It had been two days since the monstrous encounter at Conand Tower, and a day since Kratos and the rest of the company had arrived in Conall.
While the company had set up camp just outside the town, the wounded were moved to the town's church, which also served as a hostel for the elderly and sickly. There, an unconscious Sylvain rested on one of the many cots lining one of the walls, with Annette, Mercedes, and Kratos sitting nearby as one of the priests gave the redhead a routine checkup to see if there were any changes to his health.
After taking a moment to ensure that his findings were accurate, the priest stood up straight and cleared his throat.
"Master Gautier's condition remains the same as when he first arrived," he began as he pulled the sheets back over the boy's torso. "His wounds are healing well and showing no signs of infection. There are no abnormalities that would suggest other complications."
Annette let out a small sigh of relief, though her hands remained tightly clasped in her lap. "So… is he really going to be okay?"
The priest nodded. "Yes. As I've stated when you first arrived, the only notable issue is that he's suffering from an extreme case of exhaustion. His body is recovering, but the strain he endured was severe. I wouldn't expect him to awaken for at least another day."
He stood up straight. "In the meantime, I must tend to the other soldiers. But before I go, I would like to thank you all once again for what you've done. Now that the scoundrels have been scattered to the winds, I doubt we or the nearby villages will have to worry about any future raids from bandits."
"We were happy to help, Father Gaston." Mercedes told him sincerely. "And we are also grateful for your aid and hospitality."
The older man offered her a warm smile. "It's no trouble. After all, you have all done us a great service, so it's the least we could do to accommodate you and your troops. Now, with that said, I must be off, and may the Goddess' blessing continue to smile upon you." He gives them a final nod before turning and leaving to tend to the other soldiers. The room grew quiet once more, with only the soft breathing of Sylvain and the distant murmurs from the church staff filling the silence.
Kratos remained seated beside Sylvain's cot, his gaze fixed on the unconscious student while Mercedes and Annette continued to sit awkwardly without saying a word. From their professor's perspective, there was no doubt that his students had been plagued with questions over what exactly happened at the tower. Why did the Lance of Ruin try to consume both Sylvain and Miklan? Why did it turn him into a demonic beast? How was their professor even still alive and sitting across from them right now as they speak?
They knew that Kratos was strong, but never in their wildest dreams had they expected him to not only survive getting crushed by a wall of stone, but to also stand toe-to-toe against the supposed power of a Relic. It was insane. It was illogical.
Yet, despite this, neither Mercedes, Annette, or any other students voiced their questions. After the dead were buried and the wounded loaded up on wagons, Gilbert had made it crystal clear that no one was to speak of what happened until Lady Rhea had been briefed, and that failure to do so would lead to dire consequences.
This in turn had only added to both Kratos and Mimir's suspicion as to what exactly was going on, yet they'd both decided it was best to leave it at that until they'd returned to the monastery. Eventually, they would have their audience with the Archbishop, but for now, the important thing was to ensure that their students recovered before completing their mission.
In the meantime, there was nothing else for him to do here, and Kratos slowly rose to his feet. The two girls looked up at the man, though he couldn't tell if they were relieved or worried that he was leaving. But that was no concern of the Spartan. Whatever they thought of him now, only time would tell as to how his relationship would change after the Black Beast encounter.
Kratos turned and took only a couple of steps toward the exit before Annette abruptly shot to her feet. "Sir Kratos, please, wait!" she called out, her voice filled with urgency.
The Spartan stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face her. His expression was neutral as his attentive eyes settled on the young mage. Annette hesitated, her hands clasping and unclasping nervously. She knew she had to choose her words carefully, yet her emotions demanded she speak.
"...Th-thank you, Professor," she finally managed, her voice trembling with sincerity. "Sylvain is alive because of you. And what you did for him- what you did for us… is something I won't ever forget. I… I hope you know that."
Kratos regarded her for a moment, though his expression remained unchanged. Then, with an acknowledging grunt, he nodded slightly before turning away; and moments later, he was gone. Annette watched him go, and the emotional high eventually gave way before finally sitting back down in embarrassment.
"Is everything alright, Annie?" Mercedes asked her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
The young mage stammered. "Y-yeah, I'm fine! Totally fine!" She chuckled nervously, pulling a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's just that… Well, so much has happened recently, and I thought things would go differently. Everything seemed fine, and then, out of nowhere, it all went south so quickly." Her gaze then fell on the unconscious boy beside her. "Sylvain, Felix, Professor Kratos… I thought we were going to lose them."
Mercedes offered her a warm, reassuring smile. "I thought so too. Thankfully, Sir Kratos turned out to be much tougher than he looks. As you said, it's thanks to him that all of us are safe and sound, so I see no reason to have to worry now."
Before Annette could reply, another voice spoke from behind them. "Indeed. You and your class are very lucky to have him." Both girls turned in their seats to see Edelgard making their way towards them before stopping at the foot of Sylvain's cot.
"Lady Edelgard," Mercedes greeted softly, inclining her head out of respect.
Edelgard nodded at the two of them. "It's good to see that you're both holding up well." She told them sincerely, her gaze flicked briefly to Sylvain and then back to the two students. "I know this hasn't been an easy time for any of us. I hope he recovers quickly."
Annette hesitated before speaking, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thank you. We all do."
An awkward silence hung in the air after her response, and the three women exchanged brief glances. None seemed eager to break the tension, but eventually, Mercedes spoke up. "Lady Edelgard… did you need something from us?"
Edelgard's composed expression softened slightly, and she inclined her head. "In a way, yes. I came to apologize."
Mercedes looked at her with surprise. "Apologize? For what, if I may ask?"
Edelgard exhaled quietly, her gaze steady as she addressed them. "For what I was about to do before your professor's last-second intervention. You remember, don't you?" Another silence followed as the two Lions recalled the sight of the Empress putting herself between Felix and the Black Beast, and Annette shifted uneasily in her seat.
Sensing the discomfort, Edelgard continued, her tone calm but firm. "I admire all of you for your courage, for being willing to risk everything to save a friend. But you must understand… I was prepared to act to ensure no more lives were lost. Sometimes, hard choices must be made in the moment, and unfortunately you can't always predict what the outcome of said choices will be."
Mercedes tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. "You mean… you were prepared to do what you thought to be necessary, no matter the cost?"
"My intention was to prevent further suffering," Edelgard clarified rather pointedly, before taking a moment to speak more softly. "Listen, I don't ask that you agree with me. Instead, I would ask that you understand why I was prepared to make such a difficult decision."
Mercedes and Annette exchanged a glance, each searching the other's expression for a reaction to Edelgard's words. The silence between them was telling, neither one fully accepting nor openly rejecting what had been said.
Edelgard's sharp eyes caught the exchange, and she soon realized that her current approach wasn't reaching them before deciding to switch tactics. Letting out a heavy sigh, she leaned forward, resting her hands lightly on the foot of Sylvain's bed as she gazed at the boy's resting face.
"It's frustrating, isn't it?" she asked solemnly. "To feel so powerless and unable to protect those whom you care about?" Annette looked up, startled by the shift in Edelgard's demeanor. Mercedes' expression softened as she regarded the Empress with a mix of curiosity and sympathy.
The leader of the Black Eagles shook her head, keeping her eyes forward. "We all saw it happen. Between Sylvain and his brother- it was all dictated by forces beyond our control. And yet, we're forced to go along with the very system that led to this moment, and we were all unable to do anything about it. Well, everyone except for your professor, anyway."
She then locks eyes with both women before concluding, "Your classmate didn't deserve this. None of us do."
Mercedes absorbed everything Edelgard had said in silence, and after a moment, she cleared her throat softly and stood, her hands clasped in front of her as she addressed the Empress.
"Lady Edelgard," she began, her tone firm yet respectful. "I believe you are correct when you say that Sylvain didn't deserve what happened to him, and I pray that the rest of us don't fall victim to this kind of phenomenon either." The nun narrowed her eyes. "However, with all due respect, I simply must disagree with your assumption that we were as helpless as you believe us to be."
Edelgard listened with intrigue as she waited for Mercedes to continue.
"Perhaps before Professor Kratos became our instructor, I might have shared your sentiment." Mercedes admitted, gazing over sadly at Sylvain's unconscious form. "I might have believed that the circumstances we're born into dictate everything and that we have no choice but to follow the path laid before us. But if there's one thing I've learned from our time under his guidance, it's that we, as individuals, decide what to do with the circumstances we're given, no matter how daunting they may seem."
She paused, her gaze steady and unwavering as it met Edelgard's. "If we'd truly believed we were powerless in that situation, then we wouldn't have tried to save Sylvain in the first place, regardless of whether Professor Kratos had been there or not. Despite the risks, we made a choice to act and do everything we could to change the outcome. That was what he taught us."
Annette looked up at Mercedes, her eyes wide with admiration, while Edelgard's expression remained carefully neutral. After a beat of silence, the Empress inclined her head slightly, a faint flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.
"It seems we hold fundamentally different beliefs, Mercedes." Edelgard said in what the girls could barely make out as sounding disappointed. "While I may not share your optimism, I can respect the conviction you've found under both your professor's guidance."
And perhaps had they chosen me instead, things might have turned out a lot differently for all of us. Was what she wanted to say as well, yet it remained an echo in her thoughts.
Mercedes tilted her head slightly, as though concerned by the finality in the girl's words. "Is something wrong, Your Majesty?"
Edelgard shook her head, her expression softening into a reassuring smile. "No, it's nothing," she replied. "Please, don't pay me any mind. It's about time I get going, and I think Professor Mimir would appreciate the help in ensuring that the camp is in proper order." She stepped back before she added, "Take care of your classmate. I hope for his swift recovery."
With that, Edelgard turned away and made her way to the exit. Annette watched her go, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Do you think she's upset?" she asked, glancing up at Mercedes.
Her friend sat back beside her and shrugged. "I wouldn't worry too much about her, Annie. I'm certain she's still weary by everything that's happened as of late." She then brushed aside some of Sylvain's hair before finishing, "And at this point, I think we all are."
x-x-x
When Kratos had left the church, he'd originally been intent on heading straight towards the camp and checking up on their one and only prisoner. As far as he was aware, Miklan hadn't uttered a single word ever since his close encounter with the Black Beast; and the Spartan didn't expect that to change until they'd finally delivered him to Lord Gautier, who he suspected would be secretly relieved by them having retrieved both the Relic and bringing his disowned son alive.
As he approached a quieter stretch near one of the merchant stores, a faint rhythmic sound could be heard from nearby. The Spartan paused, and his eyes scanned the area around him until they fell upon Gilbert.
The older knight sat on a wooden bench just outside one of the shuttered stores, a small knife in one hand and a piece of wood in the other. He didn't even notice the Spartan passing by, as his entire focus was on the carving he was working on. It wasn't until Kratos' curiosity got the better of him that he stepped closer and his shadow fell over the sitting man, who looked up and offered him a pleasant smile.
"Ah, Professor." Gilbert greeted him. "It's good to finally see you out and about. I presume that young Sylvain's condition had not yet changed?"
Kratos gave a grunt in confirmation, his expression unreadable.
Gilbert let out a heavy sigh, lowering the piece of wood and knife to his lap as he paused his work. "I see," he said, his tone tinged with quiet resignation. He leaned back slightly, his eyes briefly scanning the evening-lit street before continuing. "It's a pity he's not yet woken up, but I suppose it's better than the alternative. Waiting like this… it must be taking its toll on your students. Young minds rarely cope well with uncertainty, especially when it concerns someone they care about." He glanced back at Kratos. "And how are you holding up, Professor? Even for one as composed as you, this situation can't be easy."
The Spartan grunts once more. "The boy lives." He replied in his usual measured tone. "That is what matters."
"Indeed." The knight agreed candidly.
Gilbert frowned slightly, his expression thoughtful as though something weighed on his mind. After a moment, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a spare piece of wood, holding it up as he looked at Kratos.
"Tell me, Professor," he said, his tone inviting. "Have you ever done any woodcarving?"
Kratos gave a small nod. "I have. Though not for some time."
At that, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Gilbert's mouth. He shifted on the bench, moving over to make space. "Then perhaps you'd like to join me. It's a fine way to pass the time, and it might give you a chance to refamiliarize yourself while us elders have a friendly chat."
He extended the spare piece of wood toward Kratos, who stood still for a moment before reaching out and taking it. "Very well." he said simply, pulling out his own knife and settling onto the bench beside the knight.
Gilbert then refocused his attention on his current project, and soon the rhythmic scrape of blades on wood resumed. "By the way, Professor," He stated after a minute had passed. "It appears we may need to make some changes to our original plans."
"Hrm."
"Professor Manuela has proposed that if young Gautier is not awake by next morning, then we'll have to split the company and allow the Black Eagles and I to deliver Miklan and the Relic while you and the Blue Lions remain here. Ans once he's finally up and about, you can head back to the monastery and report to Lady Rhea."
"That is acceptable." The Spartan answered plainly, and already the discussion had reached its conclusion.
After another minute or two, the orange-haired man looked over to check on Kratos' work, and was shocked to see how much he'd already accomplished.
"My, my, it seems that you haven't lost a step at all, Professor." The knight complimented. "What is it that you're making?"
Kratos continued carving without looking up. "I am… not quite sure yet," he admitted. "I once carved for my son. Usually, it was things for him to play with. But as he grew older, I found I could never decide what to carve anymore." He then paused for a moment as his thoughts went to Annette before adding in a low voice, "And before him, I… also used to carve for my daughter as well."
Gilbert said nothing for a moment before stating, "...I see."
Neither man spoke after Gilbert's subdued response, the silence between them filled only by the steady scrape of blades against wood. After a moment, Kratos glanced over, his gaze shifting to the piece of wood in Gilbert's hands. "Your carving- what is it?"
Gilbert hesitated, his knife pausing mid-stroke. He stuttered slightly as he began to answer. "I… well, it's-" He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked away. "It's a doll. For my daughter."
He avoided Kratos' gaze, his tone carrying a faint edge of embarrassment. "I usually do this on a whim… when I'm thinking about her."
Kratos regarded the knight for a moment, his knife still against the wood. "Do you intend to give it to her once it is finished?" he asked plainly.
"...Perhaps I might," Gilbert admitted with uncertainty. "But… I do not know."
"Do you not wish to see her?"
The question made Gilbert pause entirely. He let out another deep sigh, his shoulders sagging as he stared down at the partially carved doll in his hands. "I do," he said softly, his voice tinged with both longing and regret. "I truly do. But I've lost that right to face her. Both Annette and her mother."
He glanced at Kratos, his eyes searching for something in the Spartan's expression. "I imagine there's someone in your life, Professor. Someone that you feel you don't deserve forgiveness from?"
"Of course," he replied without hesitation, and Gilbert was momentarily taken aback by the directness of the response. Before he could say more, Kratos continued, "Every day, I wish I could be given the chance to make amends with them."
The Ghost of Sparta then resumed his work before finishing, "But that chance will never come."
The conviction in Kratos' tone caused Gilbert's brow to furrow in confusion. "Surely the merciful Goddess would one day grant you that opportunity," he said cautiously, as if trying to make sense of the Spartan's certainty. "When the day comes that we finally part from this world?"
Kratos stopped once more and his gaze remained fixed on the wood in his hands, his expression as unmoving as stone. "There is no Goddess where I come from. The ones I hurt are gone. I will never see them again."
The old knight sat silently for a moment, processing the Spartan's words. "I suppose it's only natural for you to feel that way," He said finally, his tone thoughtful. "Given that you're not from here, it makes sense that you might not see things the way we do. But I believe, with all my heart, that the Goddess' influence is vast- far beyond what any of us can truly comprehend. Whether you see it or not, her light touches everyone in some way. And I am certain that one day, you will find the atonement that you seek."
By this point, Kratos had completely forgotten about the carving before facing Gilbert fully and asked, "And you? Do you also intend to wait until you die to seek atonement?"
Gilbert blinked. "I… I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Professor."
"I did not share my experience with you to seek atonement or pity. I told you because as of this moment, you still have something I no longer do. You can still confront your daughter. You can make amends while you still have the chance."
The church knight stiffened, his hands tightening around the carving and knife. "It's not that simple," he said defensively. "I don't even know if she would want to see me after what I'd done."
Kratos however was not deterred. "It is simple. You are her father. Whatever wrongdoing you believe you've committed, whatever pain you think you've caused her, I know this much: she wants nothing more than to see her father again."
Another pause. "You speak as if you know exactly how she feels," Gilbert told him inauspiciously.
"I do not. I can only speak on behalf of myself. As a father who has failed before."
"And what do you propose that I do?" The knight shot back, having clearly become irritated with having been the one put on the backfoot in the discussion.
Having decided he'd had enough of the conversation, Kratos stood, sheathing his dagger. "Go to her. Tell her that you still think of her, as you've already told me. And if Sylvain does not awaken by morning, then there is the possibility that this will be the last time you will have that opportunity."
Gilbert's grip on his carving knife tightened, his eyes narrowing as he responded sharply. "I will not allow anything to happen to myself the next time we part ways, much like you will not allow anything to happen to my daughter. I will see her again."
Kratos' expression remained unchanged, but sympathy seeped into his voice as he replied, "That is your choice to make, and I will not attempt to convince you otherwise." He turned to leave but paused briefly, glancing back over his shoulder. "But remember this: the longer you wait to tell her, the more damage you do. Eventually, she will resent you, and you may lose her forever." With finality, he added, "That is all I have to say." He then turned and left, leaving Gilbert alone on the bench as his gaze fell to the partially carved doll in his hands.
x-x-x
The soft glow of the evening sun painted one side of the stables, casting an orange-gold light that filtered through the shuttered windows. From where Dimitri stood outside, the warm light spilled onto the ground, and he could hear the faint rustle of movement within. He paused briefly before stepping toward the entrance, certain that the one person he was looking for would be inside.
Sure enough, as the old wooden door creaked open, he was greeted not only by the sight of horses belonging to the students, but also by the only other occupant in the large room. From the inside, Marianne had been busying herself with moving from one stall to the next, a basket of apples tucked under one arm as she tended to each horse.
She'd been at the far side of the room when the fading sunlight from the open door reached her. Noticing the light, she turned and saw Dimitri standing in the doorway. For a brief moment, she tensed, her usual apprehension surfacing, but as soon as she recognized him, her posture eased, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief- a reaction Dimitri couldn't help but notice was markedly different from the last time he'd seen her under similar circumstances.
"Oh, hello Dimitri," she greeted him with surprising openness, her lips pulling up ever so slightly. Not quite a smile, but enough to convey the sentiment that she actually appreciated his sudden appearance.
"Good evening, Marianne," Dimitri replied, his tone polite but warm. "I hope I am not intruding."
Marianne quickly shook her head, "No, of course not," she said softly whilst giving the horse another apple. "I was just… giving our friends some treats after the hard work they've done. They deserve it."
For a moment, she fell silent, her fingers nervously fiddling together as her eyes dropped to the ground. Finally, in a shy, almost hesitant tone, she asked, "W-would you care to join me?" Her cheeks turned a faint pink as soon as the words left her mouth, and she glanced up briefly, her expression both hopeful and embarrassed.
Dimitri's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face at her unexpected invitation. The moment passed quickly, and a genuine smile spread across his lips. "I would be honored," he said humbly. He closed the distance between them and stood beside her. "How may I assist you?"
Marianne reached into the basket hanging from her arm and retrieved an apple and held it out delicately to the prince. "Do you remember our last conversation?" She asked him softly. "About how some of the horses were spooked by you when you broke your weapon?"
"I remember," Dimitri replied, his voice calm yet thoughtful as he met her gaze, causing her to blush even further.
"W-well, in case some of them are still weary of you, then... perhaps you could help me feed them so that they feel more comfortable around you?"
The prince couldn't help but feel his chest swell at the girl's bashfulness as he reached out and tenderly took the apple from her hand. "It would be my pleasure, Marianne," he said warmly.
Together, they began moving slowly from one stall to the next, offering apples to the horses. The quiet rustle of the animals and the occasional crunch of a horse biting into an apple filled the air, and eventually, after offering an apple to one of the horses, Dimitri broke the silence. "You did remarkably well the other day, Marianne," he said, his tone sincere.
Marianne hesitated, her hand pausing over the basket. She lowered her gaze and shook her head slightly. "I… I don't think so," she replied softly. "Two of my troops were hurt trying to restrain Sylvain. I should have done more to prevent that."
Dimitri turned toward her, his eyes narrowing slightly, though not in anger. "Marianne, you did everything you could have done- and more. You kept your composure and gave clear orders. That is nothing to be ashamed of." He then added, "Besides, you were simply following the instructions I gave you. If anyone is to be blamed for what happened, it should be me."
"I don't 'blame' you, Dimitri. I just… I don't understand how it's always someone else who gets hurt instead of me."
"I almost got hurt." The prince persisted, his voice gentle yet firm. "But you were there when I needed you most. Once again, you put your own life in danger to protect me, and for the second time, you managed to pull through. That ought to mean something, shouldn't it?"
"I… I guess so," she murmured, her tone uncertain but slightly more assured.
Dimitri paused, a faint glimmer of dry humor entering his expression. "I would think so too. Because after all, I did tell you that you are extraordinarily lucky."
Marianne blinked, surprised by his shift in tone, before a small, fleeting smile broke through her usual reticence. "I suppose you did." she admitted quietly.
They'd finally reached the last stall near the door, and by the time the last horse had been fed, a single apple was all that was left in the basket.
"Oh," said the blunette as she took the fruit and set the basket down on the floor. "There's still one left." Marianne held up the last apple, glancing at Dimitri. "Would you like to have it?"
Dimitri looked at the apple thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "Sure, why not?" he replied, his tone light. "But, perhaps if I…" He trailed off as he took the apple from her hand. With a swift motion, he pressed his thumb into the apple's notch and split it cleanly in two.
Marianne's eyes widened slightly, and Dimitri couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction before offering her one of the halves. "Here. It wouldn't feel right to take the last one entirely for myself."
She hesitated for a moment before accepting the piece with a small, grateful nod. "Thank you," she said quietly, her fingers brushing his for the briefest moment as she took it.
Both of them bit into their halves of the apple, and as they chewed, Marianne was the first to swallow. "It's so sweet," she commented pleasantly.
The prince also swallowed, tilting his head slightly as he replied, "Is it now?"
Marianne looked at him with mild confusion. "Can you not taste it?" she asked him.
The prince hesitated for a moment, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Well… no. Not really," he admitted. "In fact, I'm not able to taste much of anything nowadays. At least, not since…" His voice trailed off and his face darkened somewhat.
For a fleeting moment, the girl in front of him thought she'd caught a glimpse of something else behind Dimitri's charming demeanor, and almost immediately, her thoughts went to the conversation- or warning, rather- that she'd received from Felix back in Conand Tower. However, instead of feeling put off by what she'd witnessed, Marianne found herself more curious than anything, much to her own surprise.
"Is... everything alright?" She asked him worriedly.
In an instant, Dimitri's expression shifted back to normal, and he looked at her with his usual warmth, though not entirely. "Marianne," he began, his tone steady but sincere. "If I may… could I confide in you about something?"
The blunette suddenly became mesmerized by the look of deep-seated pain in the prince's eyes, unable to look away. She didn't react when he took a step closer, closing the small distance between them. The faint sweetness of his breath reached her as he stood before her, and she felt a strange mixture of unease and calm.
Gently, Dimitri took her free hand into his. His gaze dropped to their joined hands, and in a low, almost hesitant voice, he spoke. "There is... something I must confess. Months ago, when I saved you in Magdred… I'd hoped that would have been the moment I died in your stead."
Marianne's head shot up, her eyes wide with shock as she looked at him. "What…?" she managed to whisper, her voice trembling.
Dimitri raised his eyes to meet hers, his voice steady yet increased with intensity. "But when I reached you in what could have been your final moment," he continued, "I could see in your eyes that you too wished for the same thing."
He squeezed her hand a little tighter, his brow furrowing deeply as he asked, "Why? Why do you value your life so little? Why do you continue to throw yourself into peril for my sake?"
Marianne swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she struggled to find the words. He'd seen right threw her, and she now knows it is pointless to deny what he'd already knew. Finally, in a trembling voice, she confessed, "I… I did it for the same reason you came to my rescue. Because at first, I believed wholeheartedly that your life was worth living more than mine."
His expression softened, though a flicker of something thoughtful crossed his face. He tilted his head slightly, catching the subtle shift in her words. "At first?" Dimitri repeated quietly, his voice laced with curiosity and concern. "Do you still believe that your life is not worth living, Marianne?"
She didn't immediately answer, and Marianne's face twisted in anguish. Her lips trembling as fresh tears welled in her eyes and began to fall, her free hand clenched at her side. For a moment, she seemed on the verge of crumbling entirely. But then, as if drawing on a hidden reservoir of strength, she narrowed her eyes. With burning defiance, she looked straight into Dimitri's piercing gaze, her voice cracking but resolute as she asked in return:
"Is yours, Dimitri?"
The prince was taken aback by Marianne's sudden forwardness. For a moment, he faltered, realizing that her answer now hinged entirely on his own. Without breaking eye-contact, he placed his other hand gently over hers, enclosing it completely.
"Marianne, I…" he began, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady as he searched for the right words.
Her expression softened, and the rigor she once had gave way to something more vulnerable as she gazed at him. Before either of them realized what was happening, they began to lean toward one another. A soft beam of golden sunlight filtered through one of the shuttered windows, casting a warm glow over their faces as their lips finally met in an awkward, yet tender kiss.
The world seemed to fall away at that moment, and all Marianne could sense was the taste of sweet apples and the softness of the prince's lips. But as the seconds stretched, a gnawing fear crept into her thoughts. Was she already messing this up? After all, this was the first time she'd ever kissed a boy.
When the two finally parted, their faces were both as red as the apple they'd shared, their breaths coming in quick, uneven bursts as they kept their foreheads pressed together.
After a fleeting moment, Dimitri whispered, "Was that… your first kiss?"
Marianne felt her face ignite, her blush deepening as she gave a small, almost indiscernible nod while not daring to lift her head away from his.
"...Mine too," he admitted softly, his voice carrying a mix of bashfulness and sincerity.
If Dimitri had believed Marianne to be the luckiest person in the world, then at this moment, he would have considered himself the second luckiest; because what followed after was the young priestess breaking into a fit of uncontrollable giggling, and the smile she gave him as a result of that would stay with him for the rest of his days.
x-x-x
When Edelgard left the church, she didn't head toward the camp. Instead of taking a left on the road that would have led her straight there, she turned sharply to the right and made her way toward the secluded meeting point just outside of the town's perimeter.
When she arrived, she leaned back against the tree and waited patiently for Hubert's arrival. Thankfully, she didn't need to wait very long at all, as the tall raven-haired mage stepped from the shadows in front of her and bowed deeply.
"Lady Edegard." He greeted her smoothly.
"Hubert," The Empress said as she pushed herself away from the tree and walked up to the older boy expectantly. "I trust that our 'friends' received their precious cargo?"
"Indeed, they have." Hubert confirmed, revealing his hand from his long dark sleeve to reveal a vial full of crimson liquid. "I was unable to procure much from Professor Kratos' injury, but I gave our 'friends' just enough to conduct research on while holding on to the rest for ourselves. Ideally, they won't be able to do much with it, but once we finally understand what we are up against, then perhaps this sample will prove to be of great use to us."
He held the vial of blood out to Edelgard, who took it with great care as though it was the most important relic she'd ever laid hands on.
"And speaking of which," Hubert continued with a sinister smirk. "Have you had any luck in attempting to recruit the others?"
Edelgard shook her head despondently. "I'm afraid not. It would seem that none of the other students has displayed any interest in our cause."
"That is… most unfortunate." Her right hand frowned. "Our situation has become quite dire, Lady Edelgard. Our list of potential allies grows thin."
"I know." The Empress said firmly. "And if Sir Kratos is to remain here by the time we intend to enact our plan, everything that we've built up towards will have been for naught." She pauses in thought for a moment. "However… there is still one last candidate we can still try to reason with before… they attempt to try anything drastic."
Hubert raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean…?" He makes a gesture with a finger across his throat.
Edelgard nodded. "In the meantime, we must be getting back. I do not wish for anyone to become suspicious of our whereabouts."
"That should not be a problem, Lady Edelgard." Hubert said with finality before stepping up beside her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and teleported themselves away.