"Oh, will you stop fussing?" Dorothea complained, slapping the top of Will's hand.

"Try not strangling my arm with gauze, then we can talk about fussing!" Will retorted. "And will you- agh! Tight! 'Thea!"

"Serves you right."

Dorothea was no stranger to confrontation. Being made into an impromptu soldier for an imperial coup, not to mention the year spent under a mercenary's tutelage, taught her a thing or two about handling difficult situations. However, nothing could come close to getting one restless man to sit still for five minutes while she addressed his wounds. The bathroom was not a place for war, but Dorothea was willing to make an exception for someone who couldn't keep still.

Will came home in quite a state- covered in the typical bruises, scrapes, and scratches from being a weary soldier of war. It wasn't a graceful occupation. A soldier would typically get shoved into muddy, dusty battlefields, with nothing to protect them from the elements but their standard, military-approved cloaks that were thin as parchment. Getting covered in grime and muck, along with the nicks and scrapes from combat, was a given.

This time was complicated. These weren't your typical war scratches, some of those cuts were grisly and turning a sickly green. A nasty cut on his shoulder was oozing pus when she tore that dirty waste of fabric a medic would call a bandage off him. Will wasn't making the process any easier with his constant squirming and complaints, but it should serve him right to be more careful out in the war, shouldn't it?

Of course, Will wasn't making things easy. The fool couldn't sit still if his life depended on it, always scratching and fidgeting, with the occasional childish whine.

"Goddess, I need to give this healer a piece of my mind," Dorothea growled, dabbing a swab on an arrow wound. One that was still bleeding profusely. "How on earth is this considered 'patched'?"

"Well, the healer was getting shot at while dressing it," Will replied. "Still, it's impressive what one can do with a dozen arrows flying above your head."

Dorothea flinched. Arrows sailing over his head at all hours of the day was a given, but she felt dreadful. Only a monster would willingly throw a man out into the wild for money. "You should've gotten it checked again before coming back home."

"I wasn't on the priority list," He explained simply.

"Priority list? Excuse me?"

"Noble's first, of course. The ones who bothered to get off their asses and fight anyway. Then the soldiers, then the common folk, then the mercenaries. Then, of course, the Almyran mercenaries at the very bottom. They ran out of bandages and started using seaweed and sackcloth we found by some burnt-down farm."

Dorothea's face contorted in disgust. "You fight their wars and they still treat you like dirt, it's sick. Since when was it okay to treat you like this? Didn't you win their battle?"

"Since battles turn into month-long sieges that go absolutely nowhere," He muttered, an edge in his voice. "How can you win a battle like that and get absolutely nothing out of it? He wasted all of his enlisted forces. Half of us were mercenaries who all bailed the moment we took that fort. He's going to lose it within a month, whatever his name is." He sighed into his hand. "Goddess, I served this Noble stain for a month and still don't remember his name."

"Then there's no reason to think about him again if he wasn't that memorable," Dorothea comforted, wiping dried blood off his neck. "Please tell me that's not your blood."

"It's not my blood."

"Are you being honest with me, Will?"

"I'm simply obeying orders, ma'am." That rotten sneer on his face. Dorothea wanted to swat it off like an agitated mother.

Dorothea shook her head and looked at the growing pile of old gauze wrapping on the ground. Most of it was soaked with enough blood to be permanently stained red. Whatever was left was stained a pale, sickening brown. She shivered.

"How long have you been traveling with these wounds?"

"A day, give or take."

"And they had no clerics? No healers with magic?"

"Ha! That would require a budget. And a leader who knows what he's doing."

"Apparently," Dorothea commented, placing two fingers along the swollen, deep cut stretching from his left pectoral up past his collarbone, holding a crooked wooden stave. Lessons with white magic healing weren't infrequent, but they weren't her speed. Black magic was her specialty, along with fencing, but she knew enough to sap the infection from a wound. "What even happened here?"

"What happened to what?"

"This shoulder wound. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you'd swam in a swamp before coming home," Dorothea pressed, dabbing at the wound with a rag. "Algea's coming off it, for goodness sake."

"I did have to swim through a lake-"

"A lake?" Dorothea howled. "Are you insane? Or just a man?"

"Pfft," Will stifled a laugh. "Is being a man a call for lack of intelligence now?"

"Fidget anymore, and I might just say yes." She slapped the back of his hand again as he tried to reach for the tightly woven wound dressing on his back. The last thing he needed to do was re-open an arrow wound she worked tirelessly to patch. "Although I say a man is messy, impetuous, and reckless for his own good."

"Add ugly to boot."

"And impatient. Can never let a woman finish, can they?" She said, shaking her head. "What I wanted to say was handsome, brave, generous, and dependable. Might I say, extremely responsible too," She giggled, holding his cheek. "You sir, are the definition of a man, and you have no idea how grateful I am to have you."

"Now you're just messing with me again," Will said dismissively, although there was a hint of joy in his tone. Compliments were scarce for an Almyran. Even rarer from a woman like Dorothea.

"I don't just hand out praise on a silver platter," Dorothea said. "Take my word, will you? Am I that untrustworthy?"

Will's eyes widened, tensing suddenly. "No, no, it's not that. I'm just… how do I put this." His hand met the back of his itching, hot neck. Parts of it were still red from sunlight overexposure. "I'm still not used to it. People in Fodlan giving me the time of day, at least."

Dorothea's hand slid over Wills, fingers coiling together. "Well, you had better used to it. We care about you. Think anything otherwise, I'll whack you with a tree branch."

"You sound like my mother," Will joked, the corners of his lips turning into a smirk. A stain of red stretched across his nose.

Strange. Countless times, Dorothea had pulled the same play. Placing her hand over another wasn't a unique move in her repertoire- it was the easiest trick in the boot to getting what she wants from unsuspecting nobles or knights. This was different. Instead of a quick grasp or rub, her hand stayed over his. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him. The safety and security. It felt, dare-she-say like it was meant to fit over his.

And thus, my thoughts run wild.

Dorothea cleared her throat and released his hand, her face hot. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. The bandages around his more grievous wounds were on the stiff side, but the results spoke for themselves. No infection, no bleeding, and only a slightly fussy man. Job well done.

"If we're done here, I will check on the children. With any luck, they haven't ripped each other's hair out while I was gone," She said, standing up and patting her red dress down.

"You're making for a really good mother, 'Thea," Will commented.

"Enough, Will, you're making me blush," Dorothea beamed.

"I'm just being honest. And thank you again, Miss Arnault,"

Once again, Dorothea found herself fiddling with her hair. "It's part of the job, Will. And please, just call me Thea. I adore it when you call me Thea."

/

It was around three in the morning before Dorothea could sleep. Not from some outrageously long to-do list in the middle of the night, but from some attempt to quell the blood roaring through her head. It was Sunday- church day. Or in Dorothea's case, a free two hours to herself. She was never a church-going woman, even in the monastery's days. Two hours much needed. Her head felt like it weighed the same as a coconut, her neck swiveling to keep her tired head up.

"The nightmares are long gone and I'm still struggling to sleep," She mumbled to herself, head hung. The dancer stood up and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Wake up, Dorothea. Wake up."

"Should I be concerned that you're speaking to yourself?" The sudden voice made Dorothea jump a good foot high. Will sat at the desk, quill in hand, scribbling away at a long parchment scroll. Dorothea scowled. That devilish smirk of his made her blood boil. That man knew exactly what he did, and reveled in it.

"Marching into a woman's room unannounced? They hang men for that in some nations," She said hotly.

"Then consider me a man lucky to be born in Almyra, where the worst I'd get is a knife thrown at me," Will chuckled, keeping his eyes on the paper. The least this fool could do was look her in the eyes.

"Don't tempt me. I still have a dagger or five lying around," She warned.

"I believe it. I've already tripped over three of them just walking in here."

Dorothea blushed. The state of her room wasn't… shall we say, ladylike? Clothes were still flung about all over the floor, among other things. Worn dancing shoes and a couple of old weapons were put against the wall, with some toppled all over the floor. Several tups of makeup, some still open were littering her table, along with half-eaten muffins that she swore she'd never touch. Why couldn't Will see this place when she had time to tidy up?

"That still doesn't answer why you're here," She pressed.

"Some trade requests and shipments needed some signing," He answered.

Her eyes widened suddenly. The trading caravans and ship orders! How could she forget? "Where are the orders? I need to-"

"I already signed them off. You were sleeping pretty soundly, so I figured I might as well. The food and clothing should arrive here by noon tomorrow."

Dorothea blinked. "But I also still need to write Gomez about the repairs to our windows. Winters coming, and the last thing those children need is to freeze."

"Took care of that too."

"... I take it you also-"

"Inventory and record updates for the children? All done."

"You're really on top of things," Dorothea praised, forgetting her wrath for a moment to smile at him. "And here I am, still floundering at the bottom."

"Considering you're the woman who opened this orphanage and gave these children a home, I beg to differ," He said simply. "Could you stop telling yourself that farce for one day?"

"Tell me that when my trusted sword isn't taking over my duties while I'm snoring like a sloth."

"As soon as I tell you not to work yourself into a twelve-hour slumber. Quit while you're ahead, 'Thea. You're not winning this battle."

"Clearly," Dorothea sighed. "And thank you for looking out for me. Truly. If I can offer you give you anything in return, as meager as my sums are, just name it."

Will cleared his throat, a bit of red forming on his tanned cheeks. "Well, you can put on some clothes for a start."

Dorothea blinked. Wasn't she wearing her nightdress? She looked down and saw her usual, frilly nightdress she wore nightly. Her very thin, transparent nightdress.

Very transparent.

"Oh, Goddess!" She suddenly howled, hugging her chest and twisting her torso in some attempt to hide herself from what Will had already seen clear as day. Mortifying didn't even come close to how this situation was.

"I can just pretend I didn't see anything and just continue on my day," Will joked.

"That would be best." Dorothea whimpered quietly.

While Dorothea hid in her bedsheets to preserve what little shame she had left, Will finished with the busywork and stretched in his seat. "That didn't take long. Only just half my morning."

"No one asked you to do it anyway," Dorothea barbed.

"You taught me how to read. I might as well use it for something."

"I didn't do it to make you my personal clerk."

"No matter how you might need one." He stood up and brushed the seat off politely. "I'll be seeing you in a moment. I've still got some training to do."

"Can't you last a day without a sword in your hands?" Dorothea asked, sitting up.

"Not when mastering the sword is part of the job. I won't cut off any of the heads of the statues if that's what you're worried about." He offered her a wink. "I learned the first time."

She swallowed. To hell with her shame.

Dorothea sprang out of bed and wrapped her arms around the mercenary, pulling him into her embrace. Will's jaw was slack, scandalized. From how her chest was pressed against his shirt, it wasn't hard to see why.

"Thank you, for looking after me," She said quietly. "Not many people do- or should, for that matter, but you do it anyway. That goes a long way with me. Thank you, so much."

Will didn't move. Dorothea felt petrified for a moment, thinking she did the wrong thing, but she felt strong, yet tender arms cuddle her, powerful fingers running through her hair. "See, this? This is worth far more to me than whatever gold you want to pay me."

Dorothea's heart skipped a beat. Try as she might, she couldn't stop smiling. "I'll find a way to pay you for your service sometime soon, even if I have to sneak money into your pockets, Altair."

"I dare you to try, Ms. Arnault-"

"'Thea."

"... 'Thea. Heh."

Dorothea didn't know how long the embrace lasted, only that she never wanted to let go. He was warm. Strong. It had been long since someone made her feel this safe and secure, not since her old crush, the Professor. But she couldn't stay here forever.

"Go on then. I won't keep you," She said, pulling away from him. Her body ached slightly the moment they parted. "Just be careful with those wounds. I spent ages patching you up." She reached down and gave his butt a good whack. Will's breath hitched, his cheeks beaming red.

"Excuse you, miss," Will said in a quiet tone. "Women could lose their hands for that in some nations."

"Then consider me a lucky lady of Fodlan. You could return the favor if you play your cards right," She flirted back.

Will chuckled. "Don't get my hopes up," He said before closing the door behind him.

Dorothea still couldn't stop grinning ear to ear like a candid schoolgirl. No matter. She changed into her red, ornate dress, cleaned herself up, and walked over to the small schoolhouse they had stashed away inside the building.

The children were all already awake, corralled into the classroom for the morning lectures- education was still important in this country, orphaned or not. Half had their heads on their tables, counting sheep, while the other half were struggling not to join them.

Annette was leading the lecture and was in the zone. The classroom was always her element, and it showed. The klutzy, messy, jumpy woman was left at the door and a dignified, cheerful little vanilla bean was lashing chalk on the board like an artist on canvas. The children always loved her, openly giving her hugs after class and their eyes always lit up when she did a little magic, albeit a mere candlelight compared to the massive columns of flames she could casually conjure.

Dorothea leaned on the doorframe of the classroom, fighting off a yawn in an attempt to stay dignified. "Look at you go," She cheered with a drowsy smile.

Annette's already-lit eyes shined brighter when their eyes met. "Hey, Dorothea, you're up early!"

"Late, more like," She sighed. "I didn't get much sleep. Much like you little squirts here," She giggled, watching the little ones look away innocently, some trying not to laugh. "Don't think I didn't hear you chirping like little birdies. My room's not far from yours."

"But we were sleeping, mama Thea!" A little girl named Carter pointed out. Little Gremlin thought she could lie through her teeth, but Dorothea heard her chittering on the other side of her wall the night before.

"If by sleeping, you mean tickling little Susie in her bed at goddess knows what hour of the night," She said, crossing her arms. "Don't try to pull a fast one on me. I've done all of your tricks three times over. If I hear all your giggling again when you should be sleeping, no desert for a week. That goes for all of you."

The children collectively moaned, but no one objected. It was set in stone then. A sly little grin stretched onto Annette's face. "And you say you're not a mother. You can lay down the law like one."

Dorothea's face went hot. "They're just children, Anny. I used to order grown men in armor around."

"And you did that really well too."

"What is with you today?" Dorothea chuckled. "Full of compliments, aren't you? Someone's in a good mood since she found her Mr. Right-"

"Children! C-Children are here!" Annette suddenly squealed, cheeks bright red.

"Right, right, whatever you say miss. Anyway, what time is it? Shouldn't they be getting ready for church and choir?"

"They should be ready in a few minutes, after my lecture. I'll escort them myself, don't worry."

Dorothea balked slightly. "Anny, please, I shouldn't put that burden on you."

"It's suddenly a burden to look after children? The construction is almost done for the Monastery, so I won't have anything else better to do for a while. Go on, take a load off, put up your feet. Enjoy your break, because we all know you never get one."

Dorothea wanted to argue, but whatever she wanted to say was drowned in a yawn. Suddenly her eyelids felt like they were being tugged on by circus strong men. "I suppose a bath is in order."

"And a nap. And before you say anything, you have time. I'm planning on taking your little babies on a little trip around town," She smiled at the children suddenly gawking at her. "That's right, we're going on a wagon ride! All around Enbarr!"

The room erupted with shrill cheers, loud enough to wake an elephant, let alone the slumbering children in the back of the room. Dorothea smiled. She really had a way with children.

"Thank you, Anny," She said gratefully.

"Don't thank me, what are friends for? Go on and get some shut-eye."

All in due time.

She was about to walk away to take a bath when she heard a knock on the door. Her brow cocked. "Anny, are we expecting anyone?"

"We shouldn't be. No one's normally out today."

"I thought so." She took a deep breath and marched to the front door, hesitantly pulling it open. Standing at the door was an older gentleman, dressed in a crisp, clean noble suit. She shuddered in disgust- it was too early for this. "I apologize, we aren't taking guests-"

"Unfortunately, we're here on business."

"Excuse me?"

"I am Thorwin of house Berglitz. I've come to take whatever boys you have into service under us."