.
Paralogue Two: Going Once…Going Twice…
It was the time of the year when Maribelle would begin her extended stay in Ylisstol Palace as a guest of honor, although the circumstances within the halidom were less than ideal for your typical sleepover. A mere two weeks had passed since she was accosted by a certain Plegian "she-hag" named Aversa and her Mad King, Gangrel.
Despite the state of war between the two nations, the atmosphere in Lissa's chambers was lively. Festive, even. The princess rolled on her bed excitedly while she clued Maribelle in on her recent trip to Ferox. The stories and gossips were amusing to Themis' future magistrate; especially how their Captain and brand new tactician convinced the warrior Khans to aid Ylisse against the Plegians. Yet one of Lissa's revelations piqued Maribelle's interest, despite her body language portraying her as a reluctant listener.
Maribelle lifted her teacup and took a sip with utmost gentleness and upper-class finesse. She clicked her tongue; air flowed in her mouth, amplifying the flavor of the tea she drank. To most of the Shepherds, it did not come as a surprise that Maribelle remained calm, seemingly unaffected by her capture. Though she despised Plegia with a passion, they treated her well as a captive; at least before the official declaration of war. And was she thankful for never experiencing how the country treated their prisoners of war.
"We talked about a bunch of stuff on our way back," Lissa recounted with an accompanying giddiness. "…Fought some bandits, saved this merchant girl. I think he's kind of okay with me now but, uh, he's probably still a teeny bit mad because of what I did a few days ago."
"Oh, how beautiful this weather had become…" Maribelle quipped as the once clear skies were overtaken by ashy thunderclouds with bass rumbling from afar. How Ylisse's summer weather goes from beauty to absolute anarchy was one mystery she knew could never be solved.
"So—wait, are you even listening?" Maribelle remained calm and composed, knowing the outburst was more than characteristic of her friend. Her eyes turned to the window next to her.
Nutty. Crisp. Good tea-to-water ratio. Leaves dried too soon…these stewards cannot make potable tea! Maribelle set her cup down and scrutinized her friend. Lissa's hair was untied and was left free to spread out of her shoulders. Lying down, it became disheveled. Her dress was nothing more than her sleeping gown. It was clear that her unkempt appearance bothered Maribelle, but the noble could not bring herself to call her out on it. When Lissa decided to be lazy, it was more of a stern declaration than an assumption.
"Maribelle!" Lissa let off a sound resembling a growl or mewl as she flutter-kicked on her mattress. "You're totally not paying attention!"
"I am, my dear." Maribelle sighed, crossing her legs. Though most might see Maribelle's actions as being reluctant, her mind was working in full gear. "You have been making our tactician the topic of your tales: are you starting to see something in that man?"
"I-I-I…uh, totally not!" Lissa tried to be as misleading as she could but to Maribelle, her efforts were all for naught. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he's an incredibly sweet person. And he's helping Chrom out like a TON. They've been fighting together like a tag-team! It's pretty cool."
"I see…"
"And he also does this cute thing when he's—" Lissa quickly covered her mouth with both hands, immediately earning Maribelle's suspicion.
"Yeees?" Maribelle cooed and leaned forward. This was clearly something new in the princess' thoughts. Meanwhile, Lissa began shifting several shades of red, to Maribelle's astonishment and amusement. Never had she seen the princess so flustered. "What 'cute' thing?"
"H-h-he…uh…" Lissa masked her face with her pillow; her voice was muffled but her words were clear. She leaned toward her friend, took a deep breath and whispered. "So…he does this thing…with his face."
"Oh?" Maribelle suddenly sat up, curiosity sparkled in her irises. Who knew that a man of common breed had a certain look that had her dearest friend enamored? "Was it a beautiful smile? A gaze that could send a thousand of our Pegasus knights to keel and faint?"
Until Lissa demonstrated the actual expression herself, Maribelle greeted the "mark of beauty" with a very blank stare. She blinked once. Then twice. Maribelle held no expression, her face stoic as she sipped from her teacup and gently set it down on the table. Throwing Lissa completely off the mark, Maribelle tried to stifle her laughter but quickly lost control eventually transforming into a high-brow cackle.
"Hahahahaha! Oh bless me! Oh Naga! Lissa! D-don't do that hideous expression again!" She yelled as she clutched her sides from mild cramping. The absurdity of it all! Was Lissa honestly serious about this? On the other hand, the princess groaned in embarrassment. Once Maribelle saw Lissa swaying bashfully side to side, twiddling her fingers together, she only drew one conclusion.
"So you are developing affection for Mark!" Maribelle gasped in shock, her tone aghast. "You can't honestly be serious!"
"I-I'm really serious!" Lissa timidly admitted. She pressed the pillow to her face, masking over her rose-tinted cheeks. "I think it's incredibly cute coming from Mark! And it just swept my heart!"
"Oh, my dear. The feeling is absolutely not mutual." Maribelle regained her proper posture; a serious look replaced the playful laughter that took place. "How in the world did you even provoke such a hideous presentation from him?"
"I-I told you! I kind of accidentally ruined one of his books." Lissa sighed and pulled one of her pillows to her cheeks. "A-and it's not hideous!"
"I do say that he's definitely a better choice than Vaike but surely you can find a much more genteel man." She said, purposely avoiding an argument with Lissa why that look had her captivated. "Why, Sir Frederick seems like a better option!"
"My crush on Frederick ended when I was twelve!" She pouted, bringing Maribelle out of her conundrum. "And the age difference is waaay too big."
"What about that Marth fellow that you told me about?" Maribelle cleared her throat. "Did you not take fancy to him?"
"Well," Lissa quickly sat up; her bed bounced her around with the sudden motion. "He's kind of mysterious so that's really, really macho. And he saved my life, too! But something tells me he's not the kind of guy to go into romance. He's so—I don't know…too serious-mysterious?"
"Oh Fie! This is unbecoming of a princess of your stature!" Maribelle shouted, forcing Lissa to squeak. "I cannot even begin to comprehend how that…that man has oh-so captivated you!"
"I mean doesn't being nice—"
"I refuse to acknowledge this!" Maribelle bluntly expressed her disapproval and left the room in haste.
"Maribelle! Wait-!"
"I am merely retrieving something!" Maribelle hastily walked down the halls towards the guest chambers. Lissa could definitely find a better breed of gentleman than him, she thought. She knew that their amnesiac tactician was too lowborn for her tastes. Yes, it was true that he became a trusted aide to the Prince of Ylisse yet it appalled her that someone so close to royalty could be so unrefined! How was he, a man who can openly pick his nose and drink at taverns, be so close to her Lissa? What if she gets a habit of such boorish acts? He might even take advantage of her! She might even resort to forgetting her roots as nobility!
She needed to figure out how this man worked, she thought as rain fell hard on the palace grounds. If he was trying to make advancements towards Lissa and has her infatuated like that, she was immediately ready to become the hurdle that Mark had to go past before earning her dearest Lissa's love. If there even is.
While her heels clacked from the stone floor of the palace halls, she made a note to add the tactician to the list and place him at the very top.
Six columns marked each corner of the large hexagonal room. From each hung the field banners of every major division of the Ylissean Military. The pure white marble flooring that kept its sheen since the day it was set gave the young man the feeling of walking by a waterfront—his eyes constantly fixated at his feet and the reflection that came from it. Two pages from his Fire tome gently flipped. With a short incantation from his lips, the chandelier above began to glow a tender orange, akin to that of sunset's light. Below it was a detailed map of Ylisse and Plegia used in the war fifteen years ago atop a custom table. Every major city was bolded by cartographers and general drawings of roads dotted the brown parchment sealed beneath the glass. Blue flag pieces marked the Ylissean forts while red marked those of Plegia and suspected bandit strongholds.
He looked around the room. Mark inhaled deeply and with a quick exhale; he put his hands to his waist and smiled.
"Here we go."
He loved being inside the Chamber of War.
Since rescuing Maribelle from the Plegians, Mark knew that he had to prepare against a protracted campaign against the desert nation. Pulling his chair and hanging his robe on its backrest, he began to study the strategies that the former Exalt used in his war years ago. He carried a box filled with writing utensils, rolled up maps, and a few specific books to the large table and set it down with a muffled thud. Old complex chains of cause-and-effect scenarios, battle plans, and formations began to influence every decision he had to create. Was he willing to refortify the border towns and create reinforced lines? Or was he willing to trap the Plegians and force them to invade the halidom itself?
Day after day, scroll after scroll, book after book, Mark drew drafts of every possible strategy he could use against any form of Plegian aggression. As an obvious action from his fellow comrades, Chrom and Frederick consistently checked up on their friend, despite knowing full well that they were, in essence, useless to help him in matters relating to tactics. He was the brain and they were his sword and shield. But to the Tactician's chagrin, the continual sights of parchment and scrolls slowly became the bane of his existence.
Unbeknownst to him, a certain Ylissean princess often peeked from the entrance of the chambers as she passed by from her room to the dining chambers, both curious and worried about him. It appeared that Maribelle was going to be of no help to her after her hasty exit. The Themisian was not even present in the palace for the past few days, doing charity work with the other Shepherds in the capital. It was all up to her, she thought. She wanted Mark to like her more. But what could she do? If no one was going to help her, it was time to let her own actions decide her fate. After all, that "rubbery-thingy" his face did has her hooked.
Each time she passed by, she always turned her head towards the wide open door, looking at the young man twisting his compass and drawing over his rulers around the large map. Eventually she stationed herself by the door side, mustering up her courage to talk to him yet faltered at every attempt when either Sumia or Sully came to the door to check up on their tactician. As soon as she heard their armor clank, she quickly hid herself behind the columns and the bushes, peeking from afar. Annoyance kept prodding Lissa's psyche as she saw Sully and Mark having a laugh or when Sumia brought him tea and he had to catch her from falling.
I found him first.
She then asked herself: Why was she the one behind the column with the twigs? How come she couldn't be the one serving him tea? With the rain leaving the grounds of Ylisstol Palace wet, a lone frog hopped it way in front of Lissa, uttering a single croak. An idea sprung. Why not do another prank? After all, it would grab his attention and they'll come out laughing together from it. The princess displayed a childish grin and managed to calm her nervousness into courage.
They were friends, weren't they? She had to act natural. A simple joke could bring them closer together, she thought as she entered the chamber. The red light of the chandelier intensified to a brighter yellow once Mark uttered another incantation.
"Hey there!" Lissa sprung from behind Mark. To her surprise, Mark smiled.
"Oh, Lissa." He wrapped one of Virion's scrolls back into its holder and turned his chair to face her. "I am beat. Do you want to take over my job for me?"
Lissa let off a fake hysterical laugh.
"No." She said flatly. Mark sighed exasperatedly and hunched over. Lissa walked closer and stood by the desk and patted his head like a dog.
"You're a pretty cruel princess."
"Hmph! I never said I was nice, Mark." She smiled mischievously. She placed her palms on his shoulders, jolting him in surprise. He quickly turned around to face her. "You look pretty tired. Do you want a backrub?"
Mark straightened his seating posture and turned his head away as his eyes stayed on her suspiciously.
"Wait…What are you, Vaike and Stahl plotting now?"
"Oh, you wound me, Mark!" Lissa said in her best Maribelle impression. "It was one teeny little joke."
"It was a bucket of ice water on my head!"
"One time." Mark shot her a glare.
"Outside the Feroxi tundra. Have I mentioned it was windy and cold?"
"Now you're being paranoid. We're not somewhere cold and I have nooooo plots planned or anything." Her nose twitched slightly as she placed her hands on her back pocket. The small frog crawled from her pocket and nestled on her sleeve, squirming and its throat gently pulsing. Lissa felt the slimy and strangely leathery feel of the amphibian. She kept her cool despite the frog grossing her out.
"But I really do owe you a lot, Mark."
"…How?" Mark raised a brow.
"You've been helping Chrom with everything from dealing with Frederick to leading the Shepherds! You've taken such a large load off of my big brother's shoulders! I mean, yeah, he doesn't like asking for help, but with all the things you've done? I think he's more than grateful."
"Y-you think so?" Mark blushed. He was pleasantly taken aback. Sure, Chrom was one stubborn prince but to hear from his sister that he had been helping him this much? And that his friend was appreciative of his work? It was as if he was given purpose from being a lowly amnesiac.
"I totally know so! I know Chrom like the back of my hand and my staff!" Lissa walked behind his chair and leaned forward next to her tactician's face. "Now…"
Lissa quickly realized that she pulled herself too close to his face and immediately pulled back. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks like a quick boiling pot of water. Mark was completely unaware of what happened; only feeling her pigtails brush against his cheeks.
"W-well, what do you say?" Lissa turned her head away from Mark, trying to sound as normal as she could despite her nervousness. "Free massaaaage! Going once…going twice…aaand…"
"Okay! Okay!" He conceded. It was a free backrub and gods know how long he toiled over the scrolls. It was an innocent backrub, he convinced himself. What could Lissa possibly do?
Lissa rubbed and kneaded the tense muscles on his shoulders, neck and back. Her thumbs ran through knots upon knots. Mark groaned in mild discomfort. She only guessed it was due to his inexplicably inherent mixed combat skill. It still surprised her that he could wield both magic and swords as if it was second nature, even for someone with amnesia. He was no Lon'qu when it came to swordplay nor was he Miriel and her incredible understanding of Anima properties. Yet she came to the conclusion that Mark was one special person in her book.
"And…uhm…other than me ruining your book…" Lissa said softly, embarrassed. Her hands ran over his broad and built shoulders, slightly dwarfing her own.
As Lissa continued her massage, Mark felt needle-like pricking from his neglected knots but felt euphoric after Lissa's thumbs ran over them. His head bobbed from her forceful kneading. Granted, the princess was rough around the edges as a person. A little immature for her age but he gave her credit for being so approachable. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't dream of interacting with the rest of the Shepherds other than Chrom or Frederick.
"I told you don't worry about it. I really liked the effort you tried for the drawing." Mark smiled, which in turn made Lissa rub her face along her arm, hiding her red tint from her cheeks.
"Y-you saw it?"
"Just a small part." He said simply. Lissa felt a warm sensation spontaneously rise from her chest and became excited. Mark yelped once Lissa tightened her grip on his traps on a big knot.
"Oh, s-sorry." She eased the pressure of the thumbs on his back and began to gently rub them. "Your muscles are just one big knot right here! I'm just going to lightly…press…on…it…"
"Eeee! Aaaah…! …Ohhhh. That felt good." Mark closed his eyes and a contented smile appeared. "Why won't use a staff for soreness like this?"
"It's kind of a waste of magical power to use it on something like that. Kind of like using Mend on a scraped knee." Lissa clarified.
"Oh." Mark motioned to his left shoulder. "Oh there…ow. Ow. Ohhh, that's great. You should try and teach me how to use staves one day."
"It's surprisingly simple; you might not even need my help."
Lissa suddenly felt something well up from her chest: a certain tug she felt being next to Mark. And she felt happy. Being this close to a boy she liked and giving him a back rub made her giddy. She hoped that something like this would last a little longer. And he hoped he would feel the same way with her company. Maybe she might not need the frog after all to grab his attention.
"So how does this feel?" She smiled as her motion eased to his neck, unaware that her now-forgotten frog slid off her sleeve.
"That feels—AAAAGUHH SLIMY? COLD? COLD AND SLIMY OH BY THE GODS WHAT IS THIS SENSATION!?"
Lissa squeaked once Mark jumped from his chair, tipping it over and awkwardly twisted his arms to get the frog off his back. His constant spinning and turning knocked an inkwell from his desk and onto the floor, spilling its contents along the way. From his already unsure footing, his foot snagged the fallen chair and the tactician of the Shepherds gracefully tumbled into the ink puddle.
"Oh my—no! I—wait! I'm so sorry, I wasn't going to use the fro-!" Lissa immediately went to check up on him. Seeing his face muddled in shiny black ink and with what appeared to be the "rubbery-face thing" he did, Lissa quickly broke down laughing. "PBBBBTLLL. HAHAHAHAHAHA OH GODS YOUR FACE LOOKS LIKE A RUBBER BALL."
"LISSA, WHAT IN THE BLAZES WAS THAT?!"
"Don't worry it was just a teeny little frogfffphhh—OH MY GODS, YOU'RE A TALKING RUBBER BALL!" Lissa collapsed to her bottom and clutched her sides, laughing loudly. Mark, with his hair and face darkened by ink that began to stain his inner tunic, wiped his eyes clear of the black substance. His brow was scrunched and heat began to rise from his face.
"You were so calm! How do you just spontaneously change tone?" She giggled, finally calming down. "I couldn't resist laughing! It had just to happen!"
"I'm pretty sure it did not!" He groaned. "And how are you able to hold a frog?! Didn't you tell me in Ferox that slimy things make you all pukey?"
"All for the sake of comedy!" Lissa shrugged and smiled.
"Well that makes one of us! Why on the seven hells—" Sully suddenly ran inside the chamber, curious of the source of the shouting. Her sword was drawn in a threatening stance.
"What in the blazes—AHAHAHA. YOU LOOK LIKE A SQUID INKING HIMSELF!" After seeing Mark, she dropped her sword and immediately began laughing. Lissa laughed at Sully's description of Mark and joined in.
"Oh you have got to be kidding me…" Mark groaned, turning to his now messy table. Ignoring the two women laughing next to him, now three as Sumia even joined in laughing at his predicament.
Exalt Emmeryn organized her war council—the first in fifteen years—and Mark was the last to present his strategies to the Council of Hierarchs. With the safety of the Halidom at hand, an overbearing presence bothered Mark. Yet the meeting was short, yet filled with meticulous details and politics that both the Prince and Tactician nearly pulled their hairs out. An uneasy sensation tickled Chrom's spine with what appeared to be some tension between Lissa and Mark; the latter acting a bit distant when Lissa instigated a conversation.
After his presentation and dealing with the clearly clueless hierarchs, Mark left the royal family's company and sat down by the seats outside of the council chambers. A small pocket novel that Sumia had given him was his prime tool for distraction and rest. Even his mind cannot fathom days upon days of planning. Yet as quickly as he started on his book, so did his peace and quiet end.
"Mark!" Maribelle beckoned as she exited the chambers. "I request your presence, immediately!"
"Oh!" Mark averted his eyes from the little book and gave the Themisian noble his full attention. "Is there anything I can help you with, Maribelle?"
"Are you studying at this moment?" She looked down on the young man, curious of his activities.
"While I find tactics and food to be my main interests, I do partake in some reading to get my mind off work…now this word...by the gods, what does this mean…? Crepuscule…what in the Divines does that mean again…"
"Dusk." Maribelle answered, her tone implying that people should know this term.
"Ah. Thank you."
"I'm quite impressed with the selection of book you are reading." Maribelle said, pointing at his pocketbook. "I had not realized that the lowborn read at all!"
"Maribelle, are you here to look down at me or was there something else?" Mark sighed. Even though he knew Maribelle was an inherently good person at heart, her pompous demeanor did agitate him. Meanwhile, Maribelle was a little bit taken aback by his choice of words. Maybe she came on a little too rough.
"A noble's does not seek to engage in such a task!" She said proudly, with Mark raising his eyebrow suspiciously. She sighed and sat next to him. "Has my turn of phrase offended you? If so, I must apologize. Do forgive me?"
"Alright, I take it back then." Mark smiled and closed his book. "So what did you need?"
"I actually sought to know more about you, Sir Tactician." Maribelle put on a genuine smile. "I suppose you might say that we could become…well, friends. Unless you object."
"I mean, aren't we already friends?"
"Oh! I am very pleased to hear that, Mark!" Maribelle gleefully replied.
"Hehe." Mark chuckled and scratched his face. "Well if you want to know enough about me, do ask away. I'll be happy to oblige. But I'm not all that interesting, you know."
Yet he suddenly felt a sudden change in mood. As if an overbearing presence stuck daggers overhead. Maribelle then shot him a very sharp glare. A glare that could put a bear protecting her cub scampering away in fear. Was it something he said?
"Can you fault me about an amnesiac with a genius for strategy?" She said rather calmly. Too calmly in fact. "You've also earned quite a bit of trust from my dear friend Lissa. It's only natural that I want to learn more about the newest member of the Shepherds…"
Suddenly, a flood of question now ran over Mark as if a broken dam had unleashed all of Maribelle's restrictions. It even sounded like all her questions appeared rehearsed and well-organized to be part of casual conversation. He was even flabbergasted that she asked him about his date of birth, residence, as if he was being interrogated! Although Maribelle had enough tact to retract the questions, knowing his amnesiac state. Yet most of the questions appeared to be of who he has been interacting with. As if trying to figure out if he was a philanderer of sorts. Or even a common criminal.
"Maribelle! What does this even have to do with—"
"Do tell me what is occurring between you and my dear Lissa." She said sharply, forcing Mark to carefully choose his words. "I am dying to know."
"Wait, are you trying to insinuate that Lissa and I are an item?" Mark raised a brow, finally figuring out the pattern to her questions.
"Why you two have been close as of late, as from what I have heard!" She matter-of-factly. Mark could only rub his temples to ease his headache. "Now tell!"
"Oh for the love of…" Mark sighed, remembering the events of days before. "Most of the times we have been 'close' was only because of chores and that she, Stahl, and Vaike have been plotting nonsensical tricks on me. Other than that no."
"Pranks?!" Maribelle shifted tone again, becoming rather surprised herself. "Lissa? Doing pranks? Oh for the love of…not again."
"Not again-?" Mark asked yet Maribelle ignored his remark.
"Oh that…that…MEATHEADED, VULGAR, BLONDE OAF. OOOOH." Maribelle shouted with utmost frustration. And Mark was surprised that Maribelle had such energy. The noble, noticing her sudden brash behavior shrieked in embarrassment, her face becoming beet red. "Aaah! Sorry. That was very unbecoming of me."
Mark looked at her, speechless.
"I…I guess it's okay." Mark managed to say. "Do you know when they're going to prank me next? Because Lissa and the frog a few days back just had the rest of the Shepherds calling me 'rubber face' for the next few days."
"She did that to you? On her own?"
"Yeah. An innocent back rub turned into one night of stress."
"Poor you." Maribelle said and Mark chuckled. "That must've been quite jarring."
"It's not like I can't take a joke or anything but that almost ruined the plans I presented to the council today."
"I'll take that into account." Maribelle smiled back. "I do apologize again if my questions were of inappropriate nature."
"It's okay Maribelle." He said. "I know you're very protective of your friend. You know, you can be really sweet sometimes."
"Lovely! That's very kind of you." Maribelle stood up and bade her farewell to the tactician, seeing that it was time for her to rest up herself. "Oh, do tell me about the quaint customs of the unwashed masses from whence you sprouted of one day? I do fancy this 'slang' that which you commonblood speak!"
As Maribelle waked off. Mark simply reopened the book and rested his forehead on it.
"What in Naga just happen here…I take back what I said about her. And take back the take-back before that."
Morning soon came after Ylisse's weeklong monsoon was replaced with that of a simple summer day. Both bright and dry. Maribelle was once again inside Lissa's chambers, her host simply lying on her bed, with a rather gloomy expression. This time around, the festive atmosphere now all but drained as it appeared that the princess of Ylisse was the only one suffering from gloomy rain clouds and stormy days.
"Mark won't talk to me now…" She said with a heavy tone. Maribelle on the other hand, merely sipped on a cold tea that her steward had made.
"And you think you could manage to capture Mark's attention by dumping a toad down his collar?" Maribelle snickered.
"Frog! A-and you won't help me so I decided to ask them!" Lissa argued. "Sure the rubber-face-thingy he did appeared but he was pretty mad."
"This, compounded with the ice bucket and and the ruination of his favorite text?" Maribelle finished her tea and gently wiped her lips of any minute drops with her handkerchief. "A verisimilar situation, it seems."
"H-hey! I said sorry to him! And all of that was Chrom's fault! And Vaike. And Stahl!" Maribelle stood up, sat on Lissa's bed and promptly fell backwards. Lissa was becoming agitated.
"I understand." Maribelle began rubbing her temples.
Before he became their steward, Frederick was subjected Lissa's "affection". She knew Lissa developed a crush on the former Lieutenant simply because she thought it would be great to have a knight-princess romance—all from reading a book about a princess named Eirika and her knight, Seth. As expected, it drove Frederick further away. In the end, one angry outburst from him utterly shattered Lissa's plans for the archetypical romance.
Now it appeared that Mark was one to fill Frederick's shoes this time around. But even her dearest Lissa was not free of imperfections. Mainly, her affection towards the opposite gender. She loved the girl like a sister, sure. She was the beacon of her life, a treasured friend. But with someone much closer to her age,
For one, her consistent pranks for attention irked her to a point. By the Gods, she ruined her tea once by mixing it with an absurdly sweet chocolate! The nerve of that girl, she thought. But that was merely a jape between friends. When it came to people of the opposite gender, it was much more severe. Yet, unlike that past love, Lissa appeared headstrong towards her task of attaining their tactician's affection. And once Lissa began to want something, she won't stop until she gets a definitive no.
"He's always talking to Sully and Sumia…" Lissa said with a pained expression and it ached Maribelle's heart. "He doesn't even talk to me that much in the first place, you know."
A downcast mood befell the young princess and Maribelle was taken aback. She paused and was able to warm her seemingly cool expression. She looked up on the ceiling, figuring out what to make of this. The more she thought about it; it wasn't that she believed Mark was a bad match for Lissa. She just couldn't come with that conclusion from knowing the man with barely a conversation and a very ill-advised interrogation.
Not yet, at least.
And then it struck her. Maybe there was something she could do to help her along the way. Clearly the answers lie within Mark but Lissa is to be the one that works for that response. Her pursed brow became lax and her frown eased its way to a soft smile.
"Alright." She finally said, crossing her arms. Maybe a little bit more investigation was in order. It was for Lissa's happiness, after all.
"Really?!" She said, her face brightened and the princess unfurled herself from the bedcovers, immediately pouncing on Maribelle's lap and embracing the noble. "Oh! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! So what are we gonna do?"
"Uh-uh-uh." Maribelle waved her finger. Lissa was indeed too naïve for her own good. "There is no 'we' in this one. I will help, but you will do most of the action."
"Wh-what?" Lissa covered herself in her blanket once more. Maribelle stood up and said:
"A lady of noble upbringing commands finesse, presence! And definitely determination." Maribelle said so loudly and proudly that Lissa squeaked by her intimidating phrase. "I said I will help. I will not tell you how, but I will."
Lissa once again groaned, pulling the covers. Maribelle took the time to pat what she thought would be Lissa's head.
"It will never rain roses, my dear. If you want roses, you'll have to plant them and wait for them to blossom."
"So what should I do then?" She asked. Her nose twitched slightly and Maribelle immediately took notice. She leaned close to Lissa, her hands holding hers. Her brows then scrunched and a karate chop to the head sealed the deal.
"Don't do anything to him like what you did to poor Frederick!"
A/N: Maribelle-based research. Finally Done.
Seven months of painstaking prompts. Seven. All for the sake of dealing with Maribelle's character, creating what would appear to be as natural as I could recreate her character in this piece. Our favorite Ojou-sama character is not one to take lightly and by Ashunera's name, I hope someone could create a Maribelle-centric oneshot in her perspective. I need to read that for comparative works. The good news is, I can finally get away from this chapter and focus on other ones.
You'll notice that Maribelle's support conversation that happened here in this story. What role will Maribelle play for the first Paralogue arc? Not only that, I have plans to incorporate drama into this section in order to reveal the possibility of complex of relationships for our dearest Tactician in Fire Emblem Awakening. Also, I'll have you know something here: S-Supports do not mean "BOOM SHOTGUN" marriage for this story. The next Paralogue will come near the end of the Elibe arc, which by the way, the next chapter is bound to happen sooner than expected since I did work on it as a way to ignore this chapter. Which also explains the delays. Other than life commitments, after all.
On a side note, I do have to say thank you for keeping up with this story for the past two years! Man, looking back I was a father of a newborn when I began this story. And then after that, she's now almost three and with energy to rival a three-year old Morgan. Readers, thank you for finding enjoyment in this piece as much as I had writing them, even if they do take seven months and lame excuses. /sadface orz
With much gratitude,
SRA