So, uh... this ended up much longer than anticipated. And it's also largely unedited, sorry. I got really excited over it. So let me know if there's anything super weird or misspelled.

There will be two more parts to this - an S Rank Support (because I'm a sucker for those) and a short double epilogue.

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it.

Support A

A knock on the door interrupted Mark's concentration, their head jerking up in surprise from the worn leather journal they'd been scrawling in. "Come in," they said, capping their ink. The door swung open, and a smile spread across Mark's face at the sight of their visitor. "Lyn! What brings you here at…" They paused to glance out the small window in the room. It was completely dark, with no trace of light to be seen. "At such a… late… hour… When did that happen?"

"You didn't notice when the candles were lit?" Lyn closed the door and strode across the small room to the bed, sitting down upon it.

Mark moved their chair to face her. "I confess I didn't."

"You weren't at supper with the rest of us, so I thought I would check in on you." Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out an apple. "And that you might need some nourishment."

Mark's stomach chose that moment to complain loudly. Heat climbed Mark's neck as Lyn let out a giggle and passed them the red fruit. The tactician's expression turned sheepish as they took it. "Thank you. You're always saving me from myself." Setting the apple on the desk, they continued, "I'm sorry I missed supper; I guess I got a little wrapped up in my recordkeeping."

"Is that a part of your tactician training, too?" Lyn inquired, her eyes roaming over the desk's contents – leather book, inkwell, quill holder, quill, blotting cloth, and several ink stains spread across both the woodgrain and on Mark's person. "Battle of the Exploding Inkwell?"

A mock-serious frown overtook Mark's countenance, and they waggled a finger at the Sacaen woman. "That's a tactician's mortal enemy, I'll have you know." Lowering their hand, they clasped it in front of them and regarded Lyn thoughtfully. "So… I'm guessing that the apple isn't the only reason you came looking for me?"

"You're right," confessed Lyn with a sigh, her eyes downcast. "Do you remember a while back, when you said that I could also come to if something was weighing on my mind?"

Mark nodded. "Of course. Anything I can do to help you."

She was silent for a long pace. When she finally spoke, it was with something Mark had never seen before on her features: shame.

"I'm… I was wondering what you do when you get homesick. Since you're so far from your family, I thought you might have a good method for dealing with it when it's… particularly strong."

The question took Mark by surprise, and they stared back at Lyn. "Homesickness… I see. Well… I guess… I throw myself into my studies, and I just… wait until the feeling passes? I'm sorry… I don't think I can be much help to you. I rarely feel homesick nowadays; it's hard when I do, but everyone here feels like another family to me. I missed Lyndis's Legion a lot more than I thought I would, over the last year. With everyone together again, despite the circumstances, I can't help but be happy." A tired smile passed over their face as Lyn's shoulders sank. "I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear. I'm sorry."

With a strong shake of her head, Lyn raised her gaze to Mark's. "No, that's not it. Truth be told, I'm not homesick right now. But…" Her voice dropped off, and she clenched her hands in frustration.

"…But?" Mark prompted when the silence between them became too long for even them.

"Over the last year," Lyn paused and swallowed thickly, "while I was at Castle Caelin… I couldn't help but long for Sacae. It was the strangest thing. At times, it felt like I could feel the plains calling to me on the wind. I ached for them."

"It's natural to miss the place you'd spent your entire life in," Mark told her kindly. "Lycia is a very different place, after all."

She flashed them the briefest of smiles. "I know. It's just… no matter what I do, or how well I'm treated in Caelin, I still feel like a guest there. I don't have the same sense of belonging that I did with the Lorca. I love my grandfather, but I don't think he understands why I feel this way."

"Perhaps it will ease with time?" Mark suggested.

Lyn shook her head once again. "Maybe. But Mark… I haven't felt the same way about Caelin on this journey, not even once. When I think about it, I feel so guilty. And besides… even if I was to go back to the plains…" She closed her eyes in pain. "I'm afraid. I'm so afraid that it will be the same as before I met you." Tears gathered in her eyes, several droplets escaping and sliding down her cheeks even as she visibly fought against them. "I'm terrified of how lonely they were without my tribe with me. My heart was as empty as the sky, and I thought it would crush me." Shaking violently from the force of her quiet sobs, she inhaled sharply. "Mark, I don't know what to do. I feel caught in a spiderweb, unable to move and only tangling myself further the more I try to."

Dumbstruck by Lyn's confession, Mark sat in silence for a long time. They didn't know what to say in response. Dealing with this type of thing wasn't like fighting a war; they didn't have tomes that could tell them the perfect strategy to make Lyn's pain disappear. So they did the next best thing, and reached for Lyn's hands, folding their fingers over hers. The contact was enough to goad her into opening her eyes once more, and she met Mark's gaze with such pleading in them that it broke their heart.

"Lyn," they began slowly. "Do you regret leaving the plains, or meeting your grandfather?"

She took a shuddering breath. "No. Getting to travel with everyone, and meeting him, have been the greatest of joys of my life. I could never regret any of it."

"Then you should take your time to figure things out," they counseled. "Whenever I'm stuck on a problem, I've found that – situation allowing – the best course of action for me to take is… none."

"None?" Lyn echoed in confusion.

"Sometimes you need to have some distance between yourself and a problem before you have solve it. It can give you some much needed perspective on a matter. An answer can sometimes reveal itself to you naturally, and you find yourself thinking it completely obvious. Which leaves you to wonder how it hadn't occurred to you earlier." Mark squeezed Lyn's hands lightly. "This war we're fighting is enough to worry about for any one person. Once it's over, and we can all breathe easily again, that will be the time for other concerns. And you have it, Lyn. Time, I mean. And I don't think anyone who knows you would be able to fault any decision you ultimately make. You have so much to be proud of from both sides of your family – Sacaen and Lycian both. You're a strong fighter, and kinder than anyone I've ever met before. There aren't that many people out in the world that would nurse a dehydrated stranger back from the brink of death!"

Lyn let out a soft laugh at that.

"I'm serious!" Mark protested. "And you know what else you've got going for you, Lyn? Sheer determination. Not just anyone could have taken back an entire castle from a usurper! I'm fully convinced that the force of your will could move the entire world."

With a wry twist of her lips, Lyn remarked, "My grandfather calls it being muleheaded."

"I prefer to think of it as strength of heart," Mark told her with a grin.

Her hands squeezed Mark's briefly before releasing them. "Thank you for this, Mark. I feel a little better now, after talking to you about it." She stood up to leave, slightly flustered by the praise. "I'm sorry if I took up too much of your time."

Mark stood as well, drawing the surprised woman into a hug. She returned it, the strength of her arms comfortable around Mark. "I'll always have the time for you, Lyn," they promised in a harsh whisper. "Always."