Chapter Twenty-Two

"Now, my dear, this violet would be absolutely lovely with your complexion!" the seamstress insisted, holding up a bolt of pinky-lavender fabric.

Meliadoul grimaced as if the woman had held an angry goblin up to her face.

"I do not know…" she said, her nose crinkling.

Meliadoul was quite uneasy even being inside this shop. Rafa and Alma had recently decided that they all needed to purchase more normal-civilian outfits, to better fit in with their new Ordallian community. That was just fine for Rafa and Alma, who were already accustomed to wearing more traditionally feminine clothing. But Meliadoul felt very out-of-place here.

The black dress the Divine Knight usually wore under her cloak was quite plain. She had never actually explored the world of "womanly" things, like pretty gowns, jewelry, perfume, and cosmetics, such as the Tynar Rouge that Mustadio had gifted to the likewise-clueless Agrias.

Growing up, Meliadoul had always understood that there were two distinct paths she could follow in life. On the one hand, she could choose to truly be a noblewoman. She could dress in finery, learn some healing magic and protective spells. She would learn how to elegantly manage a household, before she was married off to the nobleman of her father's choice and then served as that man's broodmare until she was too old to produce any more noble babies.

On the other hand, she could choose to follow the same path her father had followed: to become a Templar Knight and serve her Church and country.

Her father, Lord Vormav, had not pressured her to choose one path over the other when she was a child. If she had chosen the demure life of a noblewoman, then her father would have supported her in that choice. But, obviously, Meliadoul had ultimately decided that she would be better suited to the life of a Knight.

Becoming a squire for the Templarate had meant completely eschewing any frivolous trappings of femininity. Even attending church services, she simply wore the most formal version of her plain squire's skirt-and-tunic uniform.

The thing was, there was no in-between option. If she had ever, for any reason, worn some sort of colorful frilly dress, then her fellow squires would have taunted her. Even worse, her father would have given her his patented disapproving stare, and demanded to know whether she had given up her determination to become a Knight.

In the present, Meliadoul was having a hard time accepting that there was an in-between option for her. In this new Ordallian life of theirs, she could be a Knight who occasionally wore something pretty. And maybe, though she was embarrassed to even admit it to herself… she secretly wanted to.

Mustadio might tease her, of course, but that was really just part of the sibling-type relationship they had formed with each other these days, and she didn't really give a fig about Mustadio's opinion. She knew Ramza and the others would not make fun of her for wearing a proper lady's dress, if she purchased one. It didn't mean she would never again don her armor, after all.

She appreciated that Ramza didn't treat her like she had to be just one or the other, warrior or woman.

It was odd, but in a way, he helped her to feel that she could have whatever she pleased in life, without having to fit herself into some pre-determined mold. Ramza respected her abilities as a fighter, but he also wanted her to be the mother of his children, one day. She wanted that, too. When they were more certain of the stability of their new life here, she planned to stop taking the contraceptive potions.

Meliadoul was pleased to know that she had a husband who would not see anything wrong with her wearing a girly dress, any more than he judged her for wearing a Knight's garb.

Still, visiting this type of seamstress was entirely new territory for her.

Alma had apparently decided that shopping was a good reason to break her mysterious silence, because she was over there eagerly discussing cuts, colors, and fabrics with another seamstress. Rafa had shown herself to already know quite a bit about such things, as well.

The boys were off at a different shop in town, buying new outfits of their own. Meliadoul figured they probably were not as excited about shopping for clothing as Alma clearly was.

It was a lot of work, mentally adjusting to their new lifestyle. When they had all set out for the center of town today, Meliadoul had initially offered to skip the trip and stay behind, to keep watch over the house. Besrodio had gently explained to her that that would not be necessary.

"You're not guarding against an attack here, Meliadoul," Besrodio said. "When I went to work each day in Goug, I simply locked my front door and left the house unattended all day. It's what normal people do!"

She realized that Besrodio was right, but it still felt strange. She knew that Ramza and Rad felt weird about it, too. They had each spent too many years living as nomads, always having someone on watch of their possessions at the temporary campsite or inn room, if they weren't simply carrying them on their backs. Leaving their new house completely unattended felt so unsafe. Meliadoul wondered if she would ever get used to it.

"She is right, you know," Rafa commented. "That color looks really pretty with your eyes, Meliadoul." She gestured at the violet-colored bolt of fabric held by the seamstress.

"Do you… Do you think I should…?" Meliadoul shrugged uncertainly.

Rafa turned to the seamstress. "Definitely make her a dress in that fabric. I think something with a square neckline, don't you? And some lace at the sleeves, as well! White or black lace, though? Mayhap, one of each? I think she ought to buy at least two gowns in that color, it is terribly flattering on her… She'll need shoes to match, of course… And I think I want a gown just like it, now, only in blue!... I am not sure about the shape of the skirt, though, would you show me those two models again…"

Meliadoul was happy to let Rafa take over the decision-making here. She stood like a brainless mannequin as Rafa looked at samples and the seamstress fussed over her.

Meliadoul was also happy to hear Alma speaking more, across the room from them. Ramza had been really worried about Alma and her strange silence, when they first rescued her from Vormav.

No, rescued her from Hashmalum. That thing, that thing that had nearly fatally stabbed her in the back, had not been her father. Vormav had been lost a long time ago, she knew that. That thing, Hashmalum, was also dead now, thankfully, and she was trying her best to move on after grieving her father and Sir Rofel.

She still couldn't quite believe that those two men, who had always been there for her throughout her childhood and adolescence, were really gone. She had only seen them a few times per year ever since she began her career as a heretic hunter, but she had always remained fond of them and looked forward to her rare visits with them. It hurt to know she would never again speak to Rofel or her father.

Still, she had the chance to have a happy life, now. There was no war going on, and she had a respectable amount of wealth and a stable home. If Mustadio's wild plan for the abandoned mine actually worked out, then they would all soon have interesting jobs to keep them busy. And most importantly, now she was married to Ramza, who she loved very much, and who made her very happy. She didn't want to let Hashmalum ruin a single moment more of her life, by ruminating on him.

Meliadoul did, however, wish to have a long conversation with Alma Beoulve. She had learned from Malak that Alma had shared a prison cell with Izlude in the days leading up to his death. She wasn't sure if it was a morbid desire or not, but she wanted to question Alma about those days.

The loss of Izlude had been so sudden and unexpected. Meliadoul had never been able to find much closure, after learning that her dear little brother had been slaughtered.

Malak had not said more than a few words to Izlude, he told her, and he had not even been inside the castle when Izlude died there. Her brother's death was still a big, empty, confusing, painful question mark to her. Meliadoul felt that any little thing Alma might be able to tell her about Izlude's last days might be comforting, in a way.

She had not yet tried to start that conversation with Alma, though. For one thing, the girl seemed skittish and unstable. She spoke even less than Wulfhilda did, which Ramza said was very unusual, for the normally chatty Alma. For another thing, Malak had told Meliadoul that Izlude had kidnapped Alma, just before they were both captured by Barinten's soldiers, who included Malak himself.

Meliadoul had always known Izlude to be a good boy, if just a bit mischievous. She could not for any reason imagine why Izlude would kidnap a defenseless noblewoman. It made no sense at all to her. Even if Alma's kidnapping suited the needs of the Templarate, and gave them leverage over Ramza, she could not imagine Izlude being willing to commit such an act. It made her ashamed to ask Alma for anything relating to Izlude, now. And it made her afraid that if she did ask, then Alma might tell her horrible things about the little brother she still loved and missed so much.

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Agrias was utterly exhausted by the time she made her appearance at the campsite in the woods, in the middle of the night. She was pleased to see a merry little fire burning, and two people she loved sitting beside it.

Alicia and Ovelia had stayed awake, keeping watch and waiting for her to arrive. Ovelia jumped up to greet her, quietly exclaiming with relief and excitement. However, the girl pulled back as soon as she got within a couple feet of Agrias.

"By the gods, Agrias! Why—what do you smell of?!"

"I fell into some garbage, leaving the city. My apologies, my lady," Agrias said.

Alicia and Ovelia immediately began to talk over each other, asking Agrias if she knew what had happened at the palace after they all fled. Agrias didn't have the energy to even begin describing her encounter with Delita, or to face whatever reaction Ovelia would have to it. That all could wait until morning, she thought.

"Well, you must clean yourself up," Ovelia said to her. "You cannot lay inside our tent, covered in garbage! You and I are sharing, the rest of us have already decided. Where is your nightdress? I will help you wash your clothing, and then you will change into it when you are clean…"

Agrias smirked a little as she dug out her nightdress, per Ovelia's bidding. After running for miles, nearly losing her own life, smashing the king of Ivalice in the face with a trash can, and then blasting him nearly to death, a thing like 'smelling bad' didn't seem terribly important at the moment.

But she went along, as Alicia continued to keep watch over their small camp. Agrias and Ovelia walked over to the stream nearby, which they had used for drinking water the last time they camped here.

It was a fairly warm evening, for being autumn in Lesalia. Agrias stripped down, then took a step into the little stream.

The water was so cold that she was surprised it hadn't frozen into ice. Mayhap the weather was still acting like it was late summer, but the water seemed to know full-well that it was autumn now.

"Argh! Ajora, it is freezing!" Agrias shrieked, pulling her foot back out. She shook her head. "I absolutely cannot step into that water; I shall have to wipe myself down with a rag, my lady."

"Not 'my lady.' I am only a squire now, Agrias. You shall have to call me by my name," Ovelia said.

"Ah. But we cannot use your true name, either, while we travel. We shall have to think of something else to call you."

Agrias set to bathing herself with the icy water and a rag. Ovelia picked up Agrias' discarded grime-covered clothing and began to give it a thorough washing in the stream, a few feet away.

"By the gods, this is cold!" Ovelia exclaimed, now feeling the water on her hands.

"Do you not wish to bathe as well, whilst we are here?" Agrias asked, her clenched teeth chattering. She was only jesting, of course. No one who didn't smell like literal garbage would willingly bathe in water this cold.

"I think I shall decline that kind offer, Agrias," Ovelia said, with a smile. "I had a warm bath in the palace this evening, anyway. It was marvelous!"

"I am sure it was," Agrias grumbled, though she grinned a little at Ovelia's teasing.

The Holy Knight winced every time she brought the soaked rag to her skin, which was now thoroughly covered in goosebumps.

Ovelia had the idea to cast Aegis over her cold, miserable friend, as the spell generally did create a slight sense of warmth around the wearer. The Aegis spell wasn't really enough to counteract the feeling of the freezing water, but it helped a little bit, and Agrias was grateful that the hastening effect would help her to finish this bath quickly.

Ovelia's eyes were focused on her frequently, as Agrias painstakingly washed the scent of garbage from herself.

Ovelia had bathed in front of Agrias hundreds of times, of course, but Agrias realized now that the reverse was not true. At Orbonne, Agrias had done her own bathing during the times she was not actively on-duty guarding Ovelia.

She was not a shy person; not even slightly. She bathed in front of the other female fighters in the group all the time. But suddenly Agrias felt just a little bit odd, realizing that this was the first time she had ever been naked in front of Ovelia.

She didn't care what the other women in the group thought of her body… She couldn't really say the same about her princess, though, she belatedly realized.

Ovelia herself had a lovely figure; the result of a gentle life involving minimal exertion and regular well-balanced meals. Agrias admired Ovelia's appearance, but she also felt a bit of envy for Ovelia's soft curves. Agrias knew that her own breasts were definitely on the smaller side. During this freezing sponge-bath, her nipples were painfully hardened into tight buds.

Ovelia's eyes remained upon her, as she washed the soiled clothing, and her expression was pleasantly neutral. But Agrias couldn't help wondering if Ovelia secretly looked upon her strong thighs and her washboard-flat stomach with disgust. Surely, none of the noble ladies with whom Ovelia may have shared bathing chambers in the past were so lean as Agrias.

The Holy Knight nearly wept with discomfort when the time came to wash the stink out of her hair. The water felt even colder when it was drenching her poor head.

At long last, her torturous bath was finished, and Ovelia handed her a shawl to wrap around her wet body, until she was dry enough to don her nightdress. Back at the camp, Alicia entreated them to get some sleep. She said she would wake up Balthier soon, to make him take a turn at keeping watch.

In the tent, Ovelia took off her ugly chambermaid's clothing and put on the nightdress that Agrias had previously obtained for her. Agrias had gone out of her way to find something with a bit of embellishment and ruffles at the cuffs. The princess (no, the queen, Agrias reminded herself, once again) cared about such things. Agrias truly could not picture Ovelia willingly wearing a nightdress as plain as her own.

With her headwrap removed, Ovelia's wheat-gold hair spilled loose down her shoulders and her back, falling down all the way to her hips.

Ovelia was simply stunning, as always, and Agrias' eyes lingered on her beloved face for a long moment.

"Your hair is even longer than I remembered. It is so beautiful!" Agrias said. "Let me braid it for you, my lady!"

She knew that Ovelia always wore her hair in a braid, while she slept. Agrias herself wore her own long blonde hair braided all day, but she generally left it unbound at night.

"Not 'my lady,' only Ovelia now," Ovelia repeated.

Moving behind her, Agrias quickly fixed the girl's hair, enjoying the feeling of the shiny golden tresses between her fingers as she wound them together. She tried not to admire the lines of Ovelia's slender neck and shoulders as she worked.

When she was done, she could see that Ovelia looked somber now. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, Agrias," she said. "Not only for the braid, I mean. You and the others risked so much to rescue me. So very much."

Agrias clucked her tongue. "It was truly nothing. You know that you will always be worth that risk, to me," she said.

Ovelia's eyes became glassy. "I have been afraid for so long… I know that mayhap we are not completely safe from Delita, yet, but here with you… this is the first time I have felt safe, in such a very long time."

Agrias' jaw clenched angrily. "Did he hurt you?" she demanded.

Ovelia struggled for words. "No, not— not in ways that anyone would notice," she finally said.

"My lady—"

"Leave it, please, Agrias! I do not wish to speak of him," Ovelia exclaimed.

"I've a mind to go back and end his miserable life," Agrias grumbled.

"No!" Ovelia cried. She looked genuinely terrified at the idea. "Oh, gods… Agrias, no, you must never seek him out! Please! No one can stand up to him, o-or stand in his way… or even trust him! I have seen him smile at a man one moment, and then order him executed later that day. He sees everyone as a threat! I think, even—e-even m-me!" she sobbed now. "Every day, I wondered, Agrias! If—if I would be made to… to disappear… He did not need me, to h-hold on to the throne any longer! He refused to share his thoughts with me... He yelled, if I asked, and he never allowed me to sit in during his meetings. He looked at me— looked at m-me in that same m-manner, sometimes; that look as w-when someone else got in the way of his plans!"

Agrias hesitantly stroked her back, as Ovelia let herself weep into the shoulder of Agrias' nightgown. When the sobs had quieted a bit, Agrias said, "I am sorry I was not able to come for you sooner… He will never have a chance to harm you, Ovelia. He will never see you again, if I have anything to do with it."

"Th-thank you, Agrias… I do not know how I will ever repay you, now, but I am in your debt."

Agrias' fingers momentarily curled into Ovelia's braid. "There is no debt. I knew not a moment of happiness, while I worried for you all these months." She sighed. "I am more relieved than I can say, to have you here with me now."

Ovelia slumped sideways against her, exhausted from their flight and her weeping and the late hour.

"Let us lie down and sleep. I think you will feel better come morning," Agrias said.

She helped Ovelia to get settled in her new bedroll, and then climbed onto her own. Ovelia immediately reached over and grabbed her hand. Agrias felt a strong wave of emotion roll over her, at the shocking familiarity of it.

Even after all they had both been through, Ovelia's hand was the same as she remembered from their days at Orbonne. The soft skin of a maiden who did no hard labor, the fingers incongruously chubby, the strong nails allowed to grow quite long. Agrias' thumb brushed over that hand again and again, as Ovelia's fingers clung tightly to her.

Laying in the dark, Agrias found the will to ask one more difficult question. Softly, she said, "Were you at least treated kindly as his wife? When he bedded you?"

An embarrassed pause before Ovelia answered. "I… well… have you ever laid with a man, Agrias?"

Agrias grinned. "Many times, yes."

Ovelia sounded surprised. "Truly?! It is only… well… at Orbonne, you always appeared so reserved, it is hard to imagine… You never even stayed away from the monastery overnight! When did you manage it?"

Agrias shrugged. "Never during our time at the monastery. There were men before I joined your guard… and after I left, as well, actually."

Ovelia was intrigued. "Who?" she demanded.

"Do not think you can distract me so easily; this conversation was meant to be about you, my lady!"

Ovelia said stubbornly, "I shall tell you everything you wish to know… after you tell me their names."

"Ah, there is that queenly demeanor! Fine, then… In the time before I joined your guard, there were three squires and two knights. And one Orator, though that was a complete lapse of judgment on my part… You do not know any of them, I believe, and so I shall not bore you with their names. And after I left your guard, there was Ramza. And Balthier."

"Ramza?!" Ovelia sounded happily scandalized. "I would never have guessed he would catch your eye!"

Agrias shrugged again. "I suppose I like the pretty ones."

Ovelia grinned. "He is pretty, I will not deny that! Alma once told me that all of the girls who visited Igros castle would follow Ramza around, attempting to flirt with him."

Agrias laughed out loud, imagining how embarrassed Ramza must have been at that sort of attention when he was younger. Even now, he still blushed every time a barmaid said something saucy to him. Turning back to the matter at hand, Agrias said, "All right, you have had your answers from me. No more evasion. Were you treated well by Delita?"

"Oh, well enough," Ovelia said. "He never hurt me, at least. But he… he was not…" She sighed. "It was never what I thought it would be, if that makes any sense at all. Mayhap I let my head be filled too much with the bards' songs of love, but… well… it was never like that."

"Then what was it like?"

"He…" Ovelia giggled softly, "Oh, by the gods, I could never share this with anyone but you, Agrias!" She giggled again. "He was always so pleased with himself! I hardly knew what to say! He always wished to be admired. He would simply pull off all of his clothing, and then stand there, as if he thought he were some fine marble statue to be marveled at! And there were times he would not even come to the bed until I had paid him enough compliments!"

A laugh burst out of Agrias. "Wh—what sort of compliments?!" she sputtered.

"Oh, everything! He really very much liked to be admired. He would ask me such things… ask me… oh, whether I thought his calf muscles looked bigger that day! And… he liked me to watch, while he touched himself, there, you know… And I suppose I did not truly mind it, but there were times I rather felt like there was not much purpose to my being in the room at all!"

Agrias was silently laughing so hard that she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She squeezed Ovelia's hand harder.

"I do not mean to be cruel," Ovelia amended, "At times, I did enjoy laying with him, even though... well… it was difficult, Agrias! How to enjoy being alone with him, after I began to wonder whether he was a danger to me…" she sighed. "Delita has never been the sort of man who is tender. I once had such feelings for him, and for a long time I hoped he would change. But even the first time we lay together, I was never certain if he truly cared for me, Agrias. Not even before he was king."

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A/N: Hi warzonecall! Thank you for your review on the previous chapter! It was fun to give Agrias a chance to confront Delita, since she does threaten him in that scene in the game where she gives Ovelia the knife. You know how I like to give happier endings to the characters, so I wanted Agrias to be able to smuggle Ovelia away. We still have at least a handful of chapters left to come in this story, since there are still some major things I plan to have happen to some characters, like Alma for example. I'm really glad you're enjoying it so far!