Potential spoilers ahead. Read at your own discretion.

"Euu-ouch! That really stings!"

"Please Lord Roy, I won't be able to treat your wounds properly if you squirm like so every time I apply the disinfectant. Uncle Karel will scold me if I waste any more of his herbal salves."

Gritting his teeth, Roy sat through the pain with the campfire's light illuminating his grimaced face. Thankfully, no one else was there to see him in such a sorry state, as all the other heroes had all but retired to the quarters and tents for the night.

"I'm sorry Fir."

Almost no one, that is.

Fir's gaze met his briefly before she went back to tending his many cuts that lined his right shoulder, her eyes widened from surprise at his response. Her hands were quickly working at applying the salve to his fresh wounds. They had only stopped bleeding just recently. Fir made sure of that.

"Huh? Uh, n-no, I didn't mean it that way Lord Roy." She began to say. "Of course they wouldn't be wasted on someone like you." She mumbled the last part.

"Eugh-ow—did you say something?" Roy asked, grimacing in pain.

"Oh, I… n-no. No, I didn't say anything." She stammered, resuming her work. She peeled the blood encrusted bandages that were bound around Roy's back further down. The wounds themselves weren't terribly life threatening but Roy had sustained quite a lot and had been bleeding severely.

The whole situation, while to outsiders might seem very grandly out of the ordinary, didn't feel so to the two.

In fact, most of it felt natural, if not for Roy's far more serious wounds this time around.

The two had spent many a sleepless night in each other's company since the time they arrived. Whether from training, sparring, treating each other's wounds, or reminiscing the life before Askr, they would usually be found by their friends in each other's company. Where one was, the other was bound to. They carried a bond that many would describe as inseparable.

"That bear really did a number on you, Lord Roy." Fir said, trying to steer away from the awkward direction of the previous conversation. She applied the salve gingerly around the swollen tissue. Roy still jumped at her mere touch but it was less boisterous than before. "If I had stayed by your side then maybe…"

Roy shook his head stiffly. Without his headband to hold up his hair, it dropped over, covering most of his scratched face. It seemed like a red mop was being tossed from side-to-side. "You saw for yourself Fir—oh gods this burns—your attacks did nothing against it."

She bit her lower lip, unable to retort. Roy was indeed right. When the bear reared back to swipe its terrifying claws at her, she swung her training sword with all her might against its side in an effort to stun it. The only thing her attack did was agitate it further as it snapped the sturdy wood cleanly in half with a single paw. Had it not been for Lord Roy who pushed her away at the last second, their current roles may have been reversed.

And while Roy got her out of the bear's way safely, he himself wasn't so lucky.

"Easy, now." Fir huffed as she finished examining the three giant, grisly gashes that streaked across Roy's well-toned back. "… You may not like this next part."

"I haven't been liking any of this so far Fir…" He moaned.

Ignoring his comment, Fir held up a needle and thread, examining the pointed needle one last time as it glistened from the fire. She had to make sure it was properly clean. She dared not use a needle that wasn't clean or up to her standard on a patient.

Especially if that patient was a close friend like Roy.

She took a deep breath to ready herself, and steel her nerves, as she lined the needle against the uppermost of the gash. The point of the needle rested a mere hairbreadth away from Roy's exposed backside and flesh. She could feel his heartbeat pounding faster and faster against her cool palm. It was expected to be nervous. Roy had no way of knowing what exactly was going on behind him.

"I am sincerely sorry for what's about to come next."

"What are you talking abou—AGHHHH—WHAT IN THE FU—"

It started off as a sparring session as any other. After paying her respects to the fallen warriors of the Order, Fir knew that it would be essentially spitting on the graves of the deceased if she were to wallow in sadness. After bearing witness to their selfless sacrifices to save Askr, the only proper course of action was continue bearing the torch of the Order proudly and without fail. Still, the mood of Askr was dampened by the loss of so many, and gloom prevailed over its streets. Fir wanted to get her mind away from all the gloom and sorrow, something she could do to cut herself free from the enveloping sadness. She would not to let such emotions get ahold of her. Seeing the perfect alternative, she packed two wooden training swords to embark on her therapeutic escape.

The only problem she had was no one being available to spar with her.

Many had chosen to spend the day in silence and contemplation, her usual partners all politely turning her down. They did not feel like swinging a sword after such a day. The sad atmosphere had gotten to them and so she was left alone for the most part.

That is, until a certain red-headed lord came out of the blue to apologize for some strange reason. She was bewildered at first at Roy's sudden appearance, bowing and apologizing profusely, but quickly caught on. Fir remembered she tried persuading her uncle attend the grand funeral with her and suggested Lord Roy to tag along with her when she went to convince him, hoping that Roy's presence would give her the proper confidence to change his mind on the matter. But Lord Roy wasn't able to come with her for undisclosed reasons at the time and, consequently, she failed at changing her uncle's mind. He was always distant when it came to matters of the heart, and turned her away, just as he had during the first grand funeral many moons ago. So, Fir went to pay her respects alone, again without Roy.

But now here he was, almost on his knees before her, asking if there was anything he could to make up with her.

Fir couldn't believe her luck.

She needed someone to spar with and it so happened to be one of the most capable swordsman in the Order, and one of her closest companions. Uncle Karel was by far her superior but he would often get carried away in their training sessions, he would leave her arms completely numb and unable to move after a single bout, which was counterintuitive to the entire purpose of sparring. Lord Roy would be the perfect partner and he happily obliged.

She had sparred with him several times before already. Their first spar together was over within twenty seconds, with Roy's sword embedded in the bark of a nearby tree. But with every sparring session, Fir was finding it harder and harder to stay on top. What Lord Roy lacked in skill, he compensated with rigorous training and effort and their practice fights reflected this change. But Fir wouldn't shy away from such a challenge. She strove to be a better a swordswoman and every following fight would be an excellent test for her. The two had wandered deep into the heavily wooded forest of Verthand, to the west and far from camp to avoid causing a disturbance. Its thick trees hummed with mystical energy, untainted and unperturbed by the wars and conflicts of people. It gave her a strange sense of peace whenever she ventured into the thicket. Once they found a suitable clearing for their bout, the fight began.

While Lord Roy had major power behind his swings and a formidable offense, Fir was able to dance around his powerful attacks with her superior speed and nimble footwork. She wasted no energy in deflecting or parrying Roy's attacks as they would render her guard weakened if she tried being wholly defensive. Instead, she weaved around the heavy cleaves and arcing swings like a sparrow navigating through the thick brush, waiting for an opening in the barrage of attacks Roy would dispense.

In their many bouts before, Lord Roy would often leave himself vulnerable after committing to his powerful attacks, being easily punishable by Fir and her more precise, sharp attacks. While the two wielded identical weapons, their method of fighting couldn't be any more different. Roy's stance was like that of a frontline knight's, with honest, straightforward approaches while Fir's was more akin to the elegant fencers she saw guarding and practicing by Askr's capital, applying feints and mindgames into her offense, often confusing the enemy and pressuring them to react a certain way with her superior agility and needle-like swordplay.

But as time went on, her tricks and tactics were starting to be less effective against Roy. He was a fast learner and soon Fir have to develop an entirely new method of fighting to keep up with him. It made her excited that she finally found someone who could help her achieve her dream at becoming a fine swordswoman like her mother. And this fight wouldn't be any different.

It was perhaps their closest yet. Fir artfully avoided Roy's heavy attacks but had an incredibly hard time finding a hole she could exploit in his approach. His swings were no longer mere overhead cleaves of the novice he used to be. His attacks would no longer left him wide open, his footwork allowing him to quickly recover after dispensing an attack. He was getting more and more used to her fighting style and adapted his own to counteract it. Any attempts at attacking of her own, Roy would immediately parry and continue pressing his offense. It matched almost evenly against Fir's style

But it had a flaw.

Fir had begun to see that Roy was incredibly vigilant in his defense, immediately trying to bat away any swings that came his way, to compensate for his lack of speed. While he was getting quite fast in his own right, he was still nowhere near as fast as Fir. While others may have seen a formidable and unyielding wall in Roy's swordsmanship, Fir saw her golden opportunity. Knowing that Roy would launch a counterattack at any of her attempted thrusts, she switched sword hands and launched a feint from her left. Roy had anticipated the oncoming attack and extended his right arm to block the attack.

Just as she hoped.

With his sword arm reaching forward in an attempt to parry, Fir finally saw her chance to strike. Instead of fully committing to her left-angled swing, she gripped her hilt with both hands and brought it upwards, allowing the blade to climb from below like an uppercut, narrowly avoiding the opposing blade and landing what would have been fatal blow if it had been an actual duel against Roy's chest.

Roy reeled back from being attacked while Fir had smiled on with satisfaction. But what she didn't know at the time was that Roy didn't simply fall backwards from her attack.

A bear had intruded their bout.

And it was right behind her.

She remembered what happened next with perfect clarity. She felt an intense, near-nauseating heat and stench from behind her neck. And once she turned around, a towering mass of fur, muscle, and teeth was squaring her down. Instinctively, she leapt backwards to put some distance between her and the bear but it had closed the gap in a blink of an eye.

Once a mere three footsteps away, the bear had reared on its hindlegs to swings down with its might paws. Fir knew that bears could stay upright for long, and sensed that the bear would be put off balance if she were to strike it the moment it stood on its rear legs. Knowing this, she gripped her practice sword tightly and pushed forth with her own assault in an attempt to topple the massive beast.

She didn't know bears could ever get that mad.

Had she brought her real sword, the outcome would have been much different but the fact of the matter was she just tried taking on a fully-grown bear with nothing but a wooden practice sword. She would have had better luck even using the metal scabbard of her sword instead. The bear shrugged of the blow, roaring with annoyance from its prey, snapped the sword like a toothpick with a single swipe. Then, the bear stood up once again, its fearsome paws poised to swing at her.

She froze. With her attacks rendered useless, she didn't know what to do.

Had it not been for Roy, she may have well ended up dead.

He used his own body as a shield when he pushed her out of the bear's rampage. Even though it was a single swipe of the paw, it tore through Roy's outer armor and inner mail shirt as if they were made of paper. While heavily injured, Roy swiftly pivoted back onto his feet and scrambled to help Fir up onto her own.

They quickly realized the predicament they were in.

The direction the bear's back was facing was the way the two had come from. To their own back was a thick patch of trees and undergrowth that would be impossible to wade through while running from a fuming 1000-pound bear. They would have to run past the bear, outrun it, and weave their way back to camp past all trees. Although the trees that stood before them were less cluttered than the ones that lined behind, they were still jumbled close enough to make someone trip or lose their way. And Roy was in no such condition to be ducking and weaving around like she could. And although Roy continued to hold her behind him, Fir could see how deep the claw marks on his back went, and badly his wounds were bleeding. It would only be a matter of time until blood loss would exhaust him.

Yet Roy's face did not show despair. The fiery spirit in his eyes did not waver. Even in spite of his injuries Fir could feel the young noble's will and determination to overcome the obstacle that stood in his very path.

And he would not do it alone.

Unconsciously, he gripped Fir's trembling hand and held it tight. He glanced over his shoulder and met her eyes. No words needed to be said. Just from his expression alone, Fir could tell that he would get the two out of there no matter what.

That she could trust him.

The bear hadn't charged yet. It saw that its prey, although wounded, avoided its powerful strike and wouldn't be an easy kill. As such, it became much warier of the two that stood before it, its lead like eyes watching their every step and movement. It was waiting them out, waiting for them to make a sudden move. Then it would pounce, securing its kill and meal.

Fir could see that Roy had sensed this as well. Given the stench of fresh blood he gave off, the bear would most likely go for him first. He held Fir's hand tighter as he pulled her close.

"Run when I tell you to."

That was all he said.

The stand-off lasted for only another minute but it felt like an eternity. Fir's body broke into a cold sweat and began to ache at how still she was standing. Every bone in her body wanted to run but she couldn't afford to move or show anymore weakness before the bear. It would be like signing her own death sentence.

But the bear had grown impatient, having enough of this silent stare down. Letting out a heartstopping roar, it barreled forward, tearing out all the ground beneath its feet as it started its murderous rampage.

"Now!" Roy yelled.

Pulling her with him, he ran forward with all his might toward the bear. She felt her heart drop at his insane decision but her feet ran with him all the same.

When they were within swatting distance, Roy suddenly let go of Fir's hand and pushed her to the side, out of the bear's reach. His push wasn't enough to make her fall over but it was strong enough to keep her away from the bear's clawed paws that were still fresh with Roy's blood.

"Roy!" She had screamed as her legs still carried her away from the bear, its massive frame hiding Roy from her sight. What was the young lord thinking? Was he really about to sacrifice himself for her sake?

What Fir hadn't known until afterwards was that when Roy rushed forward toward the bear, he quickly picked up one of the broken ends of the wooden sword the bear had snapped. Due to the angle in which it broke, it had a sharpened end, sharp enough to inflict some actual damage. He had pushed Fir out of the way in order to drive all of the animal's attention on him. In his bleeding state, it would be suicide to take the bear head on and he knew this. But he needed the bear on its hindlegs and rushing towards it would achieve such a thing. With Fir away from danger, Roy charged the beast which had now reared back on two legs to swing down a powerful swipe.

This was Roy's chance.

Adopting Fir's own swift movements, he extended his arms forward and flattened his body. With great force, he leapt at a low angle towards the bear. With it standing up, he aimed for its two legs or rather, the gap between them.

The bear swiped at nothing. He dived cleanly through, with most of his body past and underneath the bear. And as the bear reeled in confusion, with all his might, Roy jammed the broken sword rear leg joint of the bear, piercing the tough fur and fat and lodging it into the bone, erupting a fountain of viscous blood and globules of fat all over him.

The bear howled in great pain as it lurched forward, its mind no longer on its prey but on the pointed intruder that had wedged itself into its joint, rendering its leg immobile. Using this opportunity to scramble back to his feet, Roy dash forward and out of the clearing, quickly grabbing an agape Fir's hand as they ran away from the beast.

Roy breathing was ragged, his face pale from the blood he had lost. Yet, an assured smile naturally spread across his face.

"I hope this will suffice as an apology?"

"There, all done. You took it better than expected."

"Mhrm. Yeah." Roy muttered through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. Fir felt that if he bit down any further he would break his teeth.

"Do you have anything I could cut the tread with?" She asked.

"I would lend you the knife Matthew had given me." Roy managed to say. "But since the funeral, I couldn't find it… Matthew is going to kill me for losing such a valuable gift."

"It's bound to turn up sometime." Fir mused. "Hopefully before he returns from that secret mission he set off on."

"I hope so." Roy said. While Fir knew he and Matthew often butted heads, the two saw each other as brothers. Matthew had given Roy a prized knife as a memento and token to remember him by if anything were to happen. Fir had received something similar from her own father.

He had a swordsmith craft the finest blade she had ever laid her hands on. It was incredibly similar to her uncle's red Wo Dao but at the same time it was remarkably different. Instead of a crimson blade, her sword was interwoven with a blade of ashen silver that glistened like the sky on a starry night. Its guard was a lustrous black wood, laced with intricate carvings within a sea of charcoal clouds. Its grip was bound in sea-green wraps with two strands dangling like small dragons at the end.

Her mother's sword.

It was carved into her memory even though she had no recollection of ever being able to hold it with her own hands. The beautiful sister sword to the more sinister blade Karel carried.

It was the last thing he gave her before he disappeared.

Fir managed to cut the final thread on the stitch and soon tidied up the sewing. It wasn't the prettiest treatment in the world but it would result in the least amount of scarring on Roy's back. She opened a jar of soothing ointment and applied it around the fresh stitches that covered Roy's right shoulder and back. It should lessen the pain if not the subsequent itching that followed. Fir then unraveled the rest of the old bandages that lined Roy's upper body, throwing them into the fire before replacing them with a fresh roll.

"I think that should about do it." Fir exclaimed, satisfied with her handiwork and treatment. She hoped Roy would feel the same in his recovery. "If you have any discomfort feel free to come see me. I'll help you right away."

"Thank you, Fir." Roy said as he straightened out his back, stiff with pain. The muscles on his back would take time to heal but none of his vital organs and arteries were struck. With careful training and therapy, he would be back in shape in no time. If need be, Fir wanted to make sure that she would help him every step of the way.

Roy then chuckled, amused with something.

"What's wrong milord?" Fir asked, perplexed.

Roy just smiled. "No, it's nothing. But to think that a bear would be able to break through my armor like butter. Gods, that is one thing they don't teach you in the books."

"Probably because its self-explanatory." Fir replied snappily, cleaning up her medical supplies that were strewn out over a clean white tarp. "You'll probably want to see the armorsmith about getting that platemetal fixed, not to mention your cape as well…"

"I dunno." He said, smirking. "I feel that the whole damaged image gives me some character."

"I'd like to think it might make you look like a bum."

"… I haven't really thought this through, have I?"

The two laughed, in an effort to brush away all the built-up tension from the day. Roy motioned to the empty part of the stump next to him, inviting Fir to sit by his side. She obliged happily. Being next to him had always made her feel cozy. Noticing her happiness, Roy smiled back at her warmly, pulling her closer. She wished she could bask in Roy's warmth all day and night.

But as she was enveloped by his warmth, guilt began to bubble inside of her. She placed her irreplaceable in grave danger today, out of her selfish desire to overcome the gloom. Roy could have died, and with him all the warmth that comforted her now. It sickened Fir to her stomach.

But Roy was perceptive. Sensing something wrong, he shook her gently, peering into her eyes. "Is something the matter?"

She nodded, lowering her head. "I'm sorry.. about today..." Fir said, unable to match Roy's gaze. "I would have never—"

"Hey now." Roy said, abandoning his carefree mood as he straightened up as fast as he could. He put his hand over her trembling shoulder, gently rubbing it and her back to comfort her, easing her tension. Roy had always been kind to her, spoiling her with it. "Don't beat yourself for what happened out there. No one could have seen it coming."

"If I hadn't been so selfish, then—"

"Fir," Roy interrupted her. "What has happened has happened. Things could have gone better, believe me, I wish they had but there's nothing we can do. There's no use in crying over spoiled milk. But look on the bright side, we're still here."

"…"

"… You're still here."

She looked up at him, her lips trembling. Then, like a river, the tears came. She was never one to openly cry, even in the death of her comrades. Tears were a weakness, her uncle had told her, and so she was always used to holding her tears back for so long long, crying becoming something foreign to her. But now, as she was trying to be strong in front of Roy, his sincerity struck something in her heart, opening the dam. He pulled her in and embraced her tightly as the tears continued to flow, regardless of the hot pain that streaked across his backside.

"I-I was so scared…" She whispered, between her sobbing. "Scared that we… that I was going to lose someone… again."

Roy nodded as he tightened his arms around her. "There aren't many of us from the original group left after all…"

She only buried her face deeper into his chest. "When I saw you get hurt, I froze. I didn't want to lose you… but I could only stand and watch in fear…"

Roy couldn't say anything of course. A wise man did once say however that silence could convey what words fail.

"And when you charged that bear, I thought you were going to die." She sniffed. "I thought I was about to see another friend die in front of me."

"It's okay… it's okay." Roy assured her, embracing her, stroking her hair. "I'm still here… I'm right here with you."

Roy knew that sparring and duels were systems of training for Fir but that they were also her escape, a way for her to cope with the tempest inside her heart. The swing of a sword could express more than words could for her and the heat of battle helped her forget and ease into things. It was the medicine she needed to clear her heart and mind, but to have that, her salvation from the dark recesses of her heart, torn from her right in front of her eyes…

It must have been crushing her.

"Father... used to say the same thing…"

"What did he say?" He asked. Fir rarely talked about her father since the day he disappeared. Bartre was rowdy and boisterous man, who was the complete opposite of the usually demure Fir. Still, he loved his daughter greatly, and was overprotective even moreso. So, it broke her when Bartre disappeared like so many others that fateful day; it was the first time Roy had seen her cry. It was a sensitive topic that he never had the opportunity to broach with her.

"That he would be right here with me, by my side. And would always be…" Fir explained, in a quiet voice tinged with sadness.

The young lord thought that too. Bartre was not the type to abandon his flesh and blood. He was devoted to the well-being of his daughter, always. But as Roy recalled more about the man, he remembered a conversation he had with him, the night before he disappeared.

He came to Roy that night, his demeanor unlike anything Roy had seen before. He was forlorn and quiet, a complete departure from the wild man the Order was used to. Softly, under his breath, all Bartre said was that Roy had his blessing, and to watch over his daughter. Bewildered, Roy did not know how to answer. He could only nod, not truly thinking about the meaning behind Bartre's words, and the weight he was about to carry. He never had a chance to talk with Fir about it.

Roy, who had one arm wrapped the trembling swordswoman, used his free hand to wipe the tears that were slowly falling from her pretty face. His hands felt rough against her smooth skin.

She firmly gripped his hand as it trailed along her face, a slight tremble in her own, fearful of letting go, as if Roy might disappear if she did. "You're not going anywhere… right?"

He brushed strands of hair out of her tear-streaked cheeks, caressing her face gently as he said "Of course, Fir." Raising her chin gently, Roy stared deeply into her eyes as they twinkled like the stars in the sky. Her lips trembled for but a moment as they were soon pressed against his own, replacing the chill of the night with a warmth the two now desired from each other.

Fir wasn't a girl of many words. She mostly let her sword do the talking. Roy would feel the same way sometimes of course. The clash of steel can tell one things words cannot grasp. But now, it was different. Blades didn't need to clash. Swords weren't needed to reveal the truth behind what Bartre had said.

"I'll never leave your side."

Because now he had his answer.

(A/N): Wow, is this the first pairing? Who knows? As always, thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more!

Cheers.