that the same could be said for Frederica, too – that she would make friends and find people to call her own, regardless of his presence. But if that was to be the case, why had it not happened yet? He concluded that it was because the world they lived in was terribly fucked, that someone's race could cause someone so kind, bubbly, selfless and loving to be isolated or ostracised.

He knew that part of Frederica's lack of friends must also have been because of her isolation as a maid of the Mathers. He had learned that there were very few visitors to the Margrave's mansion, and that geographically, the mansion was quite out-of-the-way, which meant that with the exception of Rem, Ram and Emilia, there was nobody else that Frederica knew around her age to befriend. He couldn't work out why Emilia and Frederica hadn't become friends, as he had no doubt that both of the girls would be happy with such a thing happening.

He knew that the difference in status between Emilia and Frederica meant that it was a more difficult task, as Frederica took that kind of thing very seriously, but he was able to break down that barrier between himself and Frederica, so he wondered why such a thing hadn't happened between both of the girls he loved. He had had to be very persistent with Frederica to cause the obstacle to crack, but crack it did – perhaps neither of the girls had really made a concerted effort to get over that hurdle? That would make sense in his mind. Frederica wouldn't desperately try, because she didn't want to risk her livelihood, her way of life, or risk offending Emilia or disgracing Roswaal. He knew that she teased Emilia sometimes, but never much more than quite lightly, and they weren't close enough to be considered friends.

He knew that Emilia wouldn't have made a serious attempt at befriending Frederica either, because of her timidness, and perhaps a bit of fear, but he suspected that it was mostly because of her inexperience with relationships – Emilia had told him of how she used to live in Elior Forest, and of how only her and Puck lived there. She had nobody to speak to other than her father figure, and a bit like Frederica, she was isolated from others – although it was safe to say that Emilia was far, far more so than Frederica was. It was no wonder that Emilia wasn't the best in social situations or with relationships, but he hoped that, perhaps with a bit of support, he could help her to make more friends than just him.

Artur hated to admit it, but there was a part of his brain that cried out, demanded to him and yearned for him to solely keep Emilia all to himself, to make her only his and himself only hers', but he knew how selfish that was, and how much of a bastard it made him. He knew that Emilia deserved better than him – and more than him. She is a wonderful girl, truly one of a kind, and she deserved to be surrounded by friends and close ones – not for Artur to make himself her entire world. He very much doubted that she would want such a thing, anyway.

"Have I… really made such an impact? I suppose it just doesn't feel like something I'm capable of. But, you're right – I don't want to trivialise anything, especially not my relationships with you and Mili. You both mean far too much to me." The young man said, self-doubt tangible in his voice, and something that was not missed by Frederica. His brows were furrowed, and a pensive expression adorned his face as he looked off to the side, away from his teacher. Frederica's heart fluttered at him expressing that he cared about her, having to restrain herself from throwing herself at him, but… his visage didn't reflect the words that went straight to her heart.

Frederica hated to see this in the young man, the lack of love he had for himself, and his total lack of confidence in his abilities, rising straight to the surface for her to recognise. She couldn't understand how someone so competent, kind, and easily befriended, could have such little regard for himself. Perhaps he just needed proof of how what she had said was true. More proof than Freddie's hand being glued to his whenever she could make up an excuse for it, and more proof than all of Emilia's affection for him. An idea came into Freddie's mind, and spurred on by the events earlier in the day, an impish smile crept up onto her face that was genuine – teeth and all.

"You don't sound convinced that what I said is true. Do you need me to prove it to you?" Frederica asked, taking a step closer to the man whose eyes returned to his teacher. Her voice held that teasing tone that Artur had started to become familiar with, and he couldn't help but have the corners of his mouth pull upwards as he saw the expression on Frederica's face.

"It's not that I'm not convinced, it's just-" He began, but before he could finish, Frederica had closed the distance between them, and had wrapped her arms around the young man's chest, pulling him into her firmly, while she rested her head upon his shoulder. Artur was taken aback by it for a few seconds, his eyes widening in surprise at Frederica's unexpected affectionate gesture, but he quickly realised what she was doing. He reciprocated the embrace, wrapping his thick, muscular arms around her shoulders, and enveloping her with a blanket of warmth that made the blonde girl let out a little whimper of delight. Unknown to Artur, her eyes widened, and her face crimsoned a deep red at the involuntary sound she made, but if the young man heard it, he gave away no sign of that.

Frederica felt like she could melt at the inhuman warmth that the young man gave off like a human radiator, but it was extremely comforting, and she didn't doubt for a second that if she had been feeling tired, that she would have quite easily been able to doze off within the young man's embrace. It was tight, comforting, and she felt like not even Satella could harm her if her student's arms were wrapped around her like this. Her heartbeat began to race as her nostrils took in the pleasant scent of Artur's exertion that began to provoke that tingly sensation at the base of her tummy, beginning to recognise the effect that this young man had on the feline side of her, driving her bestial instincts wild. She coiled her arms tighter around him, as tight as she could, drawing herself closer to the young man, her breasts pressed against his hard, muscle-bound chest as she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

"Has anyone ever told you that you give fantastic embraces, oh student of mine?" Frederica asked, between sniffing Artur's scent less subtly than she thought she was. Her breathing began to pick up as his musk overwhelmed her senses, and she pressed herself against him harder, and harder. It almost reminded her of… no, that wouldn't make sense. He wasn't part demi-human, after all – it wouldn't even be a question, as she would be able to smell it on him as soon as they met. This was… a lot more subtle, but no less pleasant on her feline-abled nose. Artur heard her sniffling, and just assumed that it might be hay fever, or maybe a cold. Why hadn't he noticed it before though?

"Not that I can think of, no. I'm glad I can be of use in some way, at least." The young man said, humour in his voice, a smile coming to his face as he enjoyed the body heat of his friend, and the softness of her hair against his face. It was funny how different she felt in his arms to Emilia – Frederica squeezed a lot tighter than Emilia did, and unless he was mistaken, the blonde-haired demi-human leaned her upper body back quite a bit more, almost pulling his lower half into her more. "Your hugs are great as well, Freddie. Feel free to lay them on me whenever you want one." He said, as he put his arms around Frederica tighter than he had, eliciting another small sigh of contentedness from the young maiden.

As they held each other, and the minutes passed on, the young man started to notice that Frederica had started to breath quicker, and heavier, but she hadn't loosened her grip on him at all. He started to worry that he was affecting her breathing, and slackened the embrace he had around Frederica, the last thing he wanted to do being to hurt her. As he did so, he felt Frederica's thin but strong arms continue to tighten – he had no doubt that it would be uncomfortable, or even downright painful, for some – and she spoke words that he never thought he would hear from Freddie, of all people.

"No, harder." She spoke, quickly and quietly, her tone almost sounding… no, he was obviously mistaken. What an idiot he was. Although, he couldn't help but gulp as she spoke those words that were almost… licentious in nature, and, unless he was absolutely losing it, the tone that she spoke with was… aroused? No, no. He really could smack himself, for how stupid he really was. This was Frederica he was talking about! Frederica!

He took her point, though, and he reapplied the same great pressure to her that he had been with his arms around her, before his blonde-haired once more let out a sigh of contentedness. How long were they wrapped in each other's arms? A quarter of an hour? He had lost count, but regardless, it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Frederica was struggling to understand what was happening, how compelled she felt to keep her body pressed against Artur, how she wanted nothing more to bathe in his body heat and fill her nostrils with his smell. The warmth and happiness in her chest was like a raging inferno, and she knew that this was where she wanted to be. Maybe she was wrong about where her Shangri-La was. Maybe it was here, with her student's castle-like frame enveloping her, her chin on his shoulder as she feels his short hair against her face, as she presses her soft body against his metal-hard one.

She was beginning to suspect what that tingling in her lower abdomen was, however – it was reminiscent of the feeling she got when she was in her monthly heat cycle that certain demi-humans suffered from, that itch that she was always painfully unable to fully scratch. When Frederica thought of how she only ever felt it with such intensity around Artur, and how it usually occurred around the same time she was feeling that heat in her chest that was reminiscent of those in her romance stories… it just now occurred to her what it might be that she was feeling.

And it hit her like a ton of bricks – as it sunk in, just what she was feeling for this young man. What the heat in her chest meant, and what the tingling and burning her tummy meant. Why she felt so drawn to him, to always want to hold his hand, or embrace him, or simply be near to him. Frederica now realised what had happened that time they were exercising when Artur had his shirt off, and why she had been unable to focus on anything else but his muscular form for the rest of the day.

Freddie wanted more of this. She knew that her student loved Emilia, and that Emilia probably returned his feelings – even if the young half-elf didn't know it yet – but she… didn't want to only be this young man's friend. She couldn't be. The man who had accepted her as soon as they had met, even when she herself had had a negative reaction upon seeing his rough visage. If someone were to dislike her for giving such a reaction to them upon their first meeting, then Freddie would never blame said person for such a thing. That was what amazed her – not only had she had a terrible reaction to first seeing Artur, which would justify him disliking her, but she also knew that her appearance could be… scary to people, her teeth especially. That is without even mentioning, as a demi-human, that half of the human population would immediately fear or dislike her simply for the way she was.

Not her student, though. Artur had disregarded her initial reaction to him, and even blamed himself, the dafty that he was. Then, he had seen that she was a demi-human, and that hadn't affected how he treated her at all. Then, he had seen her teeth, and called them beautiful. Beautiful! He had called her, and her teeth, beautiful! The part of her that so many before him had been afraid of, and that she had learned to hide when smiling because of the reaction they provoked.

She knew it was extremely selfish to want to keep this young man for herself, even when he was as infatuated for Emilia as he was. She just couldn't help it – the feelings he caused inside her, the kindness he treated her with, the way that she was always drawn to him like a positively charged magic stone was to a negatively charged one, and the way he made her laugh like nobody else could… Frederica didn't think that she would ever meet anyone like him ever again, and certainly not anyone who would treat her as he does. Frederica couldn't let go of him.

Metaphorically, anyway. As it began to hit her, as she truly began to realise just what it was that she felt for the young man, Frederica began to blush furiously, her face heating up and her heart beginning to pound. It was like the foundations of her entire life had begun to crack apart, as feelings she never had felt before rose to the surface of her heart, to such an extent that even her mind could take notice. Small beads of tears appeared in the corners of her eyes as she realised just what her mind had condemned her heart to feel – and to feel for someone who would never return these feelings. Not when he loved someone as beautiful, as kind, and as innocent as Emilia. But, why…? Why did she have to feel this way for him? Why couldn't she have met him before Emilia? It wasn't fair! He already loved somebody else, so why did she have to-

"Freddie, are you okay? What's wrong?" The young man asked, deep worry in his tone as he began to hear sniffling coming from Frederica, something that he had heard from her before. He'd heard her moan and complain to him about this and that, venting her frustrations and worries to him – at his encouragement. He'd heard her lament leaving certain people back at the Miload Mansion, that she had grown particularly fond of, although she wouldn't go as far as to say that she had made friends with anyone there. What he had never, ever heard from Frederica, however, was her crying.

He pulled back from her, and though she put up great physical resistance to him unravelling their intertwined arms, he managed to put what centimetres of distance between them that he could so that he could look at Frederica's face. He didn't understand where this came from – Freddie's eyes had the beginnings of tears in them, her mouth held a pained, scrunched expression that was surely in an attempt to prevent her tears from spilling and the reason that she was feeling such agony from leaving her mouth, and… he started to feel a pain in his own chest. Why was she in such pain?

"Freddie, what's wrong? Talk to me." The young man said, his eyes examining every part of Frederica's face in excruciating detail, as if by vision alone he could achieve the answer he was looking for. In response, Frederica attempted to blink the tears back, though unsuccessfully, and she forced a smile on her face that wouldn't have been convincing to even the least socially competent person.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Frederica said simply, attempting to stifle her trembling lip from alarming even more that she was not, in fact, fine, and only being somewhat successful at doing so. She couldn't tell Artur what the problem was, because unfortunately, he was part of the problem that was causing her inner turmoil. Freddie should have been made to feel happy that she felt feelings that only existed in fiction to her in the past, but instead, she felt a tightness in her chest that those feelings she had would be unrequited.

The young man unwrapped one of his arms from around Frederica, and once more, placed a hand on her cheek, wiping away one of the small beads in the corner of one of her eyes – and once more, his blonde-haired teacher unconsciously leaned her face into his hand, her heart desperate for his touch, and though she was feeling greatly conflicted, her student's soothing, loving gesture helped to calm the trembling in her lip, and she felt the tightness relieve a little bit in her chest.

"Talk to me, Freddie, please. I'm your friend – you can lean on me." The young man said, his intentions the best they could be, as he held a look of worry and concern that he didn't doubt was reminiscent of those that Emilia and Frederica had had towards him before. He felt a horrible heaviness in his chest, because he knew that if someone as calm and composed as Frederica was – somebody as emotionally resilient and elegant as her – was feeling something so strongly that her eyes could begin to water, if even only the tiniest bit, then there must have been something wrong.

Hoping that he would be able to get her to open up to him, as he often was able to do, he was instead met with the opposite reaction. He… didn't expect that. He could feel Frederica, almost as soon as she heard the word 'friend', tense up in his arm that was still around her back, and the slight trembling in her lip that had subsided was now back, and even worse than before. Even someone as oblivious as Artur could see it, especially now that he was so close to her face, his attention nowhere else but the beautiful blonde-haired girl's visage. The wetness in her eyes, that were once only small beads, had now grown to occupy the rest of her emerald-like green orbs though it hadn't spilled over, and the pain that had been mostly restrained on her expression was now plain for someone with cataracts to see.

The tightness in Frederica's chest had been bad, but it had been a pain that was at least bearable. But, so quickly after realising just what she felt for Artur, to be hit over the head with the fact that she was his friend, and only his friend, was like a dark hand reaching into her chest and squeezing, wrenching, and brutalising at her heart. Her heart had always been unguarded to the outside world, a fact that Frederica always managed to hide behind her maid persona, and her utmost composed and graceful professionalism, but after making such a realisation about her own feelings, her heart was even more vulnerable than normal. To be told outright that they were only friends, something that she would have killed for less than a month ago, felt like a blow that nobody else but this young man could deliver. And, the worst part, was that he didn't even know he'd done it.

How could he know? Frederica knew she couldn't tell the young man how she truly felt – it would be a betrayal of their friendship, and a betrayal of Emilia, such a sweet, innocent, and kind girl. A girl that Frederica was feeling deeply envious of at that moment. It would be a betrayal of Roswaal, who had invited her to train the young man, only for her to fall… to develop the feelings she now did for him. She was here in a professional capacity, not to make friends, and not to become infatuated.

So, Frederica decided that she would keep her feelings bottled up inside of her. It was the only thing she could do – besides perhaps distancing herself from the young man of her affections. When that thought even began to cross her mind, however, the tightness in her chest intensified one-hundred-fold, like that dark, squeezing hand was threatening to hear her heart right out and throw it into a volcano. It seemed that her heart and mind were in agreement that staying away from the scar-faced young man was something that she simply couldn't do. Every fibre of Frederica's body and mind cried out against her when she even considered that.

She didn't want to lose her student, and even once Roswaal deemed her training with him no longer necessary… Frederica still hoped that, somehow, she could stay by the young man's side. She felt like she needed to be – this need, this want, this total and utter desire that occupied every part of her being, it was a compulsion unlike any other she had ever experienced before. Instinctual. And if there's one thing that Frederica has learned, even despite the civilised demeanour that embeds every aspect of her life, it's that she knew to trust her instincts. There was a reason that the demi-humans have survived this long, despite all persecution, and it was certainly not because they ignored their animal, bestial intuition.

To Artur's dismay, his blonde-haired friend withdrew her face from his hand, and made an effort to remove her body from his one-armed embrace, which, though he was confused and unhappy about, he could feel her intentions, and released her. A sudden feeling of emptiness and coldness washed over them both, like something warm, cherishing and life-giving had been removed from their very souls. It was much more subdued in Frederica's case as a million and one other complicated emotions fought within her at the same time, however, she couldn't help but notice it.

"Freddie, please, talk to me." The young man said, the tightness in his chest intensifying as he saw the clear pain that Frederica was feeling inscribed on her face. He didn't want to see her suffering, and he wanted to do anything he possibly could to help his instructor, and most importantly, his friend. If he couldn't even ease the burdens, and help alleviate the hardships, of those who he is close to, then what use did he have? Artur knew, of course, that he had none.

Frederica forced a pained, strained smile onto her face, that anyone could tell was not one of happiness or joy. She was trying to mask her feelings from the young man – if she opened up to him in the slightest, then she had no doubt that her feelings and thoughts would come pouring out. Freddie had noticed she had a tendency to do that around the young man. She raised an arm to her face and wiped away the wetness in her eyes, as she took a step back from the young man, putting a distance between them that disturbed them both, and she once again looked in his eyes. Those pale blue eyes that, though Frederica was no veteran, even she could tell had endured suffering and hardship far beyond the young man's years.

"N-nothing, Artur, please don't worry yourself about me. I-I have to go any prepare for my trip to the village with Ram-ch-chan, so please excuse me." Frederica said, before taking another step backwards, trying her hardest, and yet failing, to put on a façade of composure and neutrality. Just as she had done, and was used to doing, for her entire life.

So, why, when it came to this young man, could she no longer put up the walls of maidly professionalism and impersonality? Why could she not put up her stoic front that she so habitually used to shield her heart from the hardships and hurdles? Why? Why did he have to steal her heart, without even knowing he'd done it, and why did she so readily give it to him?

The young man took a step forward, the expression of worry and empathetic pain he was feeling totally clear on his face, which pained the young girl even further. She thought about how he really was a gem… A gem that she couldn't have. He put one of his hands in Frederica's, the warmth he emanated relieving the tightness in her chest somewhat, but also breaking down what little barrier remained that held her tears and feelings inside. If she stayed any longer, if she let him be there for her… she was going to break down and tell him everything. Frederica couldn't contain herself anymore. The wetness in her eyes had returned, and they weren't just on the shelves of her eyes anymore, as one began to run down her face. Freddie was on the brink. She had to get away from the young man causing it.

"Did I ever tell you the proverb from my home, that a problem shared is a problem halved? I know I'm not the strongest or most capable, Freddie, but I'll always be here to listen to what's bothering you. I might not be able to come up with a solution, but I'll always listen." The young man said, closing the distance between them once more, before giving Frederica's hand a squeeze in reassurance, shattering her mental walls even further. She was going to break down. She had to get away.

As Artur began to raise a hand to wipe away the tear that had begun to roll down Frederica's fair, rosy cheek, she did something that took all of the willpower that she had left. A feat that she didn't think possible, and one that she didn't think she could ever do again. She took another step back from the young man, even this genuine, sincere concern he was showing her serving to further melt her heart. She could feel that it was more than just that one tear that now wetted her face. Frederica wrenched her hand out of Artur's, almost violently, and much harsher than she meant to, but she had to get away.

A look of hurt crossed his face as Freddie ripped her hand away from his. Or had that look of hurt always been there, like she had managed to transmit the pain that she was feeling onto the young man unintentionally? No, it was more like, he was trying to take the burden from her, and in doing so was suffering for it. This was one burden that he couldn't take from her, a pain that he couldn't understand.

"I-I can't Artur! I… I h-have to go!" Frederica managed to strain out, her voice shaky and betraying the agony she was feeling. She quickly turned around, putting her back to the young man who was still making an effort to close the gap between them, and she began to run away. The tears had only been a couple of rolling beads, but now that Artur couldn't see her face, her dam broke, and they began to flood her beautiful visage heavily as she ran from the young man towards the mansion, every step feeling like a gargantuan struggle as she had to fight the natural magnetism that the young man emanated towards her.

The young man was extremely confused, pained, and full of worry for his blonde-haired friend. She was actually running from him, both emotionally and physically. What… what had he done to her? They'd been hugging, she told him to hug her harder, and then… she got upset and started crying. He was such an idiot, did he hug her to hard and hurt her? Had he said something insensitive without realising it? Probably. He wasn't even good enough to let other people lean on him, was he? A useless, selfish, harmful piece of shit. That was him, wasn't it? He wanted to run after Frederica and get her to talk to him, but, if she was actually running away from him, then it was probably for the better that he didn't try and follow her.

Had he ruined his relationship with her? The thought of that sent a terrible, horribly sharp pain through his chest that felt like a knife stabbing at his heart. He deeply hoped that he could salvage their friendship, that he hadn't pushed her away by doing something to cause the painful look on her face, but, he knew for a fact that she must have been deeply hurting. Especially Frederica, who was so good at hiding her true emotions… for her to start tearing up, there was no mistaking that she must be feeling terrible. Artur only hoped that, whatever he had done to cause it, that he could so something to make up for it.

But Frederica had ran away, back to the mansion, and he had been left standing in the field behind the residence. Five minutes had passed while he contemplated and reflected on what had happened, and time continued to march on, and the days he had with any free time at all were exceedingly rare. He was hurting for Freddie, but… there was a girl that the young man never had enough time with recently. A girl that he cherished absolutely every moment with, and that, even when he wasn't in the best mood, he would never turn down time spent in her company. The girl that he loved.

He began making his way towards the mansion himself, the way that Frederica had run off, all the while thinking about what he should do about Freddie. Should he try and talk to her tomorrow, when they both might be thinking a bit more clearly? Should he leave her be, and let her approach him when she was feeling better? They still had training the following day, would that go ahead? That was a stupid question to think about – of course it would. Frederica was professional and diligent to a T, and there was no denying that even if her arm was hanging off, that she would still have the training go ahead.

Artur entered the mansion, picked up his uniform from by the doorway – where he had left it, neatly folded, after he stripped out of it for his training, so that he was only wearing his white t-shirt and white boxers – and began to make his way through the mansion, heading for the baths. He wanted to spend the rest of the day with Emilia, and he would quite happily spend his every waking moment of the day by her side, but he definitely didn't want to make her have to endure his presence while his body was sticky with sweat, his white hair matted with exertion, and his clothes smelling of body odour. He arrived at the door to the changing room, stripped himself naked, neatly folded his uniform and underwear on one of the tables, and entered into the baths.

When the young man entered the mixed bathing room, he found that he was alone, which was exactly what he was hoping for – a preference he learned that he had, after he suffered an unpleasant encounter with Roswaal involving a rubber duck. He shivered as he recalled it, and did the best he could to bury that particular memory within the deep, dark confines his mind, with the other memories. The other memories that he didn't want to have to think about, that brought his psyche nothing but pain and suffering when he recalled them. When he spent too long in his thoughts, they inevitably went back to the war… and when he began to unconsciously focus on it too much, his mind took him back there.

Back to where all he could hear was the screaming of the artillery barrages that lasted for hours straight, no end ever in sight as the crashing and smashing of the shells blasted the earth apart. Grown men screaming, crying, and begging for their mothers as they scratched their own faces red and bloody with the stress, some running away and ending up executed for 'cowardice' via court martial. Wet socks, strangely enough, was a sensation that Artur would never forget. His boots filled up with muddy, sometimes bloody water that caused his socks to cling to his feet, and for the uncomfortable squelching whenever he took a step to be both felt and heard. Soaking socks that caused the skin of your feet to break down, and for you to developing disgusting, puss-filled, maggot-attracting infections that threatened both a soldier's happiness, and to send them septic.

At some point, his heart had started pounding in his chest, he was suddenly hyperventilating, and his chest felt an agonising tightness that made it harder and harder for him to take in air, and it was only when he pondered how peculiar it was that wet socks stood out in his memories that he realised what was happening – that he was having another 'episode', as he had come to call them. These attacks against his mind and body that his past had been committing, that he just hadn't been able to shake. Artur couldn't understand them – they had only started when he had come to Lugnica, which he found curious, as he would have thought that these things would start while he was in the trenches. Not when he was living the least stressful lifestyle he had had in years, and certainly not when he was the happiest that he had been in perhaps his entire life.

He had thankfully managed, in the past two weeks, to mostly hide these things from the others, which was made easier by the fact that they seemed to mostly happen when he was entirely alone, a rarer and rarer thing these days. He hadn't managed to entirely hide them, however, and trying to come up with pathetic excuses when his lungs felt like they were being stabbed with a thousand knives, and while his heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice, was extremely difficult. He hadn't lied, exactly, but he had most definitely not been entirely truthful either. Emilia wasn't any the wiser, having only seen one or two of the episodes, but Artur was sure that Frederica was suspicious of his mental state. Something that he desperately needed to avoid casting doubt onto.

He began to do something that he would always tell his own patients who were breathing too rapidly to do, namely, he began to take deep breaths in through his nose, and out through his mouth, trying to slow his breathing and, in turn, his heart rate.

But it wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? Why? Why couldn't he get his breathing under control? It was getting faster and faster and faster and faster-

Even during a trench assault, when the Sturmtruppen were slaughtering his comrades in droves with their devastating submachineguns, their lobbed grenades shredding apart flesh and tissue, spraying raw viscera onto him as the German assault troops mercilessly gunned down any Tommy that their eyes might fall on, his heart had never beat so rapidly. Even when he awoke to one of the endless dog-sized rats gnawing at his infected feet, or to one of his own comrades trying, yet thankfully failing, to do… things… to him, his heart had never pounded so painfully, so violently, against the inner wall of his chest.

The sweat was pouring down his forehead and face like rain down a windshield, yet he could feel himself, even despite the hot bath he was sitting in, starting to feel colder and colder. He was pouring with sweat, but he was cold. What the fuck was wrong with him?

He felt like he was going to vomit at any moment, like his stomach was rebelling violently against him, threatening to throw up the contents of his past meals and repaint the bathing room with the finest of ingredients, that regardless of their expense, would still appear as that disgustingly putrid, acidic stomach concoction that, even as he thought of it, made him feel even more brutally sick. It felt like every second that passed, the what-was-once food climbed higher and higher in his oesophagus, any moment at risk of spraying from his mouth and nose.

His cardiac muscle was running like a locomotive in his chest, getting heavier by the second, and now he could hear it even louder in his ears. Why couldn't he get a grip? Why couldn't just be a fucking man?! The crushing pain was horrible, and it felt like he was having a heart attack, like someone had wrapped both of their hands around his heart and had begun squeezing as hard as they could. What would the people he knew think about if they saw him like this? What the maids and Roswaal think? What would Frederica say or do? What would Emilia-

Emilia. What would Emilia think? Would she think he was weak, and forsake him? Renounce any chance he might have had at becoming her Knight, and deny any potential of ever falling in love with him, or even of remaining as friends with him? Would she cry at his weakness, and blame herself for being foolish enough to get as close as she has with someone whose mind can't even be trusted not to turn against itself?

No, of course not. He knew what Emilia would do, didn't he? Even if his trauma-ridden, trench-stained mind tried to get him to push away those who he was close to and the girl that he loved, he knew for certain what Emilia would do. She would wrap her graceful, slim arms around him, and bring him into a hug, pressing her soft cheek to his, and she'd give sweet words to him – words that he didn't deserve. Knowing that sweet, innocent, kind, big-hearted, and sometimes mischievous young girl, there was no doubt that she would tell him that whatever was happening wasn't his fault. She would reassure him despite his weakness and idiocy, and, knowing Emilia, she might even shed a tear, which was always the absolute last thing that he wanted to cause her to do.

As he thought about Emilia longer and longer, about her perfect features, her priceless personality, and how lucky that someone like him is to be graced with her affection and attention, he didn't notice that his unhealthily fast heartrate had begun to slow down more and more, and that his breathing had begun to return to a more normal, more even, and steadier pace. His vision, which had become tunnel-like and dark at the peripheries, began to revert from its fight-or-flight condition (although unnoticed by the young man as he daydreamed of a certain half-elf), and the pins and needles he had developed in his fingers and toes had receded, only to be replaced by the warmth of the bathwater that he had previously been indulging in.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity to Artur, but what would have been only ten minutes to a normal person, his body had begun to return to a calmer, more relaxed state. He didn't have a crippling pain in his chest anymore, and the sweat had stopped pouring off of him as it had been. As his crumbling mind and body corrected themselves, he was, to what would be the complete and total surprise of any onlookers, left with only with a small smile on his face, and as less of a surprise, a yearning to hold close the girl he loves, to feel her warmth and soft, gentle touch, and to hear her melodic, captivating voice. He wanted his Mili, and unbeknown to Artur, at that same moment, an idle silver-haired half elf, with a book in her hands yet a boy in her mind, was thinking and missing only her Artur.

It was a fact that would go unnoticed by the young man, that it was only by the grace of thinking of the girl he was in love, that his he was able to return to a calm his state of mind – or, at least, without his hyperventilating forcing his brain to shut itself off into unconsciousness, something that he narrowly avoided. Something that could have been fatal, sitting as he was in a chest-high bath.

After he had managed to rein in his mental state, and he had begun to try to, and yet fail at, relaxing at least a little bit, the young man's mood soured slightly, as he realised that the massage that Frederica had given him, had now gone entirely to waste. He felt tenser than he had in years, like his body had aged a decade in ten minutes, but eventually, his mind wandered back to one of the two people he really, truly cared about more than anything. It helped him to stay in that condition he was in, which certainly was not a relaxed one, and yet was also not that agonising one that he was more and more frequently struggling to avoid these days. He couldn't help but feel a little bit anxious, that these attacks on his psyche would often strike when he was alone and undistracted, but he tried not to dwell on it – doing so certainly didn't help his mental health or peace of mind, at any rate.

The young man soaked for a good twenty minutes, taking great pleasure in the hot water alleviating some of the strain in his muscles, and though he mainly thought of the silver-haired half elf, he also couldn't help but think about what had happened with his blonde-haired teacher – how she had just run off, trying to hide the tears in her eyes, after, as far as he could tell, nothing had happened but a hug between them. He wondered if it was something he said, and he didn't doubt that he had the idiocy to say something careless to hurt someone's feelings, but as he reflected on what happened before Freddie fled, he genuinely couldn't think of anything. He considered that it might have been something outwith his involvement or control, but he decided to try and get his blonde-haired sister-like friend to open up to him again tomorrow.

He climbed out of the bath, a mix of bathwater and horror-induced sweat dripping down off of him and onto the bathing room floor, before he entered into the changing room, dried himself off, and, as he went to get redressed into his uniform. He noticed that in short time he was bathing, that his uniform and underwear had been cleaned and dried, before being neatly folded onto one of the changing room's tables. The diligence of the maids here always amazed the young man, but… he did question how they seemed to be so omniscient. Every single time he had went for a bath and come back out, he had found his uniform cleaned and ironed, and on a few occasions where it'd sustained nicks, tears and damage, it had been miraculously repaired as well. He'd have to try and convince Ram to tell him her secret, because he doubted that it was Rem who was going out of her way like that.

The young man only had his uniform, rifle and revolver, and he didn't have his backpack with him – but he hadn't needed it for his routine training. It was only out of his instinct to protect the people close to him that he carried his weapons everywhere he went, and he knew that it was most likely unnecessary when he was just taking part in his daily physical training with Freddie, but he would never forgive himself if something happened and he didn't have the means to protect the two girls he loved. That level of constant alertness was at least one good thing the trenches had taught him, at least.

…Or maybe having your guard up during every waking moment was actually a sign of something else. And, maybe the thing that it was a sign of, whatever that might be, wasn't a healthy mind. Artur wasn't even going to begin to devote his consciousness to that fact, however.

He dressed into his uniform, before slinging his fully loaded rifle over his shoulder, shoving his six-round revolver into its holster on his belt and strapping it shut securely. Leaving the changing room and shutting the door behind him, he began moving down the hallway in the direction of Emilia's bedroom – or, at least, he began moving in the direction he thought that Emilia's bedroom was. His useless sense of direction had improved none whatsoever, and it wasn't uncommon for him to have to ask for directions for places he had visited five, ten, or fifteen times previously. From looking out of the windows as he walked along the hallway, however, he thought that he recognised where he was going. Maybe.

As he made his way down the corridor, he began to hum, and then eventually whistle, a song that he had woken up with stuck in his head. A song from back home, before the war even, that if he had sung it in the trenches, would go unrecognised by anyone listening, since it would technically not have been invented yet. Music had always been a big part of his life before the war, and he would never forget the evenings where he would stay up really late waiting for his father to come home from work. His dad, who would patiently, even after an exhausting day in the factory, help him to learn the guitar, just as his dad's own father had done.

He came up to a junction with a corridor that forked to the right, and as he approached with his vigilant gaze always searching for hostiles, the pink-haired maid twin emerged into the main hallway. Ram, with her face appearing as bored as it so ofttimes did, let out a sigh, as though Artur's mere presence was enough to exhaust the cynical girl. No, it would be more accurate to say that she gave off the impression of being exhausted of him being near her before she had even noticed him in the first place. Perhaps she had heard him whistling, and from that, worked out who was walking down the corridor. She was holding a dust broom in one hand, which had been dragging along the ground as she tugged it around, as though nobody had ever explained to her what 'sweeping' the floor actually meant.

"Ruta." Ram said, dismissiveness immediately in her tone, sounding like even speaking his name took a great effort. Well, not his actual name, but some corrupted anagram of it. Ram placed the broom, standing upright, against the corridor wall, as she stopped to talk to the young man who had spared her sister's life.

"Wow, you're becoming more creative, Ram. I was getting a bit tired of it always being 'Lewdtur' this and 'Pervtur' that, so it's a welcome change." The young man said, a smile on his face, although it was not one that was provoked by running into Ram.

"Hmph. Judging by that face of yours', I don't think my comments on your lecherousness were far off the mark." The maid replied, a small smirk coming to her face as spoke. The pair, although having more than a slight amount of strain put on their relationship as a result of The Rem Incident, had nevertheless grown closer over the past few weeks. They weren't hugging, kissing, and wearing matching outfits – Artur probably wouldn't suit a maid's dress – and they certainly hadn't grown as close or as quickly as him and Emilia, or even him and Freddie, had, but he enjoyed their banter, and judging by the small, though not warm, smile on the maid's face, he would bet that she felt the same way.

Maybe. There was no telling with Ram, sometimes.

"My face? I don't-" The young man began to ask, perplexed, his hand unconsciously moving to the right-hand side of his heavily-scarred visage, before he noticed the smirk that was on Ram's face rapidly descend downwards into a frown, although there was no change to her eyes at all – whether smiling or sulking, the only change to Ram's facial expression had been which direction the corners of her lips had been pointing.

"No, not that, you big dumb bear. I'm talking about the smile on your face. That was on your face." Ram said harshly, her eyes unmistakeably hovering over the rough, disfigured, shrapnel-ravaged side of the young man's skin, before managing to put her gaze back into his blue eyes. Ram hadn't forgotten the slight that she made against him in the armoury when he had not long arrived in the mansion, and she saw that he was still somewhat conscious over it. His scarring wasn't exactly beautiful to look at, but she would be lying if she said there wasn't a certain amount of… handsome ruggedness in the scars, giving him a scarier and more intimidating look than his kind, gentle-giant-like personality warranted.

Did he have a smile on his face? He couldn't say that he noticed, although, he couldn't help but grin a little bit at Ram referring to him as a bear again, and he found himself unable to stop himself from letting out a deep laugh at the fact that Ram and Frederica had both alluded to his supposed Ursine resemblance in the same day. Had Ram mentioned this apparent similarity to Frederica (or vice-versa), and she had agreed, or had they both, individually, independently come up with the idea themselves? He supposed there were worse things that people could be saying behind his back.

"Oh, really? I'm not in the worst mood, to be honest." The young man said, somewhat surprised that Ram was taking the time to stop and talk to him like this. Not that it was unwelcome, not in the slightest, but judging by her face, voice, and entire general manner, he would have assumed that she wasn't in the mood for stopping and chewing the fat. At least, not with him, of all people.

There really was no telling with Ram.

"I can see that. It is a, as you call it, 'far cry' from how I've seen you when you that think nobody is looking." Ram said, before her frown began to fade into a neutral expression.

There were a few things that his mind had locked onto there, between the phrase she had used that he'd apparently imported from back home, to the fact that she was apparently watching him without him realising, but the young Scot wouldn't have the chance to ask her anything before the pink-haired maid pre-empted his words with those of her own.

"Let me guess – you're on your way to harass poor Emilia-sama." Ram said, her visage having managed to transform from a frown to a smile at breakneck speed. He found it hard to keep up with the pink-haired maid sometimes, though, of course, he would never tell her that. The less ammunition he gave her, the better. That said, though, he was surprised that Ram had known where he was going, but then he considered that, with how much time that they spent with each other, it wouldn't take a rocket surgeon to figure it out.

With a smile on his face – which only grew as he thought about Emilia – the young man raised an eyebrow in surprise at the fact that she knew where he was heading. "Eh? How did you know where I was going, Ram? I know you said you were watching me, but could it be that you're the perv, Ram?" The young man asked, his grin growing a little mischievous and toothy as he fired a verbal shot at the pink-haired girl.

Much to his surprise, Ram's rosy cheeks reddened a little bit, and she moved her head backwards – almost in disgust.

"You lecherous man! Ram doesn't watch you that closely- I mean-" Ram said, accidentally inflicting a wound in their verbal spar on herself, causing the young man's grin to widen even further at Ram admitting that she does, in fact, watch him. He didn't think very much about that fact, just chalking it up to her uncharacteristically becoming flustered by his words and getting tongue-tied, but he found the thought of Ram, of all people, paying close attention to him, a funny one.

"I see, I see, so your lewd gaze on me is only on me a little bit? I'm flattered, Ram, but you can do a lot better than me." Artur said, giving a little bit of rope to the young maid with the second part of his jesting, but instead of an immediate retaliation at him, as he was expecting, he was instead met with Ram's blush not dissipating, and, in fact, strengthening a little bit. The pink-haired twin looked away from him, without turning her head from him, and she muttered something that was too quiet for him to comprehend.

The young man leaned his head closer to the girl, and turning off his teasing switch for a second, turned his ear to point at her.

"Sorry, Ram, what did you say?" He asked, genuinely wanting to know what she said.

"N-nothing, it doesn't matter! Anyway, it was obvious that you were going to meet Emilia-sama, exactly because of your smiling." Ram said, after turning her eyes back to look at the young man, her blush abating slightly as she managed to turn the topic of the conversation away from her fluster – a fluster that she, herself, couldn't quite understand the reason behind – and back towards what they had been talking about before he had apparently struck a topic that she wasn't keen on discussing in their verbal duel.

The young man raised an eyebrow once more, as his smile moved from one of teasing back into a genuine one, in sincere confusion. "Sorry, Ram, I don't quite understand." He said, before raising a hand to sheepishly scratch the back of his head, while shining his white teeth in a goofy grin that… that Ram actually found quite endearing. Something that she would never admit to him, of course. Stupid Lewdtur.

"What I mean, Beartur… Hah! I think I think I've found your nickname! No need to thank me, it's my pleasure, Beartur." Ram said, a genuinely smug, self-satisfied, pleased grin coming to her face that might've been the absolute most sincere that Artur had ever seen on her… And all because she had managed to come up with a nickname that she thought fit him. He really didn't see the resemblance that her and Freddie had mentioned, so maybe it was just that Ram had managed to convince Freddie. Not that he thought Frederica was weak-minded or anything like that. If Emilia, however, suddenly mentioned him having some kind of a resemblance to an Ursine animal, then… that might be worrying.

The young man, whose grin couldn't help but widen at Ram's own smugly infectious one, just rolled his eyes, before bringing his hand down from the back of his head, and laying his hand on the grip of his revolver unconsciously.

"Aye, aye, aye, very good, Ram." He said, before shaking his head in amusement at her.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Beartur… Hah!" Ram said, letting out another self-satisfied laugh as the nickname effortlessly rolled off her tongue. Artur wanted to strike back, but even he couldn't really object to it – it was inoffensive, easy to say and natural-sounding, and… there were worse animals to be compared to than a bear, without a doubt. "It was obvious where you were going. I can't think of any other reason you would have a smile like that on your face – not unless it's to do with your obsession with Emilia-sama, anyway." Ram finished, her smug smirk falling back down into her resting neutral expression.

"Hah, obsession. I might love her, but I'm not obsessed with her… Funny to think that I'm so transparent that you can tell what I'm doing by a bloody smile, of all things, though." He said, his smile faltering as he began to think about that. He couldn't be so miserable, that the only time he ever really smiled, was when he was around his Mili, could he?

Was Emilia really the only source of happiness he had? No, that wasn't true. He found happiness in exercise, and not just the exercise of training with Freddie. He certainly couldn't forget that blonde-haired girl, either – he loved spending time with her, and she was, without a doubt, someone he was always happy to be around. What else did he enjoy? Music was a big one, but he couldn't exactly enjoy that anymore. Hell, he hadn't since before the war. Truth be told, he missed being able to just sit on the couch with his feet up, a cold beer in his hand, and with his headphones on, just relaxing, or, alternatively, with his feet up, a JD and coke, and with him trying to learn a new song on the guitar. He still had the occasional time for relaxing, and he had learned that Roswaal had no shortage of alcohol in his mansion, but the lack of music in his life was something he couldn't replicate, in his new home.

He didn't have a terrible singing voice, so if he managed to buy a guitar whenever he was next in the city, or if he were to come across someone selling one, then he'd have to spend some of his wage on it. Maybe he could even play some songs from his land for the mansion's residents – he had no shortage of thousands and thousands of songs lodged in his brain, and he wondered if they'd, maybe, enjoy him playing some for them. An image like paradise came to his mind as he considered that – him and the people he cared about sitting around a campfire at night, a beer beside him, while they all sang songs with one another, him playing a little guitar, sharing stories with each other and everyone getting to know each other better.

It'd be a good chance to push Emilia and Frederica into becoming better friends, and he didn't doubt that it'd be a good opportunity to encourage Emilia and the twins to become closer, too. Although, when he considered how Emilia had reacted and treated the blue-haired maid following The Rem Incident, he realised that it probably threw any chance of Emilia and Rem becoming friends out of the window. He couldn't help but smile, however, at the thought of encouraging Emilia to become real friends with Frederica and Ram, and hopefully, even more people. She deserved a tight, closely-knit circle of friends she could rely on, of good people that really cared about her, and it was something that the world had unfairly deprived the angelic silver-haired girl of.

Hell, maybe he could even write a song for Emilia, or alter an existing song he knew, to specifically suit her. He actually had a few ideas for songs that he could do that with quite easily. But would Emilia appreciate such a thing? He thought that she probably would, and he doubted, considering Emilia's history and background, that anyone had ever written a song for her before. He wondered if anyone had ever even sung to her before at all. If not, then he'd have to make sure she knew just how special she was by employing his not-terrible voice to do just that for the young half-elf.

The white-haired man felt a strong grip on his shoulder – one that would inflict pain on lesser men – and that it was shaking him vigorously, in an effort to bring him back to reality. He blinked rapidly, his glazed-over eyes beginning to once more take in the sight of Ram, who was now standing much closer than she had been, with her right hand now on his right shoulder. Her face was now entirely unamused – a fact communicated by her heavily lidded, one visible eye, and the other, of course, remaining hidden behind her pink fringe, while a slight downwards turn to one of the corners of her mouth could be seen by anyone making an effort to notice.

"I swear to Volcanica, I will never understand how Emilia-sama has such strong affection for you, or how Frederica-san puts up with training you for ten hours a day. We were in the middle of talking, and as soon as the subject of Emilia-sama comes up, you start daydreaming about her!" Ram said, her face becoming less and less amused.

"I wasn'-" The young man began, before getting cut off by Ram.

"Don't try and tell me that you weren't fawning over Emilia-sama in your head. You had that smile on your face that you only get when you're around her, or when you're talking about her, or – evidently – when you're apparently even just thinking about the poor girl! It doesn't do your case of trying to tell me that you're not positively obsessed with her any favours, at all." Ram continued, after which, strangely, the down-turned corners of her mouth returned to a flat line.

"I suppose, then, it's just as well that she's just about as obsessed with you, as you are with her." Ram said, before her eyebrows lowered, and her eyes turned away from the young man, where they began to look out of the window in contemplation. She looked, to the white-haired man, as though she was thinking about something. Perhaps unrelated, if her sudden change of expression from impatience to thoughtfulness was anything to go by. He couldn't let what she said go unaddressed, though.

"I don't think I'm obsessed with Mili, but, even if I was, there's no way in Heaven or Earth that it'd be a two-way street. She might like me, but… obsessed? I don't know what you've been smoking, Ram, but I'd try to kick the habit if I were you." The young man said, not a trace of wiggle room in his firm voice as he totally rejected the notion that Emilia could feel so strongly about him as to be 'obsessed'. It did the gorgeous, silver-haired girl a disservice to accuse her of anything even approaching that.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that an animal like you is disgusting enough as to accuse me of abusing such filthy vices. However, that vile nature of yours' doesn't change the fact that, miraculously, Emilia-sama is, indeed, obsessed with you." Ram said, her words much harsher than her tone or facial expression, and doing as much damage to Artur as a fist might to a Tank.

"She's not-" He began, before getting interrupted by the pink-haired young girl. He was only trying to defend Emilia's honour, so why was Ram being so insistent as to accuse her of something as obscene as having an obsession with him?

"Really? So do you think that she just latches herself onto anyone, man or woman, that she comes across, after knowing them only for a few days?" Ram asked, raising an eyebrow as she began to frown deeply, looking almost annoyed by the idea that the white-haired young man might be accusing Emilia of something like that.

"No, of course not, Mili's-" He tried to speak once more, before getting interrupted, again. Why couldn't Ram just understand that he didn't deserve any of Emilia's affection towards him? Certainly not so much that Emilia could be accused of having an obsession for him.

"Oh, so you must think that, after knowing someone for less than a week, that Emilia-sama shares her bed, clinging on so tightly, even in her sleep, with a smile on her face, with just about anybody who shows her any kindness, warmth, or love?" Ram asked once more, her voice growing more and more annoyed. The young man was beginning to think that the thought of him actually accusing Emilia of something like that was genuinely irritating, exhausting, or perhaps even offensive to the pink-haired maid.

"N… No. No, no, of course I don't, but… Wait, how did you know about-" The young man, again, tried to speak, but slower this time, and with less and less firmness with each word, beginning to see the point that Ram was getting at, though more than just a little bit unnerved at the fact that Ram had apparently watched them sleep at some point during the night after The Rem Incident. Not disturbing at all. To call Emilia obsessed with him, though?

"I see, so it must be the opinion of Emilia-sama's Knight-to-Be that she talks non-stop, whenever there's any opportunity, about anyone who shows her any kind of affection. And that, even when the topic of conversation was originally something entirely different, that she changes the subject to continuously talk about anyone who shows her warmth or kindness? With a complete lack of timidity or bashfulness, when Emilia-sama is normally so considerate and shy when even talking about something as trivial as the weather! But I suppose her ungrateful, oblivious, and idiotic Knight-to-Be, who, just like all men who can't see love when it's staring him in the face, must think that Emilia-sama suddenly gaining confidence when talking about him, and only him, is entirely insignificant!" Ram, whose voice had gradually increased in volume, was now almost loud enough to be shouting.

Ram was showing more passion about this than he had ever heard her talk about anything before, so much so that he was starting to think that this was about far more than his and Emilia's relationship. Especially when he considered how she spoke about how 'all men' can't see love staring them in their faces. Yes, he got the feeling that Ram was more or less, whether intentional or accidental, using this to vent frustrations from her own life. He just had no idea what it was about.

But… Emilia simply wasn't 'obsessed' with him, or in love with him, and she didn't hold any kind of feeling in her heart towards him that would just… absolutely make him the happiest man on the planet. It crushed him that his affection, love and… 'obsession' was so one-sided. He'd repeat it as many times as he had to, to reinforce the fact in his mind that Emilia wasn't in love with him, and that she wasn't 'obsessed' with him.

No, of course she wasn't. That wasn't fair to accuse her of, at all. She was a unique, kind, and massive-hearted girl who had so much love to give, and she had never had any outlet for venting all of the love, warmth, compassion and affection in her heart…

…but that wasn't true in the slightest, was it? Emilia, as far as he knew, had always had Puck, and so if it was simply the case of Emilia… using him… for venting off all of the lovey-dovey that had accumulated in her heart over the…

Huh, now that he thought about it, he didn't know how old she was. He'd have to ask her.

At any rate, if what he had been thinking was true – that Emilia's heart was just oversaturated with affection and warmth to give, and he was the nearest outlet for her – then, while it would absolutely break his heart that she had only been so close to him because of such a reason as that, and not because she genuinely cared for him, then Emilia would have vented off all her love towards Puck, since, so far, all of the affection she had given him had pretty much been platonic.

Well, maybe not all of the gestures that she'd shown him had been strictly platonic, like how much she had sat in his lap, sometimes for hours at a time. Or how, over the past three weeks, she had ended up planting kisses pretty much everywhere on his face, bar his lips. He supposed it wasn't entirely platonic either, when he thought about how… explorative… her hands had become when they'd been stuck to one another…

…

Shit.

…

Upon seeing that the scar-faced man had taken his telling, and that he had promptly shut the fuck up, Ram began to cool down. The white-haired man was deep in thought, and she could see that her words had definitely put Emilia's actions into perspective, in a way that he hadn't really considered them before. His eyes were darting all over the place, he was chewing his lip, and he had started to scratch at his five o'clock shadow. Yes, Ram was satisfied that her words had – hopefully – had the intended effect. The only thing she couldn't understand was… why she felt so strongly about this.

She didn't think that it was out of any great love for Emilia. Ram certainly didn't dislike, hate, or really hold any negative feelings towards the half elf, but she didn't really care much about her that much, either. She liked Artur, as begrudging as it was to admit to herself, but Ram knew that him and Emilia would probably figure things out together, eventually. Was it perhaps due to her one-sided feelings towards Roswaal, that he didn't seem to be able to see? Ram wasn't one hundred percent sure what the source of her motivation for chewing the dense young man's ear off was, but… she felt better for almost screaming at him, and he once more proved himself to be a perceptive listener.

"Ram…" The young man uttered, his eyes not focused on anything, while sounding entirely lacking in confidence, firmness or authority. It was so unlike him that it gave the pink-haired maid pause for a moment, before she realised just how big of an impact her words had had on him.

"What is it, Beartur?" Ram asked, no amusement, harshness, cynicism or anything really resembling emotion in her voice. She was apparently sticking with that nickname, it seemed – although, the young man barely registered that fact as his thoughts raced at one hundred miles per minute.

"What… What do you think that it means?" The young man asked, feeling vulnerable, and like he was exposing himself here to unnecessary harm, and, out of all of the people in the world, he was doing so in front of Ram, a girl that he knew could be particularly scathing, and not one to pull her punches at all.

Ram was in genuine disbelief that the white-haired young man could somehow not immediately see what it was that she perceived Emilia's actions to clearly mean, and, indeed, Ram was beginning to believe that all men were really as dense to obvious love being shown to them as Artur and Roswaal both seemed to be. She wanted to scream at his denseness, and to get a measuring tape out to measure just how thick his skull was. Ram knew that Roswaal was that ignorant because he was entirely obsessed with his goal, and that damn book.

What she couldn't understand, however, was why the Knight-to-Be was so oblivious to Emilia's feelings for him. The pink-haired maid supposed that it wasn't helped by the fact that, according to Frederica, Artur's confession of love to Emilia was met with an 'I don't know what love is', and it probably also wasn't helped by the fact that, despite Emilia giving the young man gestures and affection that were clearly representative of her love for him, that Emilia still didn't seem to understand her own feelings, herself.

So, Ram supposed that her white-haired friend couldn't be entirely blamed for his blindness, but… Emilia's own lack of understanding in her feelings couldn't be the only reason that he was unable to even begin to believe that the half elf might love him. Something else must have been going on in the young man's head that made it difficult, or perhaps even impossible, for him to believe that Emilia loved him without an outright confession of it from her mouth. Perhaps, even if an explicit expression of love was given to the young man, he would still find difficulty in believing it. Unfortunately, Ram wasn't a mind reader, and nor was she a therapist, but if what it would take for her friend to understand how strongly Emilia felt for him was the words coming from Emilia herself, then Ram hoped that, for her friend's sake, that the silver-haired Royal Candidate would recognise the feelings she held for the man who loved her, sooner or later.

Ram decided not to express any of those thoughts to the young man, and instead, simply rolled her eyes at him. She might never understand the white-haired man or his inability to see anything good about his situation, or recognise when people truly cared for him – she might never understand where it stemmed from. Perhaps that was for the best, though, as when she considered that he had been something of a soldier at some point, she realised he had probably gone through things that had led to him thinking this way. Things that she was probably better off not knowing about.

"Honestly, Beartur. I take the time out of my day to help my friend with his love life, and you're still as clueless after my rousing speech as you were before it. You're useless – I really mean it, only the Od Laguna could ever know what Emilia-sama sees in you." Ram said, before picking up her broom from where she had left it leaning against the wall, and turning around, away from the young. Before she could begin walking away from the young man, however, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry, Ram, err…" The young man said. Ram could tell that he was feeling sheepish without even having to see his face, but she turned back around anyway.

"Get your dirty digits off of my once-immaculate shoulder this instant. Now I'll have to get Rem to cover for my work while I go and scrub my body clean in the bath." Ram said, her mouth warping into a smug smile as she brushed the young man's hand from her shoulder harshly.

"Hah, that's harsh… But regardless, could you point me to Mili's bedroom? I actually did want to go and spend some time with her." The young man said, goofily rubbing the back of his head with one hand, a dumb, toothy grin on his face that almost blinded Ram as he acted only more than a little shameless in front of her.

"What? But it's quite literally straight across from your own bedroom. A fact that you're well aware of, Pervtur." Ram fired off, something the scar-faced Scot couldn't help but smile and laugh at, before he gradually became quiet, whereupon another embarrassed expression crept up onto his face.

"Aye, I'm well aware of that, Ram…" The young man said, his face reddening slightly at the fact that his horrendously poor navigational sense was being discovered. He had somehow managed to get to this point in his new life in Lugnica without anyone working it out, but it looked like the jig was up. It was unfortunate, but he could not allow Ram to live…

…

…No, it wasn't really that big of a deal. He was embarrassed enough by it for his face to redden to the extent that it was noticeable by Ram, though. Ram was, once again, taken aback during this conversation. She had never, in the month that she had spoken to Artur every day, ever seen his face redden. At least, not when it came to anything but Emilia, that is. To see that he apparently had enough shame to be embarrassed about his poor sense of direction was… reassuring, to Ram. She sometimes forgot that Mr. Man Mountain was actually human, and not just an exercising, poor-joke-telling, forever-studying, Emilia-loving animal.

"How… How have you been here for a month, and you still haven't learned how to find your own bedroom? Do you… Do you have to ask someone every time you go to bed?" Ram asked, her eyes widening at the implication. Then… she started to smile. A very small, little one at first, but very quickly, it grew into a wide grin. A grin far wider than Artur had ever seen on Ram's, admittedly pretty, face.

"Hah, well… I usually spend a wee bit of time with Mili before bed, so I'll normally just follow her to hers', since, like you said, hers' is straight across from mine." The young man said, not helping his case at all… and causing Ram to begin bursting out laughing, dropping her broom and having to put her hands on her stomach to try and help with the pain she was causing herself by giggling too hard. Artur had to be messing with her – surely!

"Wait, wait, wait – is that why I caught you wandering around in the middle of the night that one time? Because you couldn't, hah, hah, hah, you couldn't even, hah, hah, find your own bedroom! Beartur, hah, hah, who seems to do so well in everything he does, hah, hah, hah! He can't even find his own bedroom! Hahahahaha!" Ram strained out between fits of loud, roaring laughter at the young man's expense – the young man, who had never seen Ram laugh like this before.

Artur couldn't help but smile a little bit at his own idiocy, but the truth was that the night Ram was speaking about, was one of the many numerous evenings that the young man hadn't been able to sleep. Or, more accurately, he had gotten to sleep, but had awoken in the middle of the night from another nightmare – a Rem-shaped nightmare, in fact, which bothered him more than just a little bit. He wasn't afraid of the blue-haired maid, but the protective, sentinel-like part of his mind that always pushed him to want to shield the people he loves, had decided to give him a horrendous dream about what would happen if Rem decided to attack those people, since she hadn't been able to beat him in a fair fight directly.

Following that spine-shivering nightmare, the young man had gotten out of bed, and began to patrol the mansion hallways for intruders or ne'er-do-wells. He knew that it was undoubtedly a very stupid thing to do, it just didn't make sense at all – Roswaal, or perhaps Beatrice, even, would have known if someone had broken into the mansion before he ever could – but it didn't matter to his adrenaline-fuelled, cold-sweat saturated mind, whose protective instinct had went into overdrive, just short of forcing him to climb into Emilia's bed and wrapping himself around her so that anyone who wanted to get to her, would have to get through him.

He ended up running into Ram in the middle of that night, as she had been on her way to the kitchen for a glass of water, but she hadn't questioned him on it in her sleep-addled state. He supposed he could correct her, but she was having too much fun for him to do that, and there was also the factor to consider that he didn't want her to question his state of mental health, either. Patrolling your place of residence because you're afraid of something breaking in in the middle of the night and slaughtering the people you love, was not a healthy thing in the slightest.

"Hmm, something like that, Ram. Something like that." He said, his genuine smile shrinking fainter and fainter as he began to ponder the fact that some of the behaviour and actions he took that were definitely not healthy. Ram saw that he had stopped smiling, and soon, her own laughter stopped, before her hysterical smile began to fade away, returning her visage to the status quo of a bored-like expression that he was more used to seeing.

"You don't have to sulk because I'm laughing at your expense – it's not the first time I've done it. What's the problem?" Ram asked, her tone entirely lacking in compassion, but from her perspective, he had just grown silent and distant because she was aiming her jibes at him. She had no comprehension of the true reason his face had faded from one of a smile, to one that so reminded her of pain.

"I don't think I'm sulking, although I suppose the person being accused of that isn't the most reliable opinion to take. No, I was thinking of something else there, so just ignore me." The young man said, before forcing a creaky, stiff, unconvincing 'smile' on his face that Ram immediately recognised for what it was. It was one that her master Roswaal often slapped onto his own face, and one that she wished the Margrave didn't have to use – she wished her master could simply smile genuinely, but that was a long road off.

"If you insist, Beartur." Ram said, pausing for a few seconds in case her friend was going to say something else. Once she realised that he was done talking, however, she spoke again. "I need to prepare for my visit to the village later – I don't know if Frederica-san mentioned it to you, but she will be going with me this afternoon." Ram said, before turning around, and once more beginning to walk away from the young man, down the hallway.

Until…

"Yeah, Freddie mentioned that. But, uh… Ram?" The young man spoke, a sheepish smile once more coming to his face as he heard the footsteps of the pink-haired maid only a few metres in front of him. After he spoke, however, he heard an exasperated sigh come from the mouth of the twin girl, before she turned her head so that he could only see the side of it.

"Yes, yes, fine. I'll take you to Emilia-sama's bedroom, if only so that I can prepare for my trip to the village with Frederica-san in peace and quiet." Ram said, before turning back around once more to face in the direction of the young man, after which she began walking towards him, and then past him. "Emilia-sama's chambers are this way, Uselesstur. Keep up, because I won't slow down for you."

A small smile came to the young man's face – one of appreciation for the stupid, insulting, disparaging routine that he and Ram shared. Although she took it too far at times – or at least, in Emilia's opinion she did – the young man knew that it wasn't fuelled by genuine dislike or hatred. Or, at least, he hoped it wasn't. He wasn't about to compete in the popularity Olympics, nor would he want to, but he still hoped that he could make a few friends. Getting along with Ram was only really important for the fact that they lived and worked within the same estate at the same time, but he wanted to also get along with her for his and her own benefit, too. Now, if he could use that relationship to encourage a friendship to blossom between Ram and Emilia as well, then he would be more than pleased with himself. Emilia deserved friends, God damnit, and he meant better friends than he ever could be to her.

The smile that came to his face was also a little bit because of the fact that Ram had begun walking down the hallway in the opposite direction that he had been walking. Artur wasn't surprised in the slightest that he had been walking the entirely wrong way, and, as Ram began to almost jog away from him, his grin went even wider. This was such a strange, novel world that he had come to live in, and nothing was really ever like he had once known. Maybe that was part of why he was more content now than he had been in ages – in years.

He began briskly walking in the same direction as Ram, in pursuit of the rapidly-disappearing, exasperated maid. The girl could genuinely not wrap her head around the thick-skulledness of the young man who had somehow captured the heart of her master's sponsored candidate, nor the fact that he somehow still couldn't even see that he had done it. Emilia was practically all over him, for Od's sake! Ram did consider that there might be some factor that she wasn't seeing, but she wasn't considerate to the extent that she would let that fact affect her opinion.

As they walked in silence, the young man recognised a feeling in his throat and chest that he hadn't felt in what must have been years. Thinking about visiting Emilia, who he hadn't spoken to properly in a few days, the young man felt excitement. Genuine, unadulterated excitement. No, not that kind of excitement… not at the moment, at any rate. His heart began to beat faster as he pictured the girl's face in his mind's eye, every detail of her gorgeous visage perfectly pictured. He could hear her orchestral-like voice that reminded him of a bell, and he could feel her soft, yet strong, body clinging to him as she so often did.

It was as though Emilia thought that, if she let go of him, that she might never see him again. He hoped that one day, she might understand just how much she means to him. Everything about her made his heart flutter, and the smile that rested on his face strengthened even greater as he became impatient. Ram might have been walking as fast as she could, but it was still too slow for the man who was normally never lacking in patience. He was half tempted to pick the pink-haired maid up and carry her horizontally under his arm, but he doubted that she'd appreciate him carrying her like luggage.

As they continued to walk along the hallway towards Emilia's bedroom, it was to Artur's surprise that Ram was the one who would break the silence first. She slowed down her pace, such that she was now walking beside the young man instead of trying to powerwalk away from him, and she looked at him with her face once more adorned with an expression of boredom.

"Tell me, is this the fastest you've seduced a girlfriend, or is it only poor Emilia-sama who has fallen prey to your lecherous clutches?" Ram asked, not a hint of amusement in her voice. That fact didn't matter, though – the young man had quickly learned that, regardless of whatever emotion that Ram was feeling at any given time, it would not necessarily come through in her tone. It was usually only anger, and smugness. Artur had once thought that 'smugness' wasn't actually an emotion, but that was until he had met Ram. She had entirely managed to convince him otherwise.

The young man sighed heavily, his patience beginning to wear thin, before he began to respond to the pink-haired maid. "Mili's not my girlfriend, Ram. It's cruel of you to say things like that when you know my feelings for her are one-sided." The young man said sharply, and the fact that he was starting to get sick of Ram's shit was beginning to come through in his voice. Originally, he thought that Ram was just trying to be supportive and encouraging, but now he was unsure. It was starting to feel like she was just trying to be cruel.

"Cruel? That's nonsense. Ram is the most kind and merciful maiden you might ever come across. Now… have you got a piece of your brain missing? One-sided feelings? What did we just… Do you know what? You truly are hopeless." The pink-haired girl said, shaking her head. Her voice, too, was beginning to sound lacking in patience, and her frustration was beginning to show on her otherwise bored and apathetic visage.

"Maybe I am hopeless, but until I hear the words actually coming from Mili's mouth, then it's not fair to try and put words in them. Who knows… Maybe when Mili learns to understand what love is, then she'll say the words that I don't deserve to hear… But I really doubt it. I wouldn't be surprised, when she does learn what love is – the kind of love that I have for her – if she were to decide that what she feels for me isn't love at all." The young man said, looking away from the pink-haired maid, and in the direction that they were walking. He had missed the fact that Ram's expression had shifted from that of exasperation, to a softer one of sympathy, but also one representative of the empathy she felt for the young man.

"Are you… serious?" Ram asked, as she began to realise that extent of the young man's denial of reality, and his inability to recognise the meaning behind Emilia's actions for what she perceived them as, was far from normal. Something had to be wrong with him, or have happened to him, for him to be so unable to accept what Ram perceived Emilia's actions to mean in regard to her feelings for the young man. Most of the frustration that had been plaguing Ram had departed from her as it began to hit her that something was off, mentally, about the young man, although both internally and in her voice, the feelings of exasperation hadn't been eliminated entirely.

The young man sighed, before raising a hand to the back of his head, and beginning to scratch his hair. A horrible sick feeling could be felt in his throat as he thought about the possibility of his feelings never being returned by the young lady he felt so strongly for.

"Like you said, we've already talked about this, Ram, and I don't want to speak about it anymore. It's painful for me to think about. I mean, do you understand how much it hurts, how heavy it feels in your chest, to think about your love for someone, that you just… know, will never be returned? It's horrible, and it makes you feel sick." The young man said, the agony he felt internally being so great that it had began to leak out into his voice and onto his face. His words resonated with Ram, just as they had earlier – and just like before, she thought of her feelings for the Margrave despite his unhealthy obsession with his goal. Although Ram considered that Emilia obviously returned the young man's feelings, even if Emilia didn't realise it herself, Ram couldn't help but empathise with how Artur must feel – it sounded exactly like how she herself felt when she thought about her unreturned feelings, after all.

Ram considered that, if the young man was truly unable to recognise the way that the silver-haired girl felt about him, then the feelings he must be feeling caused his perceived unrequited love are as genuine as how she felt when she thought about Roswaal's lack of returning her own feelings, which significantly softened how harshly she thought about the young man. Perhaps her and the scar-faced soldier weren't as different as she thought they were.

"Fine." Ram said, with not a single trace of the sardonicism or apathy she normally spoke with present in her voice. "If you refuse to see the reality in front of you, then I don't think there's anything that anyone can say to you to. Nobody but Emilia-sama." Ram said, before peeling her eyes off of the young man. "Perhaps… Perhaps not even Emilia-sama." She finished, so quiet that Artur almost didn't hear her. He chose not to say anything back to her.

Ram began to pick up the pace once more to get to Emilia's room as soon as possible. Ram genuinely did have to go and prepare for her trip later on, after all, but she wouldn't admit to the young man that there was another reason she wanted this diversion over with as soon as possible. It was making the heavy and sick feeling that Artur had previously talked about become present in Ram's own throat and chest, and she didn't want to have to think about her own one-sided feelings for any more than she had to. That is, she didn't want to think about them at all.

It took only a few more minutes for Ram, whose stride Artur thought was far too large for her short stature, to lead the young man to the outside of his own bedroom. It lay in front of him, as Ram stood between him and his chambers, but more importantly, he was aware that the bedroom of the silver-haired girl that the young man carried a large torch for, was now directly to his rear.

"Are you happy to be using your superior station to abuse those beneath you? You are a truly shameful man, wasting my precious time so you can flirt with your girlfr- with Emilia-sama, of all things." Ram said, in an effort to lighten the young man's mood, at least somewhat. She knew that they both enjoyed the back-and-forth harsh banter that was characteristic of their friendship. However, Ram recognised that the young man had flinched, more than only a little, when she went to call Emilia his 'girlfriend' in jest, and when she considered how the Scot had earlier spoken to her with a level of emotion in his voice that was not usual for him, she realised that it would probably not do him, nor their relationship, any favours to try and make that kind of joke once more.

"Hah. Thanks, Ram. I appreciate you leading me, even if you are a bit of a pain in the arse." The young man said, a small smile coming to his face that Ram didn't miss, and in turn causing a subtle one to come to her own lips. She was glad that her blunder hadn't actually damaged their friendship, although Ram, of course, would never admit such a thing to him.

"How crude, though I should expect no less from a man that sexually harasses one as innocent as Emilia-sama, but I suppose she is a lost cause at this point. It doesn't matter, though, now that you have deeply indebted yourself to me by asking for this favour. When you finish your education and training and have more free time, I'm going to start taking advantage of you, so prepare yourself. I might be a fair, kind and merciful mistress, but I'll work you far harder to the bone than Roswaal-sama and Frederica-san ever might, even if you were to put them together and multiply them by one hundred, Beartur." Ram said, her smile fading somewhat as she bantered with the young man who had used her as a Satnav.

"Aye, aye, alright, Ram. I'm sure that Mili will-" The young man began, in an attempt to fire a retort back at Ram, but before he could, he was interrupted. A clicking sound could be heard to his rear, which was very rapidly followed by a creaking noise, and his skin was met with the refreshing feeling of the circulation of cool brushing against him as it made its way through the air. As he turned his head slightly in response to the sounds and feeling, he was met, in his peripheral vision, with the rapid movement of a blur towards him. Before he realised what had happened, the door to Emilia's bedroom had flown open, and the young man found himself stumbling forwards as a weight – although relatively light – was now pressed against him.

He recovered his balance quickly, and whatever it was that now pressed fully against his back felt incredibly soft, and gave him a reassuring sense of familiarity. For some reason, his instincts that would normally go into overdrive in response to something like this were remarkably silent, as if every fibre of his being already knew, before this even happened, that there was no threat either Ram or himself, and as he felt arms slip through the gaps between his torso and arms to wrap themselves around his upper stomach, he felt a warmth that was unique – a warmth that only one person had ever made him feel in the however-many years of life he had technically lived.

As he processed all of what happened over the course of no more than a few seconds, and his eyes took in the silver that was now behind him, he realised what – or rather, who – had collided with him, and was now clinging to him with their arms wrapped tightly around his upper stomach, as though if they let go of him, that he would float away to the moon, and never be seen again. Of course, upon recognising who had enveloped him in a hug, the young man knew that the figure would never have to worry about such a thing as him disappearing from them. Well, not intentionally, and certainly not on his part, at any rate.

A large, genuine smile came to his face as the familiar smell was the next thing to hit his senses, a flowery, pleasant smell that he could bask in. A smell that embodied the very notion of contentedness, hope, meaning, and love. Of course, the person who was now hugging him from behind was none other than the girl he had sworn himself to. The girl he had promised that he was not going anywhere. The girl who had promised to never leave him. The girl he had promised to take out on a date – though he hadn't managed to keep said promise yet – and the girl that had promised to trust him with everything. The girl he had confessed his love to.

It was, of course, none other than Emilia. His Emilia.

"Mili, you could've scared the bejesus out of me! It's just as well that I'd recognise one of those hugs of yours' anywhere." The young man said, his grin beaming, and a warmth in his voice that Ram, who watched on with her normal tiredness at their affectionate antics, noted had not been in his voice when he'd been talking to her. It had only become present when he started to talk to Emilia. Stupid Beartur.

"S-Sorry, Artur. I just missed you, and I couldn't resist giving you a hug as soon as I heard your voice!" Emilia said a little timidly initially, before quickly leaving her shell at a whirlwind speed, easily heard in her voice, that all of the mansion's residents recognised by now as being typical of when she was around, speaking to, or speaking about, her younger male friend. Emilia's face went a little bit red as she admitted that she was missing him, and even more so when her words of hugging him involuntarily escaped her mouth, but she couldn't lie. Well, she could – but she found it exceptionally difficult to do so to the young man, and even the thought of doing so nauseated her.

A lighthearted, deep-toned laugh bellowed out of the young man in response to the young, silver-haired girl's earnest, sincere words, and he turned one hundred and eighty-degrees around, while remaining in her embrace, so that his front was now facing her. Without hesitation, the young man wrapped his thick, muscular arms, encased in his uniform jacket and shirt, around the shoulders and chest of the half-elf who was pressing herself tightly to him. The young man returned the gesture, pulling the young girl close to him, and squeezing her tightly as he knew that Emilia liked it. Now that he could see Emilia's face, he could see the slight blush that adorned it, and he couldn't do anything to prevent his heart swelling with affection at the adorable, kind-hearted girl's involuntary reaction of embarrassment.

'God, she's so fucking cute.' The young man couldn't help but think.

"I missed you too, Mili, and you know that I'd hug you ever minute of the day if I could – but I saw you last night, you know?" The young man said, his warm and wide grin never faltering as he briefly removed an arm from around the girl that he was giving a bearhug. He moved a hand to the face of the girl who was gazing up at him, his superior height meaning he towered over her, before he lightly tapped her on the nose in an affectionate, teasing gesture.

The young girl pouted a little bit – or, at least, she tried to, not being able to properly do so as she held an earnest grin on her own face, the young man's teasing of her being something that Emilia had not only grown to accept, but had begun to actively grow to recognise as of as one of the things that she liked about him. Artur didn't think he would be himself if he didn't jest with Emilia, banter with her, tease her, and try to make her feel cherished, loved, appreciated, and happy whenever an opportunity presented itself. Emilia knew that it was selfish, but, she loved that fact about him – how he seemed to always be thinking about her.

"I-I know, but it feels like we don't see each other very much. It's only ever at night-time, and even then, some days I don't see you at all. Ever since that night where… you cuddled me in my sleep." Emilia said, as her grin began to falter, before she looked off to the side, breaking the intense gaze that they shared as she looked down the hallway. An adorable blush came to rest on her face once more, and the young man could practically feel her heart pounding a little quicker with how hard Emilia pressed her breasts to his pectorals.

The young man returned the arm, which he had moved away from Emilia to poke her on the nose, back around her shoulders and back, pulling her back in tightly. He couldn't disagree with Emilia in the slightest – not because he didn't dare to, or anything like that, but because she was totally right. He really didn't see much of her, not since he had started the training regime that Roswaal wanted to be as intense and quick as possible. They both knew it was for a good reason that he was spending more time nowadays with Frederica and Ram in one day than he spent with Emilia in a week, but neither of them liked that fact.

"I know, Mili. I hate it, you know – that I see you so little." The young said, before smiling a little sadly. He squeezed Emilia a little tighter, causing her to look back up into the young man's eyes, and he could see that the smile that had been on her face was now gone, replaced by a slightly melancholic expression just short of a frown. He hated to see her with anything less than a smile, and the emotions running through the girl had a greater effect on him than either of them realised. "I know this might sound a little silly, but if I had it my way, I'd spend every waking moment with you. You know that, right?" He asked, sincerely and candidly, causing Emilia's eyes to widen, and her mouth to open in surprise. Her blush deepened even further at the young man's words, a beautiful contrast between the redness of her rouging and the snow-white fairness of the rest of her face.

"H-Huh?! Do you… Do you really mean that?" Emilia asked, genuinely stunned at the young man's admission. She knew that he loved her, but… wanting to spend 'every waking moment' with her? That was… exactly how she felt about him. What did that mean? Although the young man had said he would speak to her about what love was and wasn't, they hadn't quite found the time to sit down and have that discussion. Emilia strongly believed that her friend wouldn't lie to her, and so she was happy to remind him. If it helped her begin to understand what love was, after all, then she was quite eager to talk about it with him.

The young man let out a modest chuckle, running one of his hands upwards and along Emilia's back, sending an electrifying shiver up and down her spine, before his hand came up to the rear of her head, whereupon he began running his hand through her soft, luxurious, silky-silver hair. He loved all of her physical features, but her hair, her ears, and her eyes were definitely those that stood out in his mind the most. Well, those and her gorgeous pink lips. Oh, her rosy cheeks, her long eyelashes, her adorable button nose, too.

After letting out his kind-hearted laugh, he began to speak. "Of course I mean it, Mili." The young man said, before pausing, when an expression of worry came to his face. Of panic, even. "You don't think that I'm avoiding you, or that I don't want to see you, do you?!" He asked in his deep tone, a slight tone of alarm in his voice at the thought of Emilia believing him to not want to be around her. That was the very furthest thing from the truth, after all.

"No, no, no, no, no! Don't be silly, my dunderknight, I would never think that about you. I… I know that you want to see me, as much as I want to see you." Emilia said, as a warm smile began to creep up on her face as the melancholy began to fade. Her Artur was such a worrier, and the fact that he cared about her, and even that he loved her, was something that even Emilia knew was true. He made it abundantly clear, and no amount of her self-doubt could overpower the young man's words and actions to change her thoughts. Emilia just still struggled to believe it was her that his affection and love was directed at.

"I just still find it hard to believe that someone, especially as kind, brave, and strong as you… can l-l-love someone like me. I haven't done anything to deserve it." Emilia said, and though her words reflected the sadness and hardship that Emilia has had to endure, she still had a smile on her face that was genuine. The blush remained on her face, even, as she struggled to vocalise the truth of the young man's feelings for her, and the warmth in her chest swelled as she saw the young man's grin widen at her.

"Love isn't… something that anyone deserves, or that you win, you know. Love just… is." The young man said, as he continued to run his hand through Emilia's hair. She relished in the feeling of his rough, calloused hands as they gently touched traced across her head, and Emilia unconsciously leaned her head into the white-haired man's hand to press his hand against her head harder. Emilia smiled, though it took on a bit of a sad tinge once more, as Artur spoke about what love is and what it isn't.

"I'm really, reaaally sorry, Artur, that I still… don't understand." Emilia said, before removing her hands from around the young man, and placing them on his chest, on top of his uniform, creating a little bit of distance between their bodies – only mere centimetres. It was enough, however, for the two of them to suddenly feel as though someone had opened a door during winter, and a warm blanket had been taken away, letting all of the once-present heat rush away. She looked deeply into his eyes, and as it always was whenever they stared longingly into each other's different-coloured orbs, the only two people that existed in the world to them, was each other.

The young man only smiled back at her, as his smile took on almost a mirror image of the downturned emotion in Emilia's, though his eyes were unable to do anything but stare back into Emilia's. Who else would he ever want to look at but her? In response to Emilia's hands gently coming to rest against his chest and causing a slight distance between them, he removed the hand that was running through Emilia's hair, and he wrapped that arm back around the silver-haired girl, before quickly pulling her in to him closely again, perhaps with more force than he meant to.

It didn't matter, though – as he closed what little distance remained once more, Emilia let out an adorable little high-pitched squeal of delight at the sudden, assertive move of the young man. She wouldn't complain – Emilia didn't mind when Artur was a little forceful with her. Emilia began to melt into him as his bearhug reassured her – Emilia's mouth couldn't help but have their corners turn upwards, as she thought about how the young man didn't even need to use words to comfort her. Of course, being the man that he was, he would seek to reassure her with his words, anyway, as well as his affectionate gestures.

"Don't worry, Mili, and don't put pressure on yourself, either. You'll learn to understand one day, and though I might not be able to do very much, I'll be here to support you. I'll be your Knight one day, after all, won't I?" He said, even his facial expression enough to cause the warmth in Emilia's chest to heighten in intensity. The warmth beamed up to her gorgeous snow-white face, and her smile said it all.

"Yeah, and I couldn't eeever ask for a better Knight. You… you don't know how important you are to me, my doughnut." Emilia said, after which she gently placed the front of her face against the young man's chest, almost trying to burrow herself into him, as her steady, calm breathing naturally inhaled the young man's scent. She wanted to be as close as she could to be him – both physically, and mentally. Why? She was at a total loss around all these feelings that she couldn't understand, but before Emilia could begin to get into a downward spiral about her own shortcomings, she was brought out of her thoughts and back into reality. The soon-to-be Knight contracted his arms around the young half elf even tighter, and after her senses had been overwhelmed with the comforting, safety-assuring smell, which she was so fond of and meant soothing and heartening to the young girl, Emilia placed her cheek against the young man's pectorals.

She sighed deeply in contentedness, before Emilia began to lean into the young man's chest fully, putting all of her weight into him, and giving him perhaps one of the greatest displays of trust that she could show him here, at present, standing in the middle of the corridor. Artur recognised Emilia's intent, and fully accepted her gesture of fondness, taking as much of her weight as he possibly could without sweeping her off of her feet and once more carrying her in the princess-carry style. Of course, neither of them would object to him doing that, but neither of them would want to break their close, intimate contact, long enough to do it, either. Emilia, especially. She felt totally encapsulated within Artur's strong, large frame, and she felt as light as she might ever have had.

Artur couldn't help but smile, though, at Emilia calling him a 'doughnut'. It was something that she had picked up off of him, which nobody could deny – especially considering the fact that doughnuts did not exist in this world. He didn't know what to say to her calling him important to her, though. At some level, he knew that he must hold some sort of importance to the young girl, but with her inability to understand the kind of love between a man and a woman, he couldn't help but cynically question just how important he really was to her. It wouldn't do him any favours, being bitter, and he certainly wouldn't express any bitterness towards Emilia, either. He would be patient. He had to be.

Neither of the pair said anything for a while, merely standing there in the corridor, where to them, nobody else in the four nations existed. It was only the half elf and the scar-face, standing there with their eyes shut, Artur's chin resting atop Emilia's head with his arms encasing her small, petite frame, and Emilia with her cheek against the young man's chest, and her soft body – her breasts, tummy, thighs and feet, pressing hard against the young man's hard, muscular body.

Timed passed, but who knew how much? It could've been five minutes, fifty minutes, or five hours, for either of the irregular-haired pair knew. Although they enjoyed conversation with each other, they also had a rare thing, namely, that they were perfectly happy to just enjoy the comfort of each other's bodies, and the peaceful silence, needing only each other's presence to have a passive feeling of happiness cling onto them. The white-haired man fully recognised, now, that he was indeed happy, for the first time in… years. It was fleeting – only present when Emilia was with him, but regardless, he felt happiness. He, the monster he was, was not incapable of feeling happiness, as he had once feared.

After some time, Emilia's knees buckled, but thankfully, Artur was strong enough, and had his arms wrapped around her tight enough, that Emilia did not fall to the floor. When she realised what had happened – that she had fallen asleep on her feet, thanks to the young man who she clung to – she smiled widely. It solidified further in her mind, although there was never any doubt, that she really could trust the young man with everything. Just as she had promised him.

The young man chuckled lightheadedly, deeply, but softly and kindly, and as he moved his chin from the top of Emilia's head so that he could look down at her, he saw her eyes fluttering open, and she looked up at him. Once she realised what had happened, a small, embarrassed, and absolutely God dam adorable smile appeared on her face as Emilia began to blush deeply. This time, not as a result of those flustery feelings (that Artur caused), the warmth in her chest (that… Artur caused), the tingly and itchy and hot feeling down there (that… once again… Artur caused), or one of either her or the young man's affectionate actions, but purely out of embarrassment at falling asleep on him while standing up.

Although the fact that all of those feelings had a common factor, namely the person that caused them in her, Emilia didn't have time to question what that fact meant, as the young man moved one of his arms from around Emilia, so that he could bring a hand up to gently caress her cheek, after which he began to speak.

"You know… you're adorable, Mili, but did you sleep okay last night?" He asked, the roughness of his thumb that stroked her cheek back and forth, greatly contrasting with the gentleness and care that he treated her with. Emilia's blush reddened even further at his words of her being 'adorable', but when she realised that the young man was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing, and oblivious to the fact that he was the cause of her falling asleep on him, Emilia felt less embarrassed at her display of drowsiness. The white-haired man wasn't making fun of her or looking down at her… he just genuinely cared for her.

"Yeah, I slept fine, Artur… You're just reaaally, reaaaaally, reaaaaaaaaaally warm and comfy." Emilia said, without any semblance of that piece of embarrassment present in her voice. The young man's smiled grew as he let out another chuckle with her, and he stroked the young girl's red-hot cheek one last time before lowering his hand from her face and wrapping his arm back around Emilia, putting that tight, bearhug pressure around her in their embrace.

"Did I ever tell you, Artur, that… that night we slept together… that reaaally was the best sleep I've ever had before? I didn't wake up once, I was reaaally warm and comfy." Emilia asked, squeezing her arms around the young man even tighter as she leaned forward into him even more, trying to press as much of herself against him as possible. The bottom of her chin lay against his chest and her eyes gazed up intensely into the young man's, her amethysts penetrating straight through the Artur's pale blue and right into his soul. He knew what she was getting at – it wasn't the first time since they'd cuddled up in bed with each other, on the night that Rem had tried to kill him, that Emilia had tried to convince him to sleep in her bed with her again.

The young man sighed in contentedness as both him and Emilia unconsciously tried to leave not a millimetre of distance between themselves, and as Emilia revelled in the immense heat that radiated off of the white-haired Scot, she found herself wishing that they could just melt into each other. With the heat the young man naturally gave off, and the flames in her chest that she felt whenever she was around him currently growing in intensity, Emilia wouldn't doubt that they were hot enough to become welded to each other. If they were to become permanently stuck together like this… she knew it was selfish, and that Artur probably wouldn't want such a thing, but… she would be quite happy to stay forever against the large, tall frame of her best friend, feeling so safe, so protected, and like nothing could ever hurt her. Emilia felt so wanted, and cherished. Emilia knew that, if this is what being loved by someone felt like, then there was no doubt that Artur truly felt it for her. The silver-haired half elf never wanted to leave his arms. Never.

"Hmm." The young man hummed in agreement with his deep-toned, gravelly voice, that was oh-so pleasant to Emilia's ears. She could practically feel the vibration of his low bass voice hum, and it made her feel a little giddy inside. She just… couldn't understand it, although, of all the things that the tall, muscular man made her feel, the lightness and excitement she just felt as he hummed was probably the least confusing one. Emilia had come to accept that the young man could so easily make her feel happy and excited with as little as a look at her – she didn't understand it, but she came to accept it. The other things he'd made her feel, though… Emilia feared she might never understand it.

Emilia knew she had to learn to understand it, though. Not only because she simply, as selfish as it was, wanted to come to comprehend the feelings that the young man was inflicting her, but Emilia wanted to understand it for Artur's sake, too. She wanted to be able to give him an answer, and she wanted it to be the answer that she knew he was hoping for. Emilia wanted to tell him that she loved him too, but… she still couldn't understand what it was that she felt for him. It wracked her with guilt, for she knew that the waiting inflicted a pain on the young man that, while he would never admit it to her, was one that only Emilia could cause it. The thought of him in pain felt like a terrible, horrible ache in Emilia's chest, and it was only intensified when she reflected on the fact that it was her that was causing it in him.

But… she tried not to fret. It had only been two weeks since he had told her the words that made her heart soar, her head fuzzy, a feeling of heaviness removed from every part of her body, and that tingly heat… down there. The one that she still hadn't figured out how to get rid of, except by painful, agonising, wanting wait. Even now, as Emilia reflected on the words the young man had told her – of how he loves her. Of how he, loves someone like her. It made her feel genuinely happy, and took away any heaviness or weight in her chest.

Emilia had strongly believed that she would never, ever feel like this – but with every word, every look, every smile and with every touch that the young man gave her, Emilia realised she had been wrong all along. She had been waiting for… something. Ever since she left the ice. Ever since she had regained consciousness after being frozen for however-many years, Emilia had been waiting for something. Something that wouldn't hate her, or run away from her, or throw stones at her. Something that wouldn't try to sell her into slavery, or try to hurt Puck, or try to take advantage of her. Now, Emilia realised exactly what it was that she had been waiting for. All along, she had been waiting for him. For Artur.

And now that she had him, it'd be over her dead body that she let go of him. Selfish, or not.

"You know, Mili, I don't think I've ever slept as good as that night, either. I maybe didn't enjoy the morning after, when I woke up to an angry Puck, but it was definitely worth it to share a night like that with you." The young man said, with his mature demeanour currently one of happiness that nobody could mistake, and smiling warmly at Emilia. Just as her eye's penetrated his, the veteran's gaze pierced through Emilia's own, and it made her breathing hitch as she received his pure, unadulterated, undivided attention.

Emilia's face remained rouge, even as her heart quickly beat, and her breathing got faster ever so slightly. This felt like a good opportunity to try and get what she wanted out of him again. With her gleeful grin changing to have a trace of teasing that Artur recognised immediately, Emilia's gorgeous pink lips parted.

"Saaaay, Artur… If I slept suuuper duper well when we were cuddling, and you did, too… Then there's reaaally no reason not to sleep together, then, right?" Emilia asked, her face still a wee bit red as she struggled to maintain eye contact with the young man. She was clearly embarrassed to ask for that – even someone as oblivious as the white-haired man could tell – but her desire to spend some time with him, regardless of the circumstances, the consequences, or the perception of it by her benefactor, servants or anyone else who might find out, and especially considering how little time they'd spent together since the intensification of his training regimen… That desire of Emilia's outweighed any possible consequences, in Emilia's mind. Her heart was pounding much faster now than before, and Emilia's mouth had gone dry as she adorably asked the young man for what she, and – without a doubt – he, both wanted.

It wasn't uncharacteristic of Emilia to be embarrassed or shy about this kind of thing in general, but considering how intimate the pair had been already, and how quickly it had occurred after knowing each other for such little time, the young man smiled at how adorable Emilia's current trepidation was. He still wasn't fully convinced she quite comprehended the implications of what she was asking, and he had also learned in the past two weeks that Emilia actually had a complete lack of understanding of sex, reproduction, sexuality, and almost everything of that nature. It was endearing, but it was also something that she really should know at her age – it wasn't Emilia's fault, of course. It was Puck's fault, and although Artur wasn't Puck's biggest fan, he really did expect more from the floating cat.

It was overprotectiveness, and although the young man didn't doubt that part of what he felt towards was most likely overprotectiveness, the extent to which Emilia's contracted spirit was overprotective was to Emilia's complete detriment. He expected the spirit to have taken steps to ensure Emilia grew up to be mature, educated, and aware of the world, and if it wasn't for her half elven-ness and silver hair, then the young man did not doubt for a second that some disgusting, opportunistic, vile degenerate would have tried to take advantage of her lack of understanding and awareness. Indeed, this level of overprotectiveness could have really caused Emilia to come to great harm, and in effect, could have led to the complete and utter total opposite of what the grey cat was aiming for, especially considering that the spirit was not around Emilia twenty-four hours a day, but only from morning till evening.

Going back to Emilia's words, though, the young man knew what she was trying to do. The silver-haired girl had definitely learned that he was weak to her, and when she spoke to him so adorably like that… he didn't know if she knew how much it struck him in the heart, but he considered that she probably knew more than he realised. He couldn't help but smile at her, but he couldn't understand why she was so insistent on sharing a bed with him. It had been not far from a month that she'd been persistently trying to get them sleep together, and though he'd given in once, during the night of The Rem Incident, he hadn't taken the risk since them. Much to Emilia's displeasure, but to his own, too.

"You know that I'd love to, Mili, but-" The young man began, his face having taken an expression reflective of the inner turmoil inside him – his desire to snuggle with Emilia every night, and for neither of them to ever be alone at night again, combatting with his sense of commitment to both his own goal, but more importantly, to Emilia's. Before he could finish, though, he was interrupted by the impatient, and wilful-when-it-came-to-him, half elf.

"That's wondrous! I reaaally hoped that you would agree sooner or-" Emilia tried to say in her interjection, before having said interjection interrupted by the young man. He had quickly moved one of his arms from around the small-framed half elf, before placing his thumb over her delicately soft lips. The young man took a little pleasure in the delightful feeling of pressing his digit to her gorgeously pink mouth, and he couldn't help but grin cheekily at her as she let out a "Mmph!" in surprise. After a few seconds of realisation, the young girl began to pout adorably, her eyebrows furrowing in a facial expression of displeasure that the young man head quickly learned was not, in fact, how Emilia expressed genuine negative emotions or thoughts.

The young man removed his thumb from the young girl's mouth, and once he did so, Emilia spoke up.

"H-Hey! It's bad manners to interrupt someone, Artur! You're a good b-…" Emilia said, before she cut herself off this time. The furrowed brow and pout disappeared at breakneck speed as she began to ponder something, causing her to look up to the ceiling as her thoughts took over for a minute. What she was pondering, however, the young man didn't know. He just smiled genuinely, revelling in the simple fact that all of this was real. It was real. Emilia didn't say anything for half a minute, and the young man just stood there, admiring Emilia's angelic face as the sun beamed down off of it, the rays almost reflecting off of her marble-white skin, as he kept one arm wrapped around his half elf, and another resting against her as he lay a hand on the side of her neck – something that neither took notice of, and if Emilia did, it certainly didn't displease her.

"I almost called you a good boy, but, calling you a 'boy' doesn't quite feel right… I think you're too old for me to call you that." Emilia said, as her eyes returned to the young man's face. She looked at his extreme scarring unconsciously, something that he was unaware Emilia was, in fact, rather fond of, before her eyes ran back over to his own. She had a simple, sincere smile on her face, caused only by thoughts of, and the presence of, the young man who was holding her so tightly and yet so gently. How could an embrace be both tight and gently soft? Emilia could feel the strength in his arms, and knew that she couldn't escape if she wanted to. She was glad, then, that the last thing in the world she wanted at that moment was for his arms to come away from her.

She didn't want to escape him.

"Hm? Well, I suppose I'm technically only seventeen, right enough." The young man said, as his smile faded to the small, passive one that he seemed to have, by default, on his face when around Emilia, after more than only a few moments of thought. He had been twenty pre-war, and, according to a few different people and sources, the body he had found himself in when he was booted into the Great War was fourteen years old. A six-year gap between mind and body. He mentally felt twenty-three, taking the three-or-so years he'd been back in time for, and adding it to the number of years he had been alive for before his first death. That, however, didn't change the fact that his body was only seventeen. A six-year disparity between mind and body didn't sound like much, but when one considered how mentally mature the young man was despite his adolescent form, it was quite a significant difference, and it was clearly one that impacted the perception of the people around him.

"H-Huh? What?! You're only seventeen?!" Emilia asked, her eyes widening in surprise as she pulled her head back in shock, her jaw hanging slightly open in astoundment. She would not have guessed that her best friend, the… man(?) that caused her so many thoughts, feelings, and urges… that he was only seventeen. Emilia didn't really process the fact that he said he was 'technically' seventeen, her surprise at the number overriding any thought she might have had about any other part of his sentence. Emilia grabbed onto Artur's uniform jacket, her arms and hands still resting against his solid chest, as she simultaneously somehow seemed to create a gap between their bodies and close it at the same time, leading to zero change in their positioning whatsoever. Emilia knew that she was always going to be older than the white-haired man, if only for the reality of her half-elven biology, and that was without considering how long she might have been frozen in the ice for… But for him to be only an adolescent, was quite the major surprise for Emilia.

The young man smiled at her adorable reaction, and he moved the hand that had been idly resting on Emilia's neck up to her face, before lightly bonking her on the nose.

"Only? How, what age did you think I was?" The young man asked in genuine curiosity. He supposed such a thing would probably be hard to get a gauge on, between his strange hair, fucked-up face, and six extra mental years, as well as the fact that he had always kind of been a middle-aged man in a young man's body, anyway. He was curious to hear what-

"I thought you were thirty!" Emilia exclaimed, as she adorably pouted at the young man for bonking her on the nose. The young man cracked a toothy grin at this. He wasn't sure what age Emilia would've thought he was, but for her to be over a decade off was quite the surprise. Did he look thirty? He was relieved he didn't look older, if he was honest. He'd had a rough life.

"Thirty, eh? Huh." He asked, slightly taken aback at Emilia's… bluntly honest answer, before he paused for a moment. Now that he thought about it, he realised he didn't actually know how old Emilia was, either. "How old are you, Mili?" He asked, an eyebrow raising in curiosity as his grin remained. He was glad Emilia was so kind… his face was definitely one that even a mother might find difficult to love, certainly never mind a girl as attractive as Emilia is. Though, he mentally scolded himself for thinking that way, for he knew for a fact that Emilia had had a rough time with her appearance and resemblance to the Witch.

"Hmm…" Emilia hummed, her pout disappearing as she raised one of her hands that were resting on Artur's chest up to her face, before resting a finger on her mouth as she thought about it, her eyes wandering off to the side. It was something she actually hadn't considered before. She had been seven before becoming frozen, and had been out of the ice for about seven and a half years, too. Emilia had lived in the manor for over nine months now, so seven years plus seven and a half years plus nine months made her at least fifteen years old, although Emilia thought that, to the human equivalent, she must be at least eighteen years old physically. Of course, Emilia had also been frozen for around one hundred years old, too, so giving a simple answer, to what should have been a simple question, was actually a difficult thing to do.

Artur tilted his head a little in confusion, not understanding why Emilia had to take a moment to consider, what he thought to be, a simple question. He would wait to answer, but he also wanted to dig for what the reason was that she had to take time to consider it. Emilia didn't notice the tilt of his head, however, and after more than a few moments, her eyes returned to the young man's, as she placed the hand that had been raised to her face back to rest upon the young man's chest.

"I don't know!" Emilia said in a tone far too cheerful, with a gorgeous smile on her face, before she stuck her tongue out at the young man with her eyes closed. The young man couldn't help but mirror her smile – the reality being that he would always struggle to not have his mood influenced by Emilia's own – as his heart soared a little bit at the cute expression and gesture that Emilia let out. He seriously had to restrain himself from pressing his mouth to her own, and just as he had decided before The Rem Incident, it would have to be Emilia that decided when such a thing could happen… The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable, damage their relationship, or take away her first kiss without her consent.

Instead, the young man, in a little bit of disbelief and with a more than slightly amused smile on his face, let out a deep, hearty chuckle as he moved his hands from around Emilia's upper back, downwards, and towards her waist. His hands rested in the small of her back, and it sent a shiver up Emilia's spine as she tried to somehow supress the itchy, tingly sensation that having both her back and front being unknowingly stimulated by the young man. He pulled her in tighter, and Emilia opened her eyes as she felt the distance, somehow, close between them even more – such a thing she thought was impossible, when Emilia considered how much that she was all over the man. She blushed a little bit as the site of her increasingly frequent itchiness in her lower body became pressed harder against the young man's own lower body, and she slowly reeled her tongue back into her mouth as her own smile, red-faced, grew at the young man's.

"You've got to explain that one to me, Mili." He said, as his tired orbs gazed down lovingly into Emilia's smiling eyes, something that made her heartbeat grow quicker, as well as his own. They had to be careful that they didn't spend an eternity just staring into each other's eyes, and they had found that, when they did find themselves trading gazes, it meant they usually ended up taking up the increasingly rare spare time that both of them had, where they instead could've been doing other things with each other. Of course, neither of them actually considered it as wasted time – Emilia would never consider time spent with the white-haired man misused in the slightest, and Artur cherished every second spent he was close to his silver-haired lady, but they also wanted to do other things with each other, too.

"Well, back in Elior Forest, I was froz- h-hey, wait! You changed the subject, mister!" Emilia exclaimed, as a realisation suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. Despite the fact that the young man was so genuinely interested in her past and experiences, something that nobody had ever been before, and even though that burny, tingly feeling was building in Emilia's down there, or rather, perhaps partially because of it, Emilia realised that they had somehow become side-tracked from the topic that she had initially wanted to broach with the young man again. Specifically, their sleeping arrangements.

The young man, cracking a smile in recognition of what she was getting at, just rubbed circles on the small of Emilia's back. "What ever could you mean, Mili? We were always talking about this, weren't we?" He asked, amusement in his voice as he teasingly feigned ignorance with the young half-elf. This… This was one of the things he lived for. He loved joking, teasing, and playing with the half elf he would swear himself to. Hell, who he had already sworn himself to, de facto. He was glad that, while she might not be as good at giving the teasing back as well as she was at taking it, they definitely had a similar sense of humour.

Emilia pouted a little bit – something which took a great amount of effort, as she tried to resist the smile that had naturally began to creep up onto her face. Emilia couldn't help it, the fact that she always felt that, when the young man was shooting one of his genuine smiles at her, that she had to smile back in return. His grins were infectious, and even when Emilia wasn't feeling to be in the best mood, she found that all it took to alleviate her sadness, loneliness, and frustrations, was a handholding with Artur, or perhaps an embrace, and one of his world-class, sincere smiles.

"Hmph! You remember exaaactly what we were talking about, you nincompoop!" Emilia said in faux annoyance, finding it harder and harder to maintain the pout as her facial muscles naturally fought to form a grin that would reflect the young man's. The young man's, whose smile was growing even wider as he recognised Emilia's attempt to pretend to be cross with him for what it was. Emilia really was adorable, and as he found himself enamoured with her little habits, quirks, and tendencies, it added fuel to the fire that was his raging inferno of a beaming grin.

"Let's see… What we were… talking about? Sorry, Mili, it looks like I've finally lost my marbles, because I'm sure that we were talking about love, weren't we?" The young man asked.

"Hmm? I'm not sure what mahrbuls are, and I'd be happy to help you find them, and… Wait! You're changing the subject again!" Emilia said, and as she fought to keep the conversation on the topic she wanted to talk about, as well as how she was starting to think that he had actually forgotten about what he had changed the subject from, Emilia found it easier to force a pout to her face. In fact, Emilia had even managed to force a wee bit of air into her cheeks, inflating them ever so slightly, and, to the young man's warm delight, oh so adorably.

Being Emilia's… whatever he was to her, he had an obligation. A solemn duty, one might even say. One that he would honour, conscientiously, and with candour. And so, as Emilia's… Artur, he removed one of his hands from the small of her back, raised it up to her face, and before she could realise what he was doing, used his index finger to gently force air out of Emilia's angelic cheeks, with a high-pitched whistling sound coming from her forced-open lips.

The young man let out a deep-toned chuckle as Emilia's face rouged a slight red in response to him touching her face, before finally, Emilia had exhausted all of her capacity for keeping the smile from her face. A wide, joy-filled grin grew quicker on her face than even the white-haired man's own had. Emilia being unable to control the smile that came to her face led the man, who held her, to laugh even harder, and in response, Emilia began to let out a high-pitched, angelic giggle that echoed throughout the mansion's hallways – a sound that would raise anyone from a sour mood, into one of elatedness and glee. She raised a hand from the young man's chest to cover her mouth, in a futile attempt to hold back her amusement, as she let out her chime-like giggling. Emilia's lids closed as tiny tears of laughter appeared in the corners of her gorgeous eyes, and her normally rosy cheeks reddened even further.

"Why… hah, hah, hah… Why am I… hah, hah… laughing?! It isn't… hah, hah… funny!" Emilia struggled out delightedly, in-between bouts of giggling. She was genuinely confused about why she felt so elated, and why she couldn't resist breaking out into laughter to mirror the young man's, but she didn't think about it too hard. Her Knight-to-be made her happy, and it certainly wasn't the first time that he had made her laugh out of seemingly nowhere, and over seemingly nothing, and Emilia very much doubted it would be the last.

After the young man had poked the air out of Emilia's inflated cheeks, his hand had found itself back around Emilia's waist, pulling her in tightly once more, and as her laughter died down, she gently rested her head against the young man's chest. It was a position that Emilia found herself taking as often as she could, and as she relaxed, she moved her hands from their resting place against the young man's chest, to slip them around his lower chest, before reciprocatingly pulling him into her. A joyful smile rested on Emilia's angelic face, and as they relaxed into a comfortable silence, Emilia looked up at the man who she cared so strongly for – and saw that his eyes had never left her face.

Emilia's amethysts couldn't help but search out for Artur's pale-blues, and as their gazes locked, time seemed to slip away from them once more. It was dangerous, really – they would find themselves entranced in each other's eyes for hours, sometimes, as though their souls were directly connected through nothing but their orbs finding each other.

Emilia's chest an intense warmth spread throughout it – a sensation that she had been getting familiar, ever since she had met Artur, although she had felt this feeling perhaps hundreds of times over the past month, it had never lost its intensity or wonder. Her breathing hitched, as though his eyes sought to pull the air directly from her chest, and she couldn't help but press her chest as closely to the young man's as she could as her heart started beating faster, as if to try and get her own heart to physically touch his. It was funny – if Artur hadn't been a paramedic, he might have started to believe the recurring he'd had, that their heartbeats seemed to always sync up with one another's when they were this close together. When they were pressed so intimately and longingly to one another.

That wasn't possible, right?

After more than only a few minutes passed, their silence was interrupted as the gorgeous, moist, pink lips of the silver-haired girl parted, and her angelic voice began to chime out melodiously once more.

"Hey, Artur… I know that we've talked about it before, but… I reaaally do want us to sleep together. The reasons you said for us not doing it are veracious, but I have to be honest. I can't help but reaaally feel like the good parts are bigger than the bad things that could happen." Emilia said, an expression reflecting the abundant amount of thought she'd put into this clear on her face. Although, when she had first spoke to Artur about sharing a bed those few weeks ago, she mainly did it as a spur of the moment, impulsive desire out of her need to feel closer to him, Emilia had since given it a lot of thought. She considered what he'd said – the potential ramifications, the gossip and the possible backlash that it could have if discovered. Ultimately, though, the benefit did outweigh the risks, in Emilia's mind.

The fact that Emilia had a slightly melancholic smile of reflection and introspection gave the young man mixed feelings. On the one hand, he hated to see even the slightest trace of negative emotions in Emilia's psyche – that is what love is, after all. On the other hand, however, he was glad that Emilia had properly thought about this. She was a bright, clever girl, who had a lot of intellectual potential, but he had learned that Emilia really did need a bit of a push, sometimes, to think about things for herself. Perhaps it was due to her overreliance on Puck over the years, or perhaps it was because, up until when she left Elior forest recently, cerebral things weren't much of a concern for Emilia. Regardless of the reason, though, she had the capability – she just needed support, and encouragement, to develop it. Emilia wouldn't find herself short of a helping hand and love and support, though – not when Artur was around.

"I know, Mili. And… I know I was joking about avoiding speaking to you about it-" He began, before being interrupted…

…by another giggle from Emilia, as her shoulders moving up and down gently. Though her laughter wasn't lengthy or loud it was lighthearted and carefree, not weighed down by heartache or sadness, but, in fact, lifted up by… a tingling in her chest, one that made her shoulders feel weightless and the corners of her lips want to turn upwards for eternity.

"Yeah, I noticed that, once or twice." Emilia said, a happy amusement in her voice that only made her pretty voice sound even prettier to the white-haired man's ears. Artur couldn't help but crack a grin at Emilia's giggling, a grin that was only prolonged by the contentedness, if not outright happiness, that he perceived her to be feeling.

"Well, even though I was joking about it, I hope you know that there's really nothing that I want more than for us to be just as close when we're asleep, as we are when we're awake." He said, as his grin of amusement turned into a wide smile of affection, warmth, and love. Emilia picked up on this, and couldn't help but have her own smile mirror the intent of the white-haired man's. Emilia's cheeks reddened adorably at his words, and she couldn't help but look away in embarrassment. 'He always knows juuust the right things to say… Dunderhead.' Emilia thought, as she pulled the man in her arms even closer. Emilia pressed the side of her face against the chest of the man who towered over her, in both a futile attempt to hide her blush from him, and, as well as, to show him how much she cared about him.

"Then… If you want to cuddle while we sleep as much as I do, then why…?" Emilia asked, not looking Artur in the eyes as she kept her cheek firmly pressed to his chest, while her arms tried to bring herself into him as much as she possibly could. The young man's arms sought the same exact thing, pulling her waist into him as tightly as he could. Emilia could feel the heat radiating off him, a heat that unfailingly managed to penetrate its through her chest and into her heart. Even though the conversation wasn't going the way she wanted, Emilia couldn't help but smile lovingly as the young man's significantly larger frame enveloped her.

"It's just the reasons that I talked about before. Because what Roswaal would do if he found out, and how that could affect him sponsoring your campaign. Because of what Ram or Freddie might think if they stumbled into one of our rooms while we're snuggling – and how word would make its way back to Roswaal. Becau-"

"Disgusting. Ho-" Began a voice, not a metre behind the back of Artur. Immediately, and without hesitation, as soon as the young man heard the first syllable leaving the speaker's voice, he acted. He began to spin around, in an effort to place his back to Emilia and his front to the speaker, while he instinctually reached down for his revolver, harshly ripped it from its holster, and raised it to shoulder height before he completed his one hundred and eighty-degree. He immediately stretched his form as wide as he could to shield Emilia from any potential danger and to put as much of his body between her and the speaker as possible, while he pointed his revolver forward, his finger resting on the trigger, with the full intent of firing if necessary.

All the while, Emilia's arms remained steadfastly wrapped around his lower chest. Emilia had quickly become very confused, as one second, her and Artur were warmly, physically, expressing their lo- their, affection, for each other, and then the next second, he had his back to her, with his Gonn pointed away from her. Emilia, being significantly shorter than the white-haired man, couldn't see who was in front of him, and as he was stretching himself as widely as possible, she couldn't immediately see around his body, either.

"-w low do you think I am, Beartur?" Finished the voice, who, evidently, it turned out, was coming from Ram. The maid, as she finished her sentence, took an instinctual step back from the man who had swivelled on a dime to face her. As the man's brain began to process exactly what, and who, he was seeing, the adrenaline that had begun to flow through his body, in preparation for defending Emilia from an armed intruder, abated slightly. It was Ram. Just Ram. It wasn't someone breaking into the mansion to hurt him, or even worse – God forbid – Emilia. It wasn't Elsa coming back for revenge against them for their defiance in the Capital, and it wasn't… he couldn't believe this was going through his head, but… it wasn't a German who had found him, either.

The young man would expect that, if suddenly, someone that you had snuck up on had violently pivoted round and pointed a gun in your face, that you would have an expression on your face of surprise, shock, or perhaps even fear. Not Ram, though. She just had that same expression of cynical boredom on her face that he'd grown accustomed to, even as the young man's Webley, loaded with six rounds, was only a trigger-pull away from splattering the contents of her skull on the wall behind her.

"As expected of a territorial animal. Someone comes close to their mate, and the Bear bares his fangs." Ram said, and though he could tell that she was trying to sound as neutral and impassive as she normally did, Artur could tell that his action had had an effect on the pink-haired maid. Perhaps it was because of how sudden and inhumanly fast his instinctive reaction was, or perhaps it was because of the expression of intimidation and terror on his face… Or perhaps it was because he was pointing his revolver, the very same weapon that he had used to put down her twin sister, straight in her face.

A moment passed as Artur sought to calm his fight-mode breathing and heartrate, although he did not lower his weapon. He couldn't lower it – his arm wouldn't relax, for his brain couldn't relax, either. Ram looked too much like the girl who had tried to kill him only two weeks ago, and although Rem definitely didn't actually kill him for real (No, nope. She didn't. He had just imagined it, he was just very tired), the young man still had a mental and physiological reaction to the sudden appearance, in his blind spot, of the girl who was his attacker's mirror image. Her hair flashed between pink and blue in his mind, and he was certain he could hear the subtle rattling of chains.

He didn't want to die again, and he couldn't let his Mili get hurt in the crossfire. He was certain that he was going to pull the trigger.

Perhaps he would have squeezed the trigger, had Emilia not reached around from behind him, and lowered his outstretched, revolver-wielding arm.

"What the fuck, Ram? I could've fucking shot you." The young man exclaimed, before placing the palm of his hand, that wasn't holding his Webley, against his face. Both in embarrassment at what he'd just done, but also to hide the expression of a mix of emotions, with anger not the least of it, that he no doubt held on his face. He could feel his face contorted, in fact, but he didn't need to let Emilia see that.

"Why would you sneak up on us like that? That's reaaally naughty, Ram! H-H-How long were you standing there?" Emilia asked, before walking forward to stand beside him. Emilia held herself to his side with one arm around his waist in a half-hug – uncaring of her display of affection being in front of the twin-sister maid – while the hand that forced Artur to lower his weapon, rested on her hip. Emilia's facial expression, which previously had been one of elation, joy, and contentment, was now one that reflected her surprise. Her cheeks were also red, however, as she became flustered when she considered what her and Artur had just been talking about. Talking about, right in front of Ram.

Although, Emilia found herself feeling that she didn't have the slightest care in her mind about hiding anything about her and Artur's relationship from anyone. She found that… curious. Why didn't she care? The Royal Selection was critical to her. If she couldn't become Queen, then she couldn't get the Dragon's Blood to free the elves from their frozen tombs, and if she couldn't do that, then… then what did she have to live for? As she thought about that, though, her mind rapidly went to the young man who, as she spoke, had wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her in close. Maybe… Maybe Emilia's reasons to live didn't begin and end with freeing the Elves. Maybe she had found a new one. And, despite the situation they were currently in, Emilia couldn't help but break out a smile at that thought.

"Hmph. Such a crass, crude animal. Ram has said it multiple times before, but she really doesn't see what Emilia-sama sees in one as low as you, Beartur." Ram said, her neutral expression not changing as her eyes glanced over to Emilia, who Ram was surprised to see had developed a goofy smile on her face. 'Daft girl. Even now, she's thinking about that stinky, overprotective Beartur. Is that man the only thing that matters to her?' Ram pondered.

The young man, who was still holding his six-shooter in the hand that wasn't around Emilia's shoulders, re-holstered it, before deftly strapping the leather, open-top holster shut again. He had an expression of impatience and frustration on his face as he looked in Ram's eyes. She was his friend, yes, but sometimes her behaviour could irritate him.

Though a smile remained on Emilia's face, something Ram said had… bothered her. It wasn't that she called Artur names – although that part of Ram and Artur's relationship did, in fact, bother her, but she had soon learned that it was a give-and-take with those two, though she tried, but usually failed, to not let it affect her. What really stuck out in Emilia's mind, however, was what Ram had called him – 'Beartur'. That… wasn't a nickname that Emilia had heard Ram call him before. It was… curious. Where did that come from? She'd have to ask Ram about it.

"I don't either, Ram, but I'd appreciate it if you'd answer Mili's question." The young man said, while he rested the hand that was free of Emilia, atop the grip of his revolver. He didn't do it to be threatening or intimidating, it was just an idle position that his hands habitually found themselves in. He'd been told off for it in the army, back during the war, but it was something that he'd never been able to correct. Thankfully, with the fact that guns didn't exist in Lugnica (the one his hand was currently resting on, as well as the rifle over his shoulder, not included), if he was to idly rest his hands on them, it probably shouldn't cause any problems. The implication of resting a hand on your firearm's grip, didn't exist here, and he'd fight to keep it that way.

"Yeah, please do, Ram. Why did you sneak up on us? How long were you standing there for?" Emilia asked, coming back to reality from her thoughts.

"You… are being serious, Emilia-sama?" Ram asked, her head slightly moving back in genuine surprise, her eyebrows furrowing in disbelief and shock at the question. Was… Emilia being genuinely serious in her question here, or was she, as Artur had once said, 'pulling her leg'? The phrase just sounded dirty to Ram, but, according to young man, it meant to tease someone through non-malevolent, unserious deception. Stupid Beartur and his weird phrases and words.

Emilia pouted at Ram's answering of her question with a question, feeling more than a little more serious here than when she pouted earlier at Artur. The young man noticed the small differences in her expression here than when she pouted in a teasing or lighthearted way – the distinctions were minute and subtle, and he only noticed the difference because he… spent so much time looking at Emilia's face – and so he knew that she was asking Ram soberly, here.

"Yes, I'm being superlatively serious! It's reaaally naughty not to answer people's questions, and you're not a bad girl, Ram, so please answer me!" Emilia said, her tone reflecting the solemn intentions she held. Artur could feel that she had, uncharacteristically of Emilia, a bit of frustration building as he felt her tense up in his arm. As subtly and encouragingly as he could, he tightened his arm ever so slightly around Emilia, trying to support her as much as possible. The effect was almost instant – as his arm contracted around her, he could feel Emilia's tenseness and strained muscles relax, and if he hadn't been paying particular attention to her, he might've missed the fact that she gently leaned into him even more.

"Emilia-sama, I showed Beartur to your room, when he couldn't find it. Ram has been here since… you two started talking to each other." Ram said, with an expression of absolute bafflement on her face. Emilia really hadn't noticed she'd been standing there all this time? Artur had forgotten that she was there?! Or, had he assumed she disappeared, and then thought she had snuck up on them afterwards?

Emilia's face turned beet-red at that, and she recoiled a bit at Ram's admission.

"W-Wait, Ram… Y-You heard… everything?" Emilia asked, her eyes wide as she very quickly became flustered at the realisation. It had hit Emilia that she had said things to Artur – intimate and private things, that she had only wanted him to hear – and now, Ram was privy to her special words for him, too. That wasn't good. Emilia's heart began beating hard, and her cheeks felt like they really were on fire. Why? Why was privacy, in a mansion so large, with so few residents, so hard to come by? Why could she never get any time alone with her Artur?! Even when neither of them had things to do… well, Emilia did, but her male friend didn't have to know that.

It was a funny juxtaposition to Ram, though, who'd overheard everything. Emilia wouldn't have minded everyone knowing that her and Artur were… 'sleeping' together, but she rapidly became embarrassed and flustered when she began to comprehend that her and her Knight-to-Be's intimate conversation was overheard by Ram? Of course, to Emilia, there was no contradiction there at all. In her mind, it was one thing for people to know of something, such as their sleeping arrangements, but it was entirely another for people to be listening in with an ear to the wall while her and her white-haired friend were saying sensitive things to one another. Even Emilia, who had quite a tenuous grasp on all things social, understood that.

Ram only nodded, her face absolutely shameless, and without a hint of remorse, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"R-Ram! That's reaaally, reaaally bad!" Emilia said, slowly finding herself shuffling more and more towards the young man she'd been holding. Somehow, about a quarter of her had managed to retreat behind Artur, and Ram could now only see three quarters of Emilia, as she attempted to subtly escape the embarrassing situation by using the man she claimed as her protector as a convenient shield.

Ram just rolled her eyes – something that surprised the white-haired man, considering that Emilia was superior in station to Ram, and as the pink-haired maid usually paid a lot of respect to the silver-haired girl. That whole thing with social status affecting social dynamics was something that everyone around the young man had quickly learned wasn't important to him, and so it wasn't as though he was offended on Emilia's behalf for her station not being respected… but he was surprised that Ram had treated Emilia more like she did him, than how she normally did Emilia.

"Please accept my apologies, Emilia-sama. However, I feel that it should be noted that I did not sneak up on you two, nor was I eavesdropping or attempting to be underhanded. I was here from the very beginning, and Beartur was aware of that. You two were just so involved in your lovey-doveyness, right in front of me, that it seems like you never even noticed me." Ram said, her eyes flittering between the two whose 'lovey-doveyness' would normally… make her want to vomit from the sweetness of the whole thing. However, ever since Ram had started comparing herself and the Margrave's relationship, with Emilia and Beartur's, it had kind of put things into perspective for her.

Emilia and Beartur had known each other for less than a month, and already they seemed one step away from getting married and running away to Karararararagi together. Whereas, Roswaal and her had known each other for six years, and their relationship was… the exact same as it had always been, more or less. The closest thing they had to intimacy was when Roswaal would infuse her with mana every night, however even that was only by necessity. A massive contrast to the relationship between Emilia and Artur, who very obviously actively sought out one another's company, even when it might compromise their duties and jobs, and when they were together, even if it was often constrained by time, they couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

Emilia, especially, was very handsy and intimate with the young man, in a way that Ram, who had known Emilia for around nine months now, had never seen her like before. It was obvious, the impact that the white-haired man had had on her. So why were they two different from her and the Lord of the mansion? Why did Emilia and Artur, from the very first moment that they had begun living together, seem to be so intimate and affectionate? Why did they immediately begin divulging things to each other that they might never have told another soul in their lives, after knowing each other for so little time? Why did the Bear love Emilia, so quickly after meeting each other, when she couldn't even get the Margrave to give her as little as a compliment after having known each other for six years? It wasn't fair!

Ram felt… less alone than she could have otherwise, that being said. She knew that, while the white-haired man had confessed his love to the silver-haired half elf, Emilia hadn't returned his feelings. Being so privy to information as Ram was, and certainly not because of eavesdropping or any sort of subterfuge – definitely not – her perception of the entire situation was that Emilia and her… Hmm. Interesting, what would she even say that the white-haired man was to Emilia? Her friend? Well, obviously. Emilia's best friend? Undoubtedly, yes. Her boyfriend? Though it would seem that way if a stranger were to stumble into the mansion and see one of the numerous displays of affection between the two… No. They weren't in that kind of relationship. Somehow. To Ram's complete and utter fucking disbelief, no – they clearly loved each other with everything they had, and yet, they weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, or what should have been even more likely in Ram's sight, Husband and Wife.

There was far too much pussyfooting about for Ram's liking, and despite how intimate and affectionate that the pair might be with one another, and though, to Ram, it was obvious that Emilia loved the Bear, Emilia herself hadn't reflected that fact with her words yet, and she was clearly too immature to even acknowledge her own feelings, never mind to be in a serious relationship. Emilia was a pure, innocent, and kind-hearted girl, but Ram queried whether Emilia was actually even capable of loving another at this point in her life. Ram didn't think that Emilia was a psychopath or anything like that, she just felt that Emilia was too immature to possibly commit herself, or to commit her emotions, to someone. The Bear certainly had his work cut out for him, and as she thought about it more and more, she began to, reluctantly, feel kind of bad for him.

Although him and Emilia were affectionate, honest with each other, and emotionally forthright to one another… It seemed to her, to Ram, that the Bear and Emilia's relationship was stuck in a somewhat unfortunate state of limbo. Now, of course, it had only been a month since they had met, but Ram, to her massive, massive, reluctance, was actually empathising with the young man and his lady-friend, and even she, who normally took no interest in other peoples' affairs – especially ones of the heart – could see that the boy and girl whose unusual hair seemed to complement each other's, were clearly made for one another. If somebody told her, even, that the Jealous Witch herself had sat down one day, and perfectly carved out Emilia and Artur in order to perfectly suit each other, then Ram might not even raise an eyebrow, and only acknowledge that fact reluctantly.

Of course, Ram conceded that all of her afore thoughts and opinions, were merely hers'. A third party, who felt so much more mature and aware than the two who she had observed, yet the fact remained that it was only Ram looking in. Minus those thoughts and feelings about her and Roswaal's own relationship – or lack thereof – of course.

"Hmm? Is that so? You were really here since I heard Artur, and… jumped… on him?" Emilia asked, as her eyebrows unfurrowed, as though any of her negative thoughts had begun to dissipate as a result of Ram's words. Emilia did blush, more than a wee bit, at her own words, though. One thing that Artur had noticed about Emilia over the past month they'd known each other for, was that she was an exceptionally forgiving, and understanding, girl. It was part of the reason he loved her so much, after all. Something that he could only add to the list of things he loved and admired about her, really. Although, the exception to that seemingly rock-solid, forgiving personality trait of hers', was namely Rem, and her actions during The Rem Incident.

Artur couldn't blame his Mili for that in the slightest, though. If someone had tried to take his half elf away from him, he would've fucking skinned them alive, put them through an absolute living fucking hell that even Satan would've fainted at the sight of, and left their bloodied remains dumped in the middle of the woods for the wolves to feast on. Nobody was coming a fucking mile near Emilia unless they were prepared to worship the ground she walked on – he'd see to that. Really, when Artur, in his head, swapped the roles of himself and Emilia around, it made him consider how incredibly angelically natured Emilia was, and how well Emilia had taken everything in regard to The Rem Incident.

If Rem – or anyone – had tried to kill Emilia, then nobody would've been able to stand between himself and justice (or revenge, depending on how you wanted to look at it), and it only made him realise just how much of a beautiful and strong person Emilia really was. The fact that Emilia hadn't tried to outright murder Rem as revenge proved how much of a stronger person she was when compared to him. Nothing would have been able to stand between him and Emilia's attacker, after all – not the Od Laguna, not Volcanica, and not even the Witch of Envy herself.

"Indeed, Emilia-sama." Ram replied, after which, she folded her arms in front of her chest once more. Ram didn't comment on Emilia's wording, since it was essentially true what she'd said, although the maid couldn't help but allow a tiny, small, almost unnoticeable at how casually the Royal Candidate admitted to 'jumping' on her Candidate to Become a Knight in Training. "If I might be frank, it amazes me that you managed to spend so much time in my presence without realising that I was here all along." Ram said, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two in front of her. Was that… Ram teasing Emilia? For the love of God, Artur hoped that it was. Emilia deserved more than just him, and if he could see Emilia making more friends, then he knew that it would warm his cold, dark, black heart.

Emilia's marble-white face crimsoned even more, and she quickly became flustered as she realised that, somehow, she really hadn't noticed the pink-haired girl who had been standing only a few metres behind the young man that she definitely wasn't obsessed with. "I-I-I'm reaaally sorry, Ram! I c-couldn't see you because A-Artur was between you and me, and I was sooo focused on him that I didn't think to look around! I'm really, reaaally, sorry!" Emilia stuttered out, her flusterment growing as she began to realise that she really had been so indulgent in Artur's company that she had somehow not spotted the inexpressive pink-haired maid who had been there the whole time.

Emilia's free hand – the one that wasn't attached to the arm that was currently around her Artur – was raised up in front of Emilia's chest as she had an expression that communicated her feelings of concern, as well as embarrassment, and confusion. Ram's sardonic smile widened, and her expression took on one of extreme smugness. The young man wasn't fond of what that meant in the case of Ram, who Emilia had very rarely seen smile. Ram crossed her arms once more before she began to speak.

"Truly despicable, Emilia-sama. How did you, who was once such a lady, become so obsessed with the scabby animal that you call Artur?" Ram asked, her smugness radiating as she revelled in the reaction that she'd visibly gotten out of Emilia. Ram blew her fringe out of her eyes as she looked at the pair, taking in their reactions to her words. Emilia's face, which was already scarlet, seemed to double in the intensity of her blushing at Ram's words. Artur just stood there, an expression of watching-and-waiting on his face as he observed the interaction between Emilia and Ram. He was smiling however, Ram noticed, as he gazed at Emilia's fair face – he clearly appreciated Emilia's cute, flustered behaviour, and nobody with half a brain could mistake that fact. Upon Ram's comment of Emilia being 'obsessed', the young man's smile widened, and when he saw how Emilia had blushed even harder – to the extent that it had radiated up to her ears – he couldn't help but have his grin threaten to split his face in half.

"I-I-I… O-Obsessed?! I a-amn't, I m-mean, I wasn't- I'm not- I-I…" Emilia stuttered out, not getting across what it was that she was trying to say. Although, in this case, Emilia herself didn't really know what it was that she was trying to say. That she wasn't obsessed with him? Well… No, that wasn't true, was it? Emilia considered that, as had been pointed out by Puck, she was often quite preoccupied with the thought of the young man. But, obsessed? No, no… No, no, no, no, no.

…

…She wasn't obsessed, right?

Ram's smug grin only widened as she got exactly the reaction out of Emilia that she wanted. Now, all that was left was to hope that the young man would take the bait that the pink-haired maid had so meticulously (although not that meticulously) and carefully (although not that carefully) laid out. The young man, however, kept his watching-and-waiting expression as he observed the teasing conversation, analytically and with restraint, between the first and third most important people in the world to him. He decided to throw his die into the conversation.

"Don't be silly, Ram." Artur said, his tone deep, steady, and even, as his eyes had wandered from Emilia's adorable, heart-throbbing face to the pink-haired girl's that, while attractive, could never compare to the prettiness of Emilia's angelic, cute, gorgeous face that made the young man want to do nothing more than shove his tongue down her throat, rip her dress, throw her down face-first on the bed and- A-A-AHEM. He was… letting the animal part of his mind think for itself for a moment, there.

"Yeah, don't be-" Emilia began, attempting to speak as soon as the young man had paused in his speech, not realising that he wasn't done.

"There's no way that someone like Mili could ever be obsessed with someone like me. Don't you know anything? Have you seen this ugly mug?" The young man said, while his gaze, which had become focused on Ram during his speaking of his insincere words, flickered over to Emilia's face. He was only teasing her, of course.

"Yeah, that- wait, t-that's not true! That's definiteeely not true at all, Artur! You're kind, sweet, funny, and strong, and it's reaaally hard not to think about you all the time!" Emilia said, before a warm, gentle smile came to grace her intensely-scarlet face. "You're so gentle, even though your hands are so rough, and you're so warm, caring, and supportive…" She continued, her eyes closing as she thought about the white-haired man. About the man who had changed her life forever, who had made her feel things and want to do things that she had never, ever, remotely before. She gave a little nod, as her eyes remained closed, satisfied that she had deflected her friend's self-deprecating words. If Artur really thought that he wasn't good enough to be obsessed over by her, then Emilia had just solved that problem, right? After all, if the very person was saying that he was obsession-worthy was the person who he was sceptical could ever become obsessed with him, then that would surely banish his doubts, right?

A small, but warm smile graced the young man's face at Emilia's heart-prodding words, in an attempt to placate Emilia in response to her encouraging words, but doubt couldn't help but entrench itself in his heart. He really, really wanted to believe Emilia's words, but he knew how kind of a girl she was, and he thought she'd probably say anything, regardless of the implication, if it meant assuaging his doubts or self-loathing. To say that she found it difficult to not 'think about him all the time'… If Emilia was more socially-aware, then the young man strongly believed she wouldn't say something like that to him… while she pressed herself against him.

"Emilia-sama, it sounds like you yourself don't know what you're feeling." Ram said, rolling her eyes once more at the silver-haired girl. Artur knew for a fact that Ram was aware of Emilia's confusion regarding her own feelings towards him, so he didn't understand why Ram felt the need to say something like that. It felt like she was just trying to stir things, but… although Ram liked more than only a bit of banter, it wasn't like her to try and cause unnecessary drama. So, what were her intentions? They were a mystery to the white-haired man.

"Wh-What? What do you mean? You… You're not talking about… I… don't want to talk about…" Emilia said, her embarrassment and flusteredness flaring even more as an uncomposed expression crossed her face. Her and Artur had talked about her feelings incredibly recently, and the fact that Emilia is unsure of how she feels. Is it obvious, even to Ram – who Emilia would sadly, and reluctantly, admit that she's not friends with – that she has no idea how she feels for the young man? That she has no understanding of what the feelings and urges she has towards him means?

Emilia wondered whether she was actually less good at hiding her thoughts and feelings than she thought she was, but, then… nobody had ever cared enough about her to even take the time to notice how Emilia was feeling. Even Puck, her father-figure, had been rather indifferent to how Emilia felt or thought about things, and so trying to hide or mask her emotions hadn't been something she had needed to do. It should be no surprise to anyone, then, that a girl who had never had a need to try and mask her emotions, was, as a result, very poor at doing so.

"Emilia-sama is sponsored by my Master, and so, Ram will not talk about it if Emilia-sama chooses not to." Ram said, before looking off to the side, and… an expression of subdued anger and frustration subtly coming to her face, as she looked away from the silver-haired girl who was, seemingly regardless of how she was feeling, remaining wrapped around the young man that was relevant to this discussion. "You won't talk about it, even if it's to the detriment of my friend's mental health…" Ram trailed off, whispering, and silently enough that Emilia didn't quite catch what she said.

The young man did, however, and though he appreciated that Ram considered him a friend and that she was concerned for him, he didn't want Emilia getting given a hard time for her feelings, or her inability to determine what those feelings are. Artur said that he would give Emilia as much time as she needed to decide how she felt about him, and by God, it wasn't just lip service. But, is that why Ram had made a remark about Emilia not knowing how she felt herself? Out of concern for him? That… would be unusual for Ram. For her to say anything that was for his benefit, or out of concern for him, was entirely unusual for her, really.

"Right… Thanks, Ram…" Emilia said, though her expression became a little bit downcast, as her gaze turned from both the maid, and her friend. Emilia felt guilty whenever she thought of how she hadn't given Artur an answer of her feelings, and so she tried not to think about the issue too much, just resolving herself that, when she understood what love was, and what her own feelings were… that she'd tell the young man as soon as she could. Emilia had resolved to try to work out what her feelings were as quickly as possible, too. When she was reminded of that dynamic between herself and the young man, though, her remorseful conscience would remind her once more that the young man suffered and agonised in limbo, mentally, every day because of her stupidity, and her inadequacy.

Emilia hated herself for the fact that, when the totally unthinkable happened – that she found someone who truly loved her for her, complimented her every day and showered her with affection without self-interest, and only wanted to see her smile and laugh and ultimately be happy, that she couldn't even tell him how she truly felt. Simply for the fact that she thought herself too stupid to even know how she, herself, felt. Emilia… she really didn't think that she deserved Artur.

Why did he tolerate her selfishness? Why did simply being in the same room as him make her chest warm, her face smile, and her selfishly happy that he loved her? Why did her heart skip a beat when he smiled at her, why did she find his terrible jokes funny, that she wouldn't if anyone else had told her them? Why… Why couldn't she stop thinking about him, even when they were on opposite ends of the mansion? Emilia just wanted to understand what was going on in her own head, and to be able attribute words to it… so why couldn't she even do that?

"Look, it's fine. Talking about this doesn't help anybody." The young man said, a conflicted expression on his face. He could feel Emilia beginning to pull away from him, guilt wracking her heart. She didn't want to hurt him, so she thought it best to, perhaps, put a bit of distance between them in this moment. So why couldn't she even do that? Why did she find herself clinging to the young man, even when she knew he was hurting because of her? And why, when she managed to muster the will to even begin to slightly, slowly pull away from him, did he pull her in even tighter and more securely than before? Why did he seem so indifferent to his own suffering? Why didn't he hate her for the hurt she was causing him?

"Will anybody be helped by you becoming heartbroken, your friends having to try to pick up the pieces, and then trying to put you back together?" Ram asked, after her eyes had moved over to the scar-faced man. The young man could see the fire burning behind Ram's red orbs, and he hadn't missed the fact that her fists were clenched as though she was trying to squeeze the words from Emilia's mouth. He really, really didn't understand why this was so important to her… and though they had certainly become closer, perhaps even friends, he couldn't understand why Ram was, all of a sudden, involving herself in his and Emilia's relationship. He wasn't so dense that he couldn't recognise that Ram was just trying to help, but she was hurting Emilia in the process. Something that he wouldn't stand for.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" Emilia, with heavy pain in her voice, whispered so silently that the two people in her presence could only barely understand her. It hurt the young man's heart, like a terrible, terrible ache, to hear Emilia speaking like that, and as he turned his head to look at her – to try and make her feel better, to persuade her that she hadn't done anything wrong – he saw that she was looking away from both Ram and him. She was putting a very, very light amount of effort into trying to pull away from him, but once he tightened his arm around her once more, and pulled Emilia closer into him than she had been during this entire conversation, her effort stopped.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Emilia. Please, please don't feel guilty when you haven't done anything wrong." The young man said, sincerity in his voice that made Emilia's ears twitch. How… how could he still be so patient and caring with her? Why didn't he get angry, like she could hear Ram was getting? Why didn't he lose his patience with her, like she was losing with herself? Were his expectations of her so low, that he… no, that was wrong. Emilia could feel herself hurting, and she was starting to direct that pain towards her man that… towards the man, that was so gentle and considerate with her.

The truth was, he was starting to get angry, although not at Emilia. He was getting angry at Ram, for putting Emilia in this situation, and making her feel guilty when she hasn't done anything wrong. He was angry at himself, too – in fact, he was furious, really, for something he hated to admit to himself. He was irate, for wishing, or even hoping, for Emilia to return his feelings. He didn't deserve her, for what monster deserves an angel, a princess… a girl as kind and good-hearted as her? And what angelic girl, though of course having faults of her own, deserved to have to put up with a man like him?

A man that had taken more lives than most serial killers, even if in a war. A man that was becoming weaker and weaker minded as the days passed on, a fact that he'd proven to himself following the numerous… mental attacks he'd sustained throughout his short stay at the mansion, in addition to his pathetic display in the baths earlier. A man that wanted everyone around him to be happy, even if it was at the expense of his own happiness.

Knowing that Emilia didn't deserve to have to put up with a sinner like him, especially in as intimate a relationship as he knew one between them would be, and knowing that he didn't deserve to be happy, or even content, as he did when in Emilia's presence… why did he still selfishly wish for her to tell him the three words that would make him happier than anything else in the world could? Why did he desperately cling on to a fantasy? Why did he look forward to a day, that he knew would never come?

"Come on, Mili, why don't we go down to the garden? It'd be a sin to waste what little time we have together, cooped up in the mansion." The young man said, squeezing Emilia a wee bit to try and get her attention. Emilia didn't respond to him – and she gave no indication that she'd even heard him, in fact – however, her body language led him to strongly believe that he knew her feelings, and why she hadn't reciprocated his affection, without him needing to see her face. Her shoulders were slumped, her muscles tense, and the only time Emilia ever kept her face away from his was when she was feeling down, and didn't want him to recognise that fact. After a few seconds without her saying anything back to him, the young man, with his free hand, reached over to Emilia's chin, and gently turned her face towards him.

He could immediately see the pain that she was feeling, etched all over her face. She looked like she was about to cry, in truth, and he instantly recognised that it was his own fault. Ram certainly hadn't helped the situation, of course, but Emilia's current mental anguish was ultimately his own fault. If he hadn't talked to Ram about how he was feeling – if he had just kept everything bottled up inside, and hid his weakness from everyone around him… if he had just been a god dam man, then Emilia wouldn't be feeling guilty and hurt right now. He had to make the girl he cared so much for, the girl he would give his everything for, feel better.

In an effort to do just that, with the arm that was draped around Emilia in their sideways hug, he pulled Emilia so that they were pressed chest-to-chest, his hard one against Emilia's pleasantly soft one. Emilia let out a quiet gasp, both in surprise and delight at his forcefulness – his forcefulness being something that he didn't exhibit very often with her, and yet, when he did, made her knees weak and wobbly – whatever that meant. With the hand he had against her chin, he slowly and softly ran it up to her face, before resting the palm of his beaten-up hand against Emilia's cheek gently. He recognised that some of the light returned in Emilia's eyes as he made a gesture of what was clearly his love for her, and she recognised the source of his action too as she rapidly, unconsciously and instinctually put her arms around the man's lower chest, but he needed to talk to the poor silver-haired girl.

"Ram, could you give me and Mili some privacy, please?" The young man asked, the anger in his voice becoming subdued somewhat by his affection with Emilia, after turning his head towards the pink-haired maid, who had her arms crossed, and whose eyes were pointed away from the white-haired man holding the silver-haired girl. Ram was clearly trying to keep up her usual visage of indifference and neutrality, however, she was ultimately failing – bits and pieces of her composed mask were cracked, revealing the frustration hiding underneath, directed at the entire situation.

Directed at Emilia, who couldn't recognise her feelings that Ram thought were clear for anybody to recognise for what they were. She was frustrated at Artur, for being so fucking dense that he seemed incapable of taking the hint from Emilia's gestures and actions – even if Emilia couldn't take the hint from her own actions. Ram was angry at herself, too, however – she knew that it was her relationship with Roswaal that was making her frustrated with Artur and Emilia's 'just kiss already' relationship, even when she knew that she really should be able to keep her own miserable love life separate from the unique-haired couple's. Her reluctant friendship with the scar-faced man was also a motivating factor for her feeling this way, but it was only a part of it.

Ram was only too happy to go along with the scar-faced man's request, not believing that she could tolerate any more of this bullshit. Her eyes briefly looked at the Bear's, whereupon she gave a short, patience-lacking nod, before turning her head away from the pair, looking down the corridor. Ram's feet moved in the same direction as her gaze, away from the embracing boy and girl, feeling her anger dissipating with each step that she took. The frustration, anger, and upset were obvious to the white-haired man who watched the maid walk away, even in her gait – it was uncharacteristically rigid, and her fists remained balled even as she walked. Unless he was mistaken, it looked as though her teeth were grinding together, too, although that was more subtle.

The young man turned his head back to Emilia before Ram's muscles started to relax, as her frustration started to die down, and thus he failed to see that her fiery feelings had been beginning to dissipate as she put distance between herself, and the hugging pair. He wouldn't have cared, either way, in truth. There was only one girl on his mind at that moment, and it wasn't the maid with whom he had a love-hate, though mostly the former, relationship with.

He stroked the silver-haired girl's face tenderly, and a warm smile uncontrollably came to his face as he took in her gorgeous features, trying to commit as many of the small, intimate details to memory as possible. As Emilia looked up to her much taller partner's face, an expression of confusion came to rest on her visage, as her white-haired protector's expression seemed to have changed like night and day. Where once lay a face that was clearly losing patience, and at the very least, a little bit blue, was now one that seemed to radiate happiness. Even though Emilia was feeling guilt and a blueness of her own, she could feel those aspects of her mood getting melted away, little by little, as the smiling man's face radiated a warmth that Emilia couldn't help but return the stare at. She leaned into his stroking hand unconsciously, desperate for as much of the white-haired man's heat as possible, and began to squeeze on his chest more than just a little bit tighter.

Once Ram had walked far enough down the corridor, away from the gaze-sharing pair, that she was out of earshot, the shrapnel-faced man's lips parted once more.

"You should ignore Ram, Mili. The only thing that matters is how you and me feel – not what other people think about us." He said, pulling her in tightly, and trying to calm his pounding heart that was a result of his gaze locking with Emilia's own.

"Y-yeah, I know, it's just…" Emilia said, before trying to break her eyes away from the young man's, but failing. Emilia didn't want to tell him that she was feeling guilty, of all things. Not because she didn't trust him, or anything like that, but because she didn't want him to feel guilty in response to her own guilt. She hoped that he would say something, so that she wouldn't have to finish her thoughts, and as she gave a pause to invite the young man to speak, seconds and seconds and seconds passed, without him interjecting. The young man merely smiled sincerely, his gaze occasionally drifting from one of Emilia's eyes to the other, as he patiently waited for Emilia to finish her thoughts. He told only the truth when he said that he wanted to know everything that was going on in her head, after all.

"It's just… I… I feel really, really bad, Artur." Emilia said, before finally finding the willpower to finish voicing her thoughts, after which, she broke her gaze from Artur's, her head turning off to the side as she looked away from. Emilia's eyebrows had drooped, the pain on she was feeling evident on her face to the young man. Emilia once more, with negligible effort and convincing him of her intent to the precise extent of zero, tried to pull out of his embrace. It pained Emilia's heart even further to think about moving away from the young man, but she didn't want to show him affection with one breath, and express her lack of understanding about her feelings in another. The pain diminished, however, when the white-haired man denied her unconvincing effort to pull away from him, by tightening his arm around her even further.

"Don't keep your feelings inside, Mili. Talk to me." He urged her, the steady tone in his voice urging her with confidence to confide in him. Emilia didn't say anything after a few seconds, and as he got the feeling that she might need more encouragement not to keep everything bottled up, Artur placed his free hand back to Emilia's chin once more, and turned her head gently back towards him. Her heart pounded faster once more, as she had 'no choice' but to look him in the eyes. Those hard, steely, yet soft and warm, eyes. The eyes that Emilia would quite happily become absorbed in for the rest of her life, if she didn't have the elves to free from the ice.

"What are you feeling bad about?" The young man asked once more, now that his own eyes were locked with Emilia's. He desperately had to force himself to not press his mouth to hers', considering the position they were in, her moist, pink lips calling to his own like a siren call. He resisted, however, and remained steadfast, trying his best to be the support that Emilia needed. Now, and forever. He knew, though, what it was that she was feeling bad about – but she needed to get it out. Keeping it inside, and letting it fester, would only cause her to feel worse, and if getting her to talk about it would relieve her guilt, or at least help it a little bit, then he'd try to get her to open up.

Emilia had to try and find where her breath had gone, because it clearly wasn't in her lungs as her reassuring Knight-to-be spoke words that still filled her chest with an overwhelming heat. That he wanted to know what was going on in her head… it was something that he had said to her before, that when you love someone, you want to know what's going on in their head, and though he had clearly proven that to her on a near-daily basis, even in the little time that they had had since he had begun his training regime, this was different. This wasn't a lighthearted discussion, nor would it be easy for him to hear, and yet, he still wanted Emilia to voice her feelings anyway. For the simple fact that it might make her feel better. Contrary to what he was intending, his selflessness and desire to get Emilia to express a sentiment that would only pain him to hear, out of his desire to lighten her heavy heart, made Emilia's guilt feel even worse.

"I feel bad… because… Because you told me you love me, and it made me feel really, reaaally warm, and it was in a way that made me know that you reaaally, reaaaaally mean it, but… I still don't know how I feel. I still don't understand love between a man and a woman, the kind of love you feel for me… It's not fair on you!" Emilia said, before her voice starting to wobble with frustration at herself, and something approaching disbelief at both herself, for her inability to comprehend her own feelings, and disbelief at Artur for putting up with it.

"I know it's easy for me to say, but you shouldn't feel guilty for that, Mili. I knew what I was getting into when you told me that you didn't know how you felt. I'm… Am I making you feel bad, Mili? Does it feel like I'm pressuring you?" The young man asked, concern coming into his deep, gravelly voice as the idea that he was being pushy with her entered his head. He hadn't thought that he had been, but perhaps he was becoming desperate for an answer, and he'd unintentionally let that slip into his behaviour?

"No! No, you definitely aren't! I just… don't understand how you can stand it." Emilia said, trying once more to break her gaze from Artur's own, only for him to once more turn her chin back towards his face.

"That's an easy one, Mili. I love you, and I am more than willing to wait until you can either tell me the same, or… until… you…" The young man said, but finding himself too weak to finish his sentence. He knew that it was possible, and probably even likely, that once Emilia did understand what love was, that she would tell him that, actually, she didn't love him back. He was weak, though – so weak in fact, that he couldn't even voice that possibility. Not to himself, though the thought ran through his mind on an hourly basis, and not to Emilia, either.

Emilia seemingly understood what he was getting at, and he felt her leaning into him more, now. There was definitely no remnant of that miniscule effort to break away from his embrace, now – although she weighed almost nothing to him, he could feel her pressing all of that negligible weight against his heavier, large muscular frame. "I… Artur, I…" Emilia said, before finding that she couldn't speak anymore. …Why? Though she knew she wasn't very good when it came to things with other people, she immediately knew what it was that Artur wanted to say, but didn't. Or, perhaps, that he couldn't. Emilia knew what it was that she wanted to say in response to him, but… why did she lose the strength to speak?

Most of all, why did the very idea of her never returning his feelings, feel like a knife through her own heart? Emilia mentally recoiled at the nightmarish thought, and she felt almost violently sick at the notion that she would never love Artur. Why? She didn't know how she truly felt about him, so why did one of the two options – one being that she'd love him, and the other being that she wouldn't… Why did one of the two make her chest tight, her mouth dry up, her throat close, and her eyes feel like they might project tears at any moment? And why did the other option…

Why did the other option make her chest flare with a fiery warmth, cause the tears take on a character of glee, and her world to suddenly become vibrant with more colour than she'd ever known? Why did the thought of loving him cause her face to take on a wide grin that she couldn't suppress, and make her want to sing so loudly that Ram would tell her again to quieten down? Did… Did this have some kind of meaning? It must do, surely? But what? Why… Why did she feel so useless and ignorant? What did all of these feelings mean?!

As the fire in her chest melted the ice in her brain that had stopped her from speaking, and the sudden elatedness at a mere thought caused her to feel almost giddy, Emilia found that she could finally part her lips once more.

"I reaaally don't think have to worry about what you're thinking I'm going to say." Emilia said, as the wide, genuine, sincere smile that had broken out, as she was thinking of the idea of her returning the scar-faced man's feelings, continued on, and entirely broke through the guilt and distress that she was feeling, causing the dark thoughts and worries to shatter into millions of pieces. She unhooked her arms from around her taller partner's hard tummy, and hooked them around his neck. It felt like Emilia was trying to climb a tree, the height difference was that stark, but at that moment, the pair could have been lying down for all the difference that their heights would make.

Emilia stood up on her tiptoes, trying instinctually to get her face to reach the tall man's – she didn't know why, nor what she was doing, but it just felt right to her. The added inches from standing on her toes still didn't allow her to reach him, though, and it wasn't until Mr Tree bent down, sensing her intention, that finally, Emilia's face could reach his own. Her cheeks had become red as her body and mind acted of their own accord, and the young man's eyes widened ever so slightly as his mind ran one hundred miles a minute, trying to work out exactly what it was Emilia was about to do.

As Emilia's arms tightened around his neck further, to the point that her feet no longer touched the ground, despite her guardian bending down slightly, and he had automatically wrapped both of his arms around Emilia's waist, pressing her against him so that she remained in the air, all of her soft curves, and details of the intimate parts of her clothed body, pressing against the young man's rock-like though wide frame. Slowly, Emilia brought her pink, moist lips to the young man's slightly hairy cheek, before pressing those lips to it in a gentle, delicate, moist kiss. Her lips lingered on his face for more than only a few seconds, as though trying to communicate her… affection for him through the intimate gesture, and she closed her eyes, almost as if she was debating something.

Both of the teenagers had to resist moving their heads in such a way that it was mouth and mouth meeting, and not mouth and cheek, but both had their own reasons for refraining from doing so. Artur, because he couldn't morally do such a thing until he was certain that it was what Emilia wanted, and Emilia, because she knew that kissing led to babies being born, and… although the thought of carrying Artur's baby, and them becoming a family, was far from the worst thought that had ever come to her head, she knew that it was a tad bit premature, due to the current nature of their relationship, and also due to her running in the Royal Selection.

After what felt like a wonderful eternity passed, although what was probably only ten seconds in reality, Emilia withdrew her lips from the young man's cheek, and the flusteredness in her, caused by her own actions, was plain to see on her beautiful pale-white face. Artur would be lying if he said his own cheeks didn't turn a little bit red, but it was nowhere near the extent of Emilia's. What he did have, which far surpassed Emilia's, however, was a bright, wide grin on his face of pure, unadulterated, unfiltered happiness. He seriously had to stop himself from smashing his lips into Emilia's, but he couldn't forgive himself a sin like that, even if she might.

Their gazes remained locked, and since Emilia's arms were not getting tired, partly due to her half-elven strength, and partly due to the young man squeezing her both tightly and yet, somehow, gently, the pair remained like that. Their faces almost painfully close to each other's, so close that Emilia could feel Artur's hot breath warming her face like his love warmed her chest, and that Artur could feel Emilia's somewhat cooler, though no less desired, warmth spreading to him. He was really tempted to take advantage of the situation, and fling Emilia into a princess-style carry as their souls remained locked in their wordless conversation, but he decided against it – if he did that now, he might never put Emilia down for the rest of the day. It was unfortunate for Artur, though, that he was unaware of the fact that Emilia would only have welcomed such a devoted gesture.

Eventually, though, really not wanting to spend the entire cooped up indoors, the young man began to slowly release his tourniquet-tight hold from around Emilia's voluptuous figure, and though Emilia sensed his intent, she had a hard time finding the will to release her arms from around his neck. After a few seconds passed, the white-haired man's smile widened as he sensed Emilia's reluctance, and almost cheekily, he quickly delivered a peck to the tip of Emilia's nose that almost sent her reeling – figuratively, of course, for he would never let her actually fall to the ground.

Well, he might, but not without him being there to catch her.

Emilia's pale face, whose crimson blush had dissipated, was suddenly reignited at Artur's cheeky, though love-filled gesture, and she quickly released her arms from around his neck, her feet quickly meeting the floor, before she punched his chest with her face. Well, perhaps punch is the wrong word. That was the word Emilia might've used to describe it, as she buried her flushed, beet-red face into the young man's chest, in an attempt to hide it from him. It was a fairly useless gesture, however, as Artur couldn't help but smile once he saw that Emilia's ears had become just as red as the rest of her face. He gently placed one arm around her shoulders, and a hand on the back of Emilia's head, before pulling her gently into him, despite her flustered reaction, and he couldn't help but grin ear-to-ear as he reflected on the fact that this… this… This was what he lived for.

After half a minute, Emilia's ears had somewhat dimmed in their redness, and though she enjoyed inhaling the smell of Artur as much as her face grinding against his chest allowed, she eventually pulled her gorgeous features away from his chiselled pectorals, and with a small, adorable pout on her face, she gazed into his eyes with a mood of faux anger.

"Mmm," Emilia hummed in clear faux annoyance, "Honestly! My dunderknight is such a…" Emilia said, before looking as though she was genuinely trying to come up with a word for him beyond 'dunderhead'. Artur smiled even wider at the mannerisms of Emilia that were part of how she so easily managed to rob him of his heart, and he could see a strain put on her pout as her eyes registered his wide, benevolent grin. Emilia's blush had begun to dissipate as she gave real thought to what to call him, a fact that Artur's eyes, which were ever-looking at Emilia, couldn't help but notice.

"Dunderhead?" He asked, amusement clear in his voice. He had to give a strong effort to not burst out laughing as the pair tried to ignore the atmosphere of joy and amusement that had undoubtedly developed between the two, but where would the fun be if they both immediately folded and started laughing?

"H-Huh? How did you kno… I mean, no! I was going to say…" Emilia's face had taken on an expression of almost genuine distraught as she realised that the young man had predicted what she was going to say, however it quickly returned back to her pout as she realised that he was on the very edge of bursting out into laughter. Emilia worried that if Artur started laughing, that she would too, and she wanted to get something out before they inevitably broke into hysterics.

"I-I-I was going to say, you're my… donkey! Yep, yep." Emilia said, as she happily smiled to herself at her creativity, before closing her eyes, and nodding twice in satisfaction, letting out little hums of joy at herself for how good she got him. Ram might banter with Artur, but he was her Artur after all, and only she would know how to banter with him the best.

"Ohhh… I'm your donkey, am I, Mili?" The young man asked, his grin positively becoming shit-eating as he smiled smugly at the young girl. Emilia's closed-eyed, smug-smiled expression quickly shattered as the realisation hit her that she had just accidentally, vocally taken possession of the young man, and her cheeks began to beam bright red once more. Artur wouldn't, of course, object to Emilia taking ownership of him… he just hoped that she was prepared for him to take ownership of her, as well.

"I-I… Why did I…" Emilia stuttered out, after which she quickly moved both hands up to Artur's chest, gripped onto the front of his uniform jacket tightly with both hands, and once again rapidly buried her face into his chest. The barrier holding back his laughter finally broke, and his deep, bellowing laughter echoed around and throughout the mansion and hallways. Emilia, after realising that Artur wasn't offended or upset at her accidentally calling him hers', brought her face slowly away from the man's chest, and as she saw his joy-filled, happy face, she found that she couldn't hold her laughter in either.

Finally, Emilia began to let out beautiful giggles that were like the most beautifully composed symphony to Artur's ears, and he couldn't help but laugh harder, causing Emilia to do the same, and before either of them realised, they had ended up only laughing with each other, fuelled simply by one another's own happiness and presence. They were gripped onto each other with all the ferocity of the most protective of animals as they laughed with one another, Artur's arms having dropped to around Emilia's shoulders, and Emilia's having moved from his chest and to around his chest.

Eventually, after who-knows-how-long, their laughter died down, and what was left was a boy staring longingly into the eyes of his beloved, with a smile on his face fuelled by what he knew was love, and a girl, whose own expression matched his, who was beginning to suspect that what fuelled her own smile, just might be the same as what fuelled the man's. She didn't – perhaps she couldn't – know, though. As their eyes sought only each other's, it was Emilia who noticed out of the corner of her eye that the sun had actually moved since the two of them had began talking that afternoon, and it affected her enough that she let out a small hum of thoughtfulness.

"Even though I reaaally don't want to stop hugging you… I think we would end up feeling bad if we didn't do something with our afternoon together. Why don't we go down to the garden, like you mentioned earlier?" Emilia asked, an expression on her face reflecting the true reluctance she had to move from the wide-framed man's protective, warm embrace. A smile, warm and genuine, remained on Emilia's face despite her feeling of reluctance to move herself from Artur's radiator-like body heat, and she didn't think that she could frown, even if she wanted to, in that moment.

"Yeah, you're right, Mili. We… really don't get enough time together, and there's definitely better ways to spend what little time we have than in a corridor. Although, are you sure that I'm not taking you away from any important studies? I'd hate to end up distracting you." Artur replied in cautious agreement with Emilia, trying to soak up as much of the image of Emilia smiling so happily, and so lighthearted and carefree, as he possibly could.

Emilia smiled warmly back at him, her heart swelling with joy at the genuine concern that he was showing her, in spite of his clear desire for them to spend as much time together as they possibly could. She truly, truly wondered what she had done to deserve him, but all Emilia knew, was that she wasn't going to let go of him. Not if it was the last thing she ever did.

"You're faaar too good to me, Artur, but I can always catch up on my studies. I… There's no guarantee that we'll be able to share this much time with each other anytime soon, though… That is one thing that I've learned – that one can never tell how things are going to change, or how much they might." Emilia said, before, extremely reluctantly, moving herself backwards, and pulling away from the young man. Artur, almost as though he could read Emilia's mind, did not prevent her from doing so like he had earlier, knowing that she truly wanted to move away this time.

"Very true, Mili. Although, you know that even if I don't have a lot of time in the future… I'll always make time for you." He said, suddenly feeling his mood drop as Emilia's petite body left its contact with his own. Suddenly, a piece of him felt like it was missing, although he didn't know how to explain it. It was as though a part of the very foundation of his mind was ripped away, leaving an unstable structure that wobbled wildly in response to something as weak in the wind, and slowly sunk into the ground in that thing's absence.

Emilia smiled widely at his declaration, despite the fact that she suddenly felt… cold. Much, much colder than she had been only a few seconds prior. The heat that Emilia suddenly felt flame alive in her chest at Artur's words made the chilliness she felt as she withdrew from his embrace, feel even chillier. The warmth in her chest and the cold that now suddenly surrounded her were a stark contrast to one another, and it made the two extremes feel even more stark than they would feel individually. Emilia almost- no, in fact, Emilia definitely felt extremely drawn to the young man at that moment, and she had to utilise all of the willpower she had remaining to stop herself from jumping back into his arms. She supposed that if she did that, though, that they might never end up leaving the hallway, and that they'd end up spending the rest of their afternoon off together stuck inside. Something neither Emilia nor her white-haired Knight wanted.

"That… That makes me so, soooo glad, Artur! I hate the thought of us not getting to spend any time together, but… knowing that you'll always try to find a way to spend time with me, it makes me feel really, reaaally… reaaaaally warm!" Emilia said, smiling brightly at the young man, blushing faintly in embarrassment as she confessed to a certain feeling that she hadn't told anyone before… and a feeling that she, ultimately, had no understanding of its meaning. Emilia felt like she was opening herself up here, and that she was exposing her vulnerability… perhaps unnecessarily. Regardless, however, she felt like she could safely do this when it came to Artur. As though exposing her weakness and vulnerability to him wouldn't put her at risk of harm, but in fact, that she might only benefit from it – that she might be doing their relationship a favour.

The young man smiled back at her, glad that he could make Emilia feel… 'warm'. He wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that, though. Without a doubt, if it was anyone else that was saying those words, and/or it was anyone else who was on the receiving end of them, then he would have immediately twigged the implication of said words. However, he seemed to have a blind spot when it came to Emilia – or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he had unconsciously imposed a blind spot upon where Emilia's feelings for him lay… Emilia's feelings, whatever they are. The unfortunate reality was, however, that the young man was unlikely to recognise Emilia's feelings for him – again, whatever they are – without her picking her feelings up with both hands, and beating him over the head with them. It was just his character, that he could simply never pick up on the potential that there was the possibility that Emilia could like him like that – whether she liked him in that way today, or a year for now.

"I'm glad, Mili. If I ca make you feel warm, then I must be doing something right, you know?" The white-haired man said.

"Hmmm." Emilia hummed happily, affirmatively, in response to his question. "So… why don't we go down to the garden now? I bet it's reaaally warm today!" Emilia said, the cheer and anticipation in her voice unmistakeable, as Artur searched through her eyes like a man… well, in love. He could see the indisputable glint of excitement in her eyes, her innocent excitement at something as – to most people –banal as going out into the sunny Spring daylight almost contagious. Emilia's innocent, pure excitement spread to Artur, and though his excitement did not stem from the weather, but from who he would be spending the day in the lovely weather with, that did not hinder either the mood of the young man, nor of the girl that he wanted to spend all of his time out bed with – and who he wanted to spend all of his time in bed with, too.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out. Lead the way, my love." The young man said, causing Emilia surprise at his casually spoken words of devotion. She was taken aback, though that didn't prevent her blush from intensifying even more at such tenderly spoken, unbelievably meaningful words. Emilia didn't say anything, and just began to walk down the corridor, intent on leading the young man out of the mansion. He quickly moved by the silver-haired girl's side, and as they walked side-by-side, Emilia found herself looking away from him. The embarrassment was almost too much, and as she looked off to the side, her face the perfect picture of the definition of flusteredness, Emilia grabbed one of the scar-faced man's hands, almost gargantuan when compared to her own small, petite one. In fact, he could almost entirely totally envelop one of Emilia's in one of his own.

The young man just continued to smile widely, his heart elated at Emilia's gesture of affection that she entirely initiated on her own. In fact, the reality of their hands-on relationship was that Emilia likely took it upon herself to give Artur loving physical contact, ever-so-slightly more often than he did her, but it still made his heart race that she… cared enough about him, to, among other things, hug him, kiss him (almost everywhere but the lips), and hold his hand, without any input or request from him. That she did so… did it not say that she had some kind of feeling for him in her heart? He didn't know what it meant, but more than almost anything, he wished he did.

While they walked side by side, for some strange, bizarre reason that Emilia couldn't comprehend, she found that, when she looked down at their intertwined hands, a strange, giddy thrill was sent through her. Just like how his bearhugs felt like they entirely wrapped around her body and protected her from any harm while conveying all of his love for her through physical affection, Emilia found that a similar feeling, if less intense, was sent through Emilia as she felt the hand-equivalent of one of Artur's hugs, with her petite paw shielded from all harm by the white-haired man's larger, masculine one. It felt almost like one of his bearhugs on-the-go, although confined solely to her now warm, love-infused hand.

They walked down the hallway, neither feeling the need to say anything, perfectly content to enjoy the silence, and each other's company. Emilia found that his hand wasn't enough for her, however, and that she wanted more of him – she found it an almost irresistible call that overwhelmed her entire being. She had to get closer to the young man who she wanted to be closer with, and so Emilia found herself wrapping both of her slim, robed arms around one of the young man's thick, uniform-adorned one. She continued to blush, but she no longer felt the need to look away from the young man. He was just happy that Emilia desired his presence and touch enough to take the little actions and gestures of affection, and hoped that she would never change that.

Eventually, however, during their relaxed, hand-in-hand walk through the mansion's long hallways, something that been in the back of her Emilia's head had resurfaced, and she wanted to ask the young man about it.

"Hey, Artur… I wanted to ask you, I heard Ram call you, umm… 'Beartur'. Where did that come from?" Emilia asked, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head at the young man as they slowly walked along the corridor, Emilia remaining stuck to the young man's arm. It warmed his heart that Emilia was so clingy with him, although he would never label it as 'clingy' – that suggested that he saw it as a negative, or that her affection was unwanted to any degree, whereas in his mind, it was without a doubt one of the most positive things in any of the lives he had lived. He couldn't help but smile as he thought about both the gorgeous young silver-haired girl wrapped around his arm, and also the stupid nickname he'd somehow acquired because of Ram's impression of him being animal-like.

The young man sighed a little, although there were no traces of displeasure on his face. He wore an expression of amusement, more than anything, and he couldn't help but display a smile at Emilia's cute look of curiosity. "That's just Ram being Ram, I think. She's convinced I have some kind of resemblance to… well, a Bear. I don't see it, though." He said, before raising the arm that wasn't trapped by Emilia's, and scratching the back of his head.

"Hmm, a Bear…?" Emilia said, staring at Artur's face as the young pair moved at closer to a tortoise's pace than a hare's. Emilia's eyebrows furrowed, as the cogs turned in her head, contemplating the words her white-haired friend had spoken. A Bear? Why would Ram compare him to a Bear, of all things? Emilia considered that.

She supposed that he very, incredibly, fiercely protective, just like an Ursine was. He was so protective that, if Emilia didn't care for him as totally as she did, that she might say that he was protective to a fault – she had easily seen that when he had wrapped his arms around her to protect her from Elsa, and could also be seen when Ram had startled them both, and Artur had quickly made sure that the possible threat would have to go through him to get to Emilia. He gave incredibly warm and body-enveloping bearhugs, and… he was incredibly tall for his age, his frame was adorned with dense muscle and had a width that only served to make the large man seem even more imposing.

Despite his potentially intimidating appearance, however, Emilia knew just how gentle and tender her Knight-to-be was… She thought about how unfair it was that his appearance, which Emilia absolutely adored about him and made her feel less alone – not only because of his unusual hair, but also because of his scarring that made him repel some people, just like how her own appearance scared off people through no fault of her own – betrayed his personality, and how loving he was, just like a Bear. He was incredibly fast, stronger than even she was despite her Elven strength and his lack of any demi-human blood, and he gave out more body heat than even a fire magic-user might be capable of. He was empathetic, doting, and undeniably devoted to those he loves. Just like… Just like a…

…Emilia was starting to see just what Ram was getting at, now.

Emilia's head untilted as her mind arrived at the same conclusion that Ram and, unbeknownst to her, Frederica, had arrived at. A smile came to her face as she felt like she was 'in' on something, now, although Emilia wished that she was the one to pick up on his animalistic, bestial resemblance before the pink-haired maid had. He was her Artur, after all – not Ram's. "Ah, I think I understand, now…" Emilia said, before pausing a moment. "Wooooow, I can't believe I never realised sooner, Mister Bear!" Emilia said, light-heartedness audible in her voice, and a brilliant, breath-taking smile coming to her face. A shine came to her eyes as she was filled with something akin to wonderment, and it gripped Artur's heart like Emilia always seemed to be capable of doing.

"You reaaally are like a Bear! Like a Gustekan Bear, because of your white hair, I think!" Emilia said, before giggling softly, making the young man's grin grow despite wanting to suppress it. Her laughter rang out through the hallway they strolled gently down, and it served to not only warm the white-haired man's chest as Emilia so often did with the smallest of things, but to make the man have to resist wrapping his arms around Emilia and smacking his mouth against hers'. This… This, without a doubt, was love, and he couldn't believe that he had once upon a time believed that he had felt real love before. Now, he knew he hadn't – not before he had met Emilia.

"Okay, okay – very funny, Cheeky. Auch, I can't believe even you're saying it now, Mili! Please, just don't start calling me Beartur, of all things. I don't think I could take it if you called me that, too." The young man said, and though his voice sound displeased, Emilia's giggling only grew more as she saw how the amused expression that he had on his face contrasted to his words and tone.

Eventually, when her laughter died down, Emilia simply gazed into the young man's eyes as they dawdled – a means of their shared connection that Artur was only happy to return. He adored the glint in her eyes – one that he wasn't aware was a result of her happiness – and he would gladly stare into them for an eternity, if the silver-haired girl would let him. Little did he know that Emilia felt the exact same way.

"Okay, okay, I won't call you that. I wouldn't want to copy Ram, anyway." Emilia said. He didn't need to ask her not to call him that, because ultimately, Emilia wanted to stand out and be different from Ram. Artur was going to be her Knight, he was her best friend, and Emilia wanted to be the one that he looked at – not any other girl. Although Emilia didn't really understand the tight sensation she had felt in her chest when she saw him interacting friendly with other girls, she knew that it was something that she didn't want to feel again, and so she had resolved to make Artur look at her, and only her.

More than a few seconds passed as Emilia recalled a displeasurable thought that she'd had earlier, and a small pout came to her previously giggling, smile-adorned face. Of course, her pout was about as scathing as one would expect from the kind-hearted Emilia. "Hey, you know, Artur… I don't like that Ram came up with a nickname for you before me! It's not fair… You're my-" Emilia went to continue, before realising what she was about to say. She had already accidentally called him 'her' donkey, and it was something that the young man had certainly not missed. Her face went red, just at the thought of addressing him possessively again, intentionally or not, although… it didn't feel wrong to do so. Not that Emilia thought that she owned him, or anything like that, but… well, who else's was he, if not hers'?

Besides, Emilia certainly would not complain if Artur started to think about her as being his, after all. Now that she thought about it, the idea of him taking possession of her, and claiming her to be his… it sent a funny feeling through Emilia. A tickly, tingly, light feeling of warmth spread through Emilia's chest, and she felt more than a little bit giddy at the thought of him firmly declaring to the world that 'Emilia belongs to Artur', and that she was his, and nobody else's. Emilia felt that that was a funny thought, and yet, she didn't see anything wrong with it.

The young man's grin became positively wide and toothy, displaying the great care he had taken towards his oral hygiene to anyone who might catch his pearly whites. He just about recognised what Emilia was going to say, although he didn't recognise the significance of the meaning of her words. The implication of her possessiveness, which had been confined only to her thoughts, now coming through accidentally in her words, went unnoticed by him, however, and to any third-party onlookers, it seemed as though if Emilia wanted her true feelings to be known by him, that she would have to come right out with them.

Although, that wouldn't be seen as unfair by him – Artur hadn't hidden his feelings from Emilia in the slightest, and had in fact made a great effort for her to realise the extent of them. He knew that she was quite shy and timid, but when it came to him, he had learned that Emilia's lack of confidence seeming to vanish wasn't a trick of the light, but really was a truth. He only prayed that, when the day came that Emilia learned to realise what she felt about him – whether it was love, or a lack of it – that her confidence and comfort with him would persist, and that she would come right out with her feelings. He knew that it probably wasn't likely, but as a man, he could dream.

"I'm your what, Mili?" The young man asked, before playfully leaning into Emilia as her face reddened even further. He was only joking around with her, of course, but… he always hoped to get some kind of affirmation of her feelings out of her.

"I… You're… H-Hey! You're teasing me again, aren't you?!" Emilia said, her pout persisting as she squeezed the young man's arm tighter between her own two. Emilia did like it when he teased her – Artur was the only one who really did so, after all. Although Ram did it a little bit, and Frederica also sometimes lightly poked fun at her, it was really only the white-haired man who treated her as a friend. Well, he actually treated her as more than just a friend, but he was certainly also the only person who did that, too. Emilia enjoyed teasing him back, too, though, and she felt like she had been getting better at it over the few weeks – although, she felt too flustered right now to try and poke back at him.

"Well, only a wee bit. Still, though, why is it unfair?" The young man asked, an eyebrow raising in confusion. Emilia thought that it was… 'unfair' that Ram had come up with a nickname for him, before Emilia had? He didn't understand that one. It was only a nickname, and not even a particularly close one, or a nice one, either. It was just Ram being Ram – poking fun for no other reason than because it was what Ram did. This seemingly new nickname of hers' for him was, to the white-haired man, nothing more than an extension of Ram and his banter. Why did that bother Emilia?

"Why…?" Emilia asked, her head tilting in confusion even while the pout stayed on her face. She, herself, was a little bit confused about why Ram having a 'pet name', although that wasn't really what it was, for Artur before she did. Emilia knew that it was because he was… something, to her, and that she didn't want any other girls to take him from her, but she didn't really understand why that was. Why did she want to claim the scar-faced man for herself? Why did it pain her to think of another girl stealing him from her? In fact, why did even the thought of another girl giving Artur affection inflict a horrible ache in her chest – a feeling that was miles away from the warm, heavenly sensation that Emilia normally felt when she was around the young man, or when she even just thought about him.

"Aye, why is it unfair that Ram came up with a nickname for me, before you did?" The young man asked, truly wanting to hear Emilia's thoughts on this. He was starting to get an idea of what the reason might be, as Emilia's face turned redder and redder as this topic of conversation persisted, but he wanted her to tell him herself. That was really the only way to know for certain that he wasn't mistaken, or perhaps even insulting to the young girl. He was sure that there must be a better reason than what had been his first thought – that Emilia just a wee bit jealous – because if Emilia was to be jealous, then she would have to be jealous over him. The thought of anyone being afraid to lose him, of all people, was a hilarious one. Well, to Artur, it was hilarious.

"W-Well… It's unfair because it's unfair! You're… I'm…" Emilia said, desperately trying to come up with a justification, without outright proclaiming ownership of the young man. She didn't know what to say, though – she just knew that Ram being closer to Artur than her felt really, really bad. It was extremely frustrating for Emilia, to have all these feelings in her head, her chest, her tummy, and sometimes lower than her tummy – but to understand so very, very little of them. The people around her, specifically her white-haired friend, the pink-haired maid, and her blonde-haired almost-friend, all seemed to so quickly understand their own feelings. Emilia didn't doubt that Artur loved her – she didn't doubt him for even a shred of a second – but he knew that he loved her so quickly after they had met, that it made Emilia feel like she had a major mental deficit.

"You're… We're…" Emilia said again, wracking her brain for some kind of excuse to give to the young man. She really, really couldn't come up with one, though. Not without outright saying something that she was worried would be seen as unwanted by the young man whose opinion of her meant everything. More than even Puck's opinion of her? Probably, actually. In fact, there was no probably about it – Emilia didn't understand why, but the reality was that, in that moment, and likely even outside of that moment, the white-haired young man's opinion of her meant more to her than her contracted father-figure Spirit's did. It wasn't that Emilia disregarded Puck's thoughts or opinions, but Emilia wouldn't be able to really explain why Artur's opinions and thoughts meant more to her than Puck's. Perhaps it was because he took her own thoughts, feelings, and opinions on board far more than Puck ever did, but really, Emilia had no idea, ultimately.

"Mili… Please, feel free to tell me if I'm totally wrong here – the last thing I would want to do is hurt you, or insult you. Could it be that you're maybe feeling a little bit… jealous?" The young man asked, feeling like a massive piece of shit for even suggesting such a thing. But Emilia was only human, just as he was. Well, she was demi-human, but the 'demi-' part was irrelevant right now. Everyone was capable of jealousy, and he didn't think that Emilia was an exception to that rule. It was the only reason he could think of that would make Emilia dislike something as small as who came up with what nickname for him and when. Especially one as inoffensive as Ram's 'Beartur' was. He was entirely open to being told that he was totally wrong, though. For some reason, however, something in his mind was starting to say 'Actually, that is the reason.'

"Jealous? No, no! That's… You're really, reaaally clever, Artur, but… But to suggest that I'm feeling jealous is…" Emilia began, her adorable pout morphing into an expression that was almost one of horror. It softened, however, as a few seconds passed, and she could see the remorseful look on Artur's face that made Emilia realise that he felt guilty for even suggesting it. She began to contemplate the idea… She understood jealousy, that it was the fear of losing something, or someone, to somebody else. Emilia didn't think that she had ever actually felt that, though – she understood the concept thanks to Puck explaining it to her one time, after all, but she had never experienced it first-hand. Was that what she was feeling right now?

"Jealousy? Could it really be that I'm… jealous? Could I really be… is it that I'm worried I'm going to lose you to somebody else?" Emilia asked, looking up to the young man she was wrapped around the arm of. The idea that she was feeling jealousy – the feeling that Puck had told her was a 'bad' one to feel – almost hit her like a truck. Her legs had been stopped by the scary notion, and Emilia's cessation of movement meant that the young man, whose arm was still trapped, couldn't continue walking either. Emilia was looking intently into the eyes of the young man, to be genuinely asking him if what she was feeling was jealousy. He couldn't know for sure, of course, but he could try to help Emilia work it out.

"Well, I don't really know, Mili. What do you think?" He asked, smiling at the young girl. He didn't want her to feel ashamed for feeling like that, and he'd help her if he could.

"I… I don't know. Puck explained what jealousy is, and when it's common for people to feel jealous… But I haven't ever felt it, myself. I can't remember ever feeling jealous, anyway. I don't know if I would recognise the feeling, since I only know of the feeling. Have you ever felt it before, Artur?" Emilia asked hopefully. Emilia had found that her white-haired Knight was usually good with these kinds of things, and though she felt like she was taking and taking and taking from him, without ever giving back… She resolved that she would repay him, one day, when she could. Emilia, though, felt like she really could ask the young man anything. He was always patient with her, and she never feared that he would ever react badly, or judge her, for a question that she asked him. Regardless of how silly Emilia felt for asking something that she felt would be obvious to most people, Artur never made her feel silly.

"Have I felt jealousy before? Aye, I have… A long time ago, now." The young man said, looking away from Emilia, down the hallway. He looked as though he was looking a mile away, to her, despite the remaining hallway being no more than ten metres. Emilia looked on at him, and as seconds passed, and the cogs of his mind turned, Emilia could swear that a look of pain began to show on his face. His eyebrows began to furrow, and she started to regret asking as she could see that he was hurting. After a few more seconds passed, however, the young man slowly looked back into Emilia eyes, before giving her a strained smile.

Emilia didn't want to ask him to elaborate… well, that would be a lie, actually – Emilia really did want to ask him to talk about what was causing him the pain she could see was clear on his face. However, she didn't want to if it would make him feel even worse, and so, Emilia held her tongue on that particular question. However, though she didn't want to, she had to ask him about the feeling of jealousy itself… and she prayed that, like every other time she had asked him a question, that he would be open to answering for her.

"Artur, how did you know that you were feeling jealous? What did it… feel like?" Emilia asked, uncertainty in her voice. She really did feel guilty asking the young man the question, since the memory that came to his mind seemed to be painful for him, but she thought that it was really important to know – especially for her relationship with him in the future, regardless of whatever form that would take. She knew she was being selfish, but she would make it up to him. Emilia had no intention of letting the young man go, and so she would have plenty of time to recompense him – or so she desperately hoped.

The white-haired man, whose eyebrows had unfurrowed, found one of them raised while he look at Emilia as she asked her question. He raised his free hand to his face, and scratched at his cheek with one of his fingers. "Hmm… What does jealousy feel like? Well…" The young man said, before he began to think of how to word the horrible feeling properly. He thought about how it really wasn't a good feeling at all, and how unwanted of one it was. It almost felt poisonous, and it could be ugly, depending on how it affected one's behaviour.

After twenty seconds had passed, the young man's lips parted. "I don't know if jealousy is felt by everyone the same way, but, I can tell you how I experienced it in the past, if you'd like." Artur said, his tone reflecting his consideration for Emilia, but also the unpleasantness that he felt as he reflected on the past.

"Yeah, yeah!" Emilia said, before nodding her head vigorously at him. She hummed pleasantly at him in affirmation, a lighthearted, beautiful, cheery sound that never failed to make the young man's mood soar, and when he felt down or in a poor mood, to lighten it at least a wee bit. The young man smiled at Emilia's enthusiastic attitude, which betrayed the dourness that he had been feeling as a result of the recollection of his past. She always had the effect on him, he had come to find, and it was only one of the countless reasons that he had to find himself loving the silver-haired girl. It was amazing to him, how Emilia could entirely provoke a complete reversal of his mood – especially when it was a sour one – and he couldn't imagine life without the young girl in it. Not anymore.

"Okay, well… When I've felt jealous in the past, it always felt like a kind of… tightness, in my chest. Like someone was squeezing it. Or, maybe a better way to put it would be that it felt like an ache… like someone had put a hand around my heart, and was trying to squeeze the life out of it. Sometimes, my tummy would hurt, too… And I'd usually feel like I was going to be sick. It's… not a nice feeling at all, and you feel like you're going to lose whoever it is that you're feeling that way for, and that you'd do anything to stop that from happening." The young man said, the smile having disappeared off of his face as he reached the end of his explanation. Emilia listened intensely, hanging off of his every word, and her eyes widened more and more as his reflection on jealously resonated with her more and more.

"That's- That's what I was feeling! So…" Emilia began, overwhelmingly excited and relieved that she had a name to put to the feeling that she had been experiencing, without understanding it. It felt like another mystery of feelings had been solved, and that she was one step closer to clearing away the mists of her own emotions and psyche. She gulped, however, once she realised that she really was afraid that she was going to lose her Artur.

"So, I really am feeling jealous…" Emilia said, the tone of her voice reflecting the dismay she was beginning to feel at her failing. At her selfishness. Her tummy felt sick, just like Artur had said he had felt, and it was an ache – totally unlike the pleasant ache she had felt below her belly button when her heart had raced, her skin had heated up, and when she had longed for the young man. Well, she still longed for him – somehow, Emilia doubted that would ever change – but that longing had a different feeling to it in the present moment.

"Artur, what can I do? I… I don't like this feeling, and I want it to go away. Do you know how to make it go away?" Emilia asked the young man, who she had only began to tighten her grip on as the revelation sunk in more and more. She didn't want to feel this way, but she truly did fear losing the young man. Emilia could never express just how much he meant to her, and how much he had changed her life for the better, ever since he had entered it not even a month ago. She couldn't imagine him not being around her, and even the thought of it was a horrifying one to her.

"Well… I'm absolutely not an expert on this kind of thing, but you just have to understand that there's no reason for you to be jealous of anyone." The young man said, a smile coming to his face as he realised that, perhaps deep down inside Emilia, that she really might care about him to a degree that rivalled how much he cared for her.

Of course, there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that, whatever Emilia felt for him, it was probably not love for him – that was undeniably a step too far, and he would be getting ahead of himself if he started to believe that, despite the fact that he lived in hope and prayer that Emilia might one day feel for him, what he felt for her – but he realised that, if she cared enough to be worried that he was going to leave her, then she couldn't not feel something for him. What she felt, and how strongly she felt it, he couldn't say, and he reckoned that Emilia couldn't, either, but it warmed his heart a wee bit. He pondered that it probably made him a piece of shit, to find his heart warmed at Emilia worrying that she might not have him one day, but he would be lying to himself if he denied the existence of that feeling.

"There's… no reason? What do you mean by that?" Emilia asked, after her head tilted in her inquisitive manner that the scar-faced man was so in love with. Emilia didn't really understand why she was feeling jealous. She understood that she didn't want to lose him, and that her world would be darker without her Artur, but she didn't understand why she feared losing him so much, or why she had no reason to fear losing him, nor why she shouldn't feel jealous.

"Jealousy. You feel it, because you're worried that someone is going to take someone from you, right? That you're going to lose whoever it is that, without them, that you would never have felt jealousy in the first place? Well, you shouldn't feel jealous, Mili, because nobody is ever going to take me from you. You know that, don't you?" The young man asked, his smile not abating in an attempt to reassure the silver-haired girl. It was a ridiculous idea, in his mind, that anyone could ever separate him from Emilia, or that anybody could ever replace her so that he would leave her. He knew, however, that whether it was a possibility or not didn't make Emilia's worries any less valid. They were her fears, and her apprehensions, and he would never belittle her for feeling those things.

Regardless, however… if Emilia could see his feelings for her from his point of view, then she would realise that there was absolutely nothing to be worried about. Unfortunately, however, that wasn't how paranoias worked, and sometimes, no amount of rationalising or logic could banish those fears.

"Do you… really mean that? You're really, reaaally never going to be stolen away from me?" Emilia asked, her expression conveying how desperately she wanted her fears to be dispelled, and her hopes to be affirmed, by the young man. Her eyes were so incredibly hopeful that they threatened to take his breath away, just as the rest of Emilia usually did, and he could feel her squeezing him tighter, as if to pin him down and get the answer she was wanting from him. He had told Emilia once before that he would never go anywhere, but anxieties like these sometimes dominated the conscious, logical mind, and something told him that the best thing for Emilia right now was his confident confirmation of what she was hoping for. He certainly couldn't see any harm in it, at any rate.

The veteran couldn't help but smile lovingly, his pale blues shining longingly into Emilia's amethysts, as he had to fight back a good-natured laugh at how Emilia phrased that. From her words, a third party listening in would think that she had claimed him for herself, when really, no such thing had taken place. Not even unofficially, really – and until that day, nobody could really 'steal' him from her. Of course, Artur really wouldn't object to Emilia being a little possessive over him, and he supposed that that was probably the root of how she was acting right now, but he found it hard to tell. She was an incredibly innocent, naïve, and kind-hearted girl, and it was sometimes hard to determine her motivating cause for some of the things she said and did. In this circumstance, however, he couldn't help but think that possessiveness did have a part to play in it.

"I promise, Mili, that nobody's ever going to steal me from you. You didn't forget that I promised you before, that I'm not going anywhere, did you?" The young man asked, before teasingly and light-heartedly bringing his free hand up to Emilia's face, and giving her cheek a slow, gentle, and loving stroke, in a bid to fill her with the certainty that, really, he had no intention of leaving her – certainly not if he had anything to say about it, at any rate.

Emilia began to blush at the tender, affectionate gesture of the young man – he was incredibly good at that, Emilia had found – and she couldn't help but unconsciously lean into the white-haired man's hand. "N-No, I could never forget that, and… certainly not when you made it a promise to me. I know you already know, but… promises are reaaally important to me, as both a spirit arts user, but… they're veeery important to me, just because they're important to me." Emilia said, smiling through the blush, which was just about the only thing that she could think to do to combat the flusteredness she could feel creeping into her psyche.

The young man didn't say anything for a few moments, as he did nothing more than process the words that Emilia had said. It was funny to Emilia, but when there was a noticeable delay between her speaking, and Artur speaking, then she knew for a fact he was listening to her. It made her feel listened to – really listened to – and totally unlike how Puck had 'listened' to her when, on the rare occasion, she had said something that she really wished her spirit father would take on board. "I know that, sometimes, your worries and anxieties aren't easy to get rid of at all – and definitely not so easy that just some reassuring words can get rid of them. And I know how important promises are to you, Mili – just as important as they are to me, at least – so I hope that my promise, as well as reminding you about it, might've made you feel at least a wee bit better." The veteran said.

The low and steady tone of his that accompanied his words, with the bass of his voice vibrating seemingly throughout Emilia's entire being, added a certain gravity and meaningfulness to his words that Emilia couldn't verbalise. It made it seem as though his words, though she believed them and had no reason to not believe them, had even more weight and credibility than if they were said by anyone else. As if to affirm that the young man's words were, indeed, taken on board, and despite the adorable blush that remained on her face, Emilia slowly unwrapped her arms from around the young man's own one, before snaking them firmly around his lower chest, and then pulling into him tightly. With the difference in their size and weight, it would be more accurate to say that Emilia pulled herself into the young man, rather than the other way around.

"Hmmm." Emilia hummed in agreement with the young man's hopes. She absolutely closed the distance between them to zero, and gazed up into his eyes with a strength of looking that let the young man know how much of an impact his words had had, without verbal confirmation.

"You have nooo idea, Artur. When you tell me things, like how you're never going to leave me… It reaaally, reaaaaaally does make me feel better. I think I just needed the reassurance that, after Ram did something that made it obvious how close the two of you have become, that you and her getting closer doesn't mean that we aren't getting closer, too. I needed to know that you becoming closer with her, didn't mean that we were getting further away from each other. That… I know that it must sound soooo silly now, but… I think I just needed to know that you aren't going to replace me with her… Or with anyone else." Emilia said, feeling as though she was laying herself entirely bare to the white-haired man. She couldn't have known the impact that her words would have on him.

The young man didn't say anything, totally stunned into silence by Emilia's confession of her inner thoughts. He felt as though his foundations had been shaken by an earthquake, his walls smacked about with a sledgehammer, and his roof caved in by a bombing run. With all of the boundless quantities of empathy that he had for Emilia, he knew exactly how she was feeling, now. As best as he could tell, Emilia was feeling insecure, low in worth, and as though simply anybody could come along and take the people who were important away from her. He could definitely relate, because it's how he constantly felt on a daily basis. He was always afraid of being replaced, of Emilia finding someone better than him, or of simply being discovered to be a fraud and booted out of this household and away from the people who he had become so fond of, so quickly.

Before Emilia knew what had happened, the white-haired man had encased her in the tightest bearhug she had ever felt from him, entirely taking her breath away as his thick, muscular arms totally enveloped her, and his large frame pressed every centimetre of her curves into his hard, yet somehow soft, trained body. Emilia could immediately feel the increased heat that began to pour into her that, she could have sworn, was not there before the young man had shifted his weight into her and entangled his arms around her shoulders and into the small of her back. It felt like he was trying to melt her into him, to make them one with each other, and Emilia could feel, simply through his touch, the intensity of the emotions that the young man was feeling. It fanned the flames of heat in her chest to learn that her expressing her feelings had evoked such a powerful reaction from the young man who was normally…

Well, Emilia didn't think that he was emotionless, but he was definitely usually calm and composed, and the only emotions that she could ever recall seeing from the young man were positive ones. Love, happiness, and joy… Actually, that wasn't true, was it? He had tried to hide it, and Emilia didn't know what the cause was, but there were more than a few times where she had also seen expressions of horror on the white-haired man's face, such as in the Loot House, a couple of times here in the mansion that he was aware of, but then also a few times that Artur had not noticed Emilia had seen. She wanted to know what had caused him such pain, that he would have such intensely painful expression on his face when he recalled whatever it was that he did, but the big man would often change the subject before she could approach it properly.

So, for him to be willing to show her what was clearly the result of powerful emotions now, was… heartwarming to Emilia. She wanted the man who meant so much to her to show her his emotions more – it wasn't that she felt as though he didn't trust her, but when Artur was so encouraging of Emilia to show her own emotions to him, and to share all of her thoughts and feelings with him, it made Emilia desperate for him to do the same in turn. It made Emilia wonder why, though… He had told her that wanting to know all of someone's thoughts and feelings was what was normal in 'heathy' love, and so that explained why he wanted to know everything about her. That, Emilia understood – Artur wanted to know everything about her, because he loved her.

What Emilia didn't understand, however, was why she felt the exact same way with the young man. Why did she want to know everything about him, the good and the bad? Why did she want to know about his past, despite the white-haired man's reluctance to share it, and why did she want to know what he was thinking and feeling at any given moment? It was yet another mystery to Emilia, and after meeting the white-haired man, mysteries and questions had become limitless. She'd had a few of her questions answered, but to her dissatisfaction, they were few and far between.

The white-haired man, after tightening himself around Emilia so hard that it made her heart fill with warmth, moved his head from beside Emilia's, to look down at her slightly flushed face. Their touchy-feely-ness was a constant assault on Emilia's emotions, making her feel things that were entirely unique – things that she had never felt before meeting the white-haired, tall tender man.

"Mili, Mili, Mili! Please, please never think like that ever, ever again! You're Emilia, the girl that I love with everything I have, and there's nobody – and I mean absolutely nobody, that could ever replace you! Mili… You're not just the girl I love, but you're… You're Emilia! You're my Emilia! I'm not going anywhere, and you'd have to kill me if anyone ever wanted to take me away from you!" The young man almost shouted at her, though the tone of his voice was far, far from anger, frustration, or any semblance of a negative emotion. It had a highlight of softness to it, despite the volume he spoke at, and Emilia could easily tell that he only spoke with love.

Emilia's grin absolutely beamed at the young man's words, so brightly that you'd have to squint if you wanted to look at her directly. She couldn't believe that he had called her his! She didn't know why, but she wanted to squeal and scream with delight and pleasure that he had said that. He… Artur had called her his! Emilia felt like she could cry with joy and happiness that he'd said that to her. She knew, of course, that he loved her, but… to want her so much that he was willing to claim her as his own, it meant that Emilia had to fight back tears of elation.

She couldn't explain, perhaps never in a million years, why such simple words had struck her in the heart and made her have to fight back the emotion that was building in her chest and in her throat, but she knew it was good. It was only ever good with this imposing, gentle giant that made her feel so special. She knew that it was only this young man that could ever evoke something like this in her. And she loved… that about him. Emilia knew that she didn't understand love, but she knew that she loved how Artur always made her feel.

It was funny – if anyone else in the world had ever tried to say that Emilia was theirs', then she would feel absolutely revolted. She would fight them with every bone, tooth, and nail in her body to resist any attempts at another trying to claim her for themselves, and she would use every means at her disposal. The thought of somebody calling Emilia theirs' was disgusting to her. So why… why did Artur doing that exact same thing, make her feel all tingly and happy, and like she could cry from happiness? Why did it make her feel like she could walk through the air, like she could pick up a mountain and throw it, but also like she had had a massive weight taken off of her shoulders, that she never realised was there before.

Emilia struggled to speak, and had to open and close her mouth two or three times, as she looked up at the white-haired man whose face didn't hide back, for a single second, how much he adored her, and Emilia could see that plainly. Eventually, as she managed to fight back the tears that were building in her, Emilia's pretty pink lips parted. "Do… Do you really mean that? Do you really think of me as… yours'?" Emilia asked, her voice shaking and saturated with emotion, reflecting how omnipresent her joy and happiness was, which was threatening to burst out of her in the form of tears.

The young man had regretted saying that as soon as the words left his mouth, truth be told – he was so caught up in wanting to express to Emilia how irreplaceable she was to him, that the words had just poured out, with the filter between his brain and mouth completely and utterly failing him once more. Emilia must have had an off switch for his brain-to-mouth filter, because it only ever seemed to be around her that it did him no favours. Although, Emilia would disagree about it not doing him any favours – honesty was extremely important to her, and Artur's integrity was one of the things about him that Emilia adored. As far as she knew, he had never lied to her, and as far as he knew, he hadn't.

"Sorry, Mili, that- I shouldn't have said that, I just-" Artur began, in an attempt to fix a problem that didn't actually exist, before he was interrupted. Emilia, still snuggled tightly in the young man's warm embrace, gently slid up his frame as she stood on her tiptoes, and just as she had earlier, she almost climbed the scar-faced man, before planting a soft, chaste, gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. Emilia couldn't help but have her face flush, and her heart beat just a little bit faster, in response to her warm, tender, almost loving show of affection. Artur was not all that better off, and although the redness that developed on his face was subtler than Emilia's, it set in nonetheless. He smiled as his heart fluttered, and he had to desperately resist giving Emilia a kiss of his own, but decided to wrap his arms around her, somehow, even tighter.

"Don't apologise, Artur! You reaaally have nothing to be sorry for. Absolutely nothing at all!" Emilia said, slowly lowering herself back down as she pressed all of her weight into him. Artur really adored it when Emilia did that – it felt like she was expressing all of the trust she had in him by performing a single gesture, regardless of how simple of one it was, but besides that, he was a man – if the girl he was in love with wanted to rely on him, and to lean on him – literally – then he was more than happy to let her do so. He just hoped that she'd love him back one day.

Emilia wondered whether telling Artur that she really liked him claiming her for himself would be a great idea or not. She worried that it might not sound good – that Artur might think that she was weird, because as far as Emilia was aware, it wasn't every day that you claimed another person for yourself. Well, at least not with the claimed person consenting to it – Emilia was, unfortunately, all too familiar with the idea of slavery, having had a close call with a slaving band in the past. She also realised that, if she could tell anybody something that she was worried would make her sound weird, that it was Artur – he had never judged her for any of the strange things she'd come away with since they'd known each other, and Emilia didn't think he was the kind of person who would start to judge her now.

Regardless, though, it was the white-haired man who had told her, himself, that her honesty was one of the things that made him fall in love with her, and so Emilia heavily leaned towards telling him. She didn't understand why, but knowing that her integrity was one of the things that the Scot loved about her made Emilia want to hold her honest nature sacrosanct to an even greater extent. It wasn't that she didn't want to disappoint the young man, although she definitely didn't want to do that, but it was almost like, if Artur loved it about her, then that made it one of the best aspects of her nature. Emilia wasn't sure how to describe it.

"I do have to apologise though, Mili. You're… I mean, I amn't…" The young man began, not sure how to tell Emilia that he didn't mean what he said, or that she wasn't his, without hurting the poor girl. It hit him, though, that if he did take back his words, that he would be lying to her. Not about the part of her being his, since she had given no indication that she loved him, in his mind, and thus she definitely wasn't his, regardless of how much he wished the opposite were true. No, he would be lying about not meaning what he said. He undeniably did mean it when he called her his Emilia, and he knew how important honesty was to Emilia. He wasn't about to betray that – he would rather deal with the consequences of saying something stupid, than to try and cover it up with lies and deceit.

He was interrupted, however, before he could say anything. Emilia, who had moved one of her arms from around the young man's chest, had pressed one of her index fingers to Artur's lips, silencing him. "Shh. You don't have to say anything else, my silly Artur." Emilia said, before smiling sweetly, and sticking her tongue out at the young man. Slowly, she removed her hand from the young man's face, and wrapped that arm back around him, before pressing herself against him with tenfold strength. Part of what Emilia adored about Artur was that she could squeeze him as hard as she wanted, and he wasn't pained or fazed in the slightest by it – she normally had to be very, very careful with her Elven strength, but when it came to him, it seemed as though Emilia was free to hug him as tightly as she wanted. She was grateful for that.

The young man's cheeks flushed a little, but he was unsure. Was Emilia just teasing him, or was she genuinely calling him hers'? What did that mean for their relationship? Was he just overthinking it? As he felt his thoughts begin to race with the possibilities, Emilia's tongue returned into her mouth, and she parted her lips. "Aaanyway, my Artur, shall we go to the garden? I'm reaaally happy that you give me all of your attention, but I think we would enjoy it more if we were outside, rather in a hallway." Emilia said, the redness in her face, which matched the Scot's, not going unnoticed by him.

Artur began to lightly chuckle, feeling something between relief and joy at how Emilia took his 'my Emilia' line, and he was quickly joined by Emilia, who began to giggle gorgeously – a beautiful, chime-like sound that he could listen to endlessly. Emilia's laughter was unlike any other sound to him, and he was so desperately thankful that he could hear it after two years of nearly only being able to hear constant artillery, machineguns, and God knows what other horrors on a day-to-day basis. He was truly blessed to have fallen from out of the Great War and into Emilia's arms, and though he didn't know if this was all being orchestrated by some higher being, or if he was simply incredibly lucky to have had his dice roll the way they had – his post-war dice, anyway – he was not about to squander the new life he'd found himself in. He wasn't about to ruin the chance he had with Emilia, nor was he going to fail to help her achieve her goals.

After their laughter died down, Artur just gazed into Emilia's eyes, and with a joy-filled smile on his face, reluctantly unlooped his arms from around the pretty young half-elf. As he tried to retreat from her arms, he found that he wasn't able to, as Emilia had forgotten that, if she wanted to go to the garden as she had said, that she'd need to stop hugging the young man first. Unfortunately, Emilia wanted both of those things – to be able to stay in the young man's arms, while also somehow making it to the garden. The young man let out another light chuckle, before opening his mouth. "I'd love for us to go to the garden, too, Mili. But… you'll have to stop hugging me if you want us to get there." The young man said, his smile morphing into a cheeky one.

"Huh?" Emilia asked, before, after a few seconds, her eyes widened in realisation at what she was doing. Her cheeks flushed even redder. "Y-Yeah! That would make it easier, wouldn't it?" Emilia asked, before grinning widely herself, and, like Artur, slowly and reluctantly, dropped her arms from around the young man's chest. Emilia didn't put any distance between them, however, and so the two just stood there, both blushing to varying degrees, while they remained pressed against each other. It was the young man who, extremely unenthusiastically, took a small step back, and though he felt a coldness wash over him as he lost the heavenly feeling and warmth of Emilia's soft curves leaning against his tough exterior, he couldn't help but continue to smile at her. Just as she, though she felt her body temperature drop, couldn't stop smiling at the scar-faced man, either.

More than a few seconds passed where neither of the pair said anything, merely gazing into each other's eyes as though they were the only two people in the world, although as far as they cared at that moment, they might as well have been. That time soon passed, however, and as Emilia's eyes began to beg for her to blink, their mutual trance was cut, and she let out a little embarrassed giggle of embarrassed infatuation. A giggle that the white-haired man would not recognise for what it was.

"Well then, shall we go, my love?" The young man asked, his hand outstretched in a 'you first' motion, his smile not having abated in the least. His tone was reflective of the incredibly good mood he was in, and it wasn't missed by Emilia. Emilia, smiling back at the young man, found his eyes – those captivating, pale blue gems, taking her attention away from the passage of time once again, but she managed to stop herself from staring, this time. What she couldn't stop, however, was the warmth that flooded her chest as the white-haired man referred to her as 'his love' once again – Emilia could get more than used to him referring to her as that, if only she could stop her face from heating up whenever he did so.

"Yeah – although, I'm not sure how much time we have left in the day, with how long we've been talking indoors." Emilia said, before beginning to slowly start walking, not taking her eyes off the young man as she sought the reassurance that he would follow her – that she wouldn't take her eyes off of him, turn back around, and find that he had vanished. That he had never existed at all, and all of the happiness, joy, and warmth she had felt were merely a hallucination. Emilia wouldn't… She couldn't live without it, now.

"It doesn't matter to me, Mili. Wherever you are is where I want to be." The young man said, not a hint of embarrassment or insincerity either in his voice, or on his face. Emilia's breath hitched as the young man, who had followed beside her as soon as she had began walking, delivered such tender, beautiful words without any hesitation or difficulty whatsoever. Just looking into his eyes, and seeing how his expression was one of resolve and commitment, made Emilia realise that the white-haired man meant every word. Emilia didn't have any doubt in the first place, but it still overwhelmed her how sincere her Artur was.

"Do… Do you really mean that?" Emilia asked, finding that the tears from earlier that she had managed to fight back were beginning to creep up on her once more. She wanted to cry – she really, really, wanted to cry, in fact. Not out of sadness, but out of pure bliss – out of the sheer, unadulterated happiness and overwhelming joy that almost felt like mania that spread throughout Emilia's body. She didn't know what she did to deserve her big Bear that had sworn his all to her, and who only wanted her love in return, but Emilia knew for a fact that she wasn't going to let him go. Not even the Witch of Envy would be able to separate her from him, now. Not while Emilia still lived and breathed. Not while Artur still loved her, and while she… while Emilia, for Artur, felt…

"More than anything, Mili. More than anything." The young man said, grinning widely at the breath-taken silver-haired girl. As soon as she heard that, Emilia had to restrain herself from throwing herself entirely at the white-haired man. Instead, she settled on just grabbing the uniformed man's large, calloused hand in her petite, pale, smooth one, and she immediately felt better about everything. Nothing felt wrong while her Artur was there for her, and while she could feel his heat. Emilia sent a smile at Artur that sent a warmth through his own chest, and he returned Emilia's grip tightly and firmly.

"I feel the same way as you, Artur… Even if we're in a stuffy hallway, I still feel happier with you than if I was in a beautiful, sunny, green garden but without you. You're… You're not going to go anywhere, are you?" Emilia asked, squeezing the young man's hand tightly. As though, if she let go of him, that she would never be able to take his hand again – that this would be that last time she would feel his gentle roughness against pale softness. She couldn't let that happen – and if Artur did decide that he needed to go somewhere, then Emilia… Emilia knew what would happen. Regardless of his reason, regardless of for how long, Emilia knew that, were he to go somewhere, that she would be right beside him, hand in hand, without fail.

"I'm not… going to go anywhere?" The young man asked her, processing her question. Dread began to fill Emilia's chest as she began to feel terrified that he had changed her mind, that she had asked something stupid, that he'd stopped loving her, that he couldn't stand her resemblance to the Witch anymore, that he- "No, absolutely not. Not without you, anyway, Mili." Artur said, breaking Emilia out of her terrible, depressive downward spiral, before smiling even warmer at her. Immediately, Emilia felt that the horrible, sickly, aching agony that had began to spread throughout her chest had been banished by the scar-faced man's sincere, genuine, devoted smile and words, and she felt relief wash over her. That… That might have been one of the worst feelings that she had ever been cursed to bear, but she knew that she was just being paranoid. Artur… he loved her. He wasn't going to go anywhere. Emilia smiled in response to Artur's, and she leaned her shoulder into his. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Good… Because if you were going somewhere… I don't think I could bear to be without you, anymore." Emilia said, striking the young man in the chest with such overwhelming warmth that he thought he might breathe fire. In response to Emilia's words, the white-haired man reciprocated her lean, and he smiled back genuinely at the young silver-haired girl that he was so helplessly, so totally, so unequivocally head-over-heels for.

The pair, as they walked along the corridor, fell into a comfortable silence. For all of a minute, before a notion hit Emilia. An idea! Why hadn't she thought of it before?!

"Hey, Artur… You know how Ram has a nickname for you, and you have a nickname for me?" Emilia asked, turning her head to look at the young man in the eyes – the man who had, once she had started speaking, turned his head towards her in reciprocity. Emilia couldn't help but notice the look of adoration that the white-haired man had in his eyes, and it sent a burst of warmth through her chest that only he was capable of causing in her. Her face crimsoned ever so slightly, though not to the degree that his affection and teasing would cause in her.

"Yeah, Mili?" The young man said, while enjoying the warmth of Emilia's hand in his own. He didn't know how he had lived his life without her affection in the past, but he dearly hoped that he would never need to again. He couldn't help but wonder where Emilia's line of questioning was going, though.

"Well, I was just thinking… Could you let me come up with a nickname for you? When I think about it, it doesn't feel good that, with how close we are, that I haven't made a nickname for you?" Emilia asked, with a hopeful smile on her face. He was the closest person in the world to her, now – somehow, in less than a month, he had become closer to her than perhaps even Puck was. Emilia didn't understand it – not in the slightest, it felt like – but she knew that for a certainty, and the thought of distance between the two of them felt like a horrible ache in her chest. Emilia knew that nicknames were one way of expressing closeness and fondness between two people, and she felt like that would be one of the best ways to make Artur realise that he was incredibly important to her.

The young man grinned with a teasing smile on his face, and in a lighthearted, clearly non-serious tone, he spoke. "Are you sure that it isn't because you're a wee bit jealous of Ram?" Artur ran his thumb over the back of Emilia hand as he teased her with a wide smile, managing to provoke a pout out of her – one that he found absolutely adorable. Well, all of Emilia's expressions were adorable to the young man, but her pouting always struck a chord in his heart. He wanted to grab her cheeks and squeeze them, but he doubted Emilia would appreciate that.

"N-No! Well… Not mostly because of that! It's because I reaaally want to show how important you are to me. Because I want you to know… how much I care about you." Emilia said, initially holding that pouting expression. However, as she reached the latter half of her sentence, her face gradually faded from its faux-annoyed visage, to one that reflected her sincerity. Her and Artur could tease each other, and it would always be lighthearted and good-spirited – a dynamic between them that was something that Emilia thoroughly enjoyed. However, the young man was emotionally mature – more than Emilia wished, sometimes – but when Emilia wanted to have a serious discussion with him, or talk without having to wade through an ocean of then-unwanted hilarity, she found herself without a challenge in that regard, at all. What wasn't known to Emilia, however, was that the reality of the scar-faced Scot's psyche meant that sometimes, the real struggle for him was to maintain an air and atmosphere of light-heartedness while fighting off seriousness and gravity – it was very rarely the other way around for him.

"If that's why, then I'd love for you to come up with a nickname for me, Mili." He expressed. Artur would be lying if he said that the idea of Emilia giving him a nickname didn't thrill him a wee bit. He wasn't sure if it meant progress in their relationship – if it meant that Emilia felt even closer to him now, or if it really was just an artifact of Ram's nickname for him making Emilia feel jealous, but he supposed that Emilia's jealousy could potentially mean that she cared quite a lot about him. He didn't know though – unknown to Emilia, the young man deeply struggled to believe that anyone could love him, and he most definitely didn't think Emilia ever would.

"Really? Do you really mean that?" Emilia asked, her eyes widening at the unexpected fact that the scar-faced Scot actually agreed to her giving him a nickname. Emilia had requested many things that could be considered 'frivolous', harmless, but meaningful to her, of Puck, which had conditioned Emilia to learn not to ask certain things of her spirit father. Emilia had half-expected Artur to quickly reject her request like Puck had done so often, and was thoroughly surprised that he had agreed to it. Emilia questioned why Artur would go with her ideas so often when Puck never would, but then Emilia remembered…

She remembered that the young man really was different to anyone she had ever met before. It warmed her heart how trusting he was of her, and how receptive he was to her thoughts, and a brief, small, but noticeable pang of guilt shot through her chest as she realised that, in the first place, she had no reason to question her Artur at all, and she knew it would hurt him if he knew she questioned his care for her like that.

"Of course I do, Mili. Who else would I want to do that?" The young man asked, smiling warmly at the young girl, as he squeezed her hand encouragingly, and reassuringly. Emilia's heart fluttered at Artur's explicit expression of trust in her, and her cheeks crimsoned more than a wee bit, as she smiled in awe at her handholding partner. Her mouth hung open slightly as the awe-filled, happy expression graced her face, and her eyes shined in glee.

"T-That's reaaally great! Thank you, Artur." The young girl said, the excitement and gratitude palpable in her tone. She paused for a bit, before her thoughts began to spill from her mouth, as the thinking process became audible. "Hmm, let's see… Artur… Artur… Artur… It's already a short name, so shortening it even more miiight be a little bit hard. Although, my name is quite short too, isn't it, and Artur managed to come up with a nickname for me reaaally quickly. Saying that 'it's too short' is too easy and makes it seem like I'm giving up." Emilia said, talking in her normal speaking volume as she began, but gradually speaking quieter and quieter as she voiced her thoughts.

"How about… Arturtle, because he's strong and tough, and he's really good at protecting? Hmm… No, that's no good. It might be confusing to compare him to another animal, and it sounds like I'm just trying to copy Ram by comparing him to an animal like she has. Besides… a turtle only protects themselves, but my Artur protects everyone else at the expense of himself. Maybe… Arturret, because he's big and hard like a castle, and castles have turrets on their walls? No, no, that's too abstruse, and… it's not as good as Ram's. No, no, it isn't about Ram! She's a good girl… well, sometimes she's a good girl, when she's not trying to bully Artur… Gah! What am I thinking? I'm trying to think of a nickname for him, not think about Ram's one!" Emilia said – no, more that she whispered, as her thoughts rushed from her brain out her mouth unfiltered. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't have heard her words, but as this was the white-haired man with the elephant-like hearing, he did hear, in fact.

"Hmm, what else could I… could he… no, that's… What about Rampartur? That's… no, that's too long, and the castle comparison is too labyrinthine, like I decided before. It doesn't sound very good, either, and it doesn't want to jump of your tongue, like whoosh. No, no, that's no good. Maybe… Stalwartur, because he's stro- No, no, no, that's too impersonal. I want to get closer to him with this nickname, and to make him like me more, but just calling him strong with his nickname is what a stranger would do. It's the first thing you notice about him, except his reaaally handsome scars. No… What about, Arturmoil? Because he makes me feel looots of conflicting feelings that are all running about in my tummy and my chest? That's really- Wait, that's no good! What if he asks me what those feelings are, and I can't explain them. No, I definitely couldn't explain what the feelings are. Arturmoil doesn't sound very good, either. It's too long." Emilia continued, as her hand that was free from Artur's came to rest upon her chin.

"This is reaaally hard to do… Hehehe, maaaybe I could call him Worrywartur, because he's so protective and worries about me so much? Hehehe- wait, no! He might think that I don't appreciate how protective he is, and he might stop being as protective as he is if he thinks that. I don't want him to think that I don't appreciate him. And… I reaaally like his safe-feeling hugs and how much he cuddles me, and I don't want that to change at all. I better not… Gosh, this is so hard!" Emilia continued to unconsciously whisper to herself, before eventually venting her frustration over her difficulty in coming up with a good nickname for Artur, and as her hand came away from her face, and moved down by her side, she clenched it into a fist out of irritation.

The young man chuckled lightly, causing Emilia to turn her head towards the young man's. As she saw the genuine smile on Artur's face, and how much of a good mood Emilia could tell he was in, she felt her frustration dissipate almost immediately, and couldn't help but find herself smiling in return. His smiles always seemed to have that effect on her, for whatever reason. Following his gentle, deep chuckle, the white-haired Scot spoke. "Aye, my name is maybe not the easiest one to come up with a nickname for, is it, Mili?"

"I-I love your name, and I can do it! I just need to think for a tiiiny bit…" Emilia said, squeezing the young man's hand tighter in reassurance, before reluctantly taking her eyes off of him. Her hand, that had clenched but now hung loosely by her side, came back up to her face, before she rested her index finger against her chin.

The scar-faced man, with his smile growing wider at Emilia's determination, laughed light heartedly once more. "Okay, Mili. I have every faith in you." He said, before turning his head back towards the direction they were walking down the hallway.

A few more minutes passed, and the pair had descended down a set of spiral stairs, eventually reaching the ground floor of the mansion. As they passed several windows of the well-lit hallway, with light beaming intensely and bathing them both with heat, it only really hit the young man fully, now, with just how long they had spent chatting. It was something that him and Emilia had found to be a strong point of their relationship – whatever that relationship might be – that they could spend hours, upon hours, upon hours, doing nothing but speaking. Sometimes, about important things, like the Royal Selection, or politics, or history… but most of the time, about silly things, or unimportant things, or just topics about their daily lives. To Artur, however, he did prefer to talk about the lighter side of life.

He especially enjoyed hearing Emilia talk about the things she liked, and what was important to her, but the young man was ultimately happy just to hear her voice at all – preferable while the silver-haired girl had that radiant smile on her face that he was so fond of.

"Artur… Artur…" Emilia whispered, mulling the name over. She couldn't help but find herself smiling as she spoke his name, although Emilia couldn't fathom why. The young man, hearing his name, turned his head back to the half-elf, taking any excuse to sneak a glance at her.

"What did you say, Mili?" He asked, mistaking her whispers for an attempt to talk to him.

Emilia turned her head back to Artur, taking her finger off of her chin, as she smiled back at him.

"Ah, nothing… I'm just thinking." Emilia said, before she began to withdraw her hand from the young man's own. She continued to smile at him, although it shrunk ever so slightly as she felt the warmth of his hand leave hers' in her self-induced action. The young man's smile shrunk, too, almost mirroring how Emilia's own had, although it would soon quickly become restored. Emilia had wrapped both of her arms around the arm of the young man that was hanging down by his side, and she gently pressed herself to his side. Her head leaned against his shoulders as they slowly walked along, and Emilia sighed in satisfaction as she felt his heat, coming off of his arm, radiate almost throughout her entire body.

"Hmm… What do you think about… Tur?" Emilia asked, looking up at the young man, a hopeful light in her eyes. Emilia thought it was brilliant! She had kind of done with his name, what Artur had done with hers'! It wasn't quite the same, Emilia realised, since she had taken the end of his name, while he had taken the middle of hers', and in fact, her 'Tur' for Artur was more akin to Puck's 'Lia' for her, but she still liked the similarity.

An amused expression came to the young man's face, initially thinking that Emilia was just joking with him. More than a few seconds passed, however, before he realised that she was not, in fact, joking. "Tur, eh? That's definitely… a name, I suppose." The young man said, trying to be as… kind, as he could be. He couldn't help that a little bit of the good-natured laughter he was trying to hold back seeped through into his voice, however.

Her hopeful expression dropped, however. "Eh? You don't like it?" Emilia asked, with a disappointed expression on her face, one that mirrored her voice.

"Well, it's…" The young man began, before cutting himself off. He wasn't really sure how to tell Emilia that her idea… wasn't the best. He wondered if her naming sense wasn't the greatest in general, or if his name was so unusually awkward that most people would struggle to come up with a nickname for him.

Emilia took it in her stride, however, and her disappointed expression quickly softened, mostly becoming replaced with one reflective of her process of thinking once more. "Hmm…" She hummed, as she thought along the same vein of how she had come up with 'Tur'. She had thought about using the second half of his name, but what about the first half? "What do you think about… Art?" Emilia asked, looking once more into the eyes of the young man who was happy in that moment, simply for being able to relax with the person who mattered most to him in this world. Emilia tightened her arms around the young man's one, and snuggled into his arm as she waited for his answer.

The young man smiled, immediately liking the sound of Emilia's suggestion. He had had an Aunt, one that he was close with, who had used to call him Art. His Aunt was especially protective of him, and he remembered once or twice how she had encouraged him to stand up to bullies, back when he was in Primary School. That… it almost felt fitting. A nickname that was used by a woman who had been quite protective of him, now being used, instead, by a girl who Artur was exceptionally protective over. He didn't believe in 'signs', but this felt right. "Art, eh? I really, really like that, Mili." The young man said, smiling broadly at the young girl.

Emilia immediately appeared elated, her eyes shining with delight, and she looked as though she was radiating light from her face as she beamed a gorgeous, gleeful smile at the young man. He was always doing nice things for her, and Emilia was glad that she could finally do something nice for him. She knew that, really, she had done it for herself, since she wanted to be closer to the young man, and it made sense in her mind that since she was already close with him, she should already have a pet name for him. After all, she was closer to him than Ram was, and so she deserved to have a nickname for him! Artur was hers', not Ram's, and she would make sure that the pink-haired maid, and anybody else who might try to take him from her, knew that!

"Reaaally? Me too! I'm so glad I could come up with something! I just…" Emilia said, before faltering at the last second. Her enthusiasm had, quite visibly, dropped considerably, and her smile had started to fade, to the young man's concern.

"What are you thinking, Mili?" The young man asked, before bringing his free hand – the one not attached to the arm that Emilia was hugging – up to one of Emilia's hands, and gently caressing it, reassuringly. Encouragingly. He hated when Emilia would sometimes clam up and not talk to him – he suspected that she thought he didn't notice, such as when her past came up, but he did. People would always have secrets, but he hoped that he could tear down as many of her walls as possible, so that as few secrets existed between them as possible. He was probably being arrogant or naïve, but Artur strove to tear down all of the walls between himself and Emilia, and if he had his way, then, perhaps selfishly, he would have it so that there were no secrets between them at all. If he had it his way, they would know each other as well as the backs of their hands.

He drew back at that thought, though, for he knew that Emilia hadn't done anything to deserve the punishment of having to know every part of him. He was just fantasizing again, wasn't he? He was not only fantasizing that Emilia would love him one day, but he was also fantasizing that she would want to be as intimate with him, as he wanted to be with her. Artur knew he was lucky to be as close to Emilia as he was now, but he was greedy – he wanted to be even closer to her. He wanted every part of her, and even more than that, he wanted Emilia to want every part of him. He knew that he was selfish, but he couldn't help it.

He wanted her everything, and Artur had to make a concerted effort not to think about the fact that, when the day came where Emilia learned what her feelings were, that he would end up heartbroken. That his world would come crashing down around him, as his delusions of love were shattered. He was already crippled by a low mood when not around the silver-haired girl – he didn't need to suffer from depression when around the girl, too.

"I just hope Puck isn't too upset by me coming up with a pet name for you. He's been reaaally funny with us, ever since he woke up you the morning after Rem… after Rem was really mean. Verily, I hope that he doesn't try to get me to not call you by Art." Emilia said, an expression of concern on her face that the young man knew was pretty justified. Puck was, indeed, protective of Emilia, but he did something that Artur hoped to God he would never do – Puck took protectiveness to the extent that it was controlling. That it denied Emilia the freedom to do things that she might want to do. As it were, Emilia had never expressed too much will or desire to do some of the things that Puck had done for her, like choosing her clothes, but if the day came where she wanted to do those things, and Puck tried to stop her, then Artur would make sure there was hell to pay.

"Well, I don't think he could get any more upset, to be honest. Rather, I think that it'll take a lot more than just a nickname to upset him more than I already have." The young man said, trying to hold back any disdain he felt for the small grey cat spirit. Artur reluctantly put up with the spirit, although really, he wanted to like Puck – the Great Spirit had protected Emilia's life and health while they lived together in Elior Forest, and so for that, the white-haired man would forever hold some degree of gratitude towards Emilia's father figure. However, he had great disdain for Puck's disregard for Emilia actually being a person, to the extent that – as far as Artur could tell – that Puck never cared about Emilia's ideas, thoughts, feelings, or opinions. So, the fact that, when Emilia finally had someone in her life that truly cared about her as Emilia, and when she was getting close to them, that Puck was angry at them for it, it made Artur more than slightly miffed.

"Hmm." Emilia hummed, thinking his words through. Emilia supposed that Puck hearing Emilia call her Artur by a nickname, compared to him waking up to see Emilia and the white-haired man snuggled up together in bed, without a millimetre separating their lightly-clothed bodies, was really nothing. "Yeah, you're prooobably right." Emilia said, as her expression of concern lightened somewhat. To the young man's surprise, his words had actually seemed to have relieved the burden on Emilia's shoulders somewhat, and she seemed to visibly, and tangibly, lose some of the tension that had been occupying her body. He could feel that very fact against him as Emilia remained on his arm, leaning against him as though she was relying on him to keep her on her feet. Of course, Artur knew that this was one of Emilia's ways of expressing her trust for him, and he was delighted with that fact.

As Emilia relaxed, she leaned her head further into the young man's shoulder, as she tightened her grip around him and pressed herself as much as she physically can to him in the context of walking side by side together. They had begun to approach the exit of the building that lead to the front of the mansion, with the various fields, gazebos, and trees that decorated the anterior of the large residence. The young man felt a pang of guilt as he looked at that front exit, reminding him of what had happened with Frederica earlier in the day, and the somewhat-mystery around what caused her to run off on him as she had, but he tried not to think about it. He was with Emilia, he was feeling happy, and he wasn't going to let the events of earlier in the day ruin their limited time together.

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Author's Notes

Well, that chapter took faaaaaar longer than I thought it would. I was abroad for a couple of weeks, and it took me a while to get back into the habit of writing every day, and in combination with working 12 hour shifts, writing can be a difficulty, sometimes. I'm mostly back to hitting my daily word count target, though, and I'm back into the habit, of writing everyday, so I will strive to ensure that chapters will be more regular and frequent from now on.

I encourage everyone to give as much constructive criticism as possible! I want to know what I'm doing right, but more importantly, I really want to know what I'm doing wrong or not so well, and how you think I could improve the story, the characters, the writing, or anything you think needs work!

If you want to ask questions, give feedback, or whatever else directly, you can get me on discord at MetalCrue#7004.

Thanks again, everyone, for reading.

P.S. I don't know if anyone has noticed the occasional (and hopefully subtle) music references, but if you got any, then feel free to mention it!

Review Replies

To Prabhjiv:

Thank you for the honorific feedback, I went back and fixed those issues. In regards to Emilia crying, I get what you mean. I'll take this on board when it comes to writing things that are more emotional in the future. Thank you for your feedback.

To ArchStormfall:

Yeah, I think the others are starting to get sick of trying to have a conversation, but Emilia and Artur constantly deviating it with their feelings for each other. Thanks for the feedback.

To Anonymous:

The world of current Re:zero, and that of SotT, will most definitely be different, and not only because of Artur's actions.

In terms of how fast Emilia and Artur became close, I'm aware of how quick it is, and like you said, the other mansion residents like Roswaal are also surprised by it.

Yeah, poor Freddie :(

Thank you for reading, and for the feedback.

To pastymasty123:

I think, when you take into account the various factors of the context (such as Ram almost coercing it out of him), as well as the story itself, that Artur's confession to Emilia makes sense within the circumstances of the story. The other residents in the mansion definitely think it's premature, don't they?

Thank you for the feedback!

To F Trooper:

I'm glad that you thought that The Rem Incident was well written! I wonder what they will learn, myself ;)

Thank you for your feedback.

To OlympianChaos:

;)

To 91:

I definitely won't be dropping it, and thank you for the kind words. As of uploading chapter 6, chapter 7 is about xx,xxxk words long.

Thank you for your feedback!

To Guest:

Thanks for your nice words, I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter, too.