Erm So I Lied And Haven't Written A Single Word Since The Last Post LOL

anecdotal inspiration

Joshua x writer!Reader (anxiety edition)

3444 words, fluff

Summary: Joshua finds out who’s been writing books for the children in the Hideaway. It’s you, unfortunately.

Author’s note: Joshua who loves to read and reader who loves to write has been in front of me the whole time. I have been but a blind fool

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“Pardon me, but are you the one who wrote those?”

It had all started about a year ago. You had always been a daydreamer, maybe a little airy-headed, and you often found yourself penning down idyllic fantasies down into tattered notebooks since young. Growing up, you’d filled thousands of torn pages with your whimsical stories, leaving them half-complete before you began a new one, and it was a hobby that had followed you into adulthood. Now that you lived in the Hideaway, you surprisingly found yourself having more time for it. Embarrassing to admit, but you weren’t the most capable on the field, so you often had quick and short assignments.

And then one day you’d accidentally left one of your notebooks open at the library while searching for other books, and Harpocrates had chanced upon it. You had vehemently denied any relation to the notebook, and Harpocrates who had seen you walk in with it and place it on the table of course hadn’t believed you at all, but instead of mocking you or your scrawls, he had offered a suggestion with a wise smile. The children at the Hideaway, although only a few of them, didn’t have much to read. Children’s storybooks weren’t a priority to obtain, so they usually just had the same few to recycle over and over. Why not write new ones for them? Your handwriting was neater than sufficient, he had said, and your writing was pleasant.

Not knowing how to turn down his proposition, and also not being totally against it, you had agreed. Harpocrates then dedicated a row at the bottom of the shelf in one of the corners for you. It felt a little improper to you—there was no title on the cover since it was a notebook, only on the first page in your handwriting, and the books were usually worn out a little, but every time you slotted a new one onto the shelf, a few days later the children would come bounding to you with praises and enthuses of joy. Harpocrates must’ve told them it was you. You didn’t really mind.

Except, now, Joshua Rosfield had caught you sliding in your newest finished piece onto the bottom shelf.

“Uh—!” You managed a strangled noise.

You had never spoken to him before. Clive had brought him in a few weeks ago and introduced him in the Ale Hall one day, and you had bowed your head in greeting, and that was pretty much the only interaction you had with him. He mostly kept to himself, too. To be honest, he looked much too ethereal and you were afraid that if you stood too long around him you’d be incinerated to ashes just by his aura, so you didn’t try to approach him either.

Needless to say, you really wanted to run away. You stared up at him, wide-eyed.

He cocked his head inquisitively, and then you noticed in one of his hands was clutched a notebook that you’d finished writing in and put on the shelf for the children a few months ago. You hoped Leviathan would awake from its dormancy and swallow you whole right that instant.

“I’m sorry. I was just wondering if you are the author of those books,” he repeated, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

Shoving your new book into the shelf, you leapt to your feet without meeting his eyes.

“Sorry—I have to go somewhere!”

“Ah, wait—” he began, but you didn’t let him finish.

Bowing your head and staring at the floor, you bolted right past him and out of the library.

-------------

You escaped back into the dormitories, the largest common area in the Hideaway and where you figured it’d be harder for someone to locate you. Returning to your room was an option, but not one that you entertained; you’d been cooped up in there for hours in the early half of the day, revising your story before publishing it in the little corner in the library, so you were reluctant to go back again.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have run away and heard Joshua out. He had seemed curious about them, even if he completely wasn’t their target audience. It could’ve been nice hearing an adult’s opinion on your storybook, too… Or, alternatively, maybe he’d been very unimpressed by your books and was about to tell you off for wasting space in the library and to make way for some real books. Oh, god. You felt like you were going to vomit. You stopped walking through the corridor and paused to lean your head against the wall, focusing on your breaths.

“Miss!”

It was a young, chipper voice. Blinking, you removed yourself from your pathetic posture, standing up straight, and looked down. The children, your loyal recipients of your books, were eagerly jogging towards you.

“Miss!” They tugged at your long skirt. “Is there a new book yet?”

“Are you writing a new book?”

“I want to read a new story, Miss!”

“Hey, now…” You reached down to carefully pat one of the boys on his head. Children were a little easier to manage, you found. Or maybe it was because they adored you. “I just put a new one on the shelf, actually.”

They were positively beaming. “You did?”

“What’s it about this time? Is it romance?”

The girls in particular asked you that question fairly often, but you found yourself quite hopeless at it. Perhaps it was because you’d never had anything going on in your life romantically before, but the words just wouldn’t come out. How were you to describe what it felt like being in love, anyway?

Grimacing, you shook your head. “It’s an adventure story.”

“Oh, another one!”

“I wanted to read a love story, too…” One of the boys was pouting.

You laughed, gingerly tugging them off your skirt. “Maybe sometime.”

With hopeful glints in their eyes, they turned and began making their rambunctious way to the library, no doubt about to fight over the single unread copy on the shelf. You watched them leave with a faint smile, waving to their retreating backs, before frowning and sighing.

Really, how were you supposed to describe love?

-------------

Maybe some of the books in the library had an answer for you.

So, the next day, you returned with a notebook, this one used to pen down ideas rather than hold finished tales, set on finding some sort of inspiration from some book.

Unfortunately, Joshua was standing at one of the shelves.

Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be around. You usually waltzed past him, and, being too lost in the sprawling ink of the book, he usually didn’t notice you, or you assumed so. The last encounter had certainly… well, shaken things up, to put it in a crudely nice manner.

Stopping a few paces behind him, you shifted awkwardly, before clearing your throat. “Um, Lord Rosfield.”

Joshua looked up, turning his head gracefully to look at you. You were absolutely jealous. When someone interrupted you when you were deep in thought, you would always jump and freeze up like a frightened chocobo in a completely unflattering way.

“Yes?” Without missing a beat, he added, “Simply ‘Joshua’ would suffice.”

“Right, well, Joshua.” It sounded foreign on your tongue. “You see, about yesterday…”

You diverted your gaze from him to the floor, only catching the view of him in your peripheral vision. Ugh. This was so horrible.

Joshua blinked, turning to face you fully.

You moved your tongue about in your mouth almost peevishly, like you had something stuck between your teeth.

“When we met at the library yesterday…”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” he unexpectedly said. You stopped and looked back at him. He wore an apologetic smile. “I must’ve disturbed you—”

“No!” You shrank back immediately. You hadn’t meant for that outburst.

Joshua looked a little taken aback. “Ah, no…?”

“No,” you repeated, almost stupidly. Hugging your notebook to your chest, you bowed your head. “I—I must’ve come off as rude yesterday. I—it wasn’t my intention, I was just… well, I’m sorry.”

The words tumbled out of you in a rush before you could change your mind. Anyhow, that should get your message across. You raised your head hesitantly.

Joshua waved a hand dismissively. “No worries. You had something to tend to, if I remember correctly.”

No, there had been nothing to tend to at all. “...That’s right.”

“I hope you finished it with ease.” The smile he flashed at you was so brilliant you thought you might melt into a puddle of goo. “I was curious about the books in that corner. You’re the one who’s been writing them, I take it?”

In that instant, your brain fired a million thoughts simultaneously. What if you lied to him and said you were helping someone else? Then he’d ask you who you were helping. What if you said you had just finished reading it and were putting it back? No, reading a children’s storybook at your age was much too embarrassing.

Eventually, you settled on a sullen, “...Right, it’s me.”

On second thought, maybe writing a children’s storybook was worse than reading one.

But Joshua’s eyes only sparkled the same way the children’s eyes had the previous day. He took a step towards you. You uneasily took one step back, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Harpocrates told me someone had been writing for the children, you see,” he said, closing the book he’d been reading shut. You had never taken Harpocrates as a traitorous old man, but life was full of surprises. “I thought it was a wonderful idea, so I had a look at some of them. I hope you don’t mind.”

You minded very, very much. “No, it’s alright.”

“They’re very well-written,” Joshua continued, painfully enthusiastically. “The plotlines are simple, but novel. Most of the premises appear quite similar at first, but the ideas are actually all unique and fresh when you properly read into it, aren’t they? And the characters—they’re all so distinct and likeable in their own way once you really get to know them. Even when some of them come off as standoffish at first, they all have their own deeply thought out motives.”

You were holding on for dear life. “Uh… um…”

“And you took great care writing these for children, didn’t you? It’s all handwritten, but they’re all very neat. I spotted not a single mistake while looking through them. And the language used, the words you chose, your style of writing—they’re catered to the children, but even as an adult, it’s hardly painful to read. It was a delightful experience, if I had to describe it.”

“Well… thanks,” you managed feebly. Leviathan, any moment now…

“I’ll be looking forward to your next volume, too.”

“Right, thank you…”

But you had to admit: all your effort, every second of care that you had spent at your desk, hand cramping, felt like it hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. And it felt a little nice.

Joshua tilted his head at you like he hadn’t been off on a tangent praising you seconds before. “So, what brings you to the library? I don’t imagine you already have another one completed.”

You started. Right, your original purpose. “No, I don’t. I came to…”

It’d be a terribly awkward time to yank out a romance novel off the shelf and start meticulously studying it.

“...I came to research something for my writing.” Not a lie.

Joshua’s smile lit up even more, if that were even possible. “Oh? What about?”

You cleared your throat, even though it was empty. “Just… stuff.”

“Would you like me to help you find anything?” He leaned towards you.

“No… thank you.”

“Alright.” He leaned back, and you finally took that as an opportune moment to leave. As soon as you turned, his hand shot out to grab your arm. You almost flinched. “Pardon my rudeness. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Joshua, Clive’s brother.”

Yes, you knew. You introduced yourself in a mutter.

Joshua let go of your arm. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

You looked away sheepishly and mumbled something vaguely similar back.

-------------

Weeks had passed since then. Now that that embarrassing introduction was out of the way, you found it much easier to slip into the library. Harpocrates always welcomed you, and even if Joshua was there, he didn’t bother you much. At most, upon first seeing you, he would quiz you on what was upcoming in your latest story. You entertained him as best as you could, and surprisingly, you found his questions becoming easier and easier to answer, but not because he was the one who changed. You never really saw him around the romance section, so you could always read in peace.

Or that was how it was supposed to be.

One sunny day, you had arrived at the library with your notebook in tow, as usual, and Joshua began asking you questions again, both of you sat down at a table, in a way that reminded you of the children who adored your books.

And then, out of nowhere, very casually: “Are you trying to write a love story?”

You choked on air.

Joshua frowned. “I’m sorry. Did I have the wrong impression?”

You stared at him, aghast.

“It’s just that you’ve been frequenting the section where most of the romance novels are kept, so I thought…”

He’d been watching you?

Admittedly, he’d been a good friend to you. He was always considerate and never pushed to overstep any of your boundaries. He was just… nice to be around. Like being near a campfire in the freezing winter. You could forgive it.

You folded your arms and looked away. “It’s—something like that. I guess.”

With that, he wore his excited smile again. “Really?”

Restraining a groan, you nodded. You did not look at him. “The children have been pestering me about one for a while, so…”

“I see. They’re at that age, I suppose.” Really? To you, they still felt all too young. “I might be able to help you in that department. I’ve read a number of them myself.”

“You have?”

You looked at him dubiously. He looked much too eager to help, leaning over in his seat.

“Yes, I have.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. If it were you, you would’ve died of embarrassment.

He certainly had never struck you as that type. “I’ve never seen you reading one, though…”

Joshua shook his head. “Not when you’re around. You would prefer to remain undisturbed when reading those, wouldn’t you?”

You had never said that out loud, but he was spot on. Biting on your bottom lip, you looked down at the table. “Yeah, I guess so…”

“How about it? Would you like my input?”

Something about receiving a lecture about love from Joshua made you feel queasy. “It’s… It’s okay. Thanks for the offer.”

“Alright.”

The fact that he was into romance novels surprised you. He usually had his head buried in some history book, although to be fair, he had just mentioned purposefully being aware of you when you had come to do your… studying…

This felt more shameful by the second. You slumped in your seat.

Joshua reached over to grab one of your hands on the table worriedly. “Are you feeling alright?”

You straightened your posture again. “I’m fine,” you blurted out, drumming your free fingers on the tabletop. The palm of the hand under Joshua’s was starting to feel sweaty. “Could I ask you something?”

He canted his head. “Of course.”

“It might be offensive.”

He pulled his mouth to the side doubtfully. “Go ahead.”

You opened your mouth, wrangled down the hesitation down your throat, and tried to look him in the eyes, but settled on the space between his brows.

“Why are you so interested in reading my storybooks? They’re for children…” Then you immediately added, “Not—Not that there’s anything wrong, with that, of course, it’s just… a surprise? No other adults read them… except Harpocrates, but that’s him. I guess. Don’t get me wrong—I’m really flattered that you enjoy them, but I was just curious.”

Joshua blinked at you owlishly. “That must be the longest I have heard you spoken in one breath.”

“That’s not… Could you answer the question?”

Joshua retrieved his hand to rest his cheek on it, elbow propped up on the table, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. A finger on your hand that had been occupied until recently twitched. You felt like you could be honest with him. But it wasn’t too much of an invasion of privacy, was it? Maybe you should retract your question if he didn’t feel comfortable. You would hate for him to be put on the spot.

He finally looked down back at you. “Has Clive told you anything of our mother?”

Was he dodging the question? That would’ve been fine, but you didn’t know why he was bringing in another heavy topic. Word on the grapevine spread to you that their mother had killed herself in a fit of hysteria right in front of her sons, after all. Clive, personally, had said nothing to you about her, though.

“Not really, no.”

“...Of course.” Uncharacteristically, Joshua looked down at the table. Usually you were the one to be doing that. You tilted your head. “She had always wanted for me to be the best in every way. I was already sickly as a child, and she prohibited me from overexerting myself on battlegrounds. She often ordered me to stay within the walls of the castle as well.”

She sounded awful, but you couldn’t ascertain his feelings for his mother with his vague language, so you held your tongue.

“I found solace in reading. I enjoyed books written for children, of course, being one—but my mother didn’t appreciate it as much.” He was wearing a forlorn smile. “She wanted no risk of my future position as the Archduke. At her insistence, I was to read less of those ‘silly stories’ and more of educational books.”

You felt personally insulted at that one. “She sounds a little rude.”

At the sound of your voice, Joshua lifted his head, eyes almost bleary like he’d woken up from a bad dream. “Perhaps she was.” Again, vague. He was still smiling—this time, it reached his eyes. “To answer your question, I’m not quite sure yourself. If I had to guess, perhaps reading them feels like making up for the lost time I had as a child?”

And then, catching you completely off guard, he snatched one of your hands from the table and clasped it with both of his hands. You did not have time to react.

“Thank you for writing them.”

Even through the gloves, his hands felt very warm.

You were suddenly acutely aware of how softly his golden locks fell over his face, the deep lapis of his probing eyes—every ridge and feature of him was striking you with vivid clarity.

You stood up from your seat abruptly, pulling your hand away and folding your arms tightly.

“It’s—It’s no problem. Sorry, but I should really get going.”

With a brisk walk out of the library faster than ever before, you forced yourself to ignore how warm your face was getting.

-------------

“Miss, you did it!”

You had just returned from some field work, exhausted, sweaty, and generally feeling like you needed a hot bath, when the children had crowded you once again. It was right in the middle of the Hideaway, and even though there weren’t that many people around at this time, you still raised a finger to your lips to sign the children to lower their voices.

As usual, they paid no heed to you. They came and tugged at your skirt again. “You wrote about love!”

Behind, one of the boys feigned a disgusted expression. He’d grow out of it, probably.

You took turns patting their heads as always. “Did you enjoy it?”

Of course, you were in no position to write a full-blown romance novel, and that most likely wasn’t ideal for children, either. Instead, you’d just written another adventure story, like you always did, but this time dashed with garnishes of intimate feelings. Not enough to be the main focus, but enough to be visible.

“Yeah!” Then, looking a bit confused: “Why did you suddenly write about it, though?”

The sunlight streaming through the cracks of the Hideaway looked golden, too.

You inclined your head down at them and gave a silly grin.

“Maybe… you could say I had a little inspiration?”

better than yourself

Joshua Rosfield x writer!Reader

1005 words, fluff

Short fluffy fic for Valentine’s. Happy Valentine’s Day! It’s the same reader as anecdotal inspiration, but you don’t have to read it to read this one (but I would be very happy if you did :))

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You sighed, leaning forward and bumping your head against the book in your hands.

Opposite you, Joshua gave you a curious look. “Is something the matter?”

This had been going on for a while: you often spent your free time scrawling down children’s stories in blank notebooks, and when you had finished, put them up in a quaint corner in the library for the children to peruse. There weren’t many books suitable for the young ones at the Hideaway. You would never have dared to initiate something like this yourself, but with Harpocrates’ kind, homely encouragement that you would almost accuse as manipulative, your hobby had found meaning in one of the lowest shelves that any child could reach.

Then you had an unexpected patron—the younger of the Rosfield brothers, no less—and he was somewhat of a busybody, and he’d become particularly sticky to you after finding out you were the author of those stories in the tattered notebooks. But if anybody asked you if you minded it, you wouldn’t say you did.

You turned the closed book over in your hands. It was a random book on the history of Valisthea that you’d picked off the shelf in hopes of finding an answer. “I’m looking for a word, but I can’t remember it…”

“Have you consulted the dictionary?”

“I don’t remember what letter it starts with, so that’s not helpful.” …You hadn’t come across as rude, had you? “Um, but thanks.”

Joshua didn’t look ruffled in the slightest. He slid his own book shut and propped his elbows up on the table. “Then, would you like to describe it to me? I might know what word it is.”

He most definitely did. Although you’d done your own fair share of reading, it was hard to deny that Joshua was much more well-read than you, or anyone else at the Hideaway. Sometimes he’d dive into a monologue patterned with flowery sentences, but maybe you’d given him one too many confused looks, because he had pretty much stopped doing that with you. But those alone were enough to prove to you he had picked up far more books than you—although that was to be expected, considering he had been raised in royalty.

You let the book in your hands slide down onto the table, chewing on your bottom lip. “Well… it’s part of a castle.”

Joshua nodded attentively. “I grew up in one.”

Oh, you’d forgotten that. “It’s something like a tower..? I think? They’re usually along the walls—at least I think they are.”

“Are you thinking of a turret?”

Right—that was the word. “That’s—That’s the word. Thanks.”

“Delighted to be of help.” He leaned forward. “What did you need it for?”

“Are you asking for spoilers?”

He puffed his cheeks indignantly, almost like a child. “It’s been a fair while since you’ve published anything, so you will have to pardon me for being curious.”

Published was far too fancy of a term for you.

You glanced down, turning your wrist over experimentally. “Tarja said my wrist hasn’t been good, so I haven’t written much for a while.”

“Oh?” Faint alarm was tinged in his voice, despite him usually trying to keep a composed facade, something you had picked up on yourself. “What happened?”

Apparently, you’d been writing too much. It had prompted a cramp in your hand and after paying a visit to Tarja, who had suggested the most probable cause was your extended periods of time jotting away at your desk. Which you had initially found weird, since it had never happened before. Then after some reflection, you had realised in the past few weeks, particularly after a specific someone discovering your secret of writing those books, you had been feeling too motivated to settle down; sometimes you’d even forego a good night’s worth of rest to spend the time whittling away at words.

Not that you would ever say any of that out loud, so the long and short of it was: “I wrote too much—so my hand hurts.”

Joshua frowned. “Is it an injury?”

“Something like that… I think.” You hoped you weren’t wrong.

“I could heal you, if you’d like?” he offered.

Injured hand darting in front of your chest reflexively, you shook your head. “I couldn’t—you should save your powers for other… stuff.”

He didn’t seem to agree. “What better stuff would prevail over this?”

“People who are actually being useful on the field?” you tried.

This time he frowned at you. “Perhaps you don’t think your contributions are befitting of any reward?”

That wasn’t… “I don’t mean that, but…”

You weren’t sure what you were trying to say, either, so you trailed off. For a long moment, there was a stuffy silence between the two of you. Although you were terrible at conversing with others, Joshua always seemed to know what to say at every moment, so stretches of quiet didn’t happen with him often. Now that there was one, it felt gut wrenchingly nauseating and you contemplated excusing yourself to the toilet so you could retreat back to your bunk and shut the door and wither and die in a corner.

When he finally spoke again, it was soft. “I won’t do anything that you aren’t comfortable with. But as for your implications that your writing and your work aren’t important, those I can’t agree with. Reading your stories holds more importance than just a moment of respite for the children, and myself, as well—and if you allowed the others to peruse them, I’m sure they’d come to the same conclusion.”

Joshua held out his hand across the table.

“So, please don’t think any less of yourself.”

You stared at his outreached hand.

Slowly, from in front of your chest, to over the table, to the palm of his hand, you reached back out to him.

It was funny. You had never even said it out loud, and maybe you hadn’t even realised it yourself, so how, you wondered, did Joshua seem to know you better than yourself?

Current WIP For @cosmic-metanoia's prompt of "I wonder how Joshua, Gav, & Mid were getting along on the Enterprise when separated from Clive and Jill"

Gav watched the massive bird swoop in front of them, placing himself firmly between the Enterprise and Odin. Not to say that Clive’s little brother wasn't brave, he was just damned near more daft than Clive himself. Constantly throwing himself into the same danger as his brother, but with a quarter of the muscle mass and a bad lung. But this? This was insanity. Odin had just dismantled his brother, the Eikon slayer, into a shred of ribbons the week before. And this skinny son of a bitch was the one who pulled him back together. Mending every limb, as if trying to un-carve a butchered bird. And by some miracle, up to his eyeballs in blood, the bastard had pulled it off. And now he was standing before Odin, ready for his turn. Who the hell did he think was going to patch him up? Is he out of his fucking mind?! Gav wondered, tossing a bucket of water onto the last fire and then scrambling to the bow to watch. No, of course he wasn't. He knew what he was risking. He knew he didn't stand a chance, just as Gav did, but he remembered the moment they'd noticed Odin appear. Joshua had moved instinctually in front of him and waved him away. He wasn't fighting Odin to win, he was fighting to keep him away from everyone else. Imagine that! The golden haired son of a duke that the breeze could knock over, and Gav cowered behind him like a little pup at the sight of Tharmr. That fucker better not die on our account!

joshua who, in the japanese audio, normally uses "boku" but used "watashi" when speaking gently to the medicine girl... one of the twins in the hideaway calling him gentle in the japanese ver... he has to be good with kids for sure

on the brink

Joshua x Reader

653 words, comfort

Summary: If you died, Joshua wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

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The ceiling was spinning.

You hadn’t even realised your eyes had fluttered open and you didn’t even register that you had woken up after being asleep for a long, long time. Had you been sleeping? …You didn’t remember. Your arms and legs were heavier than lead. The rest of your body felt far away. You attempted wiggling your fingers, and with sizable effort, they obeyed begrudgingly.

Your vision focused on the wooden beams overhead. Oh, this must be the Hideaway’s infirmary.

Hadn’t you been journeying somewhere?

You remembered gnarled talons tearing at you and seeing red before you even saw the monster.

Oh, right. You had thought you were dead. Maybe you were, and heaven took the form of the Hideaway’s infirmary.

“...awake,” you barely heard someone say. You searched for a face, but as long as you didn’t move, all you had was a wide view of the creaky wood on top. “Can you move?”

It was Tarja. Stomach tensed, you pulled yourself up with everything you had left in you. Surprisingly, you were successful.

The first face that greeted you was Tarja’s. No surprise there. Laden over the rest of the infirmary beds were familiar faces. Your team members for that most recent assignment—and none of them were awake.

Joshua stood at the foot of your bed, lips pressed together so tightly they were turning white.

Your head spun. “What was..?”

“You’re lucky Clive found all of you when he did,” Tarja said. She was sitting on a stool, fiddling and doing something or other with a bowl. “I’d have less patients to tend to if he didn’t. Living ones, at least. And as for you,” she grimaced, “with the shape you came in, normally, you’d never be out in the field ever again.”

You felt like you were going to vomit. “Then I—”

Tarja patted Joshua’s arm. “You’ll be as good as new in a week, I’d say. Thank him.”

Joshua?

Now you understood. Never setting foot in the field ever again was an understatement from Tarja. You’d already be dead if it weren’t for the flames of the Phoenix.

Clenching the blanket in fistfuls, you began, “Joshua—”

Hearing his name from you broke a dam inside of him that you hadn’t even known was there. He was over by your side in two strides and before you could continue, he throttled you in an embrace, weight pushed onto you and face buried in the nook of your neck. You heard Tarja complaining (“Hey, be gentle with the patient!”) but her words fell on deaf ears. You shifted, raising a hand to steady on his back, letting him all but melt into you.

“I—I thought—” He was stuttering, something you’d never witnessed from him before.

You didn’t know what it was, but hearing him, feeling his touch—you felt the firing of your neurons and life pulsating through your veins. You were alive again.

“You’re back.” Joshua sounded like he was stifling a sob, and when you felt warm wetness pool in the shoulder of your shirt, you raised your other hand to the side of his head.

“I’m here,” you reassured him.

“I thought you’d left forever…”

“I haven’t.”

Tarja raised a brow at you and turned to leave to the other side of the partition. You supposed that meant you were in the clear.

Joshua peered up at you ever so slightly, but enough for you to see part of his tear-tracked cheeks and glistening eyes. You met his gaze, now wide alert, and then he buried himself in your shoulder again like a puppy did in its familiar bed.

You turned your head and lowered it, resting your cheek against his fluffy tresses.

“Please…” his voice, almost a cry, was muffled, “don’t go somewhere far away again.”

His grip on you was tight like you were going to slip away in a moment’s notice. You rocked him gently.

“I won’t.”

little cuts and bruises

Joshua x Reader (Joshua with a crush vs incredibly socially unaware reader)

1988 words, fluff

I wanted to write 10 seconds of handholding but this happened instead.

---

“Tarja?”

You hadn’t heard the aforementioned stern lady barking at anyone, so when you poked your head into the infirmary, it wasn’t a surprise that she was nowhere to be seen. She would probably return in a matter of minutes, loaded with an onslaught of warranted naggings at the patients there. Your hands were still fully occupied with the herbs you had painstakingly scavenged for, and you didn’t quite feel like sitting around waiting for her, so you shouldered your way through the door and let yourself in.

Helping Tarja collect materials for her medicine was nothing new to you, anyway. For the most part, you knew where she kept what, so you might as well get started on keeping them. She would probably praise you, too, and the thought made you eagerly approach the drawers that were the medicinal treasury.

Pain streaked across your palm momentarily. You winced. A stalk from one of the herbs had dug into an open cut across your hand.

The most recent outing had been successful, but… of course it had been successful. You knew your way around a sword… well, maybe halfway around it? So it wasn’t your fault for running and rolling off a ledge to escape one of those giant monsters and bruising your palms terribly. Bruises were better than being probably dead. And one of the herbs you had been looking for was encased in a thorny bush, but you had been exhausted from running from the monster and just wanted to return to the Hideaway, so you had thrusted your hands through the spikes anyway. Your already worn out gloves failed to persevere and the thorns had sliced through them and right into the skin of your hands.

Injuring yourself was decently normal during scavenging, but you had to admit your hands were quite the bloodied sight this time.

…Tarja would probably scold you, too. Oh, well…

Before you reached the drawers, you caught sight of something rare.

“Oh.”

Joshua Rosfield, red scarf and gloves missing as they normally were when he was being treated, sat on the edge of a bed, was staring up at you, eyes wide like sparrow’s when a human approached it.

You clutched the herbs closer to your chest and bowed your head towards him slightly. “Joshua. Hello.”

A smile adorned his rosy lips as he mimicked you and bowed his head. “Hello. You’ve just returned, I take it?”

“Yes. I found all these… stuff.” Herbs, you scolded yourself inwardly. Sometimes you weren’t the best at talking. You lifted your arms slightly to gesture to them.

“Ah.” He nodded. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

He was working way harder than you, though.

You awkwardly nodded in reply and continued shuffling over to the drawer. Gingerly, you placed the herbs on top.

Your interactions with Joshua were limited, as were most people’s, you guessed. He kept to himself to a severe extent and didn’t speak much to the average Hideaway member. Not out of rudeness, you imagined. He never seemed at ease.

Because you reported directly to Clive, sometimes you did see and speak to Joshua. But only briefly, for the most part. You couldn’t quite recall any memorable events between the two of you–on your side, anyway. Maybe Joshua thought of you as an awkward, bumbling mess. Or maybe an incredibly helpful scavenger? Or maybe he thought nothing of you at all. It didn’t matter that much, you supposed. You hardly saw him. You addressed him by his first name since you addressed Clive by his first name, at his insistence, but you weren’t even sure if he knew yours.

A heavy cough snapped you out of your thoughts. Joshua was hunched over, hand shielding his mouth. You blinked, unsure of what to do for a second. (Get Tarja?) When blood dripped from his lips after he moves his crimson-stained hand, you rushed to kneel in front of him and touch his arm.

“Joshua–” What were you supposed to do? You knew the basics of medicine for minor cuts and wounds, but nothing about this deadly cough that plagued him.

Get Tarja. You scrambled to your feet.

Joshua reached out with his clean hand and grabbed your wrist, shaking his head. You paused.

“Tarja will be back soon.” He tilted his head up to lock his gaze onto yours, and for a moment, you noticed a bit too much how delicately his golden locks framed his face. He smiled wryly. “She’s left to retrieve something, but she said she won’t be long. I will be fine, I assure you.”

As you said, you knew nothing about this deadly cough that plagued him.

“Are you sure?” You squinted at him. “...You won’t run away again?” Tarja often complained about that.

“I won’t. As a matter of fact, she has taken my garments with her as hostage temporarily.”

Oh, the scarf and the glove. Not that that meant much. You imagined if someone burst into the infirmary screaming that Clive was in deep trouble, Joshua would leap out of the window and prime and Tarja’s rage later would be unassuageable. You knew that much about him.

But you weren’t a healer, and you probably wouldn’t help by meddling, so you nodded slowly. Maybe you could help wipe the blood off, though.

Looking around, you located a brown rag nearby on one of the tables. Neatly folded, so it should be clean. You stepped towards it, only to feel a tug on your wrist. You looked down. Joshua was still holding onto you.

Uh. “Um, excuse me.” With your free hand, you carefully pried his fingers off of you. Your cuts did not sting against his hands.

Joshua shrunk back, arm held in front of him almost defensively. He was frowning. “Are you in a rush?” Did he sound disappointed? You couldn’t clearly tell.

“Huh?” You furrowed your brows. “...No? I’m just getting…” You pointed at the cloth.

Joshua relaxed. “Oh, I see.”

You felt like it was hard to understand him at times.

You grabbed the cloth, returned, tousled your hand under it, then leaned forward to dab at his mouth softly. You ignored the way he was looking right at you with those vivid blue eyes of his. It was unnerving.

When you moved down to wipe his bloodied hand, he looked down, and suddenly bolted forward. You only had a split second to wonder if you somehow offended him before he grabbed both of your hands and turned them to face your palms upwards.

“What happened here?” he asked softly.

Your cuts and bruises were a nasty sight. And his hands felt so smooth and unblemished. How did he do it? They somehow reminded you of Torgal’s squishy paws.

You shrugged. “Went scavenging.” You tilted your head at the herbs you had deposited.

“And this happens normally?”

It was difficult to answer that, because you kept no track record of small things like these. “I guess so.” The grimace on his face told you he was not satisfied. “Someone has to go out and get them, right? We have a lot of fighters here, and they get hurt.”

“At your own expense?” he pressed, leaning closer to you.

You did not pull away, but you decided to stare at a spectacular corner of the room that didn’t have anything. “These aren’t that bad. Just a few days–and they’ll be all better… Tarja might be upset, but that’s all.” You were unsure why he was so upset over a few cuts and bruises across your hands.

Joshua was quiet. You shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to make of the silence, and glanced back at him.

Then he cocked his head, blinked slowly at you and smiled the same way someone would when reassuring a lost child. “I could help you, if you’d allow me?”

Did he know his way around these medicinal salves, too? Maybe it would be better than suffering a scolding from Tarja.

“Sure.”

Joshua began to stand up, and you took a step backwards to give him space. He turned your hands over and up so your palms faced him with his hands pressed against them, and interlocked your fingers with his.

You weren’t very sure what this was, but Joshua’s demeanor was known for sticking out like a sore, princely thumb. Groomed to become Rosaria’s archduke, and all. This could be some pre-treatment gesture they did in Rosarian culture or something. You had heard he had given Mid an awkward but well-meaning greeting, too.

The back of Joshua’s hands glowed, and only now you acutely remembered that he was the Phoenix’s Dominant, who had an uncontested healing prowess.

Flames unfurled from his hands and cozily cocooned around yours; it reminded you of drinking hot tea in a harsh winter. The bruises began to lighten, and your skin began to stitch itself together over the cuts. You stared, awed, watching the fire ripple across in waves of brilliant magic, then blinked up at him.

“Is this okay? I mean, the curse…”

He chuckled. “That price is much too small to deny rewarding the most hardworking and endearing member of our team.”

Your face felt warm. Part of it was because of the fire, you told yourself.

“That’s an overstatement, I think,” you mumbled.

“Is it? I don’t think so.”

You couldn’t think of a reply.

Soon, all the cuts and bruises had vanished and your hands looked like they hadn’t worked a day in the field. You withdrew your hands from his and turned them over and over again in wonder. Joshua leaned over slightly to join you in having a look at them.

Pristine. You could go back to your duties almost immediately, and you wouldn’t have to face the wrath of Tarja. You didn’t know how to express with words how grateful you were.

…Oh, right. Recently, you often saw Clive do this thing when he was thanking Jill. You had thought it was a bit too close, but they were both raised in Rosaria, so maybe it really was a royal Rosarian thing. (When you had asked Clive about it, he had said it was nothing, and then walked away strangely quickly.)

You leaned forward, standing on the tips of your toes just a little, and gently bumped your forehead against Joshua’s. Your eyes met his gaze.

“Thank you.”

…Hm, his face looked a little flushed. You guessed it was an aftereffect of using the Phoenix’s abilities.

The sound of his breathing somehow felt even louder in those few seconds. Then he drew back and dusted the hair out of your face with the back of his fingers.

“–Didn’t I tell you to stay in bed?”

You jumped backwards, swinging towards the door of the infirmary. Tarja was grunting at Joshua, as usual, and oddly empty-handed.

“My apologies.” Joshua made a half-smile, as if to appease her.

Her eyes fell on you, and she nodded, before she caught sight of the spoils you had retrieved earlier.

“Oh, thank the Founder,” she breathed, striding over to the herbs. “We’d just run out of these. I was looking to see if you’d come back. This one here,” she casted a dirty look in Joshua’s direction, “needs it urgently, you see.”

You started. “These were for him?”

“Of course. A guzzler of our medicinal supplies, that’s what he is.” She tipped her head at him. “You should thank your lifesaver.”

Joshua tilted his head, smile full of mirth. “It’s mutual, I suppose.”

“What are you blabbering about this time?” Tarja grumbled from sifting through the leaves.

She soon shooed you out of the infirmary, after letting you know Clive was looking for you again. You idly wandered down the corridor and stopped for a while to stroke a sleepy Torgal.

Maybe you should go get yourself more cuts and bruises on the next assignment, too. Just little ones.

say marco, i’ll polo

Jill x female!Reader

1564 words, fluff, established relationship

Warnings: depictions of violence

Summary: It seemed like whenever you called for her, she would always find you.

-------------

You cradled your head atop a fence along the Hideaway’s exterior.

Some people had told you that they found the lake around the Hideaway dark, deep; scary. This was usually a description that came after you’d told them you found it relaxing—the stillness of the misty air and the tranquillity of the water surface reminded you all too much of someone. With your unusual fascination with the Hideaway’s surroundings, it took no one by surprise that it was the first place you’d go to when you needed to be comforted.

Which didn’t exclude that moment. You turned your head to lay flat against the top of the railing, ignoring the bustling that was going on in your peripheral vision.

Flashes in your head of bloodstained bodies replayed nonstop like a reel that had gone haywire.

You wanted to be alone.

Or, if you had to be with someone…

You sighed, and the way your chest heaved was almost painful.

“...Wish Jill was here…”

“Yes?”

You almost jumped out of your skin, whirling around, eyes widening with delight.

Jill, with a smile that could calm a rampaging behemoth: “You called for me, my dear lady.”

“Jill!” you squealed, then threw yourself at her with nothing but trust that she would catch you.

She did; her arms found your waist, securing them firmly, then spun you around. For that joyous moment, rife with giddiness, you forgot everything—everything about the Blight, everything about Ultima, everything about curses, bearers, everything about your recently failed mission—

Your stomach churned. Faltering, you slumped in her arms, eyes cast downwards.

It didn’t escape Jill’s notice—she’d never let anything about you escape her notice. Tilting her head downwards quizzically, she lifted a hand and placed a hand on your shoulder. Cool to the touch.

“Tell me what happened.”

Her voice reminded you of soft sunshine in a flower field. You looked up to meet her eyes—welcoming and warm, in contrast to the temperature of her skin, so reassuring, so comforting, that you felt wetness prick in the corner of your eyes.

Jill raised her brows, placing her other hand on your other shoulder. “Is it something you can tell me?”

You nodded, but when you opened your mouth you were afraid your voice would warble, so you shut it again. How would you describe it to her? She would never mock or jeer at you. You could say anything. But even when you tried again, the words caught in your throat, threatening to give way to despair, so you opted to bury your head in her chest and sniffle.

“I messed up…”

Only three words, and it was more than enough for her to understand—there wasn’t much else to mess up as a cursebreaker. Jill circled you with an arm around your torso, the other hand gliding through the strands on the top of your head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

But it was. The bearers you were supposed to rescue dead, the soldiers you’d been ordered to take out escaped…

You shook your head wordlessly.

“It wasn’t,” Jill said again, this time sternly like chiding a child. Steadying two hands on your cheeks, she lifted your head to look at you uninterrupted. “Do not blame yourself for trying to be someone’s salvation. The only ones at fault are those monsters who’ve stolen away countless futures. Not you.”

She smelled like flowers.

“Are we clear?”

A surprising smile crept onto your lips, and you laughed shortly. Jill blinked. “How did you know what I was upset about when I barely said anything?”

She sighed, pressing her forehead to yours. Refreshingly chilly. “I would have failed you if I couldn’t understand what you were upset about.”

“You could never fail me, Jill.”

She only further proved your point by whisking you away to the Ale Hall for some comfort sweets.

-------------

Your lungs were going to catch fire.

You’d been careless. You had known the soldiers from your previous assignment had escaped. You had known what kind of vengeful scoundrels they were. You had known they would stop at nothing to maul those who had provoked their pride alive.

Idiot. Why had you returned to the village, by yourself, and not expected them to have laid an ambush, waiting for your return? Why couldn’t you have waited longer before going back to check on the villagers? Why couldn’t you have troubled some of the other cursebreakers to join you?

You were going to die.

Gasping for sharp inhales of air, your legs carried you as fast as they could, sprint automatic at that point. You were faster than your pursuers, and you could outrun them—but not for long. At any moment, your legs were going to give way, collapse, and then it’d be all over.

You didn’t want to die.

A dagger sailed through the air, and your prayers went unanswered.

Pain exploded in your thigh and you tumbled forward, throwing your hands out to partially curb your fall. Gravel in the dirt grazed your palms, but it was nothing compared to the searing stab wound in your leg. Don’t take it out, you’ll die of blood loss—gritting your teeth, you struggled to your feet, limping forward a few more paces. You knew you couldn’t run. It was your loss.

The soldiers’ footsteps behind you eventually slowed to a halt. You turned back to face them with a glare, already predicting their smug, triumphant sneers plastered across their expressions.

“Maybe this’ll finally make an example of any fools who try to get in our way,” one of them—their little ringleader, you presumed—mused.

Every breath felt like it constricted your lungs more. You wanted to rip off your leg and toss it away. In defiance, you said nothing.

He guffawed, “Any last words, missy?”

“Fuck you,” you spat at them.

Even your meaningless words could cross him. His face contorted into a snarl, and he unsheathed his blade, approaching you. How sensitive he was—mindless things like those would never upset Jill.

Oh.

Under your breath, in the smallest of voices: “Jill…”

A burst of icicles rained from the sky. You barely registered the yells and terrified shrieks from the soldiers before giant crystals of ice exploded on the ground, the impact blowing half of them away and barricading the rest, if they hadn’t been frozen over to death. You didn’t even notice the leader whip around before a wall of ice crashed between the two of you, sealing him away from you—you’d been too enticed with the sparkling dust dancing in the air.

Up above, a blizzard was howling in Shiva’s eyes.

When they caught sight of you, they visibly softened. She descended towards you, and you thought she almost looked like a fairy.

As she landed, in a veil of glittering mist, Jill emerged again. She walked to your side, steadily, with an eerie calmness—she mustn’t have primed for very long. When she reached you, she knelt down on one knee in front of you.

“Jill,” you breathed, and you had forgotten about how every inch of your body was in pain.

She nodded, resting a hand on yours wordlessly. It was cold, but it felt so warm.

“I’m still okay,” you said. Your leg was punctured, but it wasn’t fatal. You’d live if you saw a healer. More importantly: “Watch out, the soldiers are still—”

You fell silent as she cupped your cheek with a gloved hand. Her gaze had fallen to the dagger, still protruding from your thigh, and then slowly dragged back up to meet your eyes.

She smiled, so softly, you felt like the frigid air was going to melt you.

“I’ll kill them.”

With a brandish of her sword, she swept back towards the soldiers with the grace of a deadly dancer.

-------------

It was over in minutes.

Jill returned to you, clothes splattered with crimson. Wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she exhaled the same way she did when she finished a light sparring session. You watched her every step as she crouched down next to you.

You wanted to hug her, but your arms wouldn’t obey you anymore. You settled for a feeble grin. “You saved me.”

“No.” She carefully examined the dagger in your leg. “I almost failed to protect what is rightfully mine.” Very, very gently, she meticulously drew the weapon out from piercing you, hovering a hand over and freezing the wound over before it could open and gush out. She couldn’t heal well, but it was a trick she’d learnt to shield injuries until a reliable healer was available.

“I already told you that you could never fail me.”

“I would have failed myself.” Throwing the dagger a distance away, she rested a hand on your shoulder. If you stayed very still, you could feel her tremble. “When I heard you returned to the village, I was so afraid, I…”

You must’ve worried her terribly. You chewed on your bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Jill looked at you, almost looking like a lost child. After a few moments, when it finally settled in that you were alright, you were safe, she finally smiled again.

As the both of you journeyed back to the village for a healer, you pondered on it: it seemed like whenever you called for her, she would always find you.

Somethings Never Change, Feelings Never Fade 2/?

Word count: 1.9K

TW: mentions death, smoking

Part 2: All things come in due time

The Hideaway

It’s been five years since that fateful day that I joined Cid. I was quite surprised when I had realized that Isabelle had been planning for me to join Cid all along. He had known about me for quite some time and was only waiting on my coming of age to take me under his wing. From there he trained me daily in combat but much to my dismay it seemed my talent lay more in medicine. I knew just enough combat to be a competent fighter but he thought it best I become an apprentice to his healer, Tarja. However, in certain instances he would allow me to scout alongside his right hand Gav, an incredible man with a knack for literally sniffing out leads but most of my days were spent with Tarja. Not to mention, being around Cid and Gav had me develop some unsavory habits which earned a daily admonishment from Tarja.

“Must you smoke in here?” Tarja chides sardonically.

“Apologies but if I’m not allowed at least one teensy pint of ale to soothe my frustrations then surely a quick smoke can suffice.” I grumble, pulling the cigar from my lips and putting it out immediately in an ashtray.

Groaning in slight agitation, she grabs the bridge of her nose to gently massage it. “Believe you me, I would love a drink but who knows what will be waiting for us when Cid returns.”

I sigh at her words, still fatigued from working overnight due to the crowd of bearers Cid had brought in the night prior. Tarja and I hadn’t slept a wink and the nerves were starting to get to me. I felt myself becoming more disgruntled with the lack of sleep. Sitting down on one of the beds, I place my elbows on my knees and hang my head.

“Ugh Tarja… Can I at least take a quick nap? If I can’t have a drink or smoke please let me rest for five minutes.” I whine as I look up to her with pleading eyes and a slight pout.

Caving in, she came to stand in front of me patting my head, “Fine, fine. I’ll wake you in five minutes. No more, no less.”

“Ah heavens above! You’re so good to me,” I beam as I hug her around the waist. She chuckles at my childness then pulls away as she pushes her hand against my forehead.

“Lay down before I change my mind.” She huffs as I swing my legs on to the bed and fall back onto the pillow with my hands behind my head. “I will wake you in five minutes.”

I nod my head lazily allowing the fatigue to set in and relax my body.

- Feeling a gentle nudge at my shoulder, I groan and roll to my side. The sleep was too good, I couldn’t get up. Not yet at least.

“Come on, get up. You know that was more than five minutes, Enza.”

“Yeah, so…?” I mutter trying my best to continue resting.

“Come on Enza. Cid should be returning shortly. I need you to start brewing some more tonics. Who knows, he may bring back more bearers again.” She’s nudging me more and more until I finally give in and open my eyes. As usual, she’s looking at me with a slight scowl and her arms crossed. Stretching my arms and legs out, I take my time sitting up and let out a boisterous yawn.

Swinging my legs off the bed, taking my time attempting to collect my hazy thoughts. I yawn again and stretch my arms up feeling the joints pop, “Founders… I really needed that.” Finally standing up, I do my best to shake the drowsiness but with the many all nighters we had been pulling recently I knew this feeling was going to linger for a while.

Releasing a deep sigh I began my search around the infirmary for my mortar and pestle, trying to remember where I had put them. I was running low on herbs and hopefully with the return of Cid and Goetz they would have some supplies ready for use. That last group of injured bearers nearly depleted all of the inventory in the infirmary.

“Tarja, you know we’re nearly out of herbs… Also, I found my mortar but I can’t seem to find my pestle… Hmm where did I put it?” I groan, digging through drawer after drawer, “I know it’s somewhere…”

Tarja chuckles before coming to me and placing a hand on my shoulder, “It’s where you leave everything.”

I smile sheepishly as I scratch my head “In my chamber?”

“Exactly. Come, we can check with Charon to see if she has any supplies that we can use for now and also stop by your chambers.” Nodding in agreement, I follow Tarja out of the infirmary down the dimly lit halls of the Hideaway.

Who knew that the next place I would call home would be a dingy ruin.

As we traverse the halls it slowly becomes brighter as we near the main hall of the Hideaway. Finally making it to the stairs, Tarja notices three men standing around, idly chatting. Cid, Goetz, and some random soldier.

“You’re back.” Tarja drawls as she slowly descends the steps with me in tow.

“Ah, Tarja… Enza.” Cid replies looking to us with a smile.

Before I can greet him Tarja is speaking, “And this is the Dominant?”

Cid nods gesturing to the passed out woman on Goetz’s back, “Out cold since we found her. I was hoping you might give her a look over.”

Not sparing a moment Tarja signals for Goetz to follow her, “Alright. Goetz, get her upstairs.”

Seeming a little flustered Goetz looks over to where Charon is currently preoccupied with the hound that had been following Cid around.

“B-But Nan wil–”

Cutting him off she rushes to Goetz pulling him along, “Don’t fret about Charon. I’ve taken care of her fee.”

“All of it?” Goetz questions, still reluctant to follow Tarja.

“Aye,” Tarja nods as she looks to me, “Enza, tend to Cid. Make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid to hurt himself.” And like that she’s ascending the stairs in a rushwith Goetz in tow.

“Of course.” I mumble turning back to Cid as he speaks to the soldier.

“You’ve nothing to worry about.” He reassures the soldier.

“He might not but I do, you old bastard. You know your curse is nearly at its limit! And I’ve half a mind to leave you be… but Tarja says otherwise.”

Cid chuckles coming to me with open arms showing that he was fully intact with no scars or wounds, “Me? I’m fine. A little lightning every now and then won’t kill me.”

I scoff slapping his chest, “Fucking hell every now and then is becoming too frequent. Let me have a look at you.”

Cid chuckles, raising his hands in mock defense, “A bit too early to be this pissy, eh?”

Huffing I lunge for him right as he grabs my shoulders now laughing loudly and trying to calm my already frayed nerves, “Relax lass! I promise I’m fine. How about you tend to our guest, maybe show him around the Hideaway,” Cid winks before backing away to show the man who stood awkwardly watching us.

I roll my eyes before focusing on the man behind him, the scowl instantly dropping from my face. My heart was racing and my ears full with the thrum of my heartbeat and my thoughts swimming.

“No… It can’t be… you’re dead.”

The man steps forward as if he’s also seen a ghost. It’s as if time stopped. Was this real..?

“Kadenza…”

“Clive… Is it really you? You’re… you-” I can’t find the words, a choked sob leaves my lips as I drop to my knees. He rushes to me and kneels, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“Kadenza… you’re alive… you made it out.” He whispers as he pulls back to examine my tear stained face. “I thought everyone was gone but you’re here. You’re safe.”

My shoulders heaved as sobs left my lips, “I can’t believe it’s you,” I threw my arms around his shoulders as he held me tightly, “Founders- I’ve missed you so much.” Pulling away I gaze into his eyes before pressing my forehead to his.

-

An unexpected reunion but quite welcomed. Shortly after my reunion with Clive I learned that the Dominant of Shiva was Jill. Both of them safe and here within my reach. For nearly thirteen years I had thought they were gone but they were here. They were alive and we all could finally have a proper reunion once Jill awakens... But even in that joyous moment their presence still couldn't fill the void that Joshua left. No matter how grateful I was for them to be alive and well, I couldn’t help but miss my childhood companion. The world somehow always felt emptier without his presence. I missed him.

Sitting outside, I watch as shadows cast on the entrance of the Hideaway. The cloudy sky is a nice blanket to cover the harshness of the sun while a gentle breeze makes its way through the valley.

“So you say it was another Eikon of fire that killed Joshua?”

Clive shifts beside me as he glances down at the palms of his hands, “Yes. That night at Phoenix Gate... Joshua primed and not too long after the second Eikon of flames appeared…” His open hands slowly clenched into fists as his face contorts in pain, “All I could do was watch …”

Reaching my hands out I place them over his own, hoping to soothe him even if just by a little, “It was not your fault, Clive.”

He doesn’t look at me, only shaking his head in disagreement. “I was his shield and I couldn’t protect him. He asked me to stay with him but I left his side thinking I was doing my duty… and he died… alone… begging for me. I can still hear his voice.”

“Oh Clive,” I embrace him and hold him close as his shoulders begin to tremble. “You only did what you could. Joshua wouldn’t want you to blame yourself and you know that.”

“I don’t know…” he mutters from where his head rests on my shoulder.

Drawing back from the hug, I hold him at a distance. The sorrowful expression he wore pierced my heart. I would never be able to understand how deeply that moment affected him but I knew I could share in his pain, for I missed the one I cherished most.

“Joshua was my dearest friend, Clive. I know with your strength you can avenge him. You’ll take down the fiend that took him from us… And when you’re done… You, me, and Jill can visit Rosalith to finally put his spirit to rest.”

Through wet lashes, Clive peers at me with a slight upward tilt to his lips. Not much of a smile but far better than the sullen look from before.

“I will find him. I promise.”

Rising from my spot, I stretch my hands into the air and release the breath that had been bottled up in my chest. I feel lighter.

“Give em hell when you do. Promise me that.”

I hear a deep chuckle from where Clive sits before he speaks, “Of course.”

moonbow

Joshua x Reader

544 words, fluff

Summary: Joshua has a nightmare and wants you to comfort him.

-------------

A shake on your shoulder gently woke you up from your sleep.

Your eyes blinked open groggily. Was it already time to wake up? Before you could roll over and groan, pathetically pleading for another five more minutes, you realised the room was as dark and quiet as the night usually was. From where you laid on your bed, through the window next to you, the stars were still scattered across the sky. It wasn’t time to wake up yet. Something was amiss.

“I’m sorry. It’s still early.”

Early was an understatement. Eyes half-open, you turned your head to meet a misty blue gaze. “Mmhm,” you replied eloquently.

Joshua smiled at your reaction the way an adult would when a child did something silly—but his brows were creased. He must be worried about something.

He had been squatted beside your bed, but after you showed signs of being awake, he got up and sat with his hand pressed on the mattress, close enough to your face that you could see the fine lines and ridges along his skin.

“I had a dream about you,” he said, in a strangely quiet voice.

At that, your eyes widened a fraction. “You want to do it now?”

“I didn’t mean that kind of dream.” Oh. “...I had a nightmare.”

About you?

Rubbing the drowsiness out from your eyes, you heaved yourself up so you could look at him face-to-face. The moonlight from the window cast onto him, a perfect spotlight—for a brief moment, you thought he was an ephemeral creature who would shatter if you so much as blinked.

An ephemeral creature who’d had a nightmare about you, though. What was it? That you’d manifested into an ugly monster? That you’d died, or maybe that you’d turned on him, betrayed him and killed everyone he held dear? What should you say to him?

You slid your hand along the bed to interlock your fingers with his. “What happened?”

Joshua breathed, then fidgeting, looked away and at the opposite door like he’d done something wrong. “I dreamt that…” he was mumbling uncharacteristically, struggling to get the words out, “...you’d fallen in love with someone else.”

The stars outside were twinkling.

Your cheeks ballooned with silent laughter.

“Do not laugh at me,” he whined, even though he hadn’t even been looking at you.

“You know that would never happen, right?”

He turned his head back to look at you. Your shoulders were shaking with stifled giggling. “You are laughing at me now,” he grumbled.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant,” you tightened your fingers’ grip on his, leaning forward, “your nightmare. It’s silly.”

He rolled his eyes until they were half-lidded; you thought his eyelashes looked so long and pretty that way. Then he leaned forward, bumping the crown of his head against the front of your shoulder. “I want to hear it from you directly.”

You sighed, smiling helplessly, bringing your arms up to wrap around him in a hug. It almost felt like you were consoling a child. “I love you. Only you.”

Joshua remained still for a few seconds, and you started to wonder if that hadn’t been enough to appease him, when he slowly reached his arms out to coil around your waist.

“I love you, too.”

did you know?

Joshua Rosfield x Reader

5340 words, fluff

Summary: Word on the street was the Archduke had a favourite amongst the Shields of Rosaria.

(AU where Rosaria is somehow defended and that bitch Anabella dies too. god I hate her so much)

-------------

The room felt oddly cold, for one that housed the Warden of Fire.

“I must apologise, but I cannot accede to your request at this point in time.”

You’d seen the man knelt before Joshua many times before. His silvery hair was styled rather asymmetrically, braided on the left and loose on the right, so his appearance particularly stood out to you. Not that you quite remembered his name or who he was, apart from being a representative of Waloed. Joshua always treated him dismissively, and so did you.

His demeanour was usually placid, but you observed the way his shoulders were much too tense. Without raising his head, he slowly said, “I implore you, Lord Rosfield—my master grows weary of waiting. Surely you could entertain a single meeting with him?”

Right, the King of Waloed had been wanting to meet Joshua for a while now. In the past year, this man whose name you did not remember showed up like clockwork every month, bringing the same request every time and going home with the same rejection every time. You recalled that in the beginning these requests had been sent via mail, but after one too many times of Joshua putting it aside on his desk and saying I’ll respond to him later nonchalantly, this nameless man started showing up at Rosalith Castle’s doorstep.

“Please understand, Sir Harbard—I would love to speak with your king, but my duties as the Archduke have my hands full.” Oh, his surname was Harbard. Joshua clasped his hands on his lap. “As I have mentioned before, at the earliest opportunity, I will be more than happy to arrange something with him. But now simply isn’t a good time.”

Your neck felt a little itchy, but you resisted the urge to rub it for the sake of looking professional.

This time, Harbard raised his head, brows creased. “Forgive my saying so, but this cannot wait any longer.”

“And you must forgive me as well, as my answer would have to remain the same.”

Harbard’s once composed gaze morphed into something resembling a glare, but not quite yet. “I must warn you that my king is not above the means of using aggression as a form of communication—”

He didn’t get to finish speaking. In the next second you were in front of him, sword unsheathed and the tip of its blade prodding his throat, almost provoking him to continue speaking. For the first time he looked up at you, meeting your blank gaze.

“Commander, please…” Joshua called placatingly from behind you.

Your retreat wasn’t explicitly ordered, but you knew that was what he meant. Of course, you’d only been following what you were taught—subdue all imminent threats before they become a real danger—but following the Archduke’s words preceded that, so you wordlessly sheathed your sword and backed away to your original position behind Joshua.

Joshua just waved a hand to signal the end of his audience. “Thank you for your warning, but I suppose this concludes our meeting. Please relay my words to your king.”

Harbard looked like he was biting back a retort, but he pulled a graceful smile taut on his lips and rose to his feet. “Of course. I thank you for your attention.”

He turned to the door to leave. The two guards standing by the exit stepped forward to flank his side, escorting him out of the room. You wondered if you should follow in the event that he caused any trouble, but your assignment was to stay by the Archduke’s side, so your eyes trailed after him as the doors shut on their backs. He’d be back, evidently, be it in a peaceful or hostile manner the next time.

With the guest gone, you finally took the opportunity to stretch your stiff limbs, before glancing over at Joshua. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep ignoring him?”

Joshua looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I have yet to ascertain their goal, so it’s best to refrain from doing anything with him for now.”

“He just threatened you with war, though.”

“If his goal was conquest, then his loyal servant wouldn’t be here every month to beg for an audience.” He leaned forward, palm cradling his cheek. “And he has yet to turn up personally. He seems to want to meet elsewhere—anywhere but Rosaria. Is he looking to create a distraction? Or could he have another goal?”

You snort. “He sounds rather annoying.”

“Better annoying than dangerous.” Joshua stood up from his seat, and you toddled along to his side. “I’ve ordered investigations on it, but it’s still too early to say anything.”

That was a first. “Investigations by who?”

He regarded you with a coy smile, which you had learned he did when he was about to feed you a half-truth. “Secret subordinates.” Then he raised a hand and pinched you on the cheek. Not enough to hurt, but you winced in surprise. “But I must say, threatening one of our guests’ life at the first provocation? You could stand to be a little less protective.”

It was against the regulations to defy the Archduke, and you assumed pulling away from him counted as that, so you settled for a grumble. “It’s my duty…”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Joshua made for the doors, and you followed him closely to exit.

By tradition, the First Shield was the one who was always by the Phoenix’s side. That would be his brother, Clive, and not you, a regular commander. And it would’ve been so if Clive hadn’t awoken as Ifrit, which had led to Clive often being dispatched to all over Valisthea instead. You weren’t privy to the exact details, but he’d been investigating the Blight and the Mothercrystals and also settling some scuffles as a sign of diplomacy. He’d become just as important and prominent as the Archduke himself, and he was also not burdened with illness, so he often took more trips out in Joshua’s place.

It wasn’t official, but you seemed to always be the stand-in personal guard for Joshua whenever Clive was gone, and attended to your regular duties whenever he had returned. Although, more and more often you would have to be with Joshua even when Clive was back, and you would see him accompanying Jill. You didn’t really mind. It wasn’t a difficult position. If anything, you seemed to be around less for Joshua’s protection and more for his entertainment.

“Did you know that these flowers used to be ground and used for cosmetics?” Joshua gestured to a row of bushes lining the corridor on the side.

“Oh?”

“Then they were claimed to cause rashes, so their purpose in recent times are purely decorative.”

“I didn’t know that.”

You felt like your duty was actually to just stand around and listen to him babble about something or other that he’d read or heard the other day. You didn’t mind it that much.

Joshua turned his head to face you. You kept your eyes trained in front so the both of you didn’t walk into something. “My brother should be returning tonight or tomorrow morning.”

Really? You felt like he hadn’t left long ago. “So soon?”

“It’s been a few weeks, actually,” Joshua corrected. Then, mischievously: “Perhaps you’ve become too accustomed to my side?”

You held his arm and guided him around a corner before he could walk into a wall, then let go of it. “No, I must’ve just lost track of time.”

“Yes, of course,” he agreed, and not sounding like he agreed with you at all. His tone soon turned sour. “We also have to discuss that ball coming up, so after he’s returned, you may return to your regular position for the time being.”

It was no secret that Joshua was not a fan of parties, but unfortunately, his ancestors must have been. They’d made it a tradition to celebrate the day of the formation of the Grand Duchy of Rosaria, which had been established by the unification of several small independent provinces. And perhaps to highlight this very undertone of strength in numbers, they usually invited people and nobles from all over Valisthea. Waloed was most likely not on the guest list, to the king’s probable chagrin. Neither of the Rosfield brothers were inclined to the idea of the grand ball, but breaking a tradition that had been upheld for generations would be alarming at best, so they begrudgingly put up with it.

Two soldiers were stationed along the corridor. Upon seeing the both of you, they saluted. You bowed your head and Joshua nodded at them.

“I had heard preparations for that were already completed,” you said idly.

“For the most part, yes. But events like these attract droves of people from all over Valisthea, and I can assure you a good portion of our men would be too lost in the sense of celebration to be on guard.” He walked closer to you, bumping his arm against your shoulder. In a lower voice, he continued, “Wouldn’t it be so tempting to break through using that window, if you were the enemy?”

You stared ahead at the nearest corner to turn at. “You said Waloed wouldn’t turn aggressive.”

“It’s unlikely, not impossible.”

Ugh. You wished you had lopped off that—what was his name again?—asymmetrically-haired man’s head back there, though more out of frustration than as a calculated move. Every time you heard about Waloed, you had to stifle a groan.

The scurrying of footsteps sounded up ahead. A servant rounded the bend, panting with a jog, envelope clutched in their hand. When he caught sight of Joshua, he lit up and straightened his hunched back, slowing his pace drastically.

“Your Grace.” He halted and then bowed, stretching out both arms to present the envelope to him. It was a little crumpled. “This is addressed to you. It says it’s urgent.”

Joshua stopped in front of him, and you mimicked his action. He peered over at the envelope curiously. It was indeed addressed to him, with a very tacky looking URGENT, and signed off by Cid.

“Ah, it’s from Cid.” The name was unfamiliar to you. Joshua plucked the envelope from the servant’s hands between two fingers. “Thank you.”

After hastily bowing again, the servant retreated the way he had come. Joshua hummed and pocketed the envelope, looking not at all ruffled by a letter that supposedly conveyed an emergency, and continued strolling down the corridor.

Puzzled, you skittered to catch up with him. “Are you not going to open it now? It’s urgent, isn’t it?”

Joshua looked down at you, gait uninterrupted and unbothered. “Oh, Cid always writes that. If it were truly urgent, he’d have sent someone.”

You frowned and cocked your head. “What kind of person is he?”

He chuckled, ruffling the hair on the top of your head. “Wouldn’t you like to know, my dearest commander?”

-------------

Clive had returned, so the next day, as usual, you were discharged to regular commander duties.

The open sky scrolled overhead, clouds dotting over them like merry sheep in an azure field. A breezy zephyr trilled its way around the castle courtyards; present enough to be pleasant, but not strong enough to mess up your hair and get in the way. Grunts and laughter from soldiers sparring, harmonised with the hard sound of wooden sword against wooden sword, echoed and bounced off the walls eagerly.

You readjusted your grip on the wooden handle of your sword and wiped away a dribble of sweat on your chin with the back of your hand.

The soldier in front of you swung down at you again, an action that you had seen from miles away, and blocked it with a parry of your own sword.

Too slow to catch you off guard, and not strong enough to knock you off balance. You opened your mouth to give feedback, but before you could get any words out, he spoke first.

“Say, Commander, is there anything going on with you and the Archduke?”

You let go of the parry, swinging away from the arc of his remaining slash and throwing his balance forward and momentum off, then completed your spin by slamming the flat side of the wooden sword at his knees. He yelped and collapsed sideways, and you had more than enough time to direct the blunt edge of the blade against his neck, stopping just short of nicking it.

He winced. “Not the prodigy commander for no reason, eh?”

“Distraction is fatal in battle, you know,” you remarked, bumping the sword against his jaw before stepping away.

He huffed, recovering from the shock and moving to sit on his bum on the dirt. “That wasn’t a real battle, y’know.”

“I should pray that you don’t think up of some rubbish like that in a real battle.”

“Grumpy as always…” But he had some sort of stupid amused grin on his face. You offered a hand and helped to pull him to his feet. “Well, what’s your answer?”

You raised your wooden sword so that it was level to your face, smoothing out the dented edges. “I don’t answer nonsensical questions.”

“C’mon, don’t pretend,” he continued drawling. “He only ever asks you to stand in for the First Shield, out of all our commanders. And he’s a nice guy and all, y’know, but he doesn’t talk even a quarter as much to any of us than he does to you. Hard to not notice.”

Tapping on your palm with the sword, you furrowed your brows at him. “That’s strange. I hit you in the knees, so why are you acting like I hit you on the head?”

“But he’s right, Commander,” some other dastardly nosy soldier piped up, obviously not busy training and eavesdropping on you two instead. You turned to the soldier who was resting by the fence a few feet away. “We can keep a secret!”

“There’s nothing going on. I know my place.”

“What about him? Don’t you think he fancies you?”

You looked at him incredulously. “What sort of rumours have been going around? Shouldn’t I report this as insubordination?”

You wouldn’t, and they also knew you wouldn’t, so the soldier carried on. “His Grace has never shown interest in anyone else, right? You’ve been with him for pretty long, right?”

A decade? Maybe a little more than that? You hadn’t actually cared to count. You’d been brought in to train as a knight after some of the adults had witnessed your spectacular talent in combat, but during the Night of Flames, you had still been a child, and had been protected from the battle like one. Afterwards, you only heard the tale via word of mouth. The battle between Ifrit and Phoenix had somehow wreaked enough havoc to force the enemy to retreat, and then the story became ambiguous from there. But Rosalith successfully defended itself, albeit suffering heavy losses. Clive had awoken after a few weeks, and Joshua after a few years, but both of them had slept through the angry mob of Rosaria, rioting against their mother’s betrayal and then burning her at the stake. Probably for the better that they hadn’t witnessed that.

By the time Joshua had awoken, you’d already clawed your way up in the ranks of knighthood. With both brothers being able to prime, it seemed unwise to have them stuck together all the time, so even as the First Shield, Clive often went off elsewhere. You hadn’t been a commander at that time, but with the sad dregs left of the Rosarian army and your outstanding capabilities, they’d assigned you to guard him anyway.

“I don’t think so… what do you mean by ‘been with’?”

Before they could spout anymore of their foolery, you heard someone call you from a distance. You turned to the direction of the source and found Joshua and Clive, standing under the shelter of the corridor, waving you over.

“Speak of the devil,” the soldier you’d been sparring with mused.

You shot him a dirty look before traipsing over to them.

Sometimes when Clive had just returned at the gates of Rosalith, he would look very tired and very haggard, so seeing him in freshly pressed and blood-free clothes was always nice. You weren’t as familiar with him as you were with Joshua, so you took care to bow first, and he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

“I hope I haven’t interrupted anything?” Joshua tilted his head at you.

“No, you came at a good time.” Saved you from them becoming more aggressive in trying to wrangle anything out of you.

He raised a hand and placed it on top of your head. “You must’ve been working hard. Have a rest.” You heard the telltale jingle, and the Phoenix’s flames of rejuvenation washed over you. The soreness in your muscles melted away and every nerve in you sparked with renewed life. “I thought I should let you know first—I’ll need you to be with me during the ball. My brother has… other matters to attend to.”

Other matters probably being that Jill had a free hand and no dance partner that night, if you had to hazard a guess. “I see.”

“This wouldn’t pose any problems, would it?” He removed his hand from your head.

If he didn’t need you, you’d probably be stationed elsewhere outside for guard duty, anyway. “Not at all.”

“Thank you for taking care of my brother all the time.” Clive’s smile always looked genuine.

You nodded. “It’s my pleasure.”

“If he’s being too pushy or causing you any problems, you can come straight to me. I’ll handle it.”

“Clive…” Joshua protested.

“Of course, I will.”

Joshua made a sulky expression, evidently displeased that the two of you had turned on him. Clive patted him on the shoulder unhelpfully, then steered him away and left you to return to your sparring. A non-issue for you, since Joshua had eased away all your scrapes and fatigue from your earlier session.

Touching the top of your head with your own hand, you stared after their retreating backs.

You’d admit to no one but yourself that you were a little curious.

-------------

Although, being curious and actually getting answers were two different things.

Having seen it for years by now, the grand ball celebrating the formation of Rosaria didn’t quite faze you anymore, but it would always be quite the sight. Joshua had once described it as a garden steeped in a myriad of colours, sprawling with diversity, and you had thought he was waxing too much poetry, but he was right. Even though they were all dressed for the same event, it was obvious even to your unrefined eye; the differences in their updos, the cuts in their garments, the way they were poised and how they interacted—they came together as an amalgamation you could only awe at from a distance. You’d never see a sight like this anywhere else in Valisthea.

Though, to you, that was just what it was reduced to: at best, a lively sight. All the guests here could enjoy themselves, but you were more attentive to how a man draped in white stumbled a little too close to the table, a woman hiding something under the fluffy layers of her skirt (it was food), a particularly rugged man lingering far too long at the utensils. No one noticed how you were watching them like a hawk, and if they glanced in your direction, their focus would probably fall on the Archduke sitting diagonally in front of you.

Speaking of him, he turned in his chair and touched your idle fingers. You glanced down at him from where you stood. “Don’t be so tense, dear commander.”

“It’d be troublesome for me if you suddenly got assassinated.”

He smiled at you, amused. “That’s very unlikely. Something like that would reward the perpetrator with nothing but hostility from the whole of Valisthea.”

In particular, you were looking out for any silver-haired man with a strange asymmetrical haircut. The Kingdom of Waloed was like a boisterous child who had no problem stirring up trouble with anyone and everyone.

You also knew Joshua was so stubborn that he put every mule to shame, so you just said, “Right, of course.”

Your gaze briefly fell on a mop of black hair amongst the sea of people, followed by a swish of cascading grey hair. Clive and Jill seemed oblivious to everything around them and had that silly drunk smile at each other despite being completely sober. (Clive had promised not to drink, should anything happen.) In the past, there would be droves of women flocking to Clive’s side—you supposed he seemed a tad more approachable without the title of Archduke—but in recent years, Jill would never leave his side at parties. The envious eyes that followed her didn’t escape your notice, but it was Jill, so she could handle herself.

Fingers grasping Joshua’s hand, you guided it back towards the tabletop. Without releasing it, you blinked down at him. “When do you suppose the First Shield is going to announce his engagement to Lady Jill?”

Joshua fixed you with wide eyes. “They aren’t engaged.”

“Why aren’t they? They behave like they are.”

“Well…” Joshua was mulling over it like trying to explain an advanced concept to a child. You definitely weren’t a child, though. “He will in due time, I suppose? There have been a lot of unsettling matters as of late. I expect he will once things settle down.”

At this rate, you thought Jill just might take the reins into her own hands. You cocked your head silently and let go of Joshua’s hand and stood up straight again.

It probably wasn’t good practice to be chatting with a Shield so long in front of guests, after all. Most of them had already greeted Joshua, so they weren’t paying much attention to either of you. If it were the time for politics, they certainly would be, but in the time of party and dancing they would much rather relax and soak in the atmosphere elsewhere. He did speak to some of them briefly whenever he got up to serve himself more food (he refused to let a servant help him with that) but you thought it was probably to distract others from the fact that he was demolishing the desserts. Even now he was delicately slicing at a gargantuan piece of chocolate cake.

Your eyes followed a lady who was regarding her dance partner with a giddy smile.

“You aren’t interested in getting engaged, Your Grace?”

Joshua coughed loudly.

“Did you not take your medicine again?” You started digging in your pocket. The healer always left you some whenever you were assigned to him.

He raised a hand, the other covering his mouth, and you paused. The look he gave you after was almost exasperated. “Why… Why are you curious about that?”

“You are of age, but you always turn down any nobles interested in talks of becoming betrothed.”

“That’s… true, but…” The well-spoken Archduke was floundering for words.

“And you don’t appear to be interested in courting anyone, either.”

“I don’t?”

“No?”

Joshua looked at you flatly.

You frowned. “Are you perhaps interested in men?”

Reaching for a napkin, Joshua dabbed at the corner of his mouth even though it was clean. “Could I ask that we table this conversation for later?” He seemed to have composed himself.

A low, outsider voice interjected, “No, no, now I’m awfully curious, too. What’s your answer? Your Grace?”

You barely had time to scold yourself for losing focus on your original task, hand whipping to the hilt of your sword. Your stance was interrupted by Joshua leaping out of his seat, eyes big with pleasant surprise at the man in front of his table. He held a hand out for a handshake. “Cid! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Then, after a brief pause, he added, “I don’t recall sending you an invite.”

Vaguely recalling that was the name of the person who’d sent Joshua a not-urgent letter, you scanned him up and down. His attire seemed entirely too casual and it was apparent that he hadn’t made any effort to dress for the occasion, and the smell of alcohol was radiating off of him, but his posture and every muscle seemed far too relaxed. He didn’t seem in a good condition to attack, anyhow.

“You didn’t,” Cid affirmed, grasping his hand back. “I’m quite hurt.”

“I apologise, but having an outlaw around here seemed less than ideal.” Joshua was in correspondence with an outlaw? “But you’re already here, I suppose. Did you come here in search of something?”

Cid waved a hand dismissively. “Not tonight, Lord Rosfield. Tonight I’ll be but a simple man luxurying in life’s simplest and greatest pleasures.” He must be here for the free ale, judging by the sloshing mug in his other hand.

Maybe Joshua didn’t catch on to that, because he looked a little confused. “I see.”

Turning his attention to you instead, Cid extended a hand for another handshake. “This young lady here glowering at me must be the Shield I’ve heard so much of.”

If you really had been glowering at him, you were sure your expression was now a perplexed one. Hesitantly, you accepted his firm hand. “You’ve heard about me?”

Cid shrugged. “Genius knight, one of the youngest ever to achieve the title of a commander, the most favoured of the Ar—”

Joshua suddenly batted at Cid’s hand like a cat did at something unpleasant, breaking the grip between the two of you. Wearing a very taut smile, he circled around the table and placed a hand on Cid’s shoulder. “It’s been a while since you’ve last seen my brother, Cid. Would you like to go greet him?”

Cid grinned at him knowingly. “I never pegged you as a coy one. But it would be my utmost pleasure to, Lord Rosfield.”

The two of them pulled off into the crowd, and you plodded after them carefully. The idea of an outlaw roaming around in the walls of Rosalith didn’t sit quite right with you, but no one seemed to be paying him any heed, so maybe it was okay? There was an unspoken rule of no conflict or violence at this celebration of unity as well, so perhaps anyone with grievances against him would hold it back just for tonight.

They located Clive, and shared a few words that you didn’t fully listen to, with your eyes trained on the surrounding people instead. You only caught whiffs of information like how this uncouth man was actually the Dominant of Ramuh, and they had some plan or other that involved the Mothercrystals and the Blight. If it was something you needed to be involved in, Joshua would tell you, so you tuned out their drones and honed in on your task.

After a while, when they had finished, Cid wandered off again outside for a smoke, and Clive and Jill retired themselves into a secluded balcony. Joshua turned to you, tugging on your hand.

“If you feel worn out, I could call someone to stand in for you.”

This was hardly anything. “I would be more concerned about yourself.”

The rest of the night passed without incident. It was a good thing all of Joshua’s concerns had been unfounded. The guests streamed out of the ballroom in trickles, and you followed Joshua as he went to bid them farewell at the castle gates. It must’ve been hours past midnight by the time they had all left, and although you were accustomed to long working hours, the same probably didn’t go for Joshua’s poorer constitution.

Unexpectedly, he inclined his head towards you. “Would you care to go on a little walk with me in the gardens?”

You sighed. “I wouldn’t be able to convince you to retire for the night, would I?”

Joshua pretended to give it some thought. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Then I don’t quite have a choice here.”

The stars behind in the sky decorated his almost cheeky smile, and you took you by the hand and started towards the empty gardens.

Servants and soldiers would be bustling here in the day, traipsing from one end to the other, tending to the plants, or simply taking a breather under the benevolent shelter of the gazebo. Somehow, after the Night of Flames, you felt like the gardens were even brighter, every stem and leaf spruced to verdant life. Stoned pathways snaked their way through the blanket of grass, but whoever had laid them out had done a good job in making them feel like decorations rather than an intrusion.

You knew this place like the back of your hand, but your interest was piqued again when you found a familiar flower, red petals curved outwards as if stretching lazily.

Slowing your pace, you gestured to it. “That’s the one you said used to be ground for cosmetics, right?”

Joshua’s gaze followed your hand, and he stifled a laugh. “Did you know you’re the only one who remembers everything I say?”

“It sounds a little depressing when you put it that way, so please don’t.”

“But it’s true.” He reached out to you, cupping your cheeks with his hands and angling your head upwards to face him. You didn’t flinch. “Also, did you know you’re a very important person to me?”

The moonlight made his golden locks glisten white.

You reached up to grab his wrists. “Of course, I knew that.”

His look softened. “Would my very important commander allow me to have this dance?”

This time, you averted your eyes. “I don’t know how to.”

The way of the sword was all you’d been taught, and fighting was nothing like the elegant and tranquil movements that belonged in a ballroom.

“I could teach you,” Joshua offered.

There was no music except for the buzzing of the crickets, but you didn’t see the harm. “Just for a short while.”

“Here, like this.” Stepping closer, he clasped both of your hands and positioned them outwards by your side the way you saw most people postured back in the ballroom. “Follow me. It’s fine if you happen to step on my feet.”

You found the motions unfamiliar, completely unlike the sharp and jarring reflexes you had during battle, but you still felt a tinge of deja vu. The way you kept your gaze locked at the ground to make sure your feet didn’t stumble reminded you much of your days when you’d first picked up the sword; untrained and uncertain. You were sure you looked nothing as graceful as the women were back there, and Joshua was probably practising extra caution to watch out for you, too.

The flowers in the garden smelled sweet.

You glanced back up at Joshua. “By the way, you never answered my question if you were interested in men.”

Joshua fumbled and trod on your boot. It barely hurt, but you huffed.

“My apologies. I…” He squinted at you like he was trying to figure something out. “I don’t understand why you could be so curious about this.”

“I already mentioned it, didn’t I? Are you not worried about finding a betrothed?”

He slowed to a halt, and you did the same. “It’s not that I’ve been avoiding it—I’ve simply been preoccupied with… other things, is all.”

You tilted your head. “I see. Then I’ll have to assume the rumours are true.”

Joshua blinked quizzically. “What rumours?”

“You must’ve heard of them. I’m talking about these.”

Your reflexes were always going to be much faster than Joshua’s—you dropped your hands along with his down to your sides, leaning forward until the tips of your noses met, sharing a breath. His pretty blue eyes were so wide, so confused, and for the first time in a while, a grin stretched itself out across your lips.

“Did you know? I’m not that oblivious.”

-------------

Author’s note: I’m not actually sure what the ranks of knighthood are, so I’m just going to say there are several commanders in the ranks and then one lord commander.

Also, Clive’s hair was styled in the flashback but became unkempt afterwards because he was pretty much a slave, so I wonder if he’d continue styling his hair as an adult in this kind of AU.