The catastrophic loss of the Emblem Rings lead to the most dire battle that Louis had been in his entire life.

The Firenese royalty were doused in muck and blood unbefitting them, being ushered by the Divine One and Brodian royalty who were just as desperately trying to free themselves from the mire of the Shadowy Moor.

As a knight clad in fine steel and brandishing his shield, he would lead a charge through the waves of enemies from the front as others protected the sides and rear.

But he may not have been enough.

His armour was dented with each inhuman strike of the corrupted. He suspected numerous fractures in his ribs, and his muscles tore each and every time against the forces battering his shield and frame.

Framme was but one person. She cried out somewhere in the rear, how arrows had struck her brother and the Dragon. He could only hope she was able to reach them.

But, this meant he was on his own.

With his last vulnerary having been discarded, empty, on the grounds of the cathedral hours ago.

And worse to come.

The sound of battle was steadily creeping up from behind him, as he met another axe-wielding corrupted face on.

Louis did his best to duck behind the shield in anticipation of the enemy's swing, but he groaned through clenched teeth as his body just could not move in time. Its weapon ricocheted off Louis' plated forearm, and had lodged itself deep into the joint of his elbow.

He roared in pain, as the corrupted reared back just as viciously as it had struck, staggering backwards.

Louis knew the risk he took, when he leered back into the main body of the army, but…

'Either way,' he thought, 'I may die.'

Desperate, for anyone –

And there –

"Help!" Louis yelled, meeting their pale green eyes. "Boucheron!"

Boucheron had just reeled backwards himself, prising his axe from the viscera and muck of his own foe. He was wiping the blood away from his vision, and as it cleared, saw another corrupted body rearing back for a killing blow to Louis' neck.

"I got you!" Boucheron growled, moving before he could think. He jolted forward into a throwing stance, launching his hand axe. He staggered forward from the momentum, catching himself from falling just in time to see the axe become buried in the corrupted's twisted face.

"Divines…" Louis gasped in relief.

Boucheron did not hear it. He stumbled towards Louis' back, slipping in the mud and landing behind him, and importantly, behind his shield.

"Heal up!" Boucheron said, looking down in his pack and yet still blindly trying to find his vulnerary.

"I'm all out!"

Boucheron met Louis' eyes again, just as he grasped the bottle he was searching for. "Have some of mine."

Louis gingerly took the proffered bottle, as he struggled to keep his shield steady in front of them. His gripped had been dulled with pain and the slick leather of his gloves, yet he was thankfully able to swig from the potion with nary a drop spilled.

Louis could taste bitterness, and a tang. The herbaceous tonic, and tell-tale metallic tinge of blood. Whether his, or Boucheron's, he did not know.

He just as carefully handed it back to Boucheron, who swirled the liquid left in the bottle.

"One more." He smiled in relief, before raising the vulnerary to his lips and drinking the last of it.

The men, soaking in the immediate relief of the potion, heard each other gasp and pant even through the chaotic din of battle behind them. Louis' muscles were soothed with the cool sensation of healing magics. His torso grew numb, letting him hope that his ribs were able to knit back into place. He saw the gash on Boucheron's face clot immediately, and his balance become steady.

With his mouth dry, Louis could barely utter a word before he heard the order to advance.


The lustre of the Somniel itself seemed to dim in wake of the loss of the Emblems, and the loss of many lives.

The Lady of the Plains and the Exalted Princess bolstered what little hope remained in the hearts of the army, but even they acknowledged and felt the immense dread of losing – not just great power to an extraordinary evil – but friends too.

Upon being dismissed from the makeshift medical ward set out from the tower and dismissed by Céline – with much insistence – to rest, He found himself standing outside. Underneath the trees.

Gazing across the way, he was not so much watching the comings and goings of the ward, nor was he quite replaying the battle in his mind.

He faintly frowned.

It was more… flashing. Moments. It was not intentional recollection. Yet, he was reluctant to try to dismiss these fragments entirely. He could learn much from his mistakes.

But…

You quell banditry. You arrest such people. To have taken so many lives in a matter of hours… Corrupted rarely acted human, but their twisted faces were very much so. And they fought alongside Elusian men and women, who's gurgles and screams Louis could hear if he stood still and stayed silent for long enough.

"Louis?"

Louis' gaze snapped upwards, meeting Boucheron's eyes.

"Boucheron." Louis nodded, attempting to mask the disquiet he felt. "What a pleasure."

"Oh, pleasure's mine." Boucheron briefly grinned.

Louis studied his face for a moment. The cheer in Boucheron's voice and smile was not quite reaching his eyes. Perhaps he, too…

"I must thank you." Louis interrupted his train of thought.

"Pardon?" Boucheron glanced back, cocking an eyebrow.

"For your assistance, yesterday. Had it not been for you, I surely would have perished." Louis said. He started to bow, and tried to ignore the dull ache from his ribs. "I thank – "

"Please," Boucheron cupped Louis' shoulder, gently, stopping him. "There's no need to bow. I just, did what anyone would do."

Louis indeed stopped, in part to appease Boucheron, and in part to wonder why he had to touch him in order to say so.

"I'd rather not hear talk like that, either." He said softly, a little strain in his voice. "I'm alive, you're alive… Let's leave it at that."

They stood there, for a moment.

"If you insist." Louis said.

Boucheron patted Louis' shoulder just as gently as he had held it, before taking his hand back. As if marking the end of the morbidity. Louis tried to look into his eyes again, only for Boucheron to glance upwards. Disguising whatever expression he was trying to hide.

"Let's just sit." Boucheron broke the silence. "Let medicine and magic do its work."

Louis decided that, despite his curiosity, now was a time to let the man keep that expression secret. He nodded.

Both men tried to hide their groaning as they lowered themselves onto the ground. Boucheron landing a bit more firmly than Louis.

"Ah," He exhaled sharply, before turning into a laugh. "I like to think that nothing's better than being outside and sitting on the grass, but I regret to say that we might have been better off getting a chair today."

Louis chuckled, and enjoyed the company.


Louis found him at the pond, languidly casting a line from the pier.

He cleared his throat, and Boucheron turned. A smile washed over his face at seeing company.

"Ah, Louis!" He gestured to the gear beside him, hanging on the shack wall. "Care to join me?"

Louis smiled in turn, but shook his head. "I much rather enjoy the view."

Not giving it further thought, Boucheron accepted the answer with a nod and a grin, happy either way.

Louis sat himself down on the bench at the pond's edge, and observed.

Louis was more involved in the preparation of food, rather than procuring the ingredients. This process; the slight adjustments in positioning, the pause and examination of every ripple in the water's surface, Boucheron biting his lip and furrowing his brow…

It made him wonder if it was the act of fishing that he was watching, or rather, the act of one becoming impatient and fighting the urge to fidget.

Louis found himself leaning back into the bench. He closed his eyes for but a moment, and inhaled. The breeze was slight, but carried with it the scent of bruised grass and the wet wood of the pier. He sighed.

As he opened his eyes, to see Boucheron looking at him through his periphery, he wondered just how loud he had been in order to draw such attention to himself.

Boucheron shifted his weight again, lifting his head to break the gaze, and rolling his shoulders. "I suppose you have the right idea."

He considered the rod he was holding for a moment, before deciding to prop it up between assorted fishery gear that Louis did not care to identify. After being sure the rod would stay put, he nodded to himself and turned to join Louis on the bench.

Boucheron sighed as he sprawled out. One arm leaning on the back behind Louis' shoulder, the other on his lap, and his legs haphazardly splayed out with his heels digging into the dirt. Not quite giving a thought to anything else but comfort for his tall frame.

But what, as opposed to Louis' tall frame? Louis sat with his legs crossed and hands resting on his lap. And with posture that he quickly supposed was a bit too rigid for such a casual occasion. He relaxed his shoulders a bit.

"I've been wondering," Boucheron drawls, "I see you around a lot, but nearly always on the sidelines. And when we ask if you want to join, you say you'd rather watch. I'm curious. Why is that?"

"Ah." Louis says, a grin tugging on his lip. A very familiar question. But, put quite nicely this time.

"As one enjoys activities with others, I quite enjoy seeing others experience this." He started, "Why, when you see other people having fun and laughing, doesn't it just hearten you so?"

Boucheron's eyebrows flew up in understanding as he nodded. "Ah, yeah, suppose so."

"I find that one can become quite knowledgeable about a person, and understand their motivations and true natures, by observing how they talk and act."

Boucheron's eyebrows just as quickly furrowed again in confusion. "Oh?"

"For example. You are modest and you regularly humble yourself, despite all the effort you put into ensuring that your charge," he interrupted himself, "And everyone you care for, mind you – is happier having had your help."

"Oh. No, I…" Boucheron started to argue, before realising he was doing exactly that. He looked away, wiping his hands on his knees.

"To a fault, I would say." Louis chuckled.

"To a fault." He mumbles to himself, before clearing his throat. "And how did you observe this?"

Louis smiled. "It's quite plain to see! Consider all that you do for our cohort, along with; Training with His Highness and the Divine One and begrudgingly following along their wild ideas. Volunteering to help those with chores they despise – even when you despise them yourself. Attending Her Highness' tea times despite your preference for sweet, cool drinks."

Boucheron looks away again, laying his hands back on his lap. "Well then, I could very much say the same for you."

Louis quirks an eyebrow. "For me, you say?"

"Hah, where do I start?" Boucheron yet again brings his hand up, this time to emphasise as he counts.

"One, the breakfasts you personally prepare for His and Her Highnesses. Two, the care you take to help Céline create her favourite blends of tea. Three, the time you spend after battle honing the weapons and repairing their tomes. Among many other things you do for them."

"Ah. But that is all duty." Louis says, leaning back into the bench as he folds his arms.

The moment lies still between them, before Boucheron chuckles.

"Perhaps we protest too much."

Louis hums, smiling. "Perhaps."


It occurred to Louis that he had not seen Boucheron all morning.

Typically, Prince Alfred and Boucheron would pass Louis as they jogged at dawn. Then the pair would come to the café for their breakfast, planning how best to train for the rest of the early hours as they ate. Louis then having to remind the duo to at least wait until their meals settled in their stomachs before attempting to do a thousand push ups, or deadlift poor Jean, or some other ridiculous physical challenge.

But, after that, Boucheron was always outside lazing in the shade. Just as likely to be reading a book, fishing, or just humming to himself as he gazed out at nothing and enjoyed the breeze.

Louis decided that the prudent choice was to search the Somniel for signs of chaos and either man, in order to prevent… whatever absurd workout they had plotted this morning.

That was his first thought, anyway.

As he searched, and continually found nothing, he did ruminate on his intentions.

Sure. Louis' life was easier if he did get ahead of the men and tamper their ambitions to be more, say, realistic, and less likely to injure.

But it was a rather flimsy excuse he was using in order to justify seeking out Boucheron, was it not?

If it was not that thought which stopped Louis in his tracks, it was an abrupt squawking and voice coming from the stables.

The first thing Louis heard clearly was sniffling.

"Oh sweetie," the voice cooed, "I know its hard, but you try and get comfy, okay?"

And behold, Boucheron was by the coop gingerly petting a hen. He fought the tears threatening to roll down his face, while the hen clucked much more weakly than she had squawked before.

Louis had no idea how to gently introduce himself into such a scene. He decided to uncomfortably interrupt and just offer help instead.

"What appears to be the problem?"

Boucheron jumped in his skin, but he quickly relaxed as he realised who had scared him.

"Louis!" He sniffed, his expression muddied with worry and relief. "Oh, this poor thing! She's egg-bound."

"Pardon?"

"Paulette's been trying to lay all morning. Something's gone wrong in the process, and the egg is stuck in her body." Boucheron continued stroking the hen's back. "I've been doing what I can to help her here. Gave her some soft feed, I'm trying to drip feed her more water... "

He sighed, and failed to wipe his wet cheek on his shoulder. "If it breaks, or if she can't lay, she could die. It just. Feels too cruel to leave her alone, even for a minute."

Louis knelt down. The hen barely moved at the intrusion.

Boucheron sniffed again.

And with this tug at his heartstrings, Louis said "How can I help?"

Louis fetched a lukewarm kettle, rags, and a small pot. As soon as he returned, Boucheron hastily set up a bath, but slowed as he reached for the hen.

"Here, honey. This will help you feel much better." He said in a hushed voice, caressing the hen as she meekly protested being held again. Her clucking turning into a cooing as he lowered her into the warm water.

He blinked back a tear, before smiling lopsidedly at Louis. "Warm baths can help soothe sore muscles, so I'm hoping that this will help her relax enough to bear laying the stuck egg. Gosh. She's been trying long enough."

He slouched into himself, sighing again, but with renewed relief. "But now all we can do is wait."

Louis hesitated before sitting beside him. More out of fear of whatever muck hid under the hay than anything else, but he soon forgot about it when Boucheron patted the hay beside himself. Gesturing for him to come.

So, Louis sat.

Boucheron cleared his throat. And before he could try and wipe his face with his hand, Louis had wordlessly taken a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and offered it to him.

"Ah," his voice croaked, before he cleared it again. "Thanks. I'll wash it and get it back as soon as I can."

Louis shook his head. "There's no need to rush."

The men sat in amicable silence, broken occasionally by stray crooning from the coop, and the hay shuffling beneath them as they stretched.

But Louis' curiosity did get the better of him.

"So, Paulette."

"Hmm?"

"Why would you name a chicken that?"

Boucheron grinned, leaning backwards. "Well. I ran out of chicken puns."

Louis chuckled. "And who else have you named?"

Boucheron counted the names on his fingers. "Henrietta, Eggatha, Layla, Nesther, Hennifer, Ashlay."

Louis smiled. "I never expected you to have a wealth of chicken related wordplay hiding within you."

"Hmm." He looked at Louis with a cocked grin, back to leaning on his palm with on hand and stroking Paulette with the other. "Perhaps if you talked with the people you observed more often, you'd find other nuggets of knowledge like that."

Louis feigned offense, sighing exaggeratedly, and placing his hand on his heart. "I don't know what I did to deserve that comment, but touché nonetheless."

Their quiet chuckling was abruptly cut short by Paulette's crowing. The bird shuddered with effort, and Boucheron laid his hand on her back.

"You can do it, girl." He said softly. Louis saw Boucheron's back muscles tense in anticipation, while he actively tried to relax his arm and hand. His attempt at trying to keep as relaxed as possible for the hen's sake.

Louis found himself just as tense, leaning in beside Boucheron.

The poor hen's crowing got louder, as she shook with her final push, her egg finally passing and landing softly at the bottom of the basin.

"Oh thank the Divines." Boucheron sighed with heavy relief, his body loosening up near immediately.

Louis' eyebrows raised at the sheer size of the egg now rocking in the water. As if thinking the exact same thing, Boucheron gently scolded the bird, "You overachiever! Don't ever scare me like that again."

But Louis was even more surprised as Boucheron leaned towards him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him in for a hug from the side that nearly knocked their skulls together.

"Thanks, Louis!" Boucheron said, patting his shoulder before hanging his arm off of it. "I couldn't have saved her without your help."

Louis had a few thoughts intangibly flitting through his mind. Something about whether the heat was from the barn, from Boucheron, or himself. Wondering about being touched again. What would be socially proper to say in return. Seeing the smile on Boucheron's face from this close.

Louis decided to nod and smile. "Think nothing of it."


Author's Note:

Okay so hear me out.

I was playing through Chapter 11. I had Louis leading the charge to the escape route, and he was dangerously close to dead with no healing supplies. Boucheron was the closest unit I had to him, and he had two uses on his vulnerary left. I made Boucheron trade Louis his vulnerary, and wait. Then I made Louis drink one use, trade it back to Boucheron, and wait. Boucheron drank the last use on the next turn.

And I was like "Wow, what a dramatic moment."

"Or romantic?"

I'veConnectedTheDots/./mp4

So here's to my first crack pairing ever. I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I am in making it all up.

I suspect this is part one of three. I have chapter two almost ready. Prepare for respectful touching and averting gazes.

(Also, due to hand injuries making playing the switch painful, I haven't finished the game yet. Please forgive me for anything that contradicts later plot.)

((Jokes on Boucheron and Louis, Paulette is a play on poulette, a French term for young female hens.))