Archive of Our Own

The first time they slept together, Nicole hadn’t thought about the consequences until after the fact.

Varka had come to visit her at the Witch’s Garden in the middle of the night. He showed up on her front door carrying nothing but his fur coat to protect himself from the chilly Nod-Krai climate.

“I was wondering if I could stay,” he said. His face was a little pink, either from the cold, the exercise, or the alcohol; she couldn’t tell.

Perhaps it’s the fact that he walked all the way here from Favonius Keep, or the fact that his messily ruffled blond hair was simultaneously attractive and adorable, or the fact that he was looking at her with so much desperation, that lowered Nicole’s guard. Whatever the case may be, she let him into her abode, guiding him to her living room.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Nicole said, quickly using her magic to shove books back into bookshelves and clothes into closets. “I don’t normally receive guests.”

“Don’t be,” Varka chuckled. It’s low, guttural, and did something to Nicole’s brain chemistry. “It’s cozy.”

Nicole looked around her room, where flames glowed softly behind frosted glass cases, surrounding bookshelves of heavy tomes and ancient storybooks. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

She took Varka’s coat and draped him with a blanket instead. She tried to make him some tea, but it turned out a little too hot, and his shoulders jumped when he tried to down it.

She apologized again. “I’m a bit out of practice with tea magic,” she says, ears pinking.

“There’s no need to be sorry.” He said kindly.

They sat in silence for a while. Nicole was going to wait for him to reveal why he sought her out, but realized she was going to have to coax it out of him.

“So—” she began, but she didn’t get to finish her sentence before Varka kissed her.

It’s gentle, surprisingly so. Nicole always imagined Varka would be a little rougher when it came to… these things. But when he pulled away, a blush colored the tips of his ears to his nose, like a schoolboy working things out for the first time.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that. You just— I—”

“There’s no need to explain yourself,” Nicole said. Then she grabbed the side of his face and pulled him in. One thing led to another, and eventually they made it to Nicole’s room, stumbling onto her bed. There was no time for her to think about what it all could mean.

The next morning, she jolted from her slumber, her body already drenched with sweat at the realization of what she’d done. A grunt beside her informed that Varka was still alive, and she nudged him awake immediately.

“Varka, come on, we have to go now.”

“Wha?” He snorted, his body unmoving.

“We have to go.” Nicole was already on her feet and yanking her clothes from the floor. Lights danced around the room as she used her magic to gather all her important belongings. A book smacked Varka’s head, forcing the knight to sit up.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” He grabbed Nicole’s arm.

The sudden contact made her lose all concentration. Objects dropped from the air. She jerked her arm away and scowled at him.

“Last night was a mistake.”

Varka blinked. “A mistake?”

“Angels must love all beings equally.” Nicole summoned a tome as heavy as a claymore, which Varka barely ducked out of the way of. “If one were to fall in lo— favor a specific individual, we will be cursed by the Heavenly Principles to turn into a Seelie.”

“You’re not a Seelie right now, though, are you?”

Nicole ceased her magic instantly. A jug smacked Varka’s face so hard he fell back into the sheets.

“No,” Nicole said, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I suppose not.”

“The act of sleeping together is not necessarily an act of love,” Varka explained, rubbing his cheek at the collision point. It was already starting to bruise a ripe purple color. “You’re not showing me favoritism, technically speaking.”

Nicole could feel blood rush to her face. “I’m not in love with you.”

“I didn’t say you were. You just used it as an example for how you’d get cursed, and I’m doing the same.”

Right. Okay. That was a rational explanation. Nicole climbed back under the bedsheets and lay her head against Varka’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Varka asked. She didn’t know if it was just her imagination, but she could’ve sworn she heard his breath hitch.

“I’m not showing favoritism,” Nicole said. “I’m just tired. Let me rest here for a bit.”

Varka’s body relaxed under her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Alright then.”

She didn’t get to ask him why he looked so sad when he arrived at her place last night. But she was exhausted with relief, and decided it was a question for another time.

So life goes on. It starts becoming an occasional activity for them. Once in a while, always in the evening or late at night, he shows up at her place, always wearing the same coat and bearing the same intentions. He never stays for long, an arrangement Nicole is perfectly fine with, because she knows of the consequences that could arise if anything else were to emerge from this relationship.

“Are you sure?” Alice asks her.

Nicole blinks from her stupor. “What do you mean?”

“Are you sure you’re satisfied with your relationship with that Knight of Boreas?”

“If you’re asking me whether his performance is satisfactory, I assure you, he’s—”

Alice interrupts Nicole’s telepathic thoughts with her laughter. “Oh, honey, that’s not what I’m asking. But I didn’t know you were so willing to indulge in the details!”

Nicole wishes the ground would swallow her up.

Alice’s face turns concerned all of a sudden. “I’m serious, though. Are you sure there isn’t anything… special between you and Sir Varka?”

“I am sure.”

“If you say so. Just be careful, alright? I don’t want my favorite mage to turn into a Seelie.”

Nicole wonders what the other witches would say about that.

She still hasn’t found out why Varka decided to start this between them. Maybe he noticed the brief glances she’d make in his direction, just as she noticed the way he looked at her sometimes during their League meetings. But after the first night, she told him in great detail the story of the first angel and her voyager lover, so he should be aware that their relationship is explicitly for fulfilling individual needs. That’s all. Nothing deeper than that.

But then he starts acting strange.

The first thing she realizes when she sees him walking up the cobblestone path is that it’s in the middle of the afternoon. Varka never comes before midnight, so to say she is startled was an understatement.

“Sir Varka,” Nicole greets, curtsying slightly to hide her surprise. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

It’s an honest answer that takes her aback.

“Just to see me? Are you sure about that?”

“I’m not here for anything else.”

The way he smiles at her lights up several alarm bells in her brain. What exactly does he want? Maybe to steal her flowers?

“Okay…” she tells him instead, hoping that her thoughts don’t appear as doubtful as she felt.

Varka walks up next to her and immediately rubs his hand over the rock she was working with. “What are you making?”

“A squirrel,” she answers. “Alice tells me my space lacks decoration. I’m hoping to fill the place with little critters.”

Varka glances at Nicole’s bare hands, then at the rock before them. It’s a cube. “Um. This looks more like a hypostasis than a squirrel, Miss Nicole.”

“Yes, I suppose it does,” she agrees.

“Do you, uh, have the proper tools to craft it? If not, I do—”

“Don’t worry, Sir Varka. I have a couple of techniques.”

Nicole raises her hand, and a cube-shaped chunk disappears from the surface. She does it again and again, until the rock looks like several stone cubes cobbled together. Then she uses her magic to smooth out the edges. In the stone hypostasis’s place is a giant squirrel raising its hands towards Varka as though begging for an acorn.

“Oh,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “I see. I forgot you could do magic, Miss Nicole.”

She’s literally speaking to him via her magic. She squints at him.

“Are you quite alright, Sir Varka?”

“Of course! Of course,” he stammers, scratching the back of his head so roughly Nicole thought she saw a few strands fall out. “I… I guess I’m not feeling my best today. Haha. What do you know.”

He’s nervous. Nicole could sense it coming from him in pulses. She waves her sculpture away, teleporting it to its rightful place on the cobblestone path, and summons an easier stone cube.

“Would you like to try?” She asks.

Varka blinks. “Try?”

“Sculpting. Give me your hand.”

He gives her his hand. Nicole traces the lines on his callous palms lightly. Yellow light seeps into these lines, causing Varka’s hand to briefly glow. He doesn’t flinch, but he does shiver a little as the magic enters his body.

“What’s this?”

“Something to guide you. Here.” She gestures to the new cube. “Do you see the numbers on the side of these squares?”

Varka squints, then nods. “Yes! I see them.”

“They symbolize the number of cubes belonging to each row and column. You need to remove blocks to ensure the numbers stay true throughout.”

He stares blankly at the cube. “Are you saying I have to solve a puzzle to sculpt this statue?”

“Why, yes.”

“I don’t know about that.” He laughs long and loud. “I’m not very good at these sorts of things. Are you sure I can’t just brute force my way through the rock?”

“You have to be delicate, Sir Varka.” Nicole encircles her hand around his wrist and hovers it above the rock’s numbers. “Here, let me help you.”

She deletes a few cubes, but not before double-checking the numbers on each row and column. Then she encourages Varka to try it himself, which he does so tentatively, as if he might break the entire structure just by standing next to it. Regardless, he does a pretty good job. There are a few rocks he removes by accident, which Nicole brings back with a simple wave of her hand. He spends the entire time with his brow creased as he focuses on the rock-puzzle.

There’s something about the way he tries hard to be gentle that makes Nicole look at him with fondness. For a moment, she forgets about the distance that should remain between them.

“Good job!” She says once he removes the last unnecessary segment. Nicole smooths the sculpture out to reveal a finch. “This is wonderful, considering it’s your first time.”

“It’s all thanks to your help. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.”

“You’re too sweet.” Nicole sends the finch to adorn the cobblestone road, accompanying her squirrel statue. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself before you try new things.”

Varka stands there for a bit, as if contemplating something. Then he leans in and kisses her.

Nicole welcomes him in almost immediately, encircling her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair. She should’ve known this was why he came to see her. Not that she minded— with all of his claims that he’s a buff knight who knows nothing but brute force, he always makes sure to be tender with her, like he’s embracing a flower.

“I thought you said you weren’t here for anything else,” Nicole says.

Varka pulls away, a hesitant expression on his face. “Sorry. I— it wasn’t my intention to kiss you. I mean, I guess it is now, but I wasn’t explicitly thinking about it when I came to visit you. I was just…” He closes his eyes. “Oh Barbatos. I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”

“We could just keep going.” Nicole nips his earlobe as she places his hand on her thigh. “If you’d like.”

“Do you want to?”

She kisses him instead. It is answer enough, so Varka lifts her by her legs and they keep kissing until they make it to the bedroom.

He visits her in the afternoon again, a few days later. Nicole is on her front porch, writing in one of her notebooks, when Varka materializes behind her.

“What are you writing about?” He asks.

He didn’t even speak particularly loudly or anything. But it still makes her scream and slam her elbow against his gut. The next thing they know, Nicole is patting Varka’s back as he throws up on the side of the bridge.

“I didn’t expect the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius to have such a soft belly.” Nicole cringes when he barfs another round. 

“You jest,” Varka guffaws. “You underestimate your strength, Miss Nicole.”

She fiddles with her thumbs guiltily. “I can normally sense when you approach. I was just too engaged with my work earlier.”

Varka wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you working on a novel?”

“Not a novel. Just a little story of sorts.” Her fingers start itching with excitement. “Would you like to hear about it?”

“Of course.”

Nicole gathers her manuscripts and immediately begins her story before Varka has a chance to sit in the chair across from her. She tells him about her protagonist, a young hero, and their adventures throughout Planet Meow. She goes into detail about the political tensions between Alynas and Nicola Coco, sister princesses of the Planet Meow. She ends up spilling all the plot points to him, revealing twists and connecting motifs to support the overarching theme. By the time she is finished, night has fallen.

“Oh no,” Nicole pales as she realizes the absence of light seeping through the hole at the top of the cavern. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it’s so late already.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Varka says. His chin rests on his propped-up elbow, and his gaze is fixed on her. “That was a thrilling tale.”

Nicole raises an eyebrow. The way he looks at her is sending goosebumps all over her skin. She wants to bend him over the table and do unspeakable things to him. “Were you paying attention?”

“Mostly. I’ve forgotten some of it now, but doesn’t that mean you can tell me all about it again?”

He isn’t exactly wrong. There are some plot points she wants to fix, some details she’d like to iron out before she brings it out to the world. It wouldn’t hurt to tell him about it all over again.

“Will you pay attention the next time I tell you about it?” Nicole asks, reaching over to brush the fur on his coat. It’s a wonderful article of clothing. She wants to try it on, but such a request feels forbidden. Too intimate. Uncharted territory.

“Of course.” Varka reaches up to hold her hand. “You know, you’re always welcome to visit Favonius Keep. You can tell me all about your stories there.”

Nicole places her manuscript safely to the side. Then she gets up and kisses him against the table.

Nicole doesn’t get sick very often, but when she does, it’s unbearable.

She likes to blame it on the fact that she isn’t accustomed to the human body. She used to be an angel, after all. But it doesn’t stop her from being frustrated at the bodily limitations of a mortal, at how quickly her immune system can deteriorate by consuming the wrong substance.

“Miss Nicole?”

She waves her magic around the house for her clock. In the process, she knocks several items off her desk. The ruckus exacerbates her headache.

“Miss Nicole, are you alright?”

“Sorry, I just knocked a few things off the desk.”

“I’m coming in.”

She doesn’t keep the door locked anyway, so he strides right in. His burly shadow, punctuated by his armor and furry coat, illuminates her bedroom door. Nicole can’t see him properly, but she could’ve sworn he was grimacing.

“You look terrible, Miss Nicole.”

“Thank you for that kind observation.”

Varka kneels beside the bed and places the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’re very hot. Did you catch the flu?”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

He hums in vague answer. “Do you have warm food in the kitchen?”

“I don’t think so.” She closes her eyes. “I feel like I might die.” How pathetic, a mage of the Hexenzirkel, a former angel, beaten up by something as measly as the flu.

“I’ll whip something up for you. Just rest, alright?”

Nicole is in no mood to argue. She must have passed out, because she woke to the smell of something akin to soup.

“Hey.” Varka’s voice is so soothing Nicole feels like she might fall asleep again. “I’ve got something for you to eat. Here.”

She feels the hot spoon against her lips and welcomes it into her mouth eagerly. It scorches her tongue, but she’s played enough with pyrokinetics that the temperature is nothing to her. The warmth slides down her tongue and throat and fills up her insides.

“This is good,” she says.

Varka’s eyes light up. “Really? I’ve only made this once before. They train you to cook in knight training, but I’ve been out of practice. Plus, Nod-Krai doesn’t have a lot of vegetables lying around as Mondstadt does—”

“You would be a great househusband.”

Nicole doesn’t know exactly why she said that. Perhaps because she is delirious and her head still feels like a boar rammed into her. She sees Varka stiffen a bit, but he relaxes almost immediately.

“Thank you,” he says. He sets the bowl on her bedside. “I’ll leave you to recover—”

Nicole grabs the sleeve of his fur coat. She doesn’t want to appear desperate, but she can’t help herself.

“No,” she pleads. “Stay.”

For a minute, Varka doesn’t say anything. Then he removes his coat, slips under the blankets next to her, and kisses her damp forehead.

“Of course,” he says. He places her head on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The next morning, Nicole wakes to an empty bed. Varka’s side of the bed is cold, but she still finds a note from him explaining that he needed to return to camp to fulfill his duties, but there are fresh fruits for her to snack on for the next few days in the storage cupboards, and she should visit their camp at Favonius Keep one day.

She sets the note aside and finishes the remaining chowder. It’s not warm anymore, but it comforts her all the same.

A few nights later, Nicole takes a walk outdoors because she can’t sleep, and somehow ends up in Favonius Keep.

She hadn’t intended to visit Varka. She was just wandering and somehow arrived at the camp. But anyone who knew her well would instantly know that this, of course, was a flimsy excuse. Some part of her wanted to take him up on his offer. Wanted to see him, outside of their regular arrangements.

“Madam Nicole!” A knight stationed at the guard is the first to greet her. He waves her like a schoolboy. “Welcome! We’ve been expecting you!”

Nicole blinks. Did Varka tell the whole camp that she might come visit?

“I don’t mean to intrude,” she says, her feet shifting when she realizes more knights have noticed her presence. She must have accidentally spread her telepathic thoughts to several knights in the vicinity. “I was just walking around—”

“Don’t be shy, Miss Nicole.” A female knight with more elaborate armor bows and offers her hand. “The grandmaster is just within the camp. I’m sure he’ll be excited to meet you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re all he’s been talking about lately.”

She could feel the sides of her face warm. He talks about her when she isn’t around? To his fellow knights?

Nicole spots him almost immediately when they enter camp. It was difficult not to: Varka is an imposing presence by existence alone. He towers over most of the knights, which means he really has to bend himself forward to move the tiny pieces around the board.

“They’re still in a meeting,” the knight notes. “Best not disturb them. Would you like to join us for a drink, Miss Nicole?”

“Oh, I don’t really drink. But I wouldn’t mind joining you.”

The Knights of Favonius are perhaps the friendliest faction Nicole has encountered thus far. They also had some of the most exciting stories to tell. She drinks her alcohol-free cider as they immerse her with tales of monsters and landscapes and the various peoples they met across their journey.

Varka joins them around the time the sun sets over the horizon. When he sees Nicole, his face perks up almost immediately. He walks towards her in a way that makes it seem like he’s trying very hard not to start sprinting. It fills her with a soaring feeling.

“Miss Nicole, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I was just walking around.”

“And you happened to end up at the Favonius camp?”

“Yes.” Nicole could feel the temperature on her face rising. She’s not being very convincing at the moment, is she?

Varka’s smile is so wide he’s practically blinding her with his teeth. Seeing him happy like this brings the warmth on her face to her chest, but also tagging along is a sense of doom that widens the gap at the bottom of her stomach. This is dangerous.

“Well, are you planning to stay for dinner?”

“If it’s not too much.”

It isn’t too much, because the Knights of Favonius eat in large portions, so they always have food to spare. They had a recent shipment of Mondstadt dishes and seasonings, so Nicole’s tongue is blessed by original Mondstadtian cuisine, including and not limited to goulash, apple stew, mushroom pizza, flaming red bolognese, and tea break pancake. By the end of it, Nicole is so stuffed she can feel herself swelling like a balloon.

“What about a dance to help the food go down?” The female knight who had kept her company asks.

Before Nicole can refuse, the knight drags her to the center of the bonfire and sways her around the place to the knights’ impromptu chorus of their homeland’s theme. She turns to Varka for help, but he is too busy singing off-key while he claps and stomps to the beat. He shakes the ground in the process, scaring off some knights seated way too close to him. He looks ridiculous. He looks amazing.

It makes Nicole’s chest soar and throb at the same time.

Alas, as many good things tend to do, the afterparty winds to a close, and the knights slip into their tents for bed. Varka takes the opportunity to whisk Nicole away to a more solitary part of the camp, with an obvious lack of tents and a clear view of the night sky. Nicole wonders if he was going to kiss her, out in the open, where the gods could look down and witness in real-time an angel morphing into a Seelie to suffer for her sins of love.

“The moon’s so beautiful tonight,” Varka says.

Nicole looks up at the night. The fake moon gleams white against the night, as stellar as always. Briefly, she imagines Columbina overhearing the conversation and thinking Varka was referring to her, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Nicole giggles into the back of her hand. “You’re just so sweet, that’s all.”

Varka rubs the back of his head. “Is that a compliment?”

Nicole takes his hand and begins tracing circles on the back. “Of course.”

She thought he was going to try to kiss her next. This could very well be his idea of foreplay, after all. But he smiles at her instead and continues staring up at the moon. So Nicole has no choice but to continue tracing circles, then lines, over Varka’s skin, as they look out into the distance.

“I really like you, you know,” Varka says.

Nicole freezes. He doesn’t notice, and plows on.

“It was never my intention to make our relationship so transactional. I… I’m really committed to getting to know you better. If you’ll have me.”

The way he’s looking at her right now… Nicole can’t believe it. It’s love. He’s in love with her. It fills Nicole up with so much dread and hope.

“Sir Varka.” Nicole pulls her hands away and places them on her lap. “I’m honored. I really am. I—”

“But you can’t,” Varka finishes for her, a small sad smile on his face. “Is that what you’re going to say?”

“I’ve told you about this before. Us angels—”

“Can’t be with humans because of the curse the first angel had or something like that, right?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Nicole emphasizes, suddenly annoyed at how lackadaisical Varka could be at times.

“I apologize,” Varka says quickly, not wanting to offend her. “I might’ve missed some details the first time you told me about it—”

“It’s not that,” she says. She finds herself standing and already preparing to walk away— she doesn’t even remember getting on her feet. “But you should know then that I can’t give you what you want. There’s no possible way for us to be together. Even if I wanted to.”

“But you want to.” Varka grabs her arm before she can leave. “I know you want to. You love me too.”

“Sir Varka.” The words are burning lead in her mind. “You can’t just assume such things.”

“But I know it. How else did you end up here tonight?”

He sounds as desperate as Nicole felt, which made the entire situation even more unfair. Of course Nicole wants to be with him. She wants nothing more than that. But she knows the consequences. She witnessed them firsthand. She experienced them firsthand, in the clog of her throat, suffocating her tongue.

“I can’t. We will be punished.”

“Can’t they witness our love and change their mind? Won’t they see us and realize maybe it’s not so bad after all?”

Nicole laughs. It sounds high-pitched, a little ugly to her ears. It isn’t her usual laugh. Varka knows this too, because he flinches backward a little, unexpecting.

“How could you be so arrogant to think that we could defy our fate?” Nicole asks. Her words are clear in her head, but they wouldn’t have been if she were able to speak, if her tears were able to blur the clarity of her words. And she would have been able to, if the first angel hadn’t gone and doomed her entire race. “Do you think I would be here if I’d been able to?”

Varka appears to be at a loss for words. Nicole doesn’t wait to hear what he might have to say.

“Goodbye, Sir Varka. Let’s not see each other ever again.”

Nicole disappears into a spark of light before Varka can reach for her.

He doesn’t come to visit. Not once. Nicole has moments of regret, most times while she’s lying alone in bed, drowning in memories. Perhaps she should destroy this mattress. His lingering scent isn’t helping matters.

Neither is the fact that, for a really long time, Varka had been her only visitor in the Witch’s Garden, so she ends up afflicted with a case of loneliness for the next few days. It’s not even as painful as her flu, but it hurts all the same. So she gives in and calls Alice, who takes great pleasure in sauntering through her garden like she owns the place.

“I love what you did here,” Alice says, her fingers grazing the top of the squirrel and finch statues. “You listened to my advice, for once! Did you sculpt both of these?”

“Most of them,” Nicole says, hoping her disapproval doesn’t show up in her thoughts. Perhaps it is her maternal instincts, but Alice picks up on it right away.

“One of these was crafted by him, wasn’t it?” Alice hums.

“How— how’d you know?”

“It’s a little cruder. He left his mark on it.”

“I cleared out such marks. There should be nothing there.”

Alice turns to Nicole knowingly. “Hm. Did something happen between you and the Knight of Boreas?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know you mentioned both of you have… a unique relationship of sorts, one that could be misread by the gods upstairs. But you promised me you wouldn’t do anything that would risk your life, didn’t you?”

“Just get to the point, Alice.”

“What I’m saying is that I don’t think you should be too worried about being with him.”

Nicole stares at her. “Did you not understand a single word about the history of my race?”

“Of course I did. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t pay attention to my friend’s stories?”

“Then you should be aware—”

“—of how angels must love all beings equally. So on, and so forth. But you haven’t been an angel for a while, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

Alice gestures to the entire cavern that held Nicole’s home in Nod-Krai. “Even though your powers came from your angelic origins, this space is possible because of the magic you learned with the Hexenzirkel. You yourself haven’t adopted the form of an angel in a really long time. I do believe the Heavenly Principles don’t consider you as an angel anymore. And they haven’t for a while.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t be afraid to pursue relationships with the creatures you love. Especially not him.”

Alice is known for giving terrible advice. This was the woman who mothered Klee. But perhaps this time, Nicole should give her friend the benefit of the doubt. She is still, after all, one of Nicole’s closest companions.

“By the way,” Alice says, strutting into the house. “After I leave, you should check the entrance of the cave. There is a gift waiting for you over there.”

“You’re not leaving now?”

“Well, I can’t leave before having some of your tea, can I?”

Alice drinks Nicole’s tea. She soon departs with some excuse about sensing something hostile at the edge of Teyvat’s borders. Nicole isn’t sure about how true that fact is, but she takes her friend’s early departure as an opportunity to march to the entrance and uncover her gift.

It is a package. On top is a familiar seal that makes Nicole’s chest fill up. She opens it quickly, although she makes sure not to leave a mess. When she finally rips all the paper away, she is left staring at a familiar piece of clothing.

Oh Archons. She’s been so stupid.

Nicole throws Varka’s fur coat over her shoulders and runs out of her garden.

Varka isn’t at Favonius Keep. Nicole is close to panicking when the female knight from her last visit spots her.

“Miss Nicole!” She jogs towards her. “If you’re looking for Sir Varka, he has just left for an expedition up north. If you fly there, perhaps you can catch up to him.”

“How did you know I was looking for him?”

The knight smiles. “How can’t I? You’re wearing his coat.”

Nicole blushes and tries to hide her cheeks in the fur. “Oh. I forgot about that.”

“I also know you two haven’t talked for a while. He’s been a little mopey around lately. Been drinking a little too much and all that. I’ve been waiting for you to come here and brighten him up.”

Nicole’s heart sinks. “We had a fight.”

“A fight? Well, I know the grandmaster can be a little too much. Do you need me to smack him for you?”

“What? No,” Nicole shakes her head. “Please refrain from smacking him.”

“I’m just messing with you,” the knight laughs. “I think the grandmaster is quite a lonely individual. And you’re treasured company. Just… take care of him, alright? He may seem tough, but he’s a softie inside.”

He’s lonely. So is she. Perhaps that’s what made both of them agree to this arrangement to begin with, what made them so incompatible later on. Maybe without the curse, Nicole wouldn’t have wanted to be with him anyway. Out of cowardice, out of fear. But then.

“Thank you for your kind words,” she tells the knight. “I’ll go look for him now.”

“Of course.” The knight tips her head in a farewell bow. “Best of luck, Miss Nicole.”

Night falls by the time Nicole finds the expedition team. Some of the knights recognize her and Varka’s coat, and instantly wave her in to welcome her into the encampment.

“He’s just inside his tent,” one of the younger knights, a boy with blond hair and various cartography tools hanging from his waist, tells her. “You should knock, however. He might be busy.”

“Thank you,” she tells the boy. She finds the tent almost immediately and gently taps the wooden peg outside.

“Varka?” She sends her thoughts towards the presence inside.

She hears something fall over with a loud crash. The tent flap swings open in a flourish, and Nicole is face-to-face with Varka’s beet-red cheeks.

“Miss Nicole!” He says. “I wasn’t expecting you here! What are you doing all the way up north?”

“Uhm,” Nicole has no words, because she has just realized that Varka doesn’t have a shirt on.

Varka looks down at himself, and the blush spreads to his chest. “Right. Sorry about that. Give me a second.” He slips back into the tent. Nicole hears sounds of struggle before the flaps open again to reveal Varka in a tight shirt spread over his pecs. It doesn’t make the situation any better.

“I need to talk to you,” Nicole says, trying her hardest to avoid gaping at his torso.

“Right,” Varka clears her throat. “Come in.”

The tent is homey, lit by several yellow lanterns. Nicole is reminded of the lights in her own home and vaguely wonders if he was inspired by her designs. Her chest throbs with the thought, perhaps a naïve one, that he thinks about her when he doesn’t have to.

“You’re wearing the coat.”

Nicole turns to him. Varka’s gaze is locked on the article of clothing still wrapped around her shoulders.

“Yes. It’s cold.”

“You found my delivery.”

“I suppose I did. Why did you send it to me?”

“You always looked at it like you wanted to try it on. Was I wrong?”

“No.” Nicole could feel something inside her break, finally. “No, you weren’t wrong.”

Varka shifts his eyes to her now. It’s intense yet raw at the same time. Nicole doesn’t have the strength to move.

“Why… why are you here, Miss Nicole? I was under the impression we’re never speaking to each other again.”

Why is she here? Because she can’t speak like a normal person. Because of the curse that the gods deemed appropriate for her ancestors, for her people, because of one individual’s mistake. And perhaps they were correct in labelling this individual as selfish, as arrogant for loving someone she shouldn’t have. But what is love, if not the most selfish, arrogant thing in the world? What is love if not a way to communicate, to connect, to find companionship in?

“I would like to try it with you,” Nicole says.

Varka blinks. “Come again?”

“Lovers. Let’s be lovers. Properly, this time.”

Nicole didn’t think Varka could get any more scarlet, but now he looks very much like the hue on the Knights of Favonius’s flags.

“I thought you said— the curse— the angels—”

“I haven’t been an angel in a really long time. Honestly, perhaps the Heavenly Principles have forgotten my origins. We should not be punished.” She steps forward so that she stands right in front of him. “And if we do, it won’t matter. We will defy the stars.”

“Are… are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, Sir Varka.”

Varka’s face morphs into the softest, most vulnerable expression Nicole has seen from him yet, and they’ve already stripped each other of their innermost layers more than once. He walks up to her, takes the coat off her shoulders, and sets it gently on the chair beside her. Then he drags his hand up her arms, to her face, to her hair, sending thrills all over her body.

“I need to hear it from you again,” Varka says. His breath catches in his throat; he sounds like he might break down. “Please.”

“I love you,” Nicole says. “I would like to be with you for as long as life permits me to.”

Varka kisses her. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” She says it as he kisses her, because that is one advantage of being able to communicate via thoughts. “I love you.”

He wraps his arm around her waist, and she kisses him back with the same enthusiasm. She struggles with his stupid shirt, to peel it off him, to see him in all his glory. Varka lifts her and places her so tenderly on the bed.

“I love you too,” he whispers breathily into her ear.

Nicole closes her eyes and sinks into his arms.