Story 16 / Collection 8: Only you

Thank you, my dearest.

The moment Arnold stepped out of the car, he was greeted by a gentle breeze that brought the balminess of a beautiful spring morning, as though a blessing of good fortune for the day to come.

He viewed the building in front of him—for the first time at such a close proximity—and felt a complex concoction of emotions washing over him.

There was an anxious anticipation that filled the resolve he had for his mission, accompanied by a peculiar nostalgia towards this place he had never set foot in before.

The last time he was here, he hid in the shadows and was only able to look on from afar, without getting even one glimpse of Natarle. From a good distance away, he could make out that the compound was large, but it was only seeing it this close upfront that he realised the sheer massiveness of the Badgiruel estate.

This was her castle, where she was once again under the protection of her family.

In the past few months, Kisaka had been periodically sending intel to the officers of the Archangel, keeping them updated on Natarle's situation since her return to the Atlantic Federation. From the information they received, she seemed to have her efforts focused single-mindedly on one thing—not self-preservation, but to clear the Archangel crew's names.

She was deep in enough water with the decisions she made during the final battle at Jachin Due—in particular her defiance against her supposed direct superior, Muruta Azrael, which drew the wrath of Blue Cosmos, but simultaneously gave their opposition an opening to take him down. From within the military ranks all the way into the political scene, different factions debated the legitimacy of the leader of Blue Cosmos as part of the military's chain of command. Every action, every thought, every emotion she went through during her captaincy of the Dominion was put under the spotlight, dissected and scrutinised and construed in conflicting ways, for each of the warring parties within the Alliance to try to twist and leverage for their respective narratives.

She was being reduced to a mere political tool, but she still took every chance she had, putting herself on the line just to fight for what she saw as justice for the Archangel.

Her agenda set off a chain reaction that she had not expected—especially for her own family's involvement.

It was common knowledge to those in the right circles that the Badgiruels were a long-standing military lineage that believed in staying true to the missions and their purposes. They were more practical than idealistic, took no sides and gave no favours, and stayed neutral to the best of their abilities, both within the military and outside. Politics was a game they knew well, yet simply refused to play.

No one was expecting the Badgiruels to make a move. But then, no one had ever made the mistake of crossing them like this before.

Before they knew it, the Blue Cosmos loyalists within the Alliance saw the full force of the Badgiruel clan coming at them from every imaginable angle, supported by a coalition of other enemies and factions that found it in their best interest to align themselves with the Badgiruels, however temporary it may be, to take their best shot at gutting out the tumour of the Alliance once and for all.

The Blue Cosmos made too many enemies, pushed too far with their insanity, and woke a sleeping giant during a time they faced the most scrutiny ever. In the end, Azrael became the rightful sacrificial lamb for the escalation of the war in its later stages, and the Archangel crew was given their freedom—albeit as dishonourable discharges on record—as an offering to make peace within the Alliance.

The Archangel crew could only be observers on the sidelines, watching it unfold in an agonising slowness over the months after the war, with absolutely nothing they could do to help while Natarle gave everything there was to give to make it happen.

Arnold knew what this meant to her, and by extension, to them.

It was her parting gift.

She had accepted she would never see them again. Except her hard efforts were also what cleared his path back to her, despite her intentions.

As soon as he received news that he was free to return to the Atlantic Federation, Arnold made arrangements to come here to her, and make good of his vow.

For his own benefit, he did not notify Natarle that he would be coming, for the fear that she would plan an escape ahead of time.

He walked up to the front door—taking in a long, deep breath to steady his nerves—and pressed the doorbell. With a short wait, the door opened and revealed a middle-aged woman who seemed to be the housekeeper.

He dipped his head politely. "Good morning, my name is Arnold Neumann. I'm here looking for Natarle."

She gave him a courteous smile, seemingly having taken note of his specific use of her first name. "Is she expecting you?"

"No," he answered directly without a single beat of hesitation, hoping she would understand that it was deliberate on his part. "If she's not here, I would like to wait till she returns."

She gave herself a short moment, briefly considering, then pulled the door wide open for him to enter. "Please come in first."

He was led to a room adjacent to the entry hallway—a waiting room of sorts, judging by the decor—and was asked to sit and wait, while the woman left to handle his request.

He waited patiently, his mind kept reminding his heart to calm down at the imaginations of what his reunion with Natarle would be like.

He had not seen her in half a year.

If he was honest to himself, he had never been this nervous in his life before. Ever.

To be fair, this was the biggest gamble he has made; to give her no forewarning also meant he had no insights on what her day looked like, if she had already planned for her future, or whether she wanted to see him again at all.

He started hypothesising what his worst-case scenarios looked like and what counteractions he could take, when he heard the sudden click of the door handle turning. Before he noticed, he was already standing.

The door came open in the most gruellingly tentative manner, until she finally appeared behind it.

Arnold held his breath—all thoughts cast aside—and used every ounce of his cognisance to take in the vision of her.

She was wearing a lilac dress that gave her an air of softness not present in the other times he saw her in her own clothes. The dress seemed a looser fit than it was supposed to be; she had definitely lost weight. Her amethyst eyes—casted straight at him—held hesitation, but shone bright with life. Her hair was a bit longer, reaching her chin now, and her lips were coloured a light shade of coral instead of the plum purple he was used to seeing. All the little things were different, but she was the same.

She still looked as lovely as ever.

He felt his blood rush through his whole body, warming him to his core. The first sight of her was electrifying, but in a blink of his eyes, it felt like home.

"Natarle," her name slipped through his lips as a second nature, and he was mindful of how it was taking every bit of his restraint to hold himself back from running towards her.

She quietly closed the door behind her, and took slow, uncertain steps towards where he stood, opting to finally sit down in the seat opposite him. He followed suit, once again taking his own seat.

"I didn't know you were coming." She spoke with a mildness that he had not expected, as though she could not bring herself to tell him off for his lack of decorum.

"You're not supposed to," he laughed ever so lightly with a knowing smile. "I didn't want to give you a chance to run."

She breathed in, the flash in her eyes hinting of a fleeting dissent at his foresight, before she asked carefully, "Why are you here?"

She was a clever person, not to mention he had made his stance clear multiple times already. At this point, he was certain she was just being stubborn. "I'm sure you know why, and what I want. You're the one who made it possible."

"That was not why I did it."

"I'm aware, but I also presume you would've known from the start that I'll use it to my advantage, no matter what your intentions were."

For a moment she simply stared at him—there was no hostility, only cautious contemplation. Then she finally spoke again. "I don't suppose you will still want to stay in the Atlantic Federation after all you've been through."

"Hard to say. It depends on you. If you want to stay here, I'll come back."

"But you won't be in the military any more."

"If it's the Earth Forces you're referring to, no I won't."

"That'll be a waste of your talents."

"I have other talents."

She fell silent, her beautiful face falling into a frown as though she heard a bad joke. Arnold felt a quick tightening of his heartstrings at the realisation that she held his achievements in higher regard than he did. It did not matter to him though; he never had the same conviction with his military career as she did with hers.

He sensed a reluctance; he supposed she would never forgive herself if he gave it all up for her, and he could not let this be her excuse.

"You can come with me to Orb."

She looked at him like he had just made fun of her with a non-existent option. But he was serious.

"Or we can go anywhere else on or off this planet," he added, "I'll be wherever you want to be."

Her frown deepened as she kept trying to fight him with logic and her best intentions for him. "You're taking a lot of risks with your life."

"Whatever plans I had before are out the window now, and I'll have to start again anyway. I don't have anything to lose, except you. And I'm not losing you again."

A period of silence descended again between them as she measured the weight of his words. Then quietly, hesitantly, she asked, "You still want me? After all this?"

There was never any doubt, at least on his part.

"Have I still not convinced you?"

"It's not as simple as that. There's so much that we haven't figured out. The future won't necessarily work out the way we want it to."

"Isn't that precisely why we need to hold fast to what's most important?"

She wore the expression she always did when she was holding back on speaking her mind, and he knew she was now just refusing him for the sake of it, being fixated on the ruins of their past when he needed her to look at the canvas of their future.

"Natarle, you are what's non-negotiable; everything else is contingent. I can sit here in front of you today because of you; because you did everything you could to give me the freedom to live the future I want. I want to live that future with you."

Her eyes, for one brief moment, stayed on him, then in the next, averted away as she concentrated on the thoughts in her mind without the vision of him distracting her. He waited quietly; silence returned between them until all that was heard was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall, and the heavy beating of his own heart.

He unconsciously stole a glance at the time, an inconsequential action that still caught her attention, and she asked, "Are you in a hurry?"

He wondered if it was worry that he heard in her voice. "No, I have the whole day. A few days, in fact."

She looked somewhere between confused and surprised. He wondered why. He had made it clear that he would go to whatever lengths needed to convince her; what were just a few days of his time?

There was a sudden knock on the door, and it opened swiftly before either of them gave a response.

In came a handsome couple in their late fifties. Between the two of them Arnold found all the distinct features shared by both Natarle and her brother, and he immediately understood they were their parents. He shot up from his seat, while they stayed by the door with no intention to move into the room.

"Hello, I heard Natarle had a guest. You must be Arnold," her mother smiled at him with a twinkle in violet eyes—inherited by both her children—and a graceful warmness. "Nice to meet you. I'm Elizabeth, Natarle's mother."

He bowed his head. "Nice to meet you too, ma'am."

She smiled again, this time with a hint of apology. "I'm afraid I need to borrow my daughter for a moment."

Natarle seemed a little surprised, and a little unwilling. "W- we're still talking," she explained fretfully, and Arnold had the impression that she did not want to leave quite yet.

"It won't take long," Elizabeth informed, in a tone mothers would use to gently tell their children the decision was final.

It worked like a charm on Natarle; Arnold caught her stealing a sideways glance at him, then made her way towards her mother, following her out the room with Elizabeth closing the door behind them.

Only Natarle's father remained, and Arnold realised this was their goal from the start.

The speed of his pulse shot up like it just hitched a ride on a fighter jet.

The man was tall, and his salt-and-pepper hair had hints of the obsidian coloured hair that both his children had. His physique and features reminded Arnold of Natarle's brother, but it was evident that his daughter was the one who took after him for his sharp stare and stern manner.

He walked into the room and took the seat Natarle sat in before, not once regarding Arnold—but Arnold knew better; the seasoned commander must have already had a good look at him without him noticing.

Arnold felt his hands sweating with a slight tremble, and his heartbeat racing. He counted on his well-practised poker face to maintain a facade of calmness. "General Badgiruel."

"No need for that here. Just call me Edward."

"Sir."

Edward finally looked at him, light grey eyes cool and inexpressive. "Please, sit down."

He did as he was told.

"So. Arnold Neumann. Assigned to the Archangel since before the incident at Heliopolis. You escaped Alaska and stayed with the ship until the conclusion of the war. And ended up in Orb."

They were all facts, but sounded like a judgement. Arnold sat up a little straighter than he already did. "Yes sir."

"And yet, here you are today." Edward watched Arnold closely, assessing and evaluating him for his worth.

"I believe I owe you and your family my thanks, sir." Arnold lowered his head with respect. "The Archangel crew deeply appreciates it."

Edward remained unmoved. "A dishonourable discharge from the Earth Forces doesn't mean much for you now though, does it? Just a slap on the wrist, considering you have Orb's protection."

"It means a great deal to me, sir. Particularly at this point in time."

Edward gave no reaction to his words, while his grey eyes observed Arnold's every movement like a watchful hound. He was so difficult to read, unlike his youngest child.

"The Archangel was the second time you worked with my daughter."

A piece of history that Arnold had not expected—this was starting to feel like an interrogation—he felt his body stiffen for the briefest of a second.

"Yes it was."

"I'm not in the Space Force like my children, but I have clearance to know what goes on. I follow their assignments, and I read every report they write."

From Edward's reply, it was clear that Arnold's surprise did not escape his notice. Arnold nodded quietly, unsure whether this conversation was going to play out for or against him. It was difficult to tell from a face that betrayed nothing, speaking in a tone that communicated no emotions.

"You seem to have her favour," Edward continued. "I may have disagreed with Halberton on a lot of things, but he certainly had a good eye. He chose only the best for the Archangel, so I know what you're capable of. This is not a diminishment of your talent and hard work, but my daughter's reports of you were always glowing. Of course, you could only tell if you knew how to read between the lines with her. But I must say even I was surprised."

Was he speaking as upper echelon? Was he speaking as a father? Was there a difference, when he was both?

And was he expecting a response?

Arnold had an inkling of where this line of questioning—without actual questions—was heading. The only problem was that his mind was not working fast enough to process the layers of complexities folded into this short, simple statement to come up with a diplomatic answer that guaranteed he got in Edward's good graces.

This was not the time to take risks; he started deliberating whether it was better to just be plainly honest about what he came for. He would have said something already, if it were not for the sound Edward made—shortly breathing out through his nose—that was either a snub or a sign of amusement and had Arnold very unsettled.

"You would have been transferred with her to the Dominion if the decision had been made by people with a better sense of judgement. But that ship was Azrael's personal carrier; I suppose they didn't want to give her too much control. Perhaps you were fortunate in that sense."

That, for sure, was news—shocking news that had Arnold's body frozen in place while his brain tried to make sense of its implications and all the possibilities that were denied to him, like he had been cheated of something. At the end of it all, the emotion he felt, surprisingly, was anger.

"I think it depends on who you're asking."

"And if I asked you?"

"I don't agree with the sentiment that I was fortunate."

"Even knowing what went down on the Dominion?"

"Precisely because of what went down. I would rather I was there. I would have protected her. And things would be very different now. With your daughter, I mean." The words came out as rapid fire with no restraint in his tone, only for Arnold to regret his rashness and hastily adding as an afterthought, "Sir."

Edward raised an eyebrow—the first signs of emotion—and Arnold felt his pulse quicken again.

"So, you're here to ask her to give you a chance."

"Yes."

"Despite the state of affairs with you two."

"Yes. She's worked so hard and given so much, and she's always protecting us. I want to do the same for her. Whatever it takes, I'll make it work."

"You're quite a daring person, Arnold Neumann. More so than I thought."

"Sir?"

"You come to my house, look me in the face, and tell me you want to take my daughter away from me."

Arnold gulped. That was not the angle he was going for. Well, he supposed it only left him with one option now; he did say to himself he wanted to be honest.

"S- she hasn't agreed to anything yet. But… wherever she wants to go, I'll go with her. I'll give anything to be with her. That is if she'll have me."

Edward's eyes were fixed onto him with an intensity that was unsparingly intimidating, but Arnold did not dare to look away; caving under pressure would surely be judged harshly by someone who was both a father and a soldier.

It felt like ages until Edward finally let out the tiniest of smiles.

"It seems like you still have some work to do. She'll get there." He was slightly relaxed now, evident in both his tone and demeanour. "She's stubborn, isn't she? And not very honest to herself. Always making things more difficult than they need to be."

Arnold took Edward's change in attitude as a sign of his approval of him, and released some—but not all—of the tension held within him. He returned a smile of acknowledgement; it was clear that Edward was aware of exactly what Arnold was dealing with.

Edward continued with a question, "What are your options?"

"If she wants to stay here, I have other choices outside the military."

"What if she wants to leave?"

"Orb is a possibility. She's very talented. I believe the Orb military would want to have her, if she's interested."

Edward let out a sigh that was filled with a very parental melancholy, and leaned back into his seat. He had a pensive look on his face as he watched Arnold for a brief moment, before slowly sharing his thoughts.

"She probably thinks she should stay and change things, but I don't want this to be her battlefield. Our biggest enemies are no longer those out there, but those within. It's going to get dirty. This shouldn't be her fight."

"You want her to go to Orb?" Arnold was surprised, never having imagined a family with such pride in their legacy would want to send one of their own away.

"If she's willing. She's not safe here. You think one can just take on the Blue Cosmos and get away unscathed? We're seeking the same thing; you and I. I want her to be safe, and to be free to do what she wants. But above all else, I want her to be happy."

The expression on Edward's face was not one of austerity as the head of the Badgiruel house, but of deliberation as a concerned parent.

Arnold had no doubt that he would make Natarle happy—he had already defined this as his life's mission. As for what she wanted to do, both he and Edward understood well what it was.

"Her work is her passion and pride."

Edward nodded. "She knows strategy and tactics, but she doesn't know deception and manipulation. She's too much of a straight arrow and she can't play politics. She makes a great soldier, but a weapon is only as good as its wielder, which is why I don't want her to stay in the Earth Forces. And she's still learning. If there was a single positive outcome from what the Blue Cosmos did to her, it was opening her eyes and making her realise her tunnel vision in obeying orders without critiquing them. As much as she challenged the decisions of your captain, she was also learning from her. There's nothing left for her to learn here, unless she forces herself to go against her nature. Good parents wouldn't want that, don't you think?"

Every point he made in his detailed line of thinking was a spot on assessment, and Arnold found no source for disagreement. The man in front of him certainly knew his daughter well, and only had her best interests at heart. Even without laying out his terms in plain wording, his demands were clear.

The proposal suited Arnold perfectly—if Natarle chose to take his hand, he would never let go again. To have her father's blessing would mean so much to him, especially given Natarle's pedigree. It was all happening too fast and smoothly that Arnold wondered if he was making this all up in his head. "Is it going to make things problematic for you?"

"That's not for you to worry about," came Edward's flat reply. "I just need to know if you can do what I'm asking you to."

There was a soft knock on the door that interrupted them, but Edward was undistracted. Neither was he.

"Yes," Arnold gave a firm nod. "Yes I can, sir."

The door opened, and Elizabeth came in with a tray of refreshments, and Natarle followed behind with a contemplativeness clouding her face.

"Natarle, come sit down." Edward gestured to the seat next to Arnold with the tilt of his head.

Natarle looked at her father, then to the seat, and back to her father again for confirmation—she seemed to have understood the implications of his instructions, but was hesitating for the lack of information for its reasons.

Arnold caught Elizabeth's discreet smile as she placed the tray on the coffee table while Natarle sat down uneasily next to him like a child awaiting a lecture from her parents. He counted two cups of tea, and four people in the room; he wondered how much of this was the outcome her parents had planned for before they first stepped into this room.

"Arnold and I had a good discussion," Edward started speaking, though Arnold was not sure if it was to his daughter or wife. "I believe we have an understanding."

Natarle watched her father with a startled expression as he stood up from his seat, this time directly addressing her. "I'll let you two continue your conversation. Natarle, remember—the decision is yours. Choose not the life you think you should live, but the life you'll be happy to live."

Edward put his hand around his wife and led her out, and just before they were to exit the room, Elizabeth turned around to ask one last question, "Arnold, would you like to join us for dinner tonight?"

In the corner of his eyes, Arnold caught Natarle flinching at her mother's suggestion. He replied, "If it's not too much trouble, I would like that very much."

Elizabeth smiled, and closed the door behind her.

As soon as the two disappeared from his view, Arnold felt Natarle's glare land onto him. He turned to her with a smug smile; there was no use for her to fight him anymore.

She eyed him suspiciously. "What did you two talk about?"

"Your future. With me."

"I haven't agreed to anything."

He reached for her hand—the first time he felt her warmth after a very, very long while. He held it tenderly, tentatively, and only by her fingers; not too insistent, giving her time to get used to his touch again.

"No, you haven't. Which is why I'm asking once again. You've done so much, for me to have this second chance. I want to be by your side forever, to make you happy and keep you safe. I want to be the one you can rely on no matter what. Please, let me cherish you."

There it was; he poured his heart out, eyes locked onto hers—the beautiful, rare amethysts that had him mesmerized every single time—and his world came to a halt as he awaited her verdict.

What would her answer be?

Side story: The things they never told her

Natarle watched her mother put on the kettle to prepare the tea—opting to do it herself and sending their help away for a moment of privacy between them—and waited for the impending conversation to start.

The morning so far just kept catching her by surprise, forcing her outside her comfort zone without her even stepping outside her home.

Arnold was not supposed to be here, and she was never quite sure if her father knew about him to begin with. She wondered what they could be discussing at this moment.

Elizabeth was placing the teacups onto the tray when she started speaking, and the beginning of their conversation was not what Natarle had expected. "I suppose your father never told you this himself. How immensely proud he is of you, but that he also never wanted you to join the military in the first place?"

Natarle assumed the question was rhetorical—no, he never told her—and countered her question with another. "But letting Alex do the same is alright? That hardly seems fair."

Elizabeth let out a soft sigh, the way she always did whenever she thought Natarle was being stubborn. "You and your brother are different. You're his baby girl, always will be. You know that Alex never liked it either, the only difference is he made it very clear to you from the start."

"But it's tradition."

"Contrary to what everybody assumes, your father never expected either of you to join the military. But somehow, Badgiruel children always end up with the same aspiration. It's the same with your cousins; it must be something in the genes."

Her mother's last comment came out as a mutter under her breath, and Natarle turned away to fiddle with the tea cups, pretending to not catch the grievance in her tone as she insisted on her standpoint, "If that's the case, why didn't Dad ever say anything about it?"

"Because he knew you weren't going to change your mind anyhow. Everyone knows who your stubbornness came from. How was he ever going to say no to you? I've always told you that your father spoils you rotten."

She did indeed used to say that, not that Natarle ever agreed with it. She felt like her mother was leading this conversation to a place where she could ultimately convince her of something—what it was, she had not figured it out yet—but hiding agendas in casual conversation was her mother's craft, and she knew it was better to just keep her mouth shut.

"You're aware your father follows everything you and Alex do throughout your careers, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And your father has read every single report about the Archangel."

"Yes."

And then it dawned her. Of course her father knew about Arnold. She immediately looked to Elizabeth in a small panic.

Her mother only smiled with a glint in her eyes. "He's the one who sent you that present for your birthday, was he not?"

Natarle felt her face heating up a little—they had finally arrived at the crux of this talk, and her mother was asking questions for things she already knew the answer to; was there still a point in this discussion other than to give her father sufficient time to do whatever he had planned to with their guest?

The piercing screech of the kettle cut through the air. Natarle was about to reach for it—the perfect distraction to save her from having to respond—but Elizabeth got to it first. She bit her lip lightly in defeat as her mother prepared the tea.

"I'll take it as a yes. Alex also told me that you cried after he picked you up from that ship. That's twice now."

Why did her mother have to bring this up? Natarle felt herself getting warmer and warmer as she wondered if she was expected to reply at all.

Elizabeth extended her hand and landed it gently on Natarle's cheek. "Darling, what I'm trying to tell you is, we want you to have the freedom to choose your own path. If he is the person you want to go to, you can make that choice."

It was very tempting, but things had been difficult enough for long enough, and there was so much that was unresolved still looming over them.

"What if he's better off without me?"

"I doubt that would be the case if he came all this way for you the very first moment he had the chance. You need him too, don't you?"

Truly. She had never felt such a need for a person to be in her life before.

He was the only one.

"Natarle," her mother picked up the tray and made a sign for her to follow. "It's true that love alone can't solve problems, but it is what makes even the hard times worthwhile."

[Prompt title 24: お疲れ様 / Thank you for your hard work]

Author's note

I cheated again hahahaha. Obviously the prompt itself isn't the main point, I just used it as an excuse to wrap up most of the story before the final chapter.

The ending of the main story is not a cliffhanger; you already know what happened. Remember the side story of story 17 'Good morning, good night'? ;)

By the way, the part where I wrote Natarle and Arnold worked together before is a setting thing. I felt like they had a particularly close working relationship, so I thought to make it that they knew each other before already. And I also don't think Natarle is the type to fall in love quickly, and because I had to max out on the timeframe, I sneaked this setting in in a blink-and-you'll-miss way.

Also, I wrote what I wrote for the sake of the story, but I actually think Natarle would've wanted to stay in EA after Jachin Due. If she was willing to sacrifice her life to do the right thing, she wasn't going to walk away from it as hard as it was to stay. But I guess the story demanded it, so here we are.