Chapter Text
A Questionable Proposal
Twenty-nine years after the Hero Himmel’s passing
in the Offen Mountains of the Northern Lands
“Frieren-sama, will you have sex with me?”
Frieren pauses, blinks…then sighs—the sweet enchantment cast by the simple act of reading a grimoire utterly dispelled.
It’s distinctly possible that if she waits long enou—
“Frieren-sama,” Fern repeats with the same patient, placid and implacable air that has both soothed and terrified Frieren countless times, “will you have sex with me?”
Frieren closes her eyes and counts to ten.
“Why should I have sex with you??” is all she manages to devise even after ten more beats.
“Why shouldn’t you have sex with me?” her apprentice responds with an immediacy that’s as exasperating as it is unnerving.
It’s a response that just might give Frieren the counter that she needs though.
“Fern,” Frieren replies primly with a reproving cluck of her tongue, “the absence of reasons against doesn’t constitute a reason for.”
“I’ll take that to mean that you don’t have reasons against then,” Fern smirks as she crosses her arms.
Frieren squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“I should have just refused you outright,” she mutters before shutting the grimoire.
“Why didn’t you refuse me outright?” the girl asks with a lift of an eyebrow.
Frieren tilts her head to the side.
“Good question,” she hums as she traces a finger over the grimoire’s spine. “I would have refused anyone else outright.”
“Even Himmel-sama?” Fern probes—and something about the way she raises the question tells Frieren to answer it with care.
“Why would Himmel be an exception to everyone else?” Frieren eventually responds.
“Because, apparently, I’m an exception to everyone else—even Himmel-sama,” Fern replies with a hint of satisfaction that tells Frieren that she answered correctly.
“Well, you are an exception,” Frieren concedes as she stares at her apprentice with a small smile.
After all, she’s really never had a companion like Fern in all the centuries that she’s lived. This human girl who was ostensibly her apprentice and possibly her successor was also a not-quite-niece, not-quite-daughter, not-quite-sister and not-quite-mother all rolled into one.
Now said human girl was asking Frieren to be her lover.
“Why don’t you ask Stark?” Frieren abruptly proposes—before belatedly realizing that she didn’t actually care for her own suggestion.
After all, Fern was too good for Stark.
Well, Fern was too good for anyone.
“I like Stark-sama,” Fern replies with a wrinkle of her nose, “but I don’t like him that much.”
“Is that so…?” Frieren blinks as a feeling of relief that’s as startling as it is immediate floods her.
Then the rest of the statement’s implication finally registers: “Wait. Wait. Does that mean that you like me that much??”
“Frieren-sama, I don’t just like you. I adore you. And I have erotic dreams about you all the time,” Fern replies with the same patient, placid and implacable air that Frieren’s suddenly beginning to find just the slightest bit titillating.
“Oh,” Frieren blinks again.
The confession should have felt demanding and invasive rather than sweet and inviting.
“Could you give me a little time…?” she finally asks—still flummoxed by the fact that something else apart from magic has actually (finally) struck her as sweet, inviting…and possibly titillating.
“Yes, of course,” Fern nods. “As long as it’s human time and not elven time anyway.”
Later that afternoon
in the Offen Mountains of the Northern Lands
“So how did it go?” Stark-sama asks as he seats himself on the boulder next to Fern.
“It was a resounding success,” Fern smirks.
“She said yes??” the warrior gawps.
“Well, she didn’t say no,” Fern clarifies after a beat.
“And that counts as a resounding success…?” her companion questions drily.
“If she’d said no, that would have been a qualified success,” Fern explains patiently. “And a qualified success would have meant playing the long game.”
The warrior stares at her in silence for several beats. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be downright terrifying at times?” he finally asks mildly.
“Frieren-sama often does,” Fern replies matter-of-factly. “I would have resorted to terror tactics too if I’d ended up playing the long game.”
“Speaking of the long game,” Stark-sama hums as he clears his throat, “how long have you, um, liked Frieren…?”
“I’ve always liked her,” Fern shrugs. “But if what you’re really asking is how long I’ve wanted to sleep her, then it started when I was 15.”
“Fif—Fifteen??” the warrior splutters. “And, erm, how did you know that you wanted to, um—how did Master Eisen put it again?—oh, yeah, have…relations with Frieren…??”
Fern gazes at the red-haired boy for several moments…before finally materializing a heavy leather-bound book in her right hand.
“If you look for the chapter right after Menfolk with Menfolk and right before Menfolk with Beastfolk, you’ll see what it was that triggered my Awakening,” she sighs.
“Right,” the warrior nods as he thumbs through the pages with care—before nearly dropping the book altogether.
“Sweet Goddess of Creation,” he breathes as he stares at an exquisitely detailed and lovingly colored double page spread.
“Ah, yes,” Fern nods with a nostalgic smile as she glances over his shoulder. “That’s one of my favorite illustrations. Its inclusion of women from all the known races is highly instructive—even if I have serious doubts about the realism of the physics involved.”
The warrior responds by flipping the tome over to its side and squinting even harder.
“If you turn it upside-down,” Fern contributes helpfully, “you’ll see even more details that you’ll never notice otherwise.”
“The, erm, the figures have numbers and letters and symbols next to, um, various parts and things…” the boy observes as he shifts awkwardly in his seat.
“Exciting, isn’t it?” Fern replies without the slightest hint of irony. “The numbers, letters and symbols are footnote markers,” she supplies as the warrior makes another attempt to conceal his ever-growing discomfort. “If you look at the bottom of the page, they reference the accessories, potions and spells that you need to perform the activity being shown or to intensify its, erm, pleasures. There’s even an entire appendix of bawdy songs. The Wizard’s Staff Has a Knob on the End and The Witch’s Broom Gives a Ride for Life are particularly clever.”
“And it was this book that made you realize that you like womenfolk over menfolk…?” Stark-sama asks before finally shutting the tome reluctantly and settling it ever so gingerly over his lap.
“Yes, discovering one’s true desires is what the book’s author refers to as an Awakening,” Fern nods. “Though to be honest, I’m not really sure if I like womenfolk over menfolk,” she muses as she gazes into the distance. “I just know that I really, really like Frieren-sama.”
“So ever since your, erm, Awakening, you’ve been plotting to win her over this entire time?” the warrior asks.
“I wanted to wait three to four more years, actually,” Fern admits. “There are a few accessories and potions I’ve yet to acquire…and several spells I’ve yet to master. But my dreams have gotten far more vivid lately...so it didn’t seem wise to delay even further.”
“I agree with you on that one,” the warrior sighs. “Unlike your beloved master, neither of us have the time to wait for the things that really matter.”
Fern raises an eyebrow in surprise. “That was unexpectedly profound, Stark-sama,” she smiles. “Now, please return my book and try to manage your erection in some other way.”
One week later
in the Offen Mountains of the Northern Lands
“Frieren-sama, do you realize how idiotic it is to try to avoid me when we’re just a party of three?”
“Me? Avoiding you? What makes you say…?” Frieren hedges while trying to widen the gap between her and Fern for as much as her shorter legs will allow.
“If you keep this up, even Stark-sama will start suspecting that something’s amiss between us,” Fern complains as she draws closer to Frieren.
“He’s just going to idiotically think that I idiotically bought another grimoire and that’s why I’m idiotically avoiding you,” Frieren replies with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Am I…am I really that—that objectionable to you as a lover?” Fern sniffs.
The sniff stops Frieren dead in her tracks.
After all, in all the years they’ve been together, she’s seen Fern upset in all kinds of ways: from petty sulks and mild exasperations to intense annoyances and icy rages.
But this is the first time that she’s ever had her apprentice on the verge of tears and the experience is as decidedly unpleasant as it is thoroughly unfamiliar.
“Fern,” Frieren begins as she turns around to face the girl. “Please—That’s not—I didn’t mean—What I’m trying to say—”
Frieren breaks off at this point and takes a deep breath.
Given how hopelessly, gracefully and beautifully competent Fern is at everything that she does—and just how graceful and beautiful she is, period—there is absolutely no way that she is ever going to be an objectionable lover.
“I—I think you’d be wonderful in bed,” Frieren mumbles as Fern swipes the back of her hand across her eyes. “I also think that whoever ends up with you would have been blessed by the Goddess herself—not that I’m a Goddess worshipper, mind you.”
“Re—Really? You’re not…You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” the girl sniffs again.
“Really,” Frieren sighs—while silently deciding that a Sniff from Fern is now on the top of her list of Things to Avoid at All Cost.
“Excellent,” Fern declares as she removes her hands from her face and draws herself up to her full height. “In that case, I’ll ask for a room with a single bed the next time we’re in a town then.”
Frieren freezes.
“Did you just—Are you actually—Was that just a plo—” she stutters incredulously.
“Yes, yes and yes, Frieren-sama,” Fern interrupts without the slightest hint of remorse. “And, really, you had it coming. If you’d given me a proper answer instead of running away from me this entire time, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such underhanded tactics.”
Frieren stares at her apprentice for several moments.
“I really should have just refused you outright,” she grumbles.
“You should be glad you didn’t,” Fern replies tartly. “I would have just resorted to even more underhanded tactics then.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you can be downright terrifying at times?” Frieren laments with a doleful shake of her head.
“You often do,” Fern replies with a small smile. “You usually say it with pride though.”
“What makes you think I’m not saying it with pride now?” Frieren responds with a matching smile of her own. “A win is a win,” she adds with a shrug, “even if it’s at my expense.”
“It’s not at your expense, Frieren-sama, and it’ll never be at your expense,” Fern asserts. “If you just give me a chance,” the girl adds quietly—maybe even imploringly, “I’ll prove that it’s a win for you too.”
“Now that’s really not fair,” Frieren sighs under her breath once they resume walking again.
Because while I can always thwart your duplicity, Fern, I could never resist your sincerity.
Image of Frieren comforting a genuinely teary Fern by artist Yuri Kyanon.
DAS LANGE SPIEL OMAKE SERIES
MARUMARU NO MAHOU 01: Magic with a Mage's Staff
STARK (with an air of genuine and heedless curiosity): Frieren, would you happen to know why a wizard’s staff has a knob on the end? See, there’s this book that describes it in detai— (Promptly keels over, wheezing, after getting whacked by Fern’s staff.)
FRIEREN (raises an eyebrow at Fern in bewilderment): What was that about?
FERN (with the profound relief of someone who’s just managed to preserve her secret in the nick of time): I just wanted to answer Stark-sama’s question with a demonstration, Frieren-sama. Clearly, staffs have knobs on their ends because they make for better weapons that way.
FRIEREN (brightens at her apprentice’s insight): That’s brilliant, Fern. I was actually wondering if there was a magical purpose, but a non-magical function works just as well.
FERN (replies without the slightest hint of irony): I can assure you that there's a lot of magic in non-magical staffs, Frieren-sama.
FRIEREN (opens her mouth to ask a question...and promptly decides against it): Right.