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It took everything in Linhardt’s patience not to snap his book shut in irritation, but because he didn’t have a marker available despite sitting in this stuffy library, he chose to be civil and just glare at Ferdinand until he stopped asking him about the last time he picked up a weapon. The red haired noble left the library, leaving him at peace again.
Until he was interrupted once more.
“Dorothea.” Linhardt did close the book this time with a resounding slap that jolted the diva from her spot across from him. He wasn’t going to get much reading done at this point. “As lovely as it is to talk about your future and singing, might I remind you that this war isn’t over?”
There was a deep sadness to her frown that had Linhardt backtracking. He didn’t like to make people upset, or at least he had been trying to get better at paying attention to his words and not sounding so brusque. “My apologies. It’s warm.”
“And you’re irritated, I know.” The young woman sighed and lifted herself from her chair. “I accept your apology, Linhardt. Maybe you should study outside with the breeze instead of in this suffocating dust trap.”
He waited until she left before he gathered his papers and carefully set them away in his bag. Dorothea was right, he knew. It was the eleventh of the Blue Sea Moon, nearly the middle of the month, and it was not doing the library any favors. The heat was trapped in without an escape, making it even warmer than it should have been.
And outside there was his favorite tree, and though he was loath to walk to it, the fresh air would seem appealing. He yawned into his hand.
Perhaps a nap was in his future.
Unlike the library, outside was quieter and less humid. The trek to just out of the marketplace gate was thankfully without any issues, so with a sigh that signaled his relief, he fell under the tree, resting his back on the bark. He drew his knees up, set his feet flat on the ground, then pulled open the cover of his book.
Only to be interrupted again, though this time his visitor said not a word. He didn’t mind this interruption, though, as his eyes flicked up to her curly green hair. “It’s nice of you to follow me to my spot, Flayn.”
“I did not follow you,” she said with a roll of her eyes. He smirked and she huffed.
He set a pinky in his book, partly closing it and holding it in his hand. He scooted over to make room as he pat the ground next to him. “Won’t you join me?”
She accepted with a nod, both leaning back into the bark. He opened his book once more. They sat like this for a while, Linhardt letting Flayn take her time, knowing there was a question brewing. He could practically hear her trying to gather her thoughts.
Then he realized she was actually mumbling, he let his lips twitch into a smile when he made out her motivational words to herself. Though, when she noticed the change in his expression, she huffed. “Linhardt.”
Book closed, eyes moved to her. “Flayn.”
“I have a request.” Flayn picked at a loose thread of her skirt, eyes not quite meeting his. “It may seem a little strange.”
“Now I’m curious.” He set the book upon the grass, leaning forward onto his knees. It was almost like a game to him to try and guess what she wanted to ask. Maybe it was about one of the odd research topics he had studied in his youth? Her birthday was the next day, he knew, so maybe she wanted to share something about it? She hadn’t mentioned her birthday to him, or to anyone else that he knew of, but he had overheard Seteth talking to their Professor about it only the week before.
A shocking jolt ran hrough him. Linhardt didn’t have anything to give her the next day. As he waited for her response, and she frowned and looked slightly away from his studious gaze, he racked his brain over what he could possibly find for the following day to give her. Never had he felt so stressed over a gift. Never had he really given anyone a gift on their birthday before.
The hairs stood up on his arm. He would need to think of something quick, would have to possibly excuse himself before she could even make her request. Maybe he could run and ask Mercedes for some sweets, he knew she liked the chocolate variety but would have to make due with what they had as he was positive cocoa was scarce during this bleak time, and then he could get her favorite tea to go along with it.
Was that enough though?
His panicked thoughts broke when Flayn started her grumbling again. Another few moments of that had him cracking into another smile, momentarily leaving his frenzy aside.
There was a shyness in her he hadn’t seen since their first conversation when she joined his class five years before. The way she chewed on the inside of her cheek, the way her skin rose pink, her muttering, all of it he looked on with fondness.
Things he liked that he’d never thought to admit outloud. His next words came out as an observation. “You’re pink.”
Was that what he was looking to do, point out the obvious? He even felt bewildered as Flayn scoffed, “there is no need to comment on my complexion, Linhardt!”
“I’m sorry.”
Flayn grew more than pink, though Linhardt couldn't quite decipher if it was because of the heat, her embarrassment, or something else entirely. She went back to grumbling, though this time with hands smoothing through her long tresses. With another grin, a tease rising through himself unbidden, he spoke, “I cannot understand you when you mumble.”
With a glare she responded, “I dropped something important in the last battle we had and I wish to go retrieve it.”
“That doesn’t sound like a request.”
“Will you let me finish?” His smile grew as she crossed her arms. Flayn was too adorable when riled up. “I would like for you to accompany me.”
“Back down to the caves?” Linhardt moved a hand to his chin, his other arm still wrapped around his knees. The last battle was to take care of a few demonic beasts that tried to make a home there. The small village beneath them was having a hard time keeping their sheep from not getting eaten and had requested aid from their army. They had returned only the day before.
“Yes. It would be unwise for me to go alone.”
Linhardt stretched, being pulled into a yawn. “And out of everyone you chose me?”
Here Flayn stiffened. Linhardt didn’t like that. What made her suddenly so defensive? It was only a simple question, one he didn’t expect her to take so seriously. There grew surprise in his appearance when she shifted away from him a little. “Despite our…disagreement, you are still my closest friend here.”
Disagreement. “Oh.” An understatement.
He had proposed the idea of their future in what he now knew was the incorrect way. He had Caspar practically in tears from laughter when he finished retelling the event, and only then did Linhardt know that somehow his brawler friend seemed to have more tact at relationships than he. Caspar informed him that he had committed some sort of atrocity.
Since that failed moment, things had been a little different between him and Flayn, frigid, less friendly. Of course, Linhardt had been trying to go about their relationship like everything was normal, though now seeing how Flayn turned away from him just a little, even if she did admit to still being his friend, he knew he needed to fix whatever it was he did wrong.
But what exactly did he do wrong? It was a simple and efficient enough idea to marry, and it was mutually beneficial to both of them. And though he was only joking a small amount at the experiment spin—though who in their right mind would not be curious about a major and a minor of the same crest, not related in the slightest, having a child? The idea alone that someone wouldn’t be as interested as he was baffling to Linhardt—he was left to wonder just what else could have made her mad and distant? What could he have said differently?
“Will you come?” She was looking at him now in something Linhardt wouldn’t call affection, though it wasn’t dislike either. Still not as fond as he remembered when they used to sit and talk about anything and nothing all at once.
He found his boots to be more interesting than trying to figure it all out, suddenly feeling a little shy at best, disappointment at himself at worst. “Ah, well, I could go…but if you do not want me around, I’m sure you could ask the Professor?”
“She is the last person I wish to involve in this, lest she tell my brother.” There came a groan that had Linhardt’s eyes flickering towards her. “What I lost was very important to my family, and so I need not let anyone tell my family I lost it.”
Linhardt snorted and was happy to note that Flayn smiled back a little. “She is rather close to your brother. Then I suppose if there isn’t anyone else to ask.”
“You’ll help me?” At his nod, her smile broke wider. He couldn’t help the way his heart thumped in his chest, how his face burned a little warmer in the summer sun at the way she beamed. Linhardt made a vow to fix whatever was left between them.
He would not lose Flayn’s friendship.
Flayn stood on her feet and he followed. “Let us make a plan with dinner.”
Linhardt yawned, but collected his book and walked beside Flayn. He blinked when he turned to see his companion giving him a little of a side eye. “What could I have possibly done in the minute we’ve been walking?”
“A rule.” Linhardt smiled when she lifted one finger in the air. “On our way we do not speak of Saint Cethleann.”
Linhardt shrugged, lifting his free hand. “I suppose I can do that.”
Flayn frowned. “Can you?”
Linhardt smiled. “I think.”
She sighed and he laughed.
. . .
Though their plan wasn’t foolproof, only that they would leave in the late night after the monastery was sleeping, Linhardt did promise that if they got into a bad situation, he would be able to warp them away. “Though I am unsure what you mean by bad.”
“It’s only that these beasts could have returned.”
“But we got them all,” Linhardt groaned into his yawn caught in his hand. The moon was enough glow to light their path downward the mountain trail but Flayn still kept a little orb of light lit and floating near her shoulder. Shadows danced around them as they walked, the only sound was their boots scuffing against stone and dirt. “The village hasn’t reported any other sightings.”
“You never know, Linhardt. It has only been a day, so, better to be prepared.”
They kept eyes open to the trees around them, listening for any odd sounds in the night. The Oghma mountains stood quiet, though. Linhardt let himself relax a little. “You said you dropped something important, but I never asked what it was.” He looked over to Flayn who suspiciously kept her eyes forward. He waited a breath, while she seemed to stall in her answer, before adding, “so what is it?”
Flayn glanced over at him before sighing. “The Caduceus Staff.”
He nearly stumbled in shock. “The Caduceus Staff? You dropped the Caduceus Staff ?” He gaped over at her. She could only glare in return. “And left it?”
“It fell off while I was flying!”
“And you think it’s in a cave?”
“I know it is.” Flayn’s glare hardened when his mouth popped open to protest. “And I would thank you not to judge me.”
“I’m not judging.” He was. “I just…that’s a Sacred Relic.”
“And I left it, I know.” Her eyes moved forward again. “There were people to heal, Linhardt. Do you not remember it took the both of us to put Ignatz back to walking?”
It was a nasty wound. Had they not gotten to him at that time, he might have lost his leg. The sniper was now only regulated to horseback for the near future battles until Manuela cleared him. “I do remember.”
“Put it to rest. We will retrieve what I dropped.”
They walked down in silence after, Linhardt pushing his thoughts about the Relic being lost away to try and figure out what to say to her. There was still this…thing, between them and the longer it stayed the more anxious he became.
His thoughts circled back to that moment he had suggested they marry, and without even realizing, until it was too late, he vocalized one of the questions he had been asking himself. “What could I have done differently?”
Well, it was out in the open but not explained at all. Flayn’s brow furrowed as she blinked over to him. “About what?”
Linhardt chewed on the inside of his cheek a second. “My proposal.”
She frowned, her face snapping back forward. The glow from her little orb of light made the green of her eyes shine as she stayed silent. “I’ve gone over it in my mind several times, I’ll have you know.”
“Linhardt, let’s not talk about it.”
“Why not?” Flayn crossed her arms, still refusing to look over at him. He thought to stop her from walking but let that go. She would not want him touching her, and though he only wished to have her look at him, he would respect her wishes always. He lowered his arms to hold behind his back instead. “I thought it was a decent enough proposition.”
Flayn snorted, turning it into the clearing of her throat. When there was only silence for a beat, she finally turned his way. “You only like me enough to propose.”
Linhardt felt his frown deepen. There wasn’t anything wrong about that. He thought it expressed his feelings thoroughly. “And?”
“That’s not enough.”
His words were thrown back at him. “Not enough?”
Flayn’s expression was suddenly so dour he almost paused in his step to not trip over air. “It’s not enough to only like me to have children, Linhardt. That’s hardly a good enough reason to get married.”
She looked him up and down, searching for a moment. Linhardt tried to grasp around her meaning, but was pulling up blank. He liked her enough. Enough. That was a lot, especially for him. He needed to know more. “I do not think I understand your explanation.”
Flayn groaned, pausing to set her hands on her hips and to tap a boot to the ground. “In my view, two people need to love each other unconditionally before making such a drastic decision.” Flayn was positively glowering now. It made him take a small step away. “ You only like me enough. That’s not enough.”
She paused and he realized she was expecting something but he could not for the life of him figure it out. With a sigh she moved away from him. She walked a few paces and then turned back. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He quickly followed.
. . .
The rest of the walk down was quiet. Linhardt usually didn’t care about silences, awkward or not, but this quietness quivered across his skin, coiled around his gut. He felt the way he was clenching every muscle in his body until he was sore.
Flayn was so very displeased with him. His vow to fix whatever was between them was looking harder to accomplish now. Was there any way to reverse this? He peeked over at her.
Her expression seemed neutral, just the smallest dip of her lips to indicate any type of frown. She looked ahead or to the side, still watching out for anything unsuspecting lying in wait. Her curls lay over her shoulders in waves, the color of it almost glowing in the moonlight and light orb at her shoulder. He could imagine the softness of each strand, the threads sliding between fingers.
There was a moment of complete stillness, even as his legs still walked forward. Had he always felt this way about her hair of all things?
What else was just under the surface of his feelings for her?
It was like a revelation was pouring forth as he enthusiastically went through a list in his mind, the items getting checked off growing like a weed and taking root in his veins. He liked her pouting, to get a rise out of her, to see her spiritedness. The teasing she sometimes threw his way in return always surprised him, catching him with his heartbeat drumming at his rib cage.
When he was beside her doing anything or nothing at all was a treat. Reading, napping, fishing, every moment he cherished. Every moment he ingrained in his mind to hopefully dream about later.
There was a wild thrumming ghosting all throughout him, like he had come upon something new and delightful.
Something he loved.
Someone he loved.
Linhardt loved Flayn. He really did, even if his chosen words seemed inconsequential, even if he didn’t remember when it all started.
Then another revelation: has he ever said this to her out loud?
Has Linhardt von Hevring ever confessed a word about his affection for these mundane things? Things he’d love to spend more time doing at her side. Suddenly, he felt his nerves fizzling like a thoron sigil written by his finger.
He wasn’t great at casting lightning spells. Perhaps he wasn’t so great at expressing himself either. At least where it mattered.
Especially knowing he had never told Flayn about it out loud. No wonder she reacted the way she did at his suggestion of marriage—that he only seemed to like her enough, like her enough! He couldn’t blame her for her attitude even just a little earlier that night. The jumbled mess they were in was all his doing. Had he been in her place and heard those words coming from her lips, would he have despaired as she did?
No, he’d probably laugh and pass it off as a terrible jest, making him feel even more down. There were all sorts of ways to propose, and he probably managed to pick the worst of them. Had he even truly asked her, or just passed it along like it was the only right plan of action?
He could hear Caspar’s laughter in the recesses of his mind.
He was an idiot.
When she looked his way he nearly jerked his head around to try and be discreet about his staring. If she saw him do it she didn’t say a word about it. “I think we’re nearly there.”
“Everything looks the same in the dark.” Linhardt let his eyes wander over the stone, knowing he hadn’t paid much attention during their fight just over a day before to recognize much. They could be close to the Caduceus Staff or not at all, everything looked unfamiliar. “How do you know?”
But Flayn had already picked up her pace, so he made to catch up.
The caves were dark, so Linhardt also created a light so they could see more into the depths. They were not wandering far, though. Flayn led the way, poking into different openings, staying still a moment, like she could hear something, before shaking herself from her trance and moving to the next spot to investigate.
Linhardt followed, suddenly hyper aware of just how much night was happening around them. Crickets chirping, the wind rustling the summer trees around them. The moon shone bright in the night sky, though sometimes it was hidden by clouds. And when it was hidden, the world turned off and the darkness blotted out all but the glow of their lights they created.
It was eerie. Too eerie. He tried to stick closer to Flayn as she moved around. “Are we close?”
“Yes, I feel…um, I think I had dropped it right over there.”
He watched as she edged towards the opening of one cave with doubt as to how she could be so sure. Though still he followed her around one rock and was glad to note her smiling and holding the once lost Staff. It seemed unharmed. “I thought it would be here!”
“Good. Let’s leave.”
Linhardt made to step away but had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut. It took him a moment to figure out that the racket from the crickets had ceased. The clouds blanketed the moon once more, enshrining them in near darkness.
There was a growl and the sound of nails scraping stone. Both of them jumped, shifting towards the deeper section of the cave, their lights not bright enough to see the whole way through it. “Flayn, we need to go.”
“I told you they might still be here!” she hissed, turning towards him. They only made it a step before the resounding sound of some beast launching itself from its position made them stumble.
“ Ah! ”
“Flayn!”
Linhardt watched in momentary horror as a large demonic wolf appeared from the dark, teeth bared. It swiped at them, catching Flayn in its claws. The Caduceus staff flew from her grasp, landing just past Linhardt, but he was lurching forward to pull her from the grasps of claws.
His hand pulled on the back of her collar, moving the both of them almost out of reach, though the beast did raise its paw again.
Flayn was always the better spell caster in tough situations. While Linhardt was usually quick to write sigils, in his own made up shorthand, he tended to freeze and stumble when his adrenaline kicked in, resorting back to the longer written spells. The moment's hesitation, with his senses out of sync with his fingers, made him a little slower on the uptake. It was why he wasn’t ever in the frontlines, instead providing support from the back unless he had a clear shot.
His companion was always in the air, Flayn hardly ever touching the ground while diving and weaving in and out of the battle. The trust she had in her abilities and her ride allowed her to cast her magic without interruption. It amazed him of her speed no matter what mount she possessed.
So it did not surprise him that even as they were backing away in fright, he could see her hands glowing. The beast's claws still reached out but as they did so did Flayn’s spell whip from her palms. Linhardt’s grasp on her faltered as the blast of wind knocked everyone to the ground.
He gasped as rock bore into his back but was already trying to roll onto his feet. Flayn landed a ways from him, and was trying to scoot back before the wolf managed to rise on its haunches. “Flayn!” he called again.
“Get the Staff!” Even as she yelled at him she was preparing a larger spell. “Lin, use it!”
He searched around and found the relic only two steps behind him. He reached back, hand wrapping around it. As he came in contact the world seemed to slow.
There was a powerful pressure that resounded in his palm that zipped through him to land in his chest. It was enough to stop his breath for a moment, Linhardt having to concentrate fully on getting air to his lungs. There was fighting within him, two headstrong forces vying for something, anything to defeat one another. It wasn’t until he could feel the overwhelming rise of his crest trying to activate that he realized that it was the staff fighting him. His will.
The Caduceus Staff was created for Saint Cethleann to use and control, and he happened to have that minor crest. It made sense that the power was fighting with him. He had yet to let his power take over. With brow furrowed and eyes screwed shut, he allowed his crest to manifest, the pressure immediately alleviating from his chest.
He gasped and flinched as the Crest of Cethleann shone so brightly it left an after shower of sparks in his vision. Immediately after, he was flooded with an almost sickening rush of magic. Has he ever felt like this before? Like he could tear down the world and recreate it.
The power of the Caduceus Staff was terrifying just as much as it was extraordinary.
Then he remembered what he was trying to do. He tightened fingers on his hold of the Sacred Relic. As he held the staff up he felt his crest shower through him and outwards again. He only needed to shift and think about the spell he wanted to cast for the sigil circle to appear before him.
No writing or tomes needed. He spotted Flayn at the ready, giving her a small nod. Just in time, as the beast was ready for another go.
Linhardt thrust the staff forward, Excalibur nearly blasting him off his feet. The light orb at his side multiplied, throwing the cave into brightness. He threw out a hand in the divet of rock to hold himself steady as the spell met its mark, the wolf hitting the wall with bone crushing speed and a shrieking yelp. Linhardt watched as his spell struck at it, then it was hit again by Flayn’s identical one. The wolf had no chance of recovering, disintegrating before their eyes.
Linhardt blinked, feeling the power drain and making his limbs heavy. The Caduceus Staff’s glow slowly faded, his awe growing as it became dull. A rush of excitement entered, his adrenaline relieving to a sense of euphoria. He had used a Sacred Relic! He had his power bolstered through the link of his crest!
He excitedly moved towards Flayn, his grip tight on the weapon, a smile plastered to his face. “Flayn, you must tell me everything you feel when you use this. I can’t imagine how much your power grows since you have a Major Crest of—sorry, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to talk about Saint Cethle—”
The light around them showed him the crimson on her hands, then he could hear Flayn’s deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. Her right leg had been gouged and Linhardt couldn’t tell how deep it went.
The claws had gotten to her he realized with a sick twist to his heart. He felt a chill run down his spine. How close was he to losing her?
All excitement dissolved, he carefully set the Caduceus Staff aside and got onto the ground next to her, tugging off her boot. She sucked in a breath, but didn’t move or complain, as he carefully rolled up one ripped stocking.
The blood was hard to stomach, but he pushed the nausea down as he used an edge of his cloak to wipe her leg. Flayn flinched. He reached up with a clean hand, pressing against her cheek. She looked up at him and he could see the wetness developing just at her lower lids, so he smiled and ran his thumb to catch a tear. “It’s not so bad.”
She didn’t break eye contact as she slowly nodded. Linhardt looked away, the unspoken prayer alighting his hand, to raise a finger to write his sigil. His healing took away the, fortunately, shallow cuts, but he could see her ankle looked a little swollen. When he attempted to move it she held onto his arm tightly. “That hurts.”
“Could be sprained.”
“My brother will be so angry.”
Linhardt shook his head. “If we can get back to the monastery and get it wrapped, I can get it back to new before dawn.”
They had maybe two hours left of the night, so they would need to get going as quickly as they could. With a serene gentleness he usually did not bother with, he took off his light cloak, ripped it in pieces, and wrapped her ankle in a makeshift splint.
He helped Flayn to her feet, then moved so that she could climb onto his back with the relic wedged between their bodies. He lifted them both, carefully maneuvering through the rocks to reach the cave opening to the outside. “I do not know how you will be able to get us back up the mountains in time,” she said into his ear.
Linhardt shifted so that he could free one hand. “You forget I can warp.”
“Oh.” Her arms tightened around his neck. He chuckled as she murmured, “I do not like this.”
“You’re the one who suggested the warp in case anything went south.” Linhardt’s hand glowed a blue-violet as he finished the sigil. The magic in the spell created a circle that flashed ahead of them. It was their opening. “I would say this looks south.”
They stepped through, Flayn gasping as they instantly went halfway up the trail they came from. Warping was not for the weak of stomach, even Linhardt could attest to his early days of losing whatever he ate to the ground when he was learning the spell early on. Her arm clenched around his neck as she rested her head against his. He could feel her breath tickle his neck, choosing to ignore it. “Give me a moment!”
They stood in the dark as she tried to breathe easy. Linhardt kept his eyes open, now all too aware that the mountains held dangerous things, and shifted Flayn onto his back to free his hand again. When he felt her nodding against him, he murmured, “just one more time.”
He wrote the sigil, they stepped through to the cathedral—right on his mark, as always—and nearly collided into Byleth. “Oh! Professor!” he exclaimed, surprised.
Why was she up in the middle of the night?
“Professor?” Flayn jerked around to see one mint eyebrow arched their way. Linhardt felt her gasp more than heard. “Oh. Professor.”
“It’s two in the morning.” Byleth crossed her arms. “What is going on?”
“Ah, you see, we went on a walk!” Linhardt bit his lips together to hide away his smile. Flayn was a terrible liar. It was as if she could sense his humor with the way she tightened her hold around his neck to have him keep quiet. “Um, and I tripped.”
Their leader took one quick, analyzing look up and down. Linhardt shifted only because he was sure they somehow looked guilty of all crimes. “And almost bled out?”
His eyes moved lower towards himself. His sleeves were stained, Flayn’s stocking was shorn and stained and the boot lost to the caves. Her hands were dyed red, as were his, and the list went on.
They didn’t look very innocent. Guilty, in fact.
“Obviously, I healed her,” Linhardt said, trying his best but without much confidence between a yawn. “It was a pretty hard fall, as you can see.”
“Uh-huh.” Their Professor looked between them. Her eye calculating, Linhardt knew he wouldn’t be able to get a good read on her thoughts.
No one could, probably. Except Seteth. “I’m going to choose not to tell your brother, Flayn, if you tell me what really happened.”
With a sigh, Flayn told her of their peril as they slowly walked up the cathedral steps to the second floor. By the time Flayn was sat on a medical bed, the relic at her side, she finished their exciting tale. Byleth only nodded, then gave them a ghost of a smile. “You’ll be safe from Seteth this time.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“But the next time you feel the need to go adventuring this late into the night, tell me when you’re leaving.” She gave a small frown, and for some reason Linhardt could feel the guilt creeping up within him once more. “You two are too important to not only the army but to me. If something had happened, I don’t think I would be able to recover.” Her eyes flickered to Flayn, whose head lowered in shame. “Think about your brother’s feelings if anything were to happen to you.”
“Our apologies,” Linhardt said, placing his hand over Flayn’s. Her hand twitched but didn’t pull away. Once Byleth patted his shoulder it gave him the courage to finally look up at her. “If we have any more adventures we’ll be sure to let you know.”
Byleth left. Linhardt’s and Flayn’s eyes met a moment before he quickly let go of her hand and crossed the room to dig around Manuela’s supplies.
He brought back with him some disinfectant and a proper wrap. “Even after I heal the sprain, you may want to walk carefully for a day or two.”
Flayn nodded, and he began. First he carefully unwrapped the torn stocking from her leg. Even though they had just encountered the wolf only ten minutes before, the injury had become more swollen. Linhardt straightened her leg out with slow motions.
There was quiet as he worked, first to clean the newly healed cuts, then start the first examination. His Faith let him know that he was correct, just a small sprain to her ankle, so he muttered his prayer aloud to start with the soft green glow of his magic. With a few quickly written sigils, he started the first treatment to heal her.
“Thank you.” Flayn’s voice came out in a murmur, as if she was to disturb any of the nonexistent people in the room. “For healing me.”
“I am just glad it's not any worse.” He frowned, pausing in his spells before his mind caught back up with him. He did not like lingering on the thought of this injury, of the cuts she received, being any deeper or more lethal.
Though Linhardt thought she wouldn’t notice the hiccup, he was surprised to see her hand lay over his. “I really mean it, Lin.”
He looked up to see her staring right at him. His heart leapt right into his throat as he covered his hand over hers. Again, words slipped through his lips without conversing with this rationality first. “Did you know that I love you?”
Flayn leaned back, though didn’t tear her hand away from him. He let her go anyway, to focus back onto her leg, knowing his face was red at the sloppy admission. The magic smoothed from his palms even as they grew sweaty. How could he just say that out loud?
The silence was immense, thick, sticking to the air like honey. He swallowed, letting his teeth bite into his tongue to help him stop saying anything else foolishly.
On Flayn’s part, she did wait a whole minute before laughing. It stung, but was deserved. “Linhardt, I do not think I will ever have the foresight to predict your next topic of conversation.”
He didn’t say anything, though a grin did crack over his features.
Another few minutes went by before Flayn’s uninjured foot bumped into him. He looked up through his lashes. “Are you not going to explain yourself?”
“I have been deservedly a fool recently, Flayn.” Linhardt saw the cuts nearly disappear from her skin, moving his hands downwards towards her ankle. “I cannot seem to stop myself.”
“I’m curious.”
“Thank you for inviting me on this trip.” He did smile genuinely at her this time. He watched as her head tilted to the side in question. “It has shown me how unwisely chosen my words have been around you lately.”
Her giggle made him chuckle. “I could get used to this version of Linhardt! Go on. What else have you been holding back?”
Linhardt felt his smile tug into a small frown as he turned back to her foot. He missed a spot of blood around her shin, his stomach recoiling from the events of the evening. He wrote out another sigil, the second for the treatment of her sprain, letting the glow of the magic lay over her, keeping his hands still to focus. “I keep thinking about how this could have been worse.”
Her hand over his again, but he didn’t look up or break away from the magic. He continued with his voice coming out shakier than he had wanted it to. “And I thought, Linhardt, you almost lost your chance to fix things.” He glanced up, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. “Flayn, you could have died.”
“Though I did not.”
“Still.”
This time she wrapped her fingers around his, breaking his concentration. “Then I suppose I will just have to listen.”
“Listen?”
“To everything you might have missed had I not made it back here alive.” Though the sentence brought about a grimace, her encouraging smile led him back from it. “You have an hour.”
“To tell you how I really feel?” He yawned only to see her cheeks puff out into a pout. “Very well, though you may be in for a long conversation. Perhaps I can inform you over some Crescent-Moon tea?”
Flayn’s smile brightened her face. “You would somehow know that is one of my favorite teas.”
“I should.” Linhardt let the wolfish grin spread over his features. “It was mentioned in an old biography that Saint Cethleann enjoyed partaking in that tea on her birthday, and as you share that date with her, well, I could only assume.” He raised a brow and watched as Flayn blinked back at him in surprise. “Are my assumptions correct?”
Flayn groaned, looking away, but he couldn’t help to chuckle at the rising pink on her cheeks and the way her head tilted into the slightest nod. “You will not be forgiven for breaking my rule.”
“Happy birthday, Flayn.”
“Thank you, I suppose.” She looked back down at him, face aglow in a flush but with a shy smile on her face. “And I should like to hear more of your praises over tea.”
“As you wish.”