Stupid Cupid, YU fic for Valentine's Day. Read the warnings! Options

[Feral Phoenix]

WARNINGS: Wish fulfillment version of the end of the game, character spoilers, fluff, randomness, some Roswell angst in future chapters.

Pairings: Gulcasa/Yggdra, Milanor/Kylier, Zilva/Elena, Russell/Flone, Roswell/Rosary (although I don't know if that last one qualifies as "pairing", since they have a love/hate relationship and right now it's stuck on hate!)

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Stupid Cupid

DISCLAIMER: Roses are red, violets are blue, my muses are sadists and Cupid is too. But you guys are nice and won’t sue me, because I don’t claim any part of Yggdra Union. This is just what would end up happening if I did own it.

It was the beginning of the month of February, and the weather was unusually warm throughout the continental realms of Midgard. All the lands from Embellia to the northernmost regions of Bronquia had been blessed with a respite from the chill air and cutting winds that clearly said snow was on its way; the temperatures were as mild as they had been at the end of the summer season.

Fantasinia’s young Queen had happily taken this as a sign that some relaxation was due; hence, all parties involved in the many nations’ peace negotiations had decided to take a break for a month or so. The lesser nobles of Embellia, the elders of Lost Aries, and the Temple Knights of Lombardia had all gone home. The Royal retinue and the Imperial representatives had instead decided to stay in Karona, the castle town that lay on the Fantasinian side of the border between it and Bronquia. It was where the negotiations were taking place; the Queen and her friends stayed because a few of their number hailed from Karona, and the Imperials were staying because… well, no one knew exactly why. Aside from the fact that the Emperor didn’t seem to feel like going all the way home and then just having to come back again later.

At any rate, the people of Karona were happily playing hosts to their two sets of guests, and the various members of both entourages were strewn across the castle grounds doing whatever pleased them.

A group of four girls sat in one of the tower rooms, looking down into the gardens where a young couple walked arm in arm, talking animatedly back and forth: the Astral Fencer, Russell, and his fiancée, Flone. It was impossible to tell what they were saying due to the distance, but the happy glow surrounding them couldn’t be any clearer.

“Flone is so lucky,” sighed one of the girls, who sat at the windowsill with her face propped in her hands, toying with the bronze-colored feathers woven into her emerald-colored hair. “I bet she isn’t worried at all about what to do. The way they act, she knows Russell so well that getting his Valentine’s present shouldn’t be any kind of problem for her.”

“And she can probably just hand it to him without worrying, too,” lamented another, perched a short distance away, watching Russell and Flone out of the corner of her eyes. “It’s shameful, but… I can’t help but be a little… jealous…”

“Only a saint wouldn’t be able to help being jealous of those two, Elena,” a third girl informed the second. “Just look at them, so cozy it’s enough to make you absolutely sick with envy. Russell and Flone must be the one-in-a-million couple that actually gets that fairy-tale romance. Lucky.”

“Well, what kind of stress do you have about Valentine’s Day, Rosary?” the first girl asked, giving the most recent speaker a dirty look. “You’re confident and you can use your magic to cook if you’re worried about messing up. Plus half the guys in the castle are totally in love with you. You can make chocolates and give them to whoever you like.”

“There’s no one I want to give them to,” Rosary clarified with a frown, flicking her honey-brown hair over her shoulder with an elegant scowl. “No one here is really worthy of my interest. If there was a man around that I liked, maybe I would get something for him, but I don’t think I’ll be handing out any candy this year.”

“What about Roswell?” asked the fourth girl, silent up to this point where she sat hunched over a checklist, her silver tiara set at a skewed angle on her heavy blonde braids.

“What about him?” Rosary huffed, crossing her arms. “Why would I waste time, effort, and perfectly good chocolate on a man like that? Roswell is my rival, in case any of you have forgotten. And he is definitely not boyfriend material.”

The other girls in the room exchanged extremely unconvinced looks behind Rosary’s back.

“Anyway, what exactly are you doing over there, milady monarch?” Rosary asked, artfully arching one long and tapered eyebrow. “You’ve been running around like mad for the past several days now, and the rest of us would like to know what’s going on.”

“It’s for Valentine’s Day,” the girl said, sounding surprised. “I have to keep track of everyone. I don’t want anybody to get left out.”

“Oh, that’s right—you’re gonna try to get everybody chocolate, right, Yggdra?” the first girl asked, crossing her legs and looking at her companion with interest.

“Yes.” Yggdra beamed at her friends. “I don’t want a single person to feel left out. All the men here should get something special, shouldn’t they?”

“It’s such a kind thought,” Elena said with a smile. “I’m sure everyone will appreciate it.”

“I really can’t believe you’re doing this. It’s bad enough for Elena and me just wanting to give one present this time of year.” The first girl flopped onto her back and rolled over. “So… have you figured it all out yet?”

“Not quite…” Yggdra looked down at her list and tapped it, making a face. “There are a lot of people here who just don’t like chocolate and candy that much, like Cruz, and there are some I just don’t know well enough to decide what they would like. I want to ask around, but…”

“I’m sure Kylier, Elena, and I could help if you’re having trouble,” Rosary offered. “We could go interrogate people to find their interests. Or you could ask Flone. I’m sure she’s quite the expert on that kind of thing.”

“If I need help, I’ll be sure to let you all know,” Yggdra replied with a smile that clearly said she would do no such thing unless she was really in trouble. “Anyway… it’s getting closer than you would think, and I should probably get started on the things I’m already sure of.” She stood up, smoothed her skirts, straightened her crown, and bowed herself out of the room with her notes tucked under her arm.

The other three girls all sweatdropped.

“She talks around it, but she’s probably just stressing about what to give You Know Who,” Rosary said dryly. “Gods alone know what he likes to eat, but Yggdra’s just too stubborn, too stupid, too besotted, or a little of all three to let the issue lie.”

Kylier ran her hands through her hair. “Yeah… actually I kind of envy her. I’ve always thought that war and hate and revenge and all those things are crap, but I’m bad at letting things go, especially grudges. To think Yggdra managed to go from hating the guy to planning on giving him chocolate for Valentine’s Day in less than a year… it’s incredible. She’s really a forgiving person.”

“…That’s true,” Elena agreed. She paused, then turned to her friend. “…Kylier-san, have you decided on what you’re giving Milanor-san yet?”

Kylier promptly reddened and made a face. “Uh… yeah, I’m pretty sure. Hope it works out though. What about you?”

“I have everything ready, but…” Elena looked evasively to the side, her cheeks slowly growing pink. “I… I’m not sure how I’m supposed to give someone a Valentine’s Day gift.”

“I did it last year, so it’s not that big a deal for me, but…” Kylier made a face. “Boy, was I nervous then. I chickened out twice before I actually got up the nerve to give Milanor his present.”

“What did you do then?” Rosary asked, still teasing her hair between two fingers.

“I bought him chocolate. It felt a little cheap, though, so this year I’m going to try making some myself,” Kylier replied.

“By yourself?” Rosary asked, slowly beginning to smile.

“Of course by myself,” Kylier replied, her face reddening.

“Are you sure?” Rosary said slowly, smirking and raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, just shut up,” the green-haired griffon rider snapped, standing up and stomping out of the room.

There was a brief silence.

“You shouldn’t tease her like that, Rosary-san,” Elena ventured timidly.

“It’s fun to push people’s buttons.”

“…Maybe that’s why you haven’t been able to talk to Roswell-san without starting an argument ever since the two of you joined Yggdra-san’s army…” Elena shook her head.

Rosary scowled at her. “My idiot second cousin is just too sensitive. That’s all it is.” She stood up abruptly. “Have fun deciding how to ambush your beloved Zilva without me.” And she sashayed off, clearly miffed.

Elena sighed and slumped down, pressing her face into her knees.

“Valentine’s Day is going to be a total disaster this year…”

- - -

Meanwhile, another member of Queen Yggdra’s circle of friends was wandering happily through the castle halls, humming a happy tune to herself as she enjoyed the soft warm breeze floating through the archers’ slots along the walls. There was something special in the air, and it wasn’t just the weather—unfamiliar with human culture she might be, but she could feel it. Something wonderful was going to happen any day now.

“Hi, Nietchan! What’s up?”

Nietzsche the undine turned, surprised, to see that a blue-haired, blue-eyed girl had come up to join her. It was one of Yggdra’s valkyrie bodyguards, the five sword maidens specially trained to protect her since they’d all been children. Known as the Queen’s Flowers to the Royal military because they all had flower names, they looked so similar that Nietzsche still had trouble telling them apart—not only were they all sisters, but they were comprised of a pair of twins and a set of triplets.

“Nietzsche has a good feeling lately,” the undine replied cheerfully. “It’s like something really really good is just about to happen! I wonder why that is?”

The girl giggled. “Well, of course. Valentine’s Day is next week, isn’t it? Everyone’s busy getting ready!”

“Valentine’s Day?” Nietzsche blinked and cocked her head to one side. “What’s Valentine’s Day?”

“That’s right… you probably wouldn’t know, would you?” the sword maiden said, raising her eyebrows. “Well… Valentine’s Day is a special holiday that’s kind of like the day of love. Sometime on that day, a girl is supposed to give special chocolate to the person she likes. Then next month on White’s Day, that person has to give her something in return. Nietchan, you probably wouldn’t know since you’re from Embellia and undines don’t have the same culture as humans… but Valentine’s Day is really important to people here. Everyone’s really excited.”

“So… that means that everyone is planning on giving chocolate to the one they like best?” Nietzsche asked slowly. “And so… Yggdra and Kylier, and Rosary and Elena and Flone and everyone are all…?”

“Pretty much. If you want to know more about it, you should probably ask them—I’m not giving anyone chocolate this year, but they’ve probably all got plans. And Yggtan says she wants to give everybody something next week, so if you want to learn more, you can probably go help her with that.”

“Everybody? You can do that?”

“Well… Yggtan says she doesn’t want anybody to feel left out, so she’s giving generic chocolates to all the guys, but there is something special she wants to make for a certain someone, if you take my meaning,” the sword maiden said with a little smile.

“Oh-h-h,” Nietzsche replied, starting to grin. “Nietzsche understands!”

“Right? Well, there’s no better time for her to go around to figure out what she should give him. It’s really the only time she could do that without going up to ask him herself. She wants it to be a surprise.”

“Nietzsche thinks he’ll really be surprised!” the undine girl exclaimed, raising both arms into the air with a laugh. “It hasn’t even been long since he and Yggdra actually became friends. It’ll be fun!”

“Hn.” The sword maiden giggled. “I’m definitely with you there, Nietchan. And, maybe I’m reading into it too much, but… this could be really good for the negotiation. I mean, a relationship like that… doesn’t it seem like it would be a good omen for the times ahead?”

“…Yeah.”

“Well, I have to go track down my sisters so we can nag Yggtan into accepting some help,” the sword maiden told her. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay!”

As the other girl headed off down the hall, Nietzsche stretched and smiled to herself. “…So it’s a day of love, huh…?”

- - -

Meanwhile, hidden in a balcony above the hall where sword maiden and undine had just conversed, a certain pair of blonde valkyries turned to each other with dark looks on their faces.

“…This doesn’t look good, Luciana,” said the one with silk wrapped over the right side of her face in lieu of an eye patch. “You know how Gulcasa-nii is. If we let that girl get anywhere near him…”

“Then we won’t let her get anywhere near him,” the other replied stubbornly. “Don’t worry, Aegina. We’ll protect Gulcasa-nii no matter what.”

- - -

Across the courtyard from all this stood the tower where the Emperor and his escort had decided to stay for the duration of the negotiations. The top room, a circular, lavishly furnished bedroom with wide oriel-style windows overlooking the interior of the castle and the surrounding lands, was currently occupied by the Emperor himself and one of his companions.

Gulcasa sat on a bench with his back to said windows, polishing his armor, his expression blank with concentration and his long red hair pulled back from his face so his view wouldn’t be obscured. He was only up here to avoid the pathetic looks and whiny, incessant demands of “WHY do we have to stay here?” he knew he would get from his foster-sisters Aegina and Luciana if he ventured outside and they managed to find him. They probably wouldn’t bother him up here. This was his room, making it his territory and therefore taboo to anyone who hadn’t been invited.

Across the room from him, the blind mage Nessiah sat curled in the cushioned seat before the window that opened onto the courtyard, which he’d opened so he could enjoy the warm breeze from outside. His archaic golden spellbook lay open on his lap, with his hands resting on the pages. He was facing the open air, sitting with his bare feet up on the pillows and his chains trailing along the seat and out the window itself.

“So the Queen prepares her plans in secret to the displeasure of her estranged kin, while the Lady of the White Rose tries to deny her own heart, the brave of Lost Aries attempts a task she may not be able to perform, and our own young assassin gathers her courage…”

Nessiah sighed, stretched, and settled into a more comfortable position.

“Cupid certainly seems to be working overtime this year.”

Gulcasa looked over his shoulder at his friend, pausing in trying to wipe a persistent bloodstain off his breastplate. “…I’m sorry, did you say something? I couldn’t really hear you.”

Nessiah shook his head and smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told the Emperor with a soft chuckle. “It’s nothing.”

:TBC:

~Notes on the text~

Valentine’s Day, White’s Day: The customs described here are associated with the Japanese celebration of Valentine’s Day and White’s Day. More information on this can be obtained in basically any romance manga.

“Yggtan”, “Nietchan”, etc.: Yggdra’s bodyguards have silly nicknames like these for most of the Royal Army, as well as for Gulcasa and Nessiah. Some of these are the Japanese nicknames for the characters, while others were made up by the author.

“Gulcasa-nii”: Luciana and Aegina call Gulcasa “Your Majesty” in public, but when in private or when around those close to him, they call him “Gulcasa-nii” meaning basically “big brother Gulcasa”.

Timeline: This story basically takes place a few months after the game’s end. In typical Feral fluff style, since this is a romantic comedy rather than an angstfest, this means that a lot of people who died in YU’s plot survived the events where they were supposed to have been killed. (Aside from Nessiah, no one miraculously came back to life. And Nessiah only came back to life because that’s what he’s been doing since he got kicked out of Asgard—remember, according to the game’s plot he can’t die and stay that way. Feral doesn’t like to do that OMG resurrection thing, since it’s a standby of bad fanfiction.)

[Feral Phoenix]

Okay, next chapter going up now.

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Lady Rosary Esmeralda of the White Rose was pissed.

She was getting really annoyed with people always insinuating that she was too mean to everyone around her. It wasn’t her fault if people couldn’t take a little teasing—they needed to stop taking everything so personally all the time. She didn’t deserve to be made out as some kind of evil person just because she had a sense of humor.

Therefore, Rosary was not a happy camper in the least.

And, of course, her first action upon leaving the company of those who hinted at such nonsense about her was to go out in search of her favorite target so she could relieve her frustrations.

Roughly seven minutes ago, Roswell Branthese of the Black Rose had been lounging in a plush chair in Castle Karona’s study, reading an obscenely thick book and basically minding his own business. It had taken Rosary about two of those seven minutes to get him in the mood she liked him in best.

That was to say, he was now every bit as bitchy, defensive, flustered, and irritable as Rosary herself.

Rosary resisted the urge to smirk. It was always such a stress-reliever to shove her own troubles in the face of her eternally annoying cousin.

Roswell was two years older than her and a few inches taller, always robed in black and blue-green with the crest of his house pinned at his breast. His pale face was flushed with anger, his clear turquoise eyes were narrowed, his long and silky ash-brown hair was disheveled, and he was all but vibrating with sheer fury. Rosary had heard many girls whisper that Roswell was handsome and charming and kind, and when out of his hearing, she did admit that he was very good-looking, but she still preferred it when he was flustered, out of sorts, and trembling with the urge to whip out a weapon and start a real fight.

“I hate you,” the two of them squalled in unison as the other occupants of the room got well out of their way—they’d probably all heard of what the Lord and Lady of Verlaine were capable of when vexed.

“Why can’t you ever just leave well enough alone?” Roswell demanded, red-faced and indignant. “What is wrong with you that you always have to be at the center of some kind of contention? All you ever do is cause trouble—can’t you see that everyone around you is sick of it?!”

“A fine thing for you to say,” was Rosary’s retort as she tossed her hair and looked down her nose at Roswell with a derisive sniff. “You’ve been the source of everyone’s trouble since day one! But you’re too closed off in your own little world to even acknowledge that fact! Perfect little Roswell, who always has to come out on top of everyone else—you’re so arrogant, and of course you just go ahead and gloss right over the fact that you need more babysitting than anyone else in the Royal Army!”

“It’s a miracle that we’re even able to open up negotiations with Bronquia after everything you did during the war,” Roswell shouted, stabbing an accusatory finger in Rosary’s direction. “All those times you disobeyed orders, all those times you compromised our objectives—just because you had to satisfy your petty pride! Damn it, Rosary, what is going on with you?! You’ve changed so much! It’s as if you do all these things just because you know they hurt and endanger everyone around you—as if you’ve turned into someone cruel and cold who gets off on other people’s pain!”

Okay, that does it. Something popped in Rosary’s chest and her vision briefly flashed red. She was sick of everyone saying things like that about her. An ugly wave of hatred surged through her body, and before she could stop to think, she was yelling right back. “I endangered our objectives?! I carried my weight! I did what was necessary! It was better than all those times we had to cut our plans short just to rescue you! In Verlaine, in Paltina and Lost Aries and Ishnad and Flarewerk and even on Ancardia, everyone had to go running to save you because you were so weak! You were always making Yggdra worry and all that time I just wished we could leave you damn well behind! All those times when you nearly got killed, I wished you’d just stayed home instead of being such a burden! You’re so weak, you disgust me! What I really should’ve done back then, in Verlaine—I should’ve just let you die out there, since it was your own fault you let the Black Cavalry take your Ankh so easily! And that way I still would’ve had mine! I wish you’d just died out there! You’d be a lot more use to us dead than you would—”

And then she noticed the look on Roswell’s face, and caught herself, staring wide-eyed and silent, a little shocked that she’d let her worst thoughts all out at him at once like that.

He was standing there with such an expression of unguarded hurt, with all the color draining out of his face and his eyes blank with shock. For a few moments, he just looked so bewildered, so pained, that even Rosary began to regret what had just come out of her mouth. Then his eyes darkened, and his expression tightened, making him look for a second like a willful child suppressing tears—and he clenched his fists and brushed roughly past Rosary, sweeping silently out of the room.

I… I can’t believe I said that… Rosary stared after him. Did I… I think maybe this time I went too far…

Roswell…

With a start, Rosary realized that there were still people in the room, staring at her out of slightly nervous eyes. Whirling around irritably, she attempted to regain a bit of her composure. “Wh-what are you all staring at?! Hmph!!”

Crossing her arms, she stomped out of the study, flush-faced and secretly worried.

- - -

Kylier stood poised on the threshold, her entire body taut with the tension she felt, her hands balled into fists and a trickle of sweat running down the side of her face.

It’s no big deal, she tried to tell herself. You’re going to have to move forward sooner or later, right? This is for Milanor! So stop acting like a baby and get going!

Still, it was easier said than done.

Kylier had only felt like this once before in all her life—she’d had the same motivation and nearly the same fear then, and the results had been painful and had taken a long time to deal with. It was silly of her—this had nowhere near the weight, and the two situations were completely incomparable—but she couldn’t help but think of that day.

It had taken her a long, long time to wrestle around her suspicion, dislike, and jealousy towards Yggdra so that she could realize that the girl who was now one of her closest friends had truly not known what she was getting into when she’d decided to invade and, in effect, raze most of Bronquia. She’d seen the results of the Royal Army’s battles—villages in ruins, fields stained permanently red with blood, shellshocked families grieving for their lost loved ones—and her revulsion and horror had made her want to turn back. If not for the painstakingly arranged fresh graves she’d seen at every battlefield—obviously made with care by Yggdra, Milanor, and their companions—she would have lost the willpower to keep going. But she had—and it had been lucky for all of them that she’d decided to.

Kylier had arrived at the Imperial capital city, Flarewerk, to see that the Royal Army’s planned siege hadn’t been going too well. Yggdra and her troops had all run smack into the impenetrable Arc of Triumph that protected the city gates, and by the time Kylier got there, they were barely holding together. A furious, grief-stricken, and obviously desperate Gulcasa was ordering his elite troops forward, and the Imperial bombardier was blasting away at Yggdra’s forces with a magical artifact she’d later learned was one of the contentious Ankhs that had caused the chaotic civil war in Verlaine. The Royal Army had just about abandoned all attempts to get through the gate and was trying to hold a defensive formation around the seriously wounded Roswell, who had nearly killed himself using his own power to cause the other Ankh to implode.

There had only been one thing for Kylier to do, and so she’d gone ahead and done it—she’d attacked and destroyed the Ankh that was left, blowing a big hole in the gate and killing almost everyone around her. She’d been hurt pretty badly, and her poor faithful griffon, Al, had lost his life in the attack, but she’d done it for Milanor, and so she’d had few regrets.

But she’d been scared and jittery and unwilling as hell to actually go do what had to be done.

It was just plain shameful that she felt the exact same way about entering the kitchen.

I can do this—really, I can!

Kylier took a deep breath and stepped forward, unsuccessfully trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach.

Exactly what was it about this place that made it so damn intimidating? Kylier looked around, biting her lip. Castle Karona’s kitchen was state-of-the-art; many of the people who lived here, including Russell, enjoyed cooking a lot and made sure that they had everything they needed to play around with food to their hearts’ content. All the countertops were shiny marble, and from every wall hung a series of wooden and metal pots, pans, and various utensils whose names and purposes Kylier couldn’t begin to guess at, since she had never seen them once in her life.

I am so screwed.

Nevertheless, Kylier reminded herself that this was for Milanor, and ventured with shrinking steps up to the counter, fishing a wadded-up ball of paper out of her pocket.

“Ummm… let’s see. I need cocoa and sugar and flour and salt,” she said to herself, and headed for a wide double door she hoped was the pantry and not some weird storehouse of scary foreign cooking things. “And butter, and eggs. Why the hell do I need eggs anyway? I can’t crack eggs worth shit… and obviously I need a bowl to put it in and then a tray to bake it on.” Kylier moaned, but opened the doors and dug around for what looked like the things she needed. “…Okay, I think this is all it.”

Dumping her finds onto the counter, Kylier squinted at her set of scribbled instructions. “Melt butter, then add one pint cocoa, one cup each sugar and flour, salt to taste…” She frowned. “How much bigger is a pint than a cup? …Oh well. I guess I’ll just put in some of each and see what happens.” Biting her lip and hoping this wasn’t bad, Kylier dropped the half-melted stick of butter into her bowl, then shook brown and white powder from the three different bags she had on top of it in what she thought approximated pints and cups.

“Salt to taste… well… I don’t even know why you’d put salt in chocolate, but whatever.”

Kylier scooped out a fistful of salt and sprinkled it into the mix as well.

“Now the eggs.” Biting her lip, Kylier picked one up and timidly tapped it against the counter. Upon inspecting it, she saw that there wasn’t even the slightest crack in the shell.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? Aren’t eggs supposed to be fragile? Crack, already.” She hit it two more times with no results, then let the temper get the better of her and hit it hard.

The egg exploded all over the counter, fragments of shell nipping Kylier’s palm as the yolk and white oozed out between her fingers.

“Ewwwww!”

Kylier dove for the trashcan, shaking the gooey mess off as best she could, then opted for the sink instead. Under the running water, the scratches the eggshells had left started to sting.

“Ow! Gaaah, jeez, I hate this!”

After wiping the counter down with a cloth, Kylier eyed the remaining eggs distrustfully.

“Grrr… I’ll get you yet!”

This time, Kylier was more careful, and managed to open hairline cracks along the next two eggs so that she could slowly push the halves apart and drizzle the insides into the contents of her bowl. On the third and final egg, however, she pushed too quickly, and the shell collapsed with a crunch, sending egg squirting all over the bowl with little pieces of shell going with it.

“Uh-oh.”

After cleaning off her hands again, Kylier looked down at the bowl and sweatdropped. “There’s no way I can get all of those…”

She paused for a moment, then shook her head.

“But then, won’t they just break or something when I stir it, or melt or whatever when I cook it? …Besides, the way Milanor eats, he won’t even notice if there are little pieces of shell in there. I think.”

Even uneasier than before, Kylier shook the bowl a little to settle its contents, then started stirring the contents laboriously with a wooden spoon. After a few minutes, she glanced at the goo she had produced, made a face, and scraped it into the pan she’d gotten out.

“This really better work,” Kylier said to herself, and slid the pan of brown goo into the stove. After closing the door, she turned the dial to what she believed to be a reasonable temperature, sat down, and put her head in her hands as she watched warily. She didn’t entirely trust her concoction not to explode as soon as it started to heat up.

However, when a few minutes went by without chocolate spattering all over the inside of the oven, Kylier relaxed a little and pulled one of the few books she actually liked—“A Griffon Breeder’s Training Manual”—so that she could entertain herself while she waited.

She’d just made it to chapter three when the distinct smell of burning began to fill the room.

“Ack! What the hell—?!”

Leaping up, Kylier turned the oven dial back down and yanked the door open. Instantly, a gray cloud of smoke rose from its interior, rising up to spread throughout the room, carrying along with it the awful smell of burnt chocolate.

As Kylier stood and stared, frustrated and disbelieving, there was a knock at the side of the open door. “Kylier, are you in h—ah, ye gods…”

Kylier turned to see that Nessiah was standing at the other side of the room, pulling back from the smoke and covering a cough. “Agh… Ness…? Why—?”

“Your friends sent me to look for you,” he told her, raising his forearm to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve. “Ugh… they want to know if you want to come join them for dinner or—” He was cut off by another storm of coughing.

Kylier sweatdropped. “Sorry! I’ll, uh, I’ll open a window or something!”

Even after she’d pried both windows open and pushed them as wide as they would go, Nessiah was still coughing. “What are—ugh—what are you trying to…?”

“I keep trying to make things for Milanor, but…” Kylier carefully slipped on oven mitts and pulled out the pan, sending another big cloud of smoke wafting lazily through the room. Her would-be chocolate was crinkled, burnt at the edges, lumpy, and discolored. “I… don’t know why this keeps happening to me…”

Across the room, Nessiah winced. “Ky—agh… can we just… just go outside… please… this smoke is hurting my eyes…”

Kylier let out a wail of mixed anguish and frustration, made for the door, and pulled Nessiah along with her, making sure they were safely into the middle of the corridor before she stopped. “I’m soooooorrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

“Don’t worry about it—ow.” Nessiah sighed. “Just… would you mind checking, to see that they haven’t…?” He gestured to the interlocked plates of ensorcelled metal that covered the upper half of his face helplessly, making the links of his chains jangle.

“Sure,” Kylier said with an automatic grimace, and stepped towards him, carefully unfastening the first third and pushing his bangs out of the way to look at the ugly, twisted scar that was all that remained of the injury that had blinded him.

Kylier and Nessiah’s relationship was a very strange one. The two of them hadn’t even met until the huge confrontation on the sunken island of Ancardia, and many members of the Royal and Imperial Armies still weren’t happy with what had taken place there, but even though Nessiah had reawakened the Royal Army’s own dead soldiers to stand in their way and even tried to control her for a short time, she found that she just couldn’t hate him. Those few minutes of intense connection between them had laid his soul as bare to her as hers had been to him, and the only thing Kylier had been able to feel for him was pity. No matter their crime, nobody ever deserved to suffer the kind of torment that most of Nessiah’s life had been.

Milanor and the others had no particular love for Nessiah—and had made that very clear by replying to his manipulation of their dead by dealing him a crushing defeat in battle. If Nessiah wasn’t bound by these very chains that caused him so much pain, that would most definitely have been the end for him—he’d died wretchedly at the steps of the very temple his real body lay bound in, given the mercy stroke by Gulcasa to save him from a far longer and more painful death from blood loss. As it was, the magic in the Chains of Conviction had forced Nessiah through yet another agonizing reincarnation, bringing him back to life in record time in response to the call of the Gran Centurio.

Pulled by the sword, Nessiah had reappeared only hours after his apparent demise to rescue the Royal Army and Gulcasa from the angel who’d attacked them at Heaven’s Gate, holding her off long enough for another angel to intervene and stop the battle altogether. If it weren’t for him, everyone surely would have been killed—and so Nessiah was more or less accepted by everyone. However, there were only three people he was really close to: Kylier, Yggdra (who had also been able to feel the cry of his damaged soul through the Gran Centurio), and Gulcasa (who didn’t care whether Nessiah was human or a fallen angel and still considered him a friend).

Kylier bit her lip as she stared at the heavy stripes of dull pink scar tissue that stretched across Nessiah’s face, sealing his eyelids shut, and tried unsuccessfully not to wonder how he could possibly live with the memory of receiving his injury every day and stay sane. “…It looks kind of puffy already, but I don’t think it’ll get too bad. Looks like we got you out in time. I’m really sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it. And thank you.”

“No charge.” And Kylier carefully locked the plates back in place.

“…………” Nessiah considered her for a moment. “I… might not be the right person to give you advice on this, because I’m not that much of a cook myself… but next time you might want to consider using grease.”

“Eh? Grease? What for?”

“If you grease the pan before you put food into it, it’ll both make it less likely to burn where the metal touches it, and make it easier to take out when you’re done.”

“Oh.” Now that Kylier heard it, it sounded so completely obvious that she couldn’t help blushing. With a moan, she slumped forward, resting her forehead on Nessiah’s shoulder. “I really suck at this. Why am I even trying? I’m never going to be able to make Milanor chocolate in time…”

“Don’t give up so easily, it’s not like you,” Nessiah told her, patting her hair. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was amused, though, which only made her feel worse. “Just take a deep breath and relax. Try again later. For now, throw out your failed experiment and come eat dinner with the rest of us.”

“Okay…” Kylier sighed and stood up straight. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

And I’ll be back for you, she thought at the kitchen, tomorrow. You and I ain’t done yet.

- - -

Meanwhile, Yggdra sat alone in her room, moving her pen down the line of checked-off names on her list.

“There!” she said, sitting back with a sigh. “Now, all that’s left is…”

She stared at the name that topped her list, and, blushing slightly, drew a circle around it.

“…Maybe I should focus on getting everyone else’s done first…”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Yggdra called, turning in slight surprise.

The door opened, revealing her champion, the young knight Durant, who led the Royal Army’s cavalry. “Your Majesty—”

Yggdra shook her head. “Durant, there’s no need to stand on ceremony when it’s just the two of us. You’re my friend. You can call me by name.”

“There’s no time for that, Your Majesty,” Durant said impatiently, glancing behind him worriedly. “We need you right now. It’s Roswell. He’s downstairs in the bar, and…”

“Oh, Durant…” Yggdra sighed, then frowned as the rest of his sentence sank in. “Wait. Roswell… in the bar? Why? Roswell doesn’t drink. He never drinks. He always says he can’t hold his liquor at all.”

“He’s drinking now,” Durant told her helplessly, throwing up his hands. “He seems depressed, but he won’t say what’s wrong. He’ll talk to you. He trusts you. Please, Your Majesty, do something…”

“This is definitely a problem,” Yggdra admitted, standing up. “Please take me to him… I just hope I can help with whatever’s bothering him…”

“Right away,” Durant agreed, and began to lead her down the hall.

:TBC:

~Notes on the text~

Rosary’s little rant: The circumstances surrounding the Verlaine battle and the reasons why both Roswell and Rosary survived will be more clearly disclosed later on, although you can pretty much get some of it from what Rosary says here about Leon’s involvement.

Girls who can’t cook: The stereotype in America, Japan, and many other cultures is that women are supposed to have great culinary talent while men aren’t good at cooking at all, so romance manga and romantic comedies often make their heroine an awful chef to parody the common view. Why? It’s cute watching them stress over making their boyfriends (and/or girlfriends, sometimes) a home-cooked meal.

Nessiah: Yes, this is why he’s living here with everyone rather than still waiting to come back to life again. The Heaven’s Gate battle differs vastly in this version of events from those in the game; more details may or may not come to light in future chapters. As a side note, though Milanor and Rosary are still highly pissed at him, Nietzsche and Roswell have both more or less forgiven him for his involvement in the civil wars in Embellia and Verlaine because he saved everyone’s lives in the final battle.

Wait… Gulcasa… with the Royal Army…?: Only on a temporary basis. This would involve how the Battle of Flarewerk was resolved, and why Gulcasa is even alive right now in the first place. Which will again be explained later.

“You don’t need to stand on ceremony when it’s just the two of us”: After finally getting Elena to stop using the suffix “-sama” for everyone, Yggdra is now trying to get Durant to act less formally, with little success.

Roswell can’t hold his liquor: There are some 21-year-olds who just should not drink. Ever. Especially when they’re depressed. Why? You’ll see… Roswell has a fairly frail constitution for a man, so he’s pretty much blitzed after imbibing nearly any amount of alcohol. Drinking is just one of a number of things he can’t do, like go out in summer without long sleeves. In addition to not being the hardiest person on the planet, Roswell sunburns very easily (how could he not, with that fair skin?)… and therefore he always winds up with a fever when he does… well, I digress, but low tolerance to alcohol is one of Roswell’s sort-of secret weaknesses. (Any kind of weakness in a guy who’s calm, cool, and intellectual really adds to his appeal… it just makes him that much cuter. /shot)

Title: Probably should’ve mentioned this last time, but “Stupid Cupid” is actually the title of an old silly Valentine’s Day song. It seemed a little appropriate, considering the content of the story…