Archive of Our Own

When Emilia was little, Mother Fortuna called her a princess.

To be exaaaactly right, she called Emilia’s room the princess room, but Emilia took it to mean she was a princess, since it was her room. It only made sense, of course. Princess had been such a pretty word when she was young, all sparkling and special.

But the word princess was just that — a word. A happy and pretty one, that made her straighten up and swish her hair a bit, but that was all she understood of it, really. Nothing of responsibilities and reputations, nothing of power and standing. If Emilia had known, she probably wouldn’t have called herself a princess, or even wanted to be one.

If anyone had asked her, she’d rather have wanted to be…hm. An artist, maybe? She likes painting bright colors and shaping ice into pretty things. Just creating things with her own hands, with no one else to press her into making everything about the selection — that sounds nice.

“I think it sounds great,” Subaru beams at her. “Emilia-tan the artist. You’d be the best around, for sure! And you’d look so cute doing it…”

“Oh?” Emilia crosses her arms, glaring at him where he sits on the grass of the manor’s front garden across from her. “If you think I’m so great, then why didn’t you give me a higher score when we made those snow sculptures?”

“Ack!” Subaru makes a strangled noise, waving his hands about. “Foiled by my own past wrongdoing!”

“Hmph. That’s what you get for snubbing my Puck sculpture.”

“Forgive me, Emilia-tan. I am simply a blinded fool in the face of your, uh,” Subaru makes a funny face. “Genius avant-garde.”

“I suppose I can forgive your past misdemeanor,” Emilia relents, reminding herself to ask him what ‘avant-guard’ means later.

“Misdemeanor, who even says that these days—”

“Besides, I want to hear your answer,” she cuts over him. “I told you mine, now you go.”

“Oh, yeah.” Subaru gives himself a little shake, rubbing the back of his head. “When I was little…I wanted to be a lot of things, actually. But I guess I wanted to be an astronaut, mostly.”

“As...tro…knot…” Emilia sounds the unfamiliar word out. It echoes strangely from her tongue, something foreign and unknown.

“It’s someone who goes up in space,” Subaru explains. At Emilia’s blank look of confusion, he continues. “Uh, someone who goes up way in the sky, and studies the stars.”

“Oh!” Emilia brightens, captivated. “Do astro-knots have magic that allows them to fly, then? So they can reach the stars?”

“Ah, no, not quite,” Subaru laughs. “It’s more like they build machines, like uh…really big…carriages, I guess is the best way to put it? And they use fuel — fire and explosions, sorta — to blast it up into space.”

Emilia stares at him, blinking slowly. “Your homeland is supeeer strange, Subaru.”

“It’s not that weird!” he cries, visibly deflating. “Why do I always end up sounding completely crazy when I try to explain stuff…”

Emilia giggles, patting his knee where he lies sprawled in defeat on the grass. “I think studying the stars sounds lovely,” she says. “Do you look at, ah, the constellations?”

“Yes!” Subaru looks overjoyed, and she feels unreasonably proud of herself for remembering the word. “I mean, there’s a lot of other stuff you look at, but the constellations are my favorite.”

Emilia hums. Besides how funny it is to watch him turn all red and sputter when he gets the stars of their sky wrong, she really does like hearing his star stories. He comes from such a curious place, for his people to look up at the stars and trace them together into pictures, coming up with stories for each and every one. Emilia thinks it’s a lovely idea — a very Subaru-like idea.

“Which one is your favorite?”

Subaru tilts his head, contemplating. “Well, I gotta give points to Taurus, since it’s got me in it,” he says.

Emilia is familiar with Subaru’s insistence that he’s named after stars. Ram pokes at him mercilessly for it, but Emilia thinks it’s fitting. Subaru can shine very bright, when he lets himself. “Which story was that one?"

“Honestly, it kinda depends on the culture you’re asking,” Subaru taps his knee thoughtfully. “You’d get one story if you asked, say, the Greeks, but somewhere else could have it totally different.” He glances at her, blushing a bit at her blank look. “I-I mean, that’s not really important. Little off-track there, whoops. I don’t really remember any good stories for Taurus, honestly.”

Emilia purses her lips. If he’s already mentioning strange places from his home, then he might…he might tell her more, if she presses him. She knows where the topic of his star stories can lead. She knows there’s a father and a mother who gave him his name and a love for the stars, and if she were brave enough—

But no one expects bravery from Emilia for a good reason. Despite how far she’s come, she’s still a coward to the core, isn’t she?

“Which story is your favorite, then?” she asks, scrambling for another subject.

Subaru brightens. “Oh! That’s a tough one. But I’d probably say, right now…Andromeda and Perseus. That’s the happiest story, anyways.”

“Purse…i-uss…”

“He was this bigshot hero in like, really really old stories. He could fly and everything. That’s how he saved Andromeda, the princess — well, sorta. He cut off this woman’s head first — an evil person, she’d turn people to stone, so she deserved it — but yeah, he used the head to petrify a sea monster that was gonna eat Andromeda.”

“Cutting heads off, turning people to stone,” Emilia lists. “This is your favorite story?”

“Okay, it sounds bad when you say it like that—” Subaru’s hands flail helplessly. “It’s a good story, I just ruined it.” He smiles ruefully. “Honestly, Andromeda’s my favorite part of it, anyways. She couldn’t fight like Perseus, but she was brave enough to try and sacrifice herself to save her people.”

Emilia doesn’t like the way he says that last part. She doesn’t like what he says at all, because this Andromeda person’s behavior sounds terribly familiar. But there’s another part that catches her interest, so she puts it off for a later — but definitely happening! — discussion.

“Andromeda,” she tests the name out. “She was a princess?”

“Yeah,” Subaru says, staring up at the darkening sky, where the first stars are just starting to come out. “She was so beautiful that her mother bragged about her to the gods, and they got so jealous that they sent a giant sea monster to destroy the city. Andromeda offered herself up instead. They call her the chained lady, or the chained princess.”

“Oh,” Emilia murmurs. “It’s a sad story, then.”

Subaru shakes his head. “You’d think so. But that’s where Perseus comes in. He saved her and killed the monster, so they both get constellations together."

Emilia still thinks the story is a bit sad, but she can see why Subaru likes it. She isn’t sure she’s fond of why he likes it, but she can understand it.

“The chained princess,” she repeats under her breath. She feels a pang of sympathy for the woman stuck up in the stars. She knows what it’s like, to be so isolated from everyone. To feel as if everything is too far to reach with your own bound hands.

In a way, Emilia supposes, she is every bit as out of touch with the world as poor Andromeda is, stuck up in the sky.

For Subaru, loving is as easy as breathing air.

Or at least, that’s what it seems like to Emilia.

She’s never met someone like him before, who can tell her so unflinchingly how much he cares for her. Emilia isn’t the kind of person people shower with love — quite the opposite. Her heritage aside, Emilia is the kind of person stained by both her own dark past and the darker past of another. Half-devil is the kindest term she can hope to hear from others, and it isn’t like she’s done much to deserve anything better. With what Emilia manages to contribute to bettering the world, she’s about as worthy as a bag of rocks. Tied up in a neat package and kept under wraps by some, achieving nothing but weighing down those who would take her with them.

She’s certainly never seen herself as deserving of praise or adoration, much less being told she’s loved at all.

And yet, Subaru is constantly composing a hundred ways to tell her otherwise.

He loves her, he tells her, without her even asking. He loves her so much, he tells her, with enough sincerity to rattle. He loves her more than anything, he tells her, and Emilia has no idea how to respond.

Oh, it’s not that she dislikes it. Very much the opposite!

It makes her happy when he tells her, even if he really doesn’t need to say it so much. Because he means it, even if he has a bad habit of breaking promises here and there. Apart from that moment in the graveyard before he — well, before he kissed her (see, she doesn’t get so terribly flustered anymore!), she’s never once doubted that Subaru truly means what he says when he tells her he loves her.

He never misses a beat in taking her side, and he’s never slow to have her back, even with what little strength he has. He’s always ready to challenge her, but he’s also ready to back down and let her lean on him if she needs to.

And it’s not just her, either! He finds room to love so many people, even the ones he pretends not to. Subaru is a little like an overflowing teakettle — always bursting and running over with love for people (and rather loud about it, too). He makes it look so easy.

The truth is that it’s not nearly as easy as Emilia likes to think. She’s watched as Subaru bashes himself bloody throwing himself up against other people’s walls in a desperate attempt to reach them and pull them out into the light — some of those walls were her own.

But he keeps trying anyways, keeps loving people, even if it’s not quite the same way he loves her.

And that, Emilia finds, is the problem.

She knows the way Subaru loves her is… very different, than from how he loves, say, Beatrice, or Otto or any of the others. The way he looks at her, the way it makes her feel, is different than anyone else. No one has ever quite looked at Emilia like that.

He loves her, like the love in storybooks and the love in his star stories. And for all that he does for her to show it, for all that he shares with her, all that he constantly, constantly gives for her—

Emilia has no idea how to give back.

She doesn’t know how to love like he does. She isn’t even sure how to know if she loves like he does, how to know what that kind of love it’s supposed to be. Emilia cares for her knight beyond belief — no question. But that kind of love… she doesn’t know it. She doesn’t know how to feel it.

She cares for Subaru, but she doesn’t know if she loves him.

It’s disgusting of her. All she knows how to do is take.

Because for Emilia, loving is almost as frightening as the glowing blue lights of the Sanctuary walls.

“Emilia-tan, my beautiful ray of sunshine and light.”

Emilia tucks a hand under her chin, tilting her head at Subaru and fixing him with a glare as she leans over the piles of paperwork on her desk. It’s the third time he’s interrupted her careful reading of the latest reports. If she’s being honest, she desperately craves the distraction, but she can’t just show him that, now can she. She has to uphold some sort of reputation if she’s going to be king.

“What is it now?”

“Ouch,” Subaru winces at her expression. “Emilia-tan, my freezing ray of ice and cold.”

She shakes her head. It’s a familiar exchange, more playful than anything. But she spots the expression Subaru makes when he’s genuinely embarrassed and trying to hide it, so she relents, softening.

Subaru ducks his head, playful façade dropping. “This word, here,” he mumbles. “I don’t, uh, think I’ve learned it yet.”

Emilia leans over the report he holds out to her, tracing over the letters he points at. “This one? It’s ‘expedite’,” she explains. “It’s a little bit of a tricky one, isn’t it?”

“For me, apparently.”

Emilia gives him an encouraging smile as he takes his place back on her floor, curled up in a patch of sunlight like a cat. He’s taken the other half of her paperwork to go through, marking through each of them on top of one of the large books Ram’s given him to study.

She doesn’t understand why he gets so embarrassed about it, she thinks as she watches him struggle over words of a language he’s still learning. He’s come so far in such a short time, even with the amount of trouble her camp manages to keep getting into.

What a dunderhead, she thinks fondly, her eyes lingering on the way the sunlight leaves gold flecks in his eyes, lighting up the deep brown. Subaru is always comparing her eyes to jewels, but she thinks his are something much nicer to look at. Purple is such a cold and striking color. Brown, like the earthen tones in Subaru’s eyes, is a warmer color, soft and open.

She’s been told by people like Captain Wilhelm that Subaru’s eyes are hard — steely and haunted. Emilia… does actually know what those people are talking about. She’d be blind not to notice the way Subaru’s expression slips some times, his eyes going vacant like a candle being extinguished.

But most of the time, when she looks Subaru in the eye, she just sees Subaru. Just her knight, looking right back at her.

Or she tries to look him in the eye and he’s making silly faces instead.

“This is the worst,” Subaru grumbles, doodling a tiny cat in the corner of the report he’s reading. “Don’t we have Otto for this?”

“He already went through all of it for us,” Emilia reminds him. “These are just the ones he said I should look over. You were the one who decided to help me.”

Subaru makes a pouting face that reminds Emilia a good deal of Beatrice. “I don’t remember that at all.”

“Really?” Emilia smiles. “I seem to remember you saying you had a ~knightly responsibility~.”

“Knightly, please. There’s no way in hell Julius does paperwork,” Subaru scowls. “Can you even imagine it?” He strikes an elegant pose, tossing an imaginary strand of purple hair from his shoulder. “Proper knights do not dare dirty their hands with such trivial things as — uh — sugar shortages.” He frowns, dropping the mocking tone he was using. “Aw man, for real? Beako’s gonna be sad.”

Emilia just presses a hand against her mouth, stifling giggles. Subaru’s long-held grudge against Julius is little more than acting by this point — she’s seen how close the two have grown firsthand — but it’s always funny to see how desperately he pretends otherwise.

“Bet he’d give himself paper cuts, too,” Subaru mutters.

“I don’t think he would. I believe he has a divine protection against that sort of trivial thing.”

Subaru drops his pen. “Bullsh—no way. Are you for real? Of all the stuck-up pretentious — of course he does, he’s gotta be perfect at every damn thing, doesn’t he, and — hold on.” He narrows his eyes at her, watching as she desperately presses her lips together to keep from breaking. “Are you just messing with me?”

The look on his face is so scandalized, Emilia can’t help but crack, bursting into giggles.

“You are!” he cries. “Betrayed by my own Emilia-tan — who corrupted you? Was it Beako? I’ll ban her from sweets for a week if it was.”

“If you don’t want people to tease you, then you should stop teasing so much yourself,” Emilia says, with a knowledgeable sniff.

“I’m devastated,” Subaru despairs into his hands. “My own tactics turned against me, using Julius of all people—”

“You’re the one who works yourself into such a tizzy about him!”

“You know, no one says tizzy these days.”

“But they say expedite,” Emilia says, sticking her tongue out at him.

Subaru winces. “Direct hit, direct hit, right in the heart. You win this round, Emilia-tan.”

Despite her victory, Emilia feels a pang of guilt. She’s supposed to be convincing Subaru that it’s okay to ask for help with things, not teasing him about the things he asks for help with! That wasn’t very nice of her at all, she scolds herself.

“I still think it’s a stupid word, though,” Subaru mutters before she can apologize, returning to the document he was looking over. “Expedite, I’ll expedite making a bonfire outta you, paperwork.”

Emilia hesitates. Maybe it’s alright, she thinks. Subaru doesn’t look too upset. She just — forgets sometimes, with how few people she’s been able to tease and joke around with. There was always Puck, of course, but it’s different with Subaru. Easier, maybe, in a way that makes her forget to doubt herself.

And he’s always asking for it, that’s for sure. She nods to herself as she returns to her own work. Subaru is aaaalways teasing her, he can take a little teasing back.

The light, bubbly feeling in her chest dissipates as she stares at the words in front of her. The quill in her hand suddenly feels heavier, and she bites her lip.

Otto has so much faith in her, to let her make these decisions. Everyone has so much faith in her, to put her in a position where she can make big decisions in the first place. They’re all working so hard so Emilia can rule over them, and isn’t that just—

Well, it’s almost enough to work herself into a tizzy.

“I hope I’m not causing too much trouble for them.”

“Huh?” Subaru raises his head to look up at her. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

Emilia almost slaps a hand over her mouth. She didn’t meant to say that out loud, but it’s too late now.

“I just said…I said I hope I’m not causing too much trouble for him. Otto, I mean! He has to go through soooo much paperwork just so I understand what it’s saying.”

“It’s Otto,” Subaru shrugs, with a fond little smile. “He makes a big fuss but you know he doesn’t mind. He’s happy to help you. We all are.”

He sounds so confident. It makes Emilia feel all warm inside, even if she knows she doesn’t deserve his words.

Even if she knows she doesn’t deserve this at all. The reminder is enough to leave a pit in her stomach again.

“Still, though,” she murmurs, shuffling the stack of paperwork she’s been given to sign absently. “Everyone’s working so hard. I don’t want to go and mess anything up.”

“Don’t worry about it, Emilia-tan,” Subaru gives her blinding smile. “No one’s perfect. Besides, even if you do mess up, you’ve got your whole camp behind you, remember? Even if you’re totally awful at budgeting and Otto cries over mixed-up paperwork, we’ll fix it together.”

“Dummy,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him, but she can’t help smiling. She didn’t even mention that the budget was what she was worried about. She’s been trying to take on more responsibilities, to truly learn what it means to rule over something, and she hates how much she keeps realizing she doesn’t know — how unsure she is. Her priority has been convincing everyone else that she isn’t — that Emilia is perfectly prepared and confident for everything.

What a dunderhead, her knight. He doesn’t know how to read expedite right, but he can see right through her without even trying.

She cares for him. Emilia knows that much.

She cares about Subaru so much that it hurts sometimes, twisting all up in her chest. She’s always worrying about him as he gets himself into one mess or another, always striving for her sake. Subaru makes her worry more than anything, or anyone, else.

It’s not always his fault. He attracts trouble so easily, even when it seems like he isn’t doing anything at all. But a good deal of the time, it is his fault. Always plunging headfirst into danger, her knight.

They’ve talked about it, of course. Emilia hates how little Subaru seems to care about his own wellbeing almost as much as Subaru hates how Emilia stands quiet while other people say cruel things about her. It’s an endless back and forth, but Emilia knows for a fact that Subaru is much worse than she is. She has a very nasty suspicion that he would throw himself from a cliff if he thought it would help, and despite how good he is at coming out on top and keeping himself alive, Emilia still worries.

Because she cares for him. She cares for him a lot. And in Priestella, all dressed up in the gown you’re supposed to wear on wedding days, she’d told the Archbishop of Greed herself. When (if, a cold thought whispers) she falls in love, she wants it to be with Subaru.

But wanting and actually feeling are two different things, aren’t they?

She’s tried so hard to be the one reaching out, but it never feels as if she’s reached anything, much less anyone.

Maybe she simply spent too long frozen. The rest of her might have thawed, but her heart is so deep-set in ice that it’s hopeless — a lost cause. The frozen witch and her frozen heart.

And yet…

There’s no such thing as ice that never melts.

Emilia makes a face, her cheeks puffing out. Subaru, you dummy. Must he somehow have a response for everything?

She’ll get the best of him one of these days. Just wait and see! Someday soon she’ll be the one knocking Subaru off his feet with big dumb statements that hit him right in the heart and make him go all light-headed. She’ll figure out the exact perfect thing to say that he needs to hear in the exact perfect moment and he’ll be one stuck voiceless and wide-eyed and red-faced.

It’s the least she can do. Even if she can’t tell him she loves him — she can at least do that.

The nice thing about having Subaru as her official, Emilia-proclaimed knight, is that he’s really committed to it, with all his heart. He puts in an effort to take things seriously and acts the part the best he can.

The other nice thing, that she won’t admit out loud, is that she gets to have Subaru stand right by her during official meetings, even if he is always stuck behind her.

“Stop walking so slow,” she pouts, tugging his arm again as they make their way through the castle halls. “You keep falling behind me.”

“That’s kinda the point, Emilia-tan,” Subaru mutters, barely resisting her pull. He tugs awkwardly at the high collar of his cape again, looking supremely uncomfortable. “I’m supposed to walk behind you. I, uh, think.”

Ah, there’s the downside of Subaru taking things so seriously. When has he ever cared about what he’s supposed to do, anyways?

“It makes me feel weird,” she says, trying a different approach. “I can’t look at you if you’re behind me.”

“Not sure about that weird part! But the rest is super sweet actually, and, uh,” Subaru turns a little pink. Then more of a red color, as he mumbles ‘looking at me’ under his breath. “B-but I don’t think I’m supposed to walk beside you, as your knight. It gives a wrong impression, y’know?”

Emilia doesn’t quite know, but Subaru continues before she can speak.

“Besides,” he says, striking a pose with his fist curled and his thumb pointed up, flashing a smile at her. “How else am I supposed to watch your back, huh?”

Emilia makes a face. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him to have her back — the opposite, in fact! She’s more worried that he’d protect her back a little too well, and get himself hurt in the process.

She props her hand beneath her chin.“It’s hard to hold your hand when you stand behind me,” she mutters.

Subaru’s cheeks go red again. “Yeah, wasn’t planning on doing that in front of everyone anyways,” he exhales. “We gotta look the part! You are the future king after all, Emilia-tan.”

Emilia shakes her head, feeling her own cheeks heat a bit. “You have so much faith in me,” she smiles softly. Her mouth twists. “I don’t think anyone else here thinks I have much of a chance, though.”

“Then they’re all idiots,” Subaru says, without any delicacy at all. “Seriously, total morons. They’ve got bricks for brains.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Emilia says, even as she fights back a giggle.

“I’ll start saying nice things when they do,” he growls.

She sighs. The chances of any rude outbursts are lower than they were at the start of the selection. Emilia’s name has weight now, accomplishments to back her words, and she’s made friends among the candidates that mean more than anything to her.

She’d be foolish to assume no one will ever say anything about her heritage again, or that everyone will suddenly accept her with open arms, but things are better than they were. There’s no need to make a fuss, and she tells Subaru as much.

“If you say so. But still, if you even feel the slightest bit like you wanna leave, just say the word. I’ll just pick a fight with Julius and cause a distraction while you escape through the window using this stupid cape as a parachute.” Subaru drags the end of his uniform cape, flapping it around. “Seriously, there’s enough fabric in this thing to kill a man.”

Emilia doesn’t know what a pair-a-shoot is, nor does she understand how fabric could kill someone — though if anyone was going to figure out a way to get hurt on their own cape, it would be Subaru. But still.

“Stop picking on Julius,” she scolds. “You two are friends, be nicer.”

“I will when he stops prancing around with that arrogant expression on his—”

“And besides, I wouldn’t want to escape without you,” she adds, cutting off his tirade.

Subaru presses a hand to his heart. “You’re too kind, Emilia-tan,” he says, in that dramatic way of his. “Thinking of me even at the threat of boring meetings to your beautiful self.”

“I’m not too kind,” she says, as they pause just before the doors leading to the throne room. “I would never abandon you like that, dummy.”

Something flashes across Subaru’s face — a painfully raw expression, an emotion that passes so fast Emilia doesn’t get the chance to identify it. He gives her a bright smile, nodding at the guards near the door.

“No take backs,” he winks.

“Idiot,” she breathes, as the doors swing open and they step into the throne room.

The sight doesn’t bring her nearly as much anxiety as it used to, Emilia reflects, as she and Subaru take their place. Part of that comes with the lovely smile Crusch gives her, the amiable smirk Anastasia wears as she nods her way, and the viciously bright flash of teeth Felt gives her with her smile.

She knows better to expect anything from Priscilla, but she attempts to catch her eye and smile at her — or at Al, anyways. It’s the least she owes to him, for Subaru and Vollachia.

The meeting proceeds with the same elegance it always seems to, and Emilia straightens her back. They’ll be talking about Vollachia, the findings of the Pleiades Watchtower expedition and what they’ve learned of Gluttony. Emilia is prepared for that, braced for the stinging reminder of how useless, how utterly unable to rescue her own knight she was.

(How very much she missed him.)

They start by addressing the growing threat of the witch cult instead, and Emilia’s stomach turns.

It’s a very important subject — Emilia knows too well herself how critical it is to take the witch cult threat seriously. It’s something her camp has been pushing for, ever since the attack on Arlam.

But it doesn’t escape her notice that every time the word witch echoes across the hall, countless eyes flicker to her.

It doesn’t bother her, she tells herself. She’s used to it, she reminds herself. She can’t place the blame on herself, even if the attacks always seem to come where her presence is. The witch cult is to blame for their cruelty, not Emilia, even if it’s only because of her that they’re making moves in the first place.

It’s an important subject, Emilia forcefully reminds herself. They’re still talking about it, voices echoing in her head, and she doesn’t care about the eyes that keep looking at her. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, not in the slightest.

Except that her silly hands are shaking, trembling with each resounding word throughout the massive throne room. She feels a little sick, like her blood is rushing too fast and everything is too loud. Emilia swallows. Alright then. Time for a different plan of attack.

Carefully as she can not to be noticed, she tucks a hand behind her back, her palm upturned. Not even half a beat later, warm fingers thread through her own, squeezing tight. Emilia clutches back, running her thumb over the little raised line of a familiar scar, grounding herself in the touch.

She’s not alone, she reminds herself. She’s the only half elf and the only person cursed with such a darkened appearance here, but she’s not alone. Subaru’s behind her and he’ll yell at the whole court to defend her if she only asks.

He’ll probably try to punch the one member of the Sage Council who keeps giving her nasty looks right in the face, too, so Emilia won’t ask him, of course.

But he would, and it means a good deal.

Breathing a little easier, she returns her attention to the speaker, Subaru’s hand still clutched tightly in her own. She feels eyes on her again, but they’re from beside her this time. Curious, Emilia sneaks a glance.

Felt is watching her from the corner of her eye. Emilia hasn’t changed expression, but Felt’s eyes glint all to knowingly as she stares at the hand Emilia has behind her back. Instead of pulling back, Emilia blushes just a bit, and — making sure Miklotov or anyone else on the Sage Council isn’t looking at her — sticks her tongue out at Felt.

Felt looks delighted.

“You ‘n big bro are pretty close, aren’t ya.” Felt corners her after the meeting, dragging her into one of the castle’s sprawling gardens, while Reinhard attempts to mediate Julius and Subaru’s latest verbal battle they decided to pick two seconds after the meeting ended.

Emilia doesn’t mind being dragged. It’s a little exciting, like having close friends to giggle with.

“He’s my knight,” she replies, ignoring how inordinately pleased the remark leaves her. “He makes these meetings a little easier.”

“Yeah, he’s a riot,” Felt grins. “I tried tellin’ him his cape looked nice and he got all worked up.”

“I don’t think he’s very fond of it,” Emilia sighs.

Felt snorts. “He’s a fun one to tease, huh?”

Emilia nods. Subaru is fun to tease, when she pulls it off. The biggest impact she’s managed to make had been right after the Sanctuary incident. She hadn’t even meant to be teasing him at first — she’d only wanted to assure him that, thanks to Frederica and Ram’s efforts, she knew babies didn’t come from kissing anymore. It was when she’d pressed on, determined to convince Subaru that she knew exactly how babies were really made, that she’d reduced him to a sputtering, red-faced heap. His reaction was so funny that Emilia’s own terrible embarrassment had been worth it.

But she has a feeling that isn’t a good story to tell Felt.

“He does make me laugh,” Emilia says. “Sometimes when I reaaally shouldn’t, though.”

“Wish Reinhard was even half as entertaining,” Felt grumbles.

When she says it like that, it sounds as if Subaru is her jester instead of her knight. The image is funny, if incorrect. Emilia smiles. “I’m sure Reinhard would hold your hand too, if you wanted.”

“Bleh! No thanks. ‘Specially not after he forced these stupid gloves on me.”

“They look nice,” Emilia tries to comfort her.

Felt rolls her eyes. “Like I care about that! C’mon, you gotta be sick of this whole circus too, right?”

“Well…” Emilia presses her thumbs together. She doesn’t want to whine, but… “I’m a little sick of the paperwork,” she admits.

“See! It’s awful, right?” Felt shakes her head. “And you aren’t even learning how to read ‘n write all ‘proper’ at the same time.”

“That doesn’t really help with budgeting, though.”

“Damn math,” Felt curses, but she’s grinning now. “It’s almost as borin’ as these useless meetings."

“The Sage Council’s voices always make me soooo sleepy,” Emilia beams back, Felt’s gossip infectious. “I sometimes think I could just curl up and take a nap right there in the throne room.”

“That’s the right idea there, big sis. I keep tryin’ to convince Reinhard to let me use his stupid knight cape as a pillow but noooo, I gotta listen to everythin’ those boring old hacks gotta say.”

Emilia dissolves into giggles as Felt snickers, the pair caught up in the image of Reinhard being forced to surrender his cape as a pillow — he most certainly would, which is why it’s funny. Emilia barely feels guilty at all, so caught up in how nice it is to laugh with Felt like this, and that’s probably why she misses it.

A flash of silver. The faintest whistling in the air, and that’s all the warning she has before—

Footsteps pound behind her and suddenly Emilia goes stumbling, crashing into Felt and sending the two of them sprawling. Her palms scrape roughly against the ground, but the stinging pain is the last thing on her mind. A frantic clamor of voices above her jolts her into action, and she draws Felt close to her, pushing herself up just in time to catch a flash of purple as Julius clashes with the assassin’s blade, disarming them instantly with an elegant flick of the wrist. Reinhard is already ahead him, incapacitating the other two hooded figures Emilia failed to notice. And standing just above Emilia, clutching his arm and breathing hard, is her own knight. Blood stains his sleeve and fingers, dripping slowly from the slim throwing knife lodged just above his elbow.

“Well,” Subaru pants. “I guess that works.”

“Idiot!” Felix is on him instantly, inspecting the injury. “You were supposed to warn them, nyot use yourself as a shield!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Subaru retorts, as Reinhard frets over Felt and Julius secures the assassins. “It’s uh, poisoned, by the way. Nothing too bad, but if you could, y’know, heal it before it kills me, that’d be really cool—”

Felix makes an agonized noise, and Emilia is instantly on her feet, mana already drawn to her fingertips.

“It’s alright,” Felix assures her, his hands already glowing. “I’ll fix him right up.”

Emilia exhales shakily, adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. She steadies herself, fixing Subaru with a glare and opening her mouth to lecture him.

“You’re alive,” Subaru breathes, looking so crushingly relieved that it silences her instantly. “You’re okay, you’re alive, you’re okay—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all fine. Back off, Rein,” Felt chimes in. She sounds shaky, and despite her words she’s holding rather tight to Reinhard’s arm. “Thanks for the save, big bro.”

“Just doin’ my job,” Subaru smiles weakly. “Would’ve made it way sooner if Mr. Finest Knight over here hadn’t dragged his feet.”

Julius flicks his eyes skywards as he joins them, the guards having dragged the captive assassins away. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who suddenly came begging for my help.”

“I didn’t beg, you smug asshole—”

Emilia trades familiar looks of exasperation with the others as the pair falls into the familiar rhythm. Still, it doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that Julius was the one Subaru turned to first, nor does the way they gravitate toward each other, close enough to brush shoulders, as if reassuring themselves.

All while hurling increasingly incomprehensible insults at each other, of course.

“Honestly,” Emilia mutters. “They’re hopeless.”

“You ought to attend our training sessions sometime,” Reinhard sighs. “Their creativity is impressive, if not…exhausting.”

“Honestly.”

It’s almost disorienting, how quickly things calm down after the surge of panic. The royal knights do their job well, as always, but Emilia was expecting a little more commotion. But before she even has the chance to feel the wave of exhaustion following the excitement, they’re already being ushered back to the inn, everything neatly wrapped up and cleaned away.

Subaru seems almost desperate to leave the castle grounds, so Emilia is quick to follow — but she stops to say goodbye to Julius first, pulling him aside when Subaru isn’t looking.

“He misses you,” she tells Julius in a low voice. “Even if he doesn’t quite say it, he talks about you often.”

There’s a beat of quiet. It appears that Subaru isn’t the only one Emilia can make turn red today, even if Julius’ reaction is much less pronounced.

“I see,” he says, with a small, genuine smile. “If you would, please inform him that when I invite someone to spend time with me, I do actually mean it.”

“I’ll do my best,” Emilia smiles back, bidding him farewell and chasing after her stubborn knight.

She’ll learn later that Julius followed Subaru without any hesitation or question, as he himself admits to her. Emilia feels a little relieved he’s opening up to her, even if it is as he treats the pathetically small scrapes on her palms with a guilty expression.

He treats her hand like it’s made of something precious, wrapping a bandage around her palm with a feather-light touch. She doesn’t really need this kind of attention, not at all — she heals so quickly, but Subaru had insisted, eyes pained, and Emilia hadn’t been able to say no.

He’s so careful with her, she thinks, watching his brow furrow as he concentrates. It’s not in the way Puck was, as if Emilia was made of glass and would shatter at the slightest tough touch. Subaru knows quite well how strong she is. It’s one of the higher ranking spots on his very long list of things he loves about her, he’s told her so himself. She’s told him what her magic can do — he’s seen it firsthand.

Yet he insists on treating the tiniest of scratches. He scolds her for being reckless like he isn’t the worst hypocrite around and then goes and holds her hand like it’s the most precious thing he holds dear.

It’s a little dizzying. Emilia’s been looked at and judged by hundreds of people, scrutinized in the worst of ways, pronounced and denounced and called a hundred different titles, but nothing has ever stuck with her like Emilia-tan. No one has ever looked straight past her ears and her hair and every other rotten thing about her and just seen Emilia.

Except for Subaru, and the way he looks as if she’s made him happier than anything just by holding his hand.

“I’m glad,” he says, quiet and absent, as if he doesn’t quite mean to say it out loud. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Her hand tightens around his, her eyes watching the way his glint in the low lamplight, and Emilia feels an odd burning in her stomach.

Subaru’s eyes dart away, and Emilia banishes the feeling. He swipes at his eyes with his other hand, giving a shuddering little breath, and she bites her lip.

She watches as Subaru’s hand flutters unconsciously at his throat, tracing over the unblemished skin, as if assuring himself. The hand she’s holding trembles, just enough to be noticeable.

He looks so tired.

She doesn’t understand the extent of his relief, just as she doesn’t understand how he knew the blade was poisoned or the exact angle it would come from. But she knows Subaru, she knows her knight, and she knows what to ask and what not to.

And despite how it may frustrate her, she knows when he needs a distraction.

“You know, you have some reeeally dark circles under your eyes.”

“They’re really that bad?” Subaru rubs the back of his neck, looking down, but the fragile trembling in his hand steadies. “Bet they make my eyes look even scarier, huh.”

Emilia frowns. “I don’t think they’re scary.”

You’re lucky, she wants to say.

You’re lucky enough to bear the eyes of your mother, she wants to say.

Those are the eyes of two of the most important people in my life so be nicer about them, she wants to say.

“I think they suit you,” she says instead.

“Can’t decide if that’s a compliment or a very nice insult,” Subaru ponders. “If my eyes are scary, and you’re saying that suits me—”

“I said I didn’t think they were scary!” Emilia whacks his shoulder. “Dummy,” she adds, for emphasis. He just can’t help twisting her words, can he?

He shrugs away, laughing quietly at her. His eyes don’t look quite as tired anymore, when they’re looking at her — he’s got that warm look in them instead, the one that makes her feel as if he’s looking at the sun and the stars.

Mother Fortuna looked at her like she was the sun, too.

But the way his eyes soften, the slightly scary (but only a tiny bit, just the smallest bit intimidating) look giving way to something gentler, reminds her more of how Mother Fortuna looked at Geuse. 

Elior Forest will never leave her. Emilia knows this much. The voices of her past, the images she saw in the trials of the Sanctuary, will stay with her forever, and she’s grateful for it.

But she does wish — quite a bit, in fact — that her dreams would be kind enough to give her the voices of Mother Fortuna and Geuse and Archie, or to show her the smiles of her childhood. It’s very frustrating to go to sleep and instead of reliving the happy parts of her past, to meet face to face with Pandora of all people, over and over again.

Tonight is especially awful, the worst parts of the trial all wrapped into one, with Puck and Subaru and Ram and everyone else joining Mother Fortuna’s bloodstained body in the snow. Pandora’s eerie voice lingers in her ears, all the way down the halls of the mansion as Emilia pulls her night robe closer, fighting off an imaginary chill.

Her feet stop at Subaru’s door, as if drawn there by instinct. Emilia’s a little disappointed in herself. She falters, tucking her hands under her chin, torn. Is it really worth waking him up for something so silly? Every time she’s fretted about bothering him, Subaru has responded by saying that she has ‘a hundred percent rights to bother him whenever she wants, it’s not bothering at all, please bother me Emilia-tan’, but she isn’t sure he meant the middle of the night. And Subaru needs sleep anyways, no matter what he says. He needs it reeeally bad. His eyes are always so tired in the mornings, and sometimes all day. It makes her worry.

So she shouldn’t bother him, she decides firmly. Emilia nods to herself, then turns back for her room.

She manages one tiny step down the hall before her nightmare comes flooding back. The dark shadows on the walls suddenly seem sinister, and the idea of going back to her own room, cold and empty and all alone, makes cold sweat break out at the back of her neck.

She puffs her cheeks up in frustration at herself. “Don’t be such a baby,” she whispers harshly. She promised herself she’d be better, and so she will. She’s Emilia, nothing more and nothing less, and she is not afraid of—

There’s a flutter of white in the corner of her eye. Emilia’s blood turns to ice. For a beat, she’s not in the hall anymore — there’s snow beneath her feet and Aunt Fortuna’s blood all over her hands, and pale white hair is whipping in the wind around cold, cold blue eyes and a pale dress and why won’t she die—

Emilia gasps back to herself, her hands locked around the strands of her own silver hair she caught, and she’s suddenly right back at Subaru’s door.

Just a peak, she tells herself, begging her hands to stop shaking as she twists the door handle, pushing it open ever so slowly. She’ll just — make sure he’s there, that’s all. As long as she knows Subaru is here, it’ll be fine. Just one little look, and she’ll go back to her own—

“E…Emilia-tan?”

Ah, Emilia thinks, in relief. Subaru isn’t even asleep.

Her next thought is to frown at him, but she’s so happy to see him after all the flashes of pale hair and bloodstained snow that she just gives him a shaky little wave.

Subaru blinks at her, his eyes glimmering in the dim candlelight he’s using to read. He’s sitting up in bed, one knee pulled to his chest under the blankets, so maybe he at least tried to get sleep, even if he’s clearly given up. Emilia’s gaze drifts lower, and she feels herself smile. Beatrice is fast asleep, her arms locked tightly around Subaru’s middle and her head buried against him like he’s a very cuddly pillow.

It’s sooo cute, but it also makes Emilia a little jealous. She isn’t… quite sure why, nor is she going to think about it right now, either.

“Is everything okay?”

Subaru looks concerned, his brow all furrowed and tense. Emilia realizes she’s been staring at him, and she blushes.

“Oh, it’s alright, everything is alright,” she assures him, her voice hushed. “I just… I was wondering if…” she trails off, ducking her head. She feels stupid, now. It’s so quiet and peaceful, and here Emilia is, barging in because she’s scared of some silly little dream. She should tell him she’s simply being a dummy, or that she heard a weird noise, and flee back to her room before she makes it worse.

Her feet just won’t move, that’s all.

Subaru tilts his head, studying her. His eyes drift from the pale expression on her face, to the way her arms are still wrapped tightly around herself. He nods to himself, setting his book down.

“One sec.”

Emilia watches him squirm out of Beatrice’s hold, carefully pulling the blankets back over her and adjusting her pillow with a fond expression. He then tugs his strange jacket over his pajamas and pads across the floor to her, carefully closing the door behind them.

“Is it a tea or hot chocolate night?”

The word chocolate sounds so yummy right now, but Emilia knows better. “Tea,” she says, as they tiptoe through the halls toward the kitchen. Subaru slides exaggeratedly past Ram’s bedroom door, and she holds back a giggle.

“Chocolate will keep you up all night, you know,” she whispers.

“Yeah, but it’ll taste good.”

“That’s a silly reason.”

“It’ll boost your serotonin, too, so it’ll cheer you up.”

“Stop making up words,” Emilia says, in a normal tone as they finally make it to the kitchen. “It’s not nice to tease me this late.”

“Making up words, who do you take me for,” Subaru grumbles, but he busies himself making tea instead, the sweeter kind Emilia likes best.

“Serotonin is a totally legitimate thing and my life is severely lacking in it,” he continues, readying two cups. “Except when I see you, of course! E.M.T., instant serotonin boost extraordinaire.”

“I’m sorry, I really have no idea what you’re saying,” Emilia says, accepting the cup he hands her. She inhales deeply, the familiar scent calming and the cup warm between her hands.

“It means you’re a source of constant happiness,” Subaru flashes her a grin, as the they make their way to a nearby sitting room. Emilia tucks her feet up beneath her on the sofa, leaving her sitting closer to Subaru than she’d planned.

She doesn’t quite mind, though. His presence is a nice reminder that her nightmare is nothing but a dream. The bloodied Subaru at Pandora’s feet does not exist, nor will it ever, if Emilia has anything to do with it.

“Then I suppose you’re also good at, um, the sara-toenin as well,” she says. What an odd word.

Subaru makes the amused expression he always does when Emilia doesn’t quite get his homeland’s terms right. “Close enough,” he says.

“Hmph,” Emilia pouts into her tea. The sentiment had been nice, she thought, if Subaru hadn’t ruined it with his teasing.

She can’t hold it against him though, she thinks as she lets herself lean against him, sipping their tea in comfortable quiet. It should be a peaceful scene — it is a peaceful scene, Subaru looks as if he’s nodding off to sleep already.

Emilia is the one ruining it. She doesn’t feel tired at all anymore. She does feel very warm. But it’s not in the sleepy, comforting way cozy blankets feel — it’s almost a little too hot, weird little sparks that sing through her skin where Subaru brushes against her. She’s suddenly seized with a wild urge to touch back — to grab him, to — to—

Emilia presses a fevered hand against her forehead. What in the world is wrong with her?

“You good?” Subaru looks at her worriedly.

Emilia shakes her head, letting her hand drop back to her lap as she buries the weird feeling deep down, trying very hard to ignore how the sound of his voice makes it worse. “Just sleepy,” she says. She yawns, stretching to cement her point, and pale hair flutters down in her vision again. The warm feeling snaps away, replaced by a flicker of fear. Slamming her teacup down, Emilia grabs the loose strand of hair and shoves it back behind her ear in frustration.

Subaru stares at her, taken aback. “Um, Emilia-tan…”

“Sorry,” she murmurs in shame, pushing her hair as far back behind her as she can. “Don’t mind me.”

He doesn’t look convinced in the slightest. “You’ve been messing with your hair a lot,” he says, carefully. “Do you, uh…” he suddenly looks away, pink spreading across his cheeks. Emilia looks at him curiously, wondering at the cause of the sudden reaction. “I could braid it back for you, if you want. So it would be, ah, out of the way. If you wanted!”

The blush stands out darker on his cheeks, and Emilia watches it in confusion. Is that all?

“Why are you acting so silly?” she pokes at a reddened cheek. “You braid my hair all the time.”

Subaru brings a hand to where she touched him, his face now flaming. “Well, yeah, but this is the middle of the night! Just the two of us, stealing a private moment in the candlelight, sneaking around in forbidden territory—”

“Idiot,” Emilia pokes his cheek harder. “It’s just a sitting room, dummy. It isn’t forbidden.”

“Alright, alright!” he waves her away, sheltering his cheek with his other hand. “Just two pals braiding hair in the middle of the night, that’s all. That’s all, just that.”

She turns on the couch so he can reach her hair, frowning at her hands as she does. Pals is another odd word of his, but she does know the meaning. What she doesn’t know is why it makes her upset.

Or perhaps she does, but she just—

Subaru starts on the braid, dragging Emilia from her thoughts. His fingers run through her hair, gentle and delicate, and Emilia feels a pleasant little shiver go up her spine.

Oh dear. She can’t be the one blushing now. Subaru will never let her hear the end of it. Or worse, he’ll go red again as well, and then he’ll start sputtering about something silly and they’ll wake everyone up.

“Your hair is always so pretty, Emilia-tan,” Subaru says. “And so soft…”

He trails off, and she feels him sectioning her hair into three.

“…seriously, it’s crazy soft,” he mutters under his breath. “What conditioner are you using?”

“What is cundish-in-er?”

Subaru makes an agonized sound. “Emilia-tan is too perfect,” he laments. “My own pathetic hair is unworthy of standing in your presence.”

Emilia frowns. She likes his hair. Subaru’s hair is soft and fluffy and dark like fine ink, or a night sky. It looks nothing like the unnatural silver of her own, or the wisping white hair of witches in the snow.

She should tell him so, but her mouth feels unusual dry, so she stays quiet as Subaru’s fingers thread through her hair instead, twisting it into a pretty little braid.

“No one back home — my home, that is — has hair this color, unless they dye it,” Subaru says. “It’s so pretty it’s ethereal, like the stars! Or the moon, or — hang on, I gotta think of other silver stuff…”

Emilia closes her eyes tightly, just for a second. “You’re such a dunderhead,” she mumbles.

“We gotta get you new material,” Subaru sighs. “That one’s getting stale — unlike your flashy new hairstyle!” He ties off the end of the braid, surveying his work. “Everything looks beautiful on Emilia-tan, of course, but you look extra beautiful now.”

“Dummy,” Emilia says, blushing. Subaru stands, moving to sit on the sofa next to her, and elbows her shoulder.

“S’okay. I’ll think up enough creative insults for the both of us.”

Emilia makes a face at him, but she doesn’t pull away, the contact a comforting wall of warmth against the rest of the world. Subaru seems to catch on, letting her lean further against him.

“We should go star-gazing next time this happens,” he yawns. “I can start making a map of ‘em. Weird ass stars. If no one’s gonna make constellations then I’ll do it myself.”

“That sounds nice.”

“The brightest one is obviously gonna be called E.M.T.”

Instead of replying, Emilia just elbows him gently back, leaning her head against his shoulder as they lapse into comfortable silence.

She tries very hard not to press a hand against her chest, ignoring the hammering of her heart.

The feelings in her chest tangle into knots, aching fiercely as the heat of Subaru’s shoulder beneath her head burns hot, and Emilia realizes that it might be time to do something about this.

Emilia is a person of many sins. She won’t deny it.

But she does like to think that pride isn’t one of her worst ones, and giving up might be her best idea at this point.

So she goes to Ram.

She corners her as she’s cleaning one of the furthermost rooms, while the others are out training or holed up in their offices. Emilia isn’t overly prideful, but she does have some — she doesn’t want anyone overhearing.

“Ram.” Red eyes turn to her, her hand pausing where she was half-heartedly dusting, and Emilia bites her lip, letting out a breath. “How did you know you were in love?”

Ram’s eyes widen. She stands frozen for a beat, then lowers her head, pink bangs falling over her face.

“I-I’m only asking, because—”

“I have no desire to know why you’re asking,” she clips. “Doubtlessly it has everything to do with Barusu’s scandalous seductions. I pity you.”

“I didn’t say—!” Emilia turns red. “I didn’t say it had anything to do with him,” she mumbles.

“Then perhaps you have better taste than I thought. My apologies. Who is the vastly superior being you’ve decided to switch interests to?”

Emilia stares at the floor. Ram gives a knowing little snort.

“I retract my apology.”

Emilia sighs, twisting her fingers together. She and Ram get along much better than they ever used to, and she values Ram’s insight and opinion beyond words. But perhaps this isn’t the best thing to be asking her. She’d only — well, she’d only thought, after Roswaal, and everything else they’ve been through, that maybe—

“It hurts.”

Emilia blinks, snapping her head up. “It what?” she stammers. “Like a sickness? Is it terrible?”

“Listen to me before drawing your own unfounded conclusions, if you will,” Ram huffs. “It doesn’t hurt like that. It hurts in here,” she gestures to her chest. “Like an ache. It hurts but you aren’t sad.”

Ram’s voice loses its steely edge, softening, and Emilia keeps her mouth shut, listening intently.

“It hurts because you never want to leave their side,” Ram continues, her eyes distant. “It hurts because you want them them to be happy, more than anything. You want to make them happy, because when you’re with them, it makes you so happy that it hurts.”

She shakes her head, pink bangs drifting just so across her eyes. “You want to know every part of them, even their weakest and ugliest parts.” Ram’s gaze grows wistful. “And you want to be with them still. It may hurt, but you aren’t afraid of it. Because if they’re by your side, everything will be fine.”

Emilia stares at her hands, and presses one against her chest. Is that how she feels with Subaru? An ache… it sounds familiar, but Emilia is nothing like Ram. Ram is capable of such strong love; she can change minds and fate itself with the strength of her heart. Ram is unselfish in her love, always giving, and Emilia… can’t possibly be like that, can she? Not when she’s so greedy, so selfish, so small.

“Lady Emilia.” She forces her eyes up, meeting Ram’s. “If you truly wish to know whether or not you are in love, you must allow yourself to feel it.”

Emilia flinches. “But I — I’m trying, I am—”

“Do not mistake me,” Ram’s voice is unrelenting. “You must allow yourself to believe you are worthy of loving, first. As well as being loved in return.”

Emilia looks at her hands again, her eyes burning. “He’s already been hurt so much for me,” she whispers. “Ram, I…”

“Lady Emilia,” Ram says, gentler this time. “I am not an expert. But I do not believe your love is something that could ever cause pain.” The edge of her lip curls, almost into a smile. “Rather, the opposite. Even if it is for someone as regrettably worthless as Barusu.”

She tugs a scrap of white from her pocket, and Emilia accepts the handkerchief wordlessly.

“It’s alright to want things,” she says. “Loving isn’t a sin. But it has to be your own. You won’t ever get anywhere if you keep trying to feel what someone tells you to.”

Emilia sniffs, nodding. Be herself. Isn’t that what everyone’s trying to tell her these days?

Ram sighs, as if the words are forcibly being dragged from her. “Barusu is pathetic and has tragically little use, but I suppose he does love you back.”

“He does,” Emilia says, with a watery smile. “I know he does.”

“Then again. Barusu does possess a face and character only his own mother could love. Perhaps you should avoid it altogether.”

“I like his face,” Emilia says, firmer. “I like his character.”

“Why are you here telling me then, I wonder?” Ram pins her with a meaningful stare. “I have chores to finish, you know, since Barusu leaves so much to do.”

Emilia smiles. “Thank you, Ram. You’re always helping me so much.”

Ram waves her away, but Emilia doesn’t miss the small smile she wears. “Ram is always happy to help, Lady Emilia. Even when it involves filth.”

Caring for Subaru does hurt, in its own way. It’s why the days after the Watchtower were so very cold. Every moment spent knowing Subaru was stranded somewhere in Vollachia, so terribly far out of her reach—

Emilia vividly remembers the day they retrieved him, finally, after so many sleepless night of anxiety. She remembers the way he felt as she crashed against him, their arms tangling together as the force of her flying hug knocked them both to the ground, how it felt to bury her face in his hair after so long, smelling of smoke and sweat and Subaru, battered and bruised but familiar and cherished.

Emilia has lost so much in her life. She won’t lose Subaru, not ever again.

Perhaps it is selfish of her. Perhaps she is an unforgivable person in the end, a hopelessly troublesome woman dragging everyone to walk such a dangerous road with her, just so Emilia can get what she wants.

But refusing to think about it, to feel it, is perhaps even more selfish.

Love is wanting to be by someone’s side forever, Ram said. It’s wanting to see someone smile everyday. It’s wanting someone to be happy so much that it hurts.

Emilia does hurt. Her chest hurts when Subaru’s hand leaves her own and her chest hurts when he’s pressed up against her, holding tight. It doesn’t mean it’s love, but—

But if she lets herself — if she lets herself want, when she thinks of her future—

If she thinks of everything she might face—

If she thinks of a moment she could be happiest—

If she allows herself to want—

Oh. It isn’t the throne.

It’s a hand in her own, holding tight.

It’s the moment he asked for her name in the loothouse. It’s the way his eyes lit up when he first told her about the stars of his home, amidst the field of flowers on their first date. It’s the thunderclap of realization as the children tell her how he asked them to stay with her, the thud of his strange shoes on the caravan as he tore the floorboards up. It’s the scribbles of his handwriting all over the Sanctuary tomb, a hundred written words of belief in her. It’s his voice echoing over the city of Priestella, reaching her and countless others in the darkest of moments.

All those times and so many more — it’s the enormous space Subaru has unconsciously found for himself in her life, fitting right in as if he’s always belonged there. It’s Emilia, purposefully carving out that space for him even if she didn’t realize it.

Not matter what the future brings, she’ll be fine, Emilia realizes, because Subaru will be there. It’s not a question, not a hope — she just knows. Things will be just fine, because Subaru will be by her side, outstretched hand waiting for her to take if she wants to.

Oh.

Oh.

She loves him, doesn’t she.

It isn’t some bolt of lightning, like her books described. It isn’t even some earth-shaking revelation that leaves her star struck and dizzy. It simply — is. It clicks into place like the clasp of a necklace, as if it was made just for that. She loves Subaru. She has for a long time, she thinks, she’s only now just putting it to words, but it’s such a simple fact it’s silly. She’s such a dunderhead. She loves Subaru, as easily as breathing.

She loves him, and it aches.

Well. If she’s come this far in letting herself deserve things.

She may as well alleviate it.

Her greatest concern, among the countless other greatest concerns swirling around in her as Emilia desperately clings to the threads of her confidence, is Beatrice.

It’s probably a sign of how oblivious Emilia is, compared to everyone else, that Beatrice approaches her first, cornering her in the hallway that evening just outside Subaru’s room.

Beatrice levels her with a hard stare, her eyes flashing. “You should be very grateful, I suppose,” she huffs. “Making Betty abandon her contractor like this.”

Emilia blinks in confusion. “I’m…sorry?”

Beatrice waves a dismissive hand at her. “You heard Betty, I suppose. Shower her with thanks. She’s spending the night in Petra’s room, for your sake.”

Meaning slams into Emilia, and she blushes furiously. At the same time, though, she feels a swell of relief.

One of Emilia’s greatest concerns is that she’s rushing. Pushing too far too fast.

But she knows exactly what she wants, doesn’t she? Without a doubt in mind. Subaru has every right to push her away, of course, and she’s prepared to be turned down — but past experience had led her to believe his answer is likely to be otherwise. And now here Beatrice is herself, the closest to Subaru of anyone, giving Emilia her distinct approval.

It’s the best sign she could ask for.

“Do take care with his feelings,” Beatrice says. “Betty’s contractor cares an awful lot, I suppose.”

“I do too,” Emilia tells her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be very careful.”

“Careful with what?” Subaru sticks his head out of his room, frowning. “Where are you going, Beako? It’s getting pretty late.”

“Betty is spending the night with Petra,” Beatrice sighs. She gives Subaru a little pat on the hand. “Sleep well, and good luck, I suppose.”

“Wha— wait, Beatrice!” Subaru sputters helplessly. “What do you mean, good…luck…”

He watches Beatrice trot down the hall, looking rather forlorn and miserable. Emilia feels a sting of guilt — she’s so selfish, isn’t she? Maybe she should just—

No, she shakes her head, steeling herself. This has gone on long enough. Beatrice is kind enough to give her this chance, and she isn’t going to waste it.

“Here,” Emilia grabs his hand, tugging him with her. “You can spend the night with me, then.”

“I can — I can what?” Subaru chokes. She doesn’t answer.

“Emilia, Emilia — what did you — Emilia!”

Despite his visibly flustered protests, Emilia gets him in her room. The trade off is that she completely butchers her plan by getting nervous and blabbering about extra paperwork.

Useless dunderhead, she curses herself, as they sit side by side on her bed. She glares at the paper in her hand, then glances up.

Subaru sits just across from her, ink staining the edge of his pinkie finger from the quill he’s scratching letters with, odd figures she doesn’t understand but are nonetheless slowly becoming familiar. She watches as he chews absently at the end of the quill, trying to translate the more difficult phrases into his own written language.

Her stomach flutters. This is bad.

She can’t stop looking at him. Her earlier realization is lighting up her brain like bursts of magic and she can’t stop looking at him.

She loves him. She knows that now, without question. But instead of the overflowing way Subaru always showers her with love, always gives for her, Emilia just—

She wants.

Emilia, in all her greediness, still wants to take.

But more than that, she wants him to know.

Subaru goes into the world with his arms open, but his guard is always up. There’s a terrible brittleness to him, a look in his eyes that sometimes reminds Emilia of a hunted animal. She didn’t understand it at first, the way he always looks as if he’s bracing himself, but she does now. Subaru lives expecting others to hit first — always on guard for someone to hurt him, and never expecting kindness. Emilia knows it, even if he denies it. Subaru is always so surprised, so taken aback when people show him the tiniest shreds of love, and it hurts.

Emilia wants…

She knows she’s not enough to heal whatever he’s hiding. She doubts he’ll ever even tell her, but she wants to tear down that brittle expectation. She wants to break down the walls he keeps up like he did hers, and show him that what’s waiting behind doesn’t have to hurt. She wants to kiss away every time he’s ever flinched back and maybe freeze a couple people or two solid who left him like this. She wants to give him back a fraction of the love he’s given her.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, and carefully places the paperwork aside.

Give and take, she tells herself. Both at the same time.

“Subaru,” she starts. “I wanted to—” she cuts off, swallowing. “I just…I wanted to…"

“Emilia-tan?” Subaru frowns at her in concern.

“I want…” Emilia’s throat is dry.

Her hands falter, shaking. She doesn’t want to be greedy. She doesn’t want to take anymore from him, when all she ever does is take and take and take, his time and his health and everything Subaru works so hard to give her. What does she do in return? Emilia is underserving, wholly ungrateful and selfish, and the last thing she wants to do is force the feelings boiling in her chest on him. They’re too hot — if she’s not careful, she’ll burn him.

Fingers wrap over her own, slightly scarred and calloused but still soft. Subaru tilts his head at her, a stray lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. Emilia fights the urge to run it through her fingers.

“What do you want, Emilia?”

It’s a gentle question, but pressing enough to plead for an answer. Emilia curls her fingers around his, studying the contrast of her pale skin against his own. The words catch in her throat, all jumbled up.

She wants — she wants, she wants so much, she’s so greedy and so selfish and terrible, but right now, like a burning itch in her, she wants—

“You,” she whispers. She immediately feels her face burn hot at her audacity, but she pushes on in shaky courage despite herself. Subaru knows she’s selfish. He’ll scold her if she asks too much, won’t he? “I want — I want you.”

Subaru’s breathing falters. He doesn’t let go of her hand. “H-how, exactly, do you want me?”

Emilia shakes her head, her cheeks burning. He has to know. He can’t not know at this point — he’s intelligent, despite everything. She can’t say it, she simply can’t — except that she feels so hot, the itch is smoldering through her middle and tearing through her reservations, and her big dumb mouth is moving before she can stop herself.

“Like that,” she stammers. “I want — all of you, I want to take you, and — oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, Subaru, I’m being so greedy, I shouldn’t have said that—”

“Emilia.”

His face has gone a dark shade of red, but Subaru lets out a strangled laugh, cutting her off as he shakes his head. He taps her chin with his free hand, guiding her to meet his eyes.

“Don’t you know by now?” Subaru’s eyes are so dark, dark and endless and so very warm. “I’m already yours, Emilia. Yours and yours alone, every single part of me.”

The smoldering in her bursts into a blaze, a rush of searing heat that floods her blood and coats her skin. For a moment, she forgets to breathe quite right.

Stupid, stupid Subaru, dummy Subaru, such a dummy, such an absolute dummy—

In typical fashion, Subaru is still rambling on in that rare poetic way he has when he’s with her. And as much as Emilia loves listening to him talk, she really, reeeally has other goals in mind right now. “Whatever I have to give, it’s yours. Whatever you ask for, whatever you want, I’ll — mmph—”

Whatever threads of restraint Emilia had left snap. Confidence born from sheer, dizzy happiness sends her surging forward, catching Subaru’s mouth mid-rambling and pressing her own against it, gluing the two of them together. Before Subaru can even fully respond to the kiss, Emilia is pushing him down, flat on his back on her mattress. He makes a squeaking noise of surprise, and Emilia snatches it from his lips, drinking up the desperate little sounds he makes and treasuring each one.

“—milia, wait—”

She pauses at his plea, his shirt caught halfway up his chest, her fingers trembling with eagerness where they fist in the thin black fabric. Subaru stares at her with wide eyes, his lips colored a deep red and just beginning to bruise at the edge. Emilia feels terribly light-headed looking at them, and her own lips feel as if they’re buzzing.

“Just—” he swallows, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face. She spots something a little like terror, and her heart twists. Subaru squeezes his eyes shut tightly before opening them again. He looks frightened.

“Scars,” he finally mutters, his eyes darting away from hers. “I’ve got — I’ve got a lot of them, they’re not pretty, and I… I’m not pretty, Emilia, I’m…”

She watches him trail off in self-loathing, dismayed. That simply won’t do, she thinks. There’s an awful lot she needs to talk with her poor knight about, when it comes to how he sees himself, but right now, showing him feels more right.

(She’s still so terribly selfish, to her core.)

She takes Subaru’s hand in her own, pulling it toward her and pressing careful kisses over the jagged scars that span his fingers, the ugly scratches that run across his wrist and forearm. Subaru sucks in a shaky breath as he watches her, his eyes shining bright as they well up in tears.

“Please,” Emilia asks, as prettily as she can. “I’m not very good at it, but please, this once. Let me love you.”

The wet sheen at the edge of his eyes runs over, streaking down his cheek. Emilia thumbs the tears away as he so often does her own, and smiles at him.

She loves him so much it hurts, like a pulsing wound right smack in her chest. Emilia really can’t figure out how she never realized it before.

“Okay,” he whispers. The smile he gives her is fragile and precious, and Emilia floats in the dizzying feeling of how much he trusts her. His mouth quirks up a bit, his smile gaining a ghost of cockiness. “I’m all yours, Emilia-tan.”

Oh, Emilia is such a dummy. Just a big, blind dummy.

She loves him so much.

And Subaru, her stupid, stupid dunderhead of a knight, loves her back.

She doesn’t need a second invitation.

It feels like the world’s been thrown into a haze, her skin burning hotter and hotter with every movement. At some point she manages to free the rest of his shirt, at another the rest of their clothes, but anything else is utterly lost to her. The only thing left is Subaru, and every inch of himself he leaves to her as she presses close to him and takes.

For his part, Subaru responds every bit as enthusiastically, but he’s pliant in a way he rarely is, open and vulnerable in a way that she knows is probably so scary for him. But he gives anyways, folding and responsive to her every touch, and Emilia feels as if her heart will burst, igniting with the rest of her.

Her hand fists in his hair, dark locks clutched tightly in her fingers, and before she can think the action over she tugs back, yanking Subaru’s head into a tilt so his neck forms a perfect arch for her to press her lips to.

The effect it has on him is instant. Subaru bucks under her hold, eyes squeezing shut as she brings a hand to hold tight at his hip, pinning him in place. He claps a hand over his mouth just in time to muffle a cry, his teeth leaving little indents on his palm as he bites his hand. She’s frozen for a moment, the blood rushing to her head as she watches him writhe beneath her, heated skin flushed a lovely pink, his other hand grasping desperately at her sheets.

He gives a broken little gasp of her name, high-pitched and reedy, as if her name is the only thing on earth that matters, and Emilia—

She doesn’t like to think herself a possessive person. She’s all too aware of her faults, many as they are, but she likes to think — possessiveness, of that sort, isn’t one of them. But right now, with Subaru sprawled out beneath her, dark hair damp and curling where it spills messily over her blankets, the dark eyes she loves so much half-lidded and glassy as he stares at her like she’s the only thing in the whole world, the scars he tries so hard to hide on bold display where they trace white lines across his flushed skin—

Something roars in her chest, pounding through her blood. The hand she has locked around his hip tightens enough to leave bruises, but the one she brings up to trace his forehead, his lips, the dark flutter of eyelashes that fan over his cheeks as he closes his eyes beneath her touch, is as gentle as if she were handling snowflakes.

“Love you,” Subaru gasps, his voice choked. “Love you, love you, love you so much, love you, Emilia—”

Emilia lets every word settle into her like sunlight, and she drowns in the feeling. She tangles a hand in his hair again, the other thumbing across his jawline as she traces the contours of his face with her lips. She makes her way to the juncture of his jaw and throat, and she watches in dizzy fascination as his teeth catch on his lip and his back curves into an arch, shuddering and pressing up against her as his head tilts further back into the sheets, allowing her full access to the whole of his neck.

His hand curls desperately in silvery strands of her own hair, the other white-knuckled where he grips the sheets. The whole of him is drawn taut and trembling, and his skin feels like the sun against her own, blazing in warmth.

Mine, she thinks, the word reverberating through her mind with fervent heat. He’s hers, her knight, her Subaru, he promised and he’s all hers, hers hers hers—

Subaru makes a desperate noise, and Emilia quickly relents, easing off the darkening bruise she was sucking against his skin. She watches the area purple in dismay, trying to ignore the new burst of heat the sign of her presence on his skin lights in her. 

So much for not being greedy, she thinks, ashamed. She pulls back, and the hand she has fixed in his hair does as well, unconsciously yanking him to follow. Subaru gasps, then whimpers at the sharp movement. Before she can apologize, he presses his head against her shoulder with a choked moan, tremors running all up and down him. Beneath the burning heat, Emilia feels a swelling sense of pride.

Perhaps she isn’t as ashamed as she should be. After all, she’s every bit his as he is hers.

“I love you,” she whispers, as their movement hits a peak. “So, so much.”

It isn’t as if Emilia doesn’t already love the sight of Subaru, but the sight of him falling apart under her hands, utterly wrecked, is—

It’s something she isn’t likely to forget. It’s something she’s keeping for herself and herself alone, that’s for sure.

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t say bad words,” Emilia scolds lightly.

“Just — you — hmm.” Subaru’s voice sounds wrecked, soft and rasping as he struggles for words. He finally gives up, limbs going slack and he sinks back against her lap. Emilia fights back a quiet giggle, watching him fight to focus his eyes on her, the lovely brown in them almost eclipsed by the black of his pupils.

It’s her fault, she thinks with a pang of guilt. Subaru hadn’t been complaining, or anything like that, but she knows she pushed him far longer than she probably should have.

But she had tried to hold herself back, she really did! She knows she’s stronger than Subaru so she had — well, she had tried, but Subaru kept making such pretty sounds and she couldn’t help it — but now she can’t help thinking she might have gone a tiny bit too far.

Subaru doesn’t even look like he’s aware of much anymore, his movements slow and sleepy and his eyes hazy where she holds him, gently running a hand through his hair. It’s an apology of sorts, for how she tugged sharply at the dark locks earlier. Subaru had seemed to like it at the time, but she hadn’t meant to be anything other than gentle.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, just in case, her fingers running extra carefully through his hair.

Subaru makes a tired little humming sound, all blissful and content, and it leaves a warm bubble of happiness in Emilia’s chest. The traces of bitter exhaustion and weariness he always hides so well are nowhere to be seen, replaced by the dazed kind of happiness she finds in the hint of a smile at his mouth.

He catches her hand in his own. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says, looking up at her with nothing but sincerity. “At all. Trust me.”

Emilia feels a dangerous pressure build behind her eyes. No mirror has ever been so kind to her as Subaru’s eyes.

“I have no idea how I got this lucky,” he continues. He sounds wistful now, his eyes crinkled at the corners in a disbelieving kind of longing. Emilia feels the urge to banish the look, so she does, gently kissing the furrow in his brow.

“I’m the lucky one,” she tells him. His eyelashes flutter as she presses another kiss at his forehead, and his cheeks stain pink.

“How are you so good at this,” he mutters, sounding a little put-out.

“You’re very easy to please,” she replies. She means it in the nicest way, but Subaru looks rather miffed.

“So you’re saying I’m easy,” he whines, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Emilia isn’t quite sure why he says that as if it’s a bad thing. She supposes this is one of his ‘cultural barriers’ or the likes of it. “Well, yes,” she says, attempting to clarify for his sake. “You’re an easy person to love.”

“Gck.”

“Especially as I happen to think you’re very pretty, you see.”

Subaru’s hiding his face again, but Emilia can tell she’s scored another hit. She’s doing well with that tonight, she thinks proudly.

“I love you,” Emilia says, delighted at how the words feel on her tongue. Is this why Subaru is always telling her the same? “I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Subaru’s face is a dark shade of ruby beneath his hands, and his eyes are shut tight. “E-Emilia-tan, please—”

She giggles brightly. Oh, it’s fun to tease him like this. But she wants him to feel as happy as she does, and it probably isn’t quite nice to keep poking at him so, no matter how much he deserves it. No matter how much she means every word.

She relents, brushing his hair back with the tips of her fingers and gently tugging his hands away from his face. His eyes crack open to stare back at her as she keeps his hands trapped in her own, bringing them to her mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

Subaru looks as if he’s going to cry again.

“You’re so kind to me,” he says, his eyes bright and shiny.

Emilia spares a moment for cold, cold wrath at whoever managed to convince her knight that he only deserves to be touched with cruelty.

Then she lets it go for a later date, which brings her to the other selfish thing she wanted to tell him.

“Subaru.”

He looks at her like she’s everything he’s ever wanted. He looks at her and Emilia feels like he’s seeing every piece of her.

“Stay with me.”

He blinks. “You should know by now,” he huffs. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy—”

“Stay with me,” she repeats, the earnestness in her voice bringing him to pause. “I want you to — to stay with me. By my side, and I’ll stay by yours.”

Subaru sits up, studying her carefully. “I made a promise,” he says slowly. “I know my track record isn’t great, but I meant it.”

“I know.” Emilia looks at their intertwined fingers. “But I… I don’t meant it like that. I’m not asking my knight. I’m asking you.”

Her words are jumbled and unclear, but Subaru appears to grasp her meaning.

“You really want that,” he says. “You really want…me?”

How can he still be such a dunderhead?

“Yes,” she says. “I want — I want you to tell me stories and teach me about your stars. To hold my hand in the throne room and tell me how silly everyone else is. I want you to be there when I have nightmares and when I wake up just fine, and I want…”

I can’t watch you leave, she thinks, wiping at her eyes. Not like anyone else. Not ever.

“I meant it, too,” she finishes. “When I said I want you.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Well.” Subaru clears his throat, his voice thick with emotion. “I mean. You could’ve just told me it was something that easy.”

Emilia falters, just a bit. “You know — I mean, I’m afraid I happen to be a difficult person.”

“That makes two of us,” he smiles. “I know who you are.”

“Oh?” Emilia is suddenly anxious, despite herself.

“You’re Emilia-tan,” he says, simply. “You’re my king and my everything, but most of all you’re just you. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh.”

There’s not much else she can do after that beside kiss him, is there?

It’s gentle this time, and soft, and Emilia doesn’t pull away after, her forehead pressed against his.

“I’m your king, am I?”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’m far from winning the election, you know.”

“You’re gonna win. No question.”

“It’s still a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but it sounds cool, doesn’t it?”

She tightens her fingers around his own, the cold of her skin meeting his warmth. “I suppose it could.”

Look at me, she thinks. Look at me, Mother Fortuna. I finally figured out how to love.

She runs her hand through Subaru’s dark hair again, an overwhelming fondness swelling up in her chest, and thinks, maybe, that it’s something she’s known from the start.

Look at me, Subaru, she thinks. Look at me live up to your trust. Just watch me become your king.

Then she can hold his hand in the throne room and no one will be able to say a thing.

It’s a nice picture, Emilia thinks. Perhaps she can convince him to put it in his star maps. She doesn’t want to leave an Emilia up in the sky without her knight.

He is the one with a star name, after all.