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Chapter Text

The fire in Aphmau’s hearth crackled softly, throwing warm light across the wooden walls of her home.

She sat at her kitchen table, a map unrolled before her, its edges weighed down by various objects. Her brow furrowed as she scribbled a note on a piece of parchment, only to crumple it moments later.

“You’re still working?” a gentle voice asked.

She looked up to find Laurance standing in the doorway. His armor had been shed for the evening, though his sword still hung at his hip. His blue eyes reflected the firelight as he stepped inside.

“I have to,” Aphmau admitted with a tired smile. “There are trade routes to think about, walls to reinforce… Phoenix Drop is growing faster than I imagined. Sometimes it feels like too much.”

Laurence walked closer, the wooden floor creaking under his boots. He stopped at the edge of the table, eyes trailing over the map before returning his gaze to her.

“You’ve done so much for this village Aphmau- The people trust you and you’re no use to them if you burn out.”

She sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “I just don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t,” he said firmly. Then, softer, “Not while you have us by your side.”

Aphmau tilted her head. “Us?”

“Garroth, Dante… and me.” His voice carried a weight he rarely showed. “I swore to protect this village, but more than that… I swore to protect you.”

Her eyes softened, touched by the sincerity in his words. He wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t trying to impress her — he meant it. Every word.

“You take that promise seriously,” she murmured.

Laurence smiled faintly. “Of course. It’s who I am. And…” He hesitated, shifting his weight. “You matter to me, Aphmau. More than you know.”

Before she could answer, a shout rang out from the street outside — urgent, panicked.

Laurence’s posture snapped to attention. He was at the door in two strides, drawing his sword.

“Stay here.”

“Laurence—” Aphmau began, but another shout cut her off. This one closer.

The door burst open, and a frightened villager stumbled inside, eyes wide. “Bandits! They’ve broken through the east gate!”

Aphmau shot to her feet, but Laurence was already moving, placing himself between her and the door. “Get behind me,” he ordered, tone firm.

The clash of steel rang outside, followed by heavy boots on the dirt path. A pair of rough-looking men stormed toward the doorway, weapons drawn, their eyes landing on Aphmau like predators spotting prey.

Laurence didn’t hesitate. With a smooth motion, his sword flashed in the firelight as he stepped forward, blocking the entrance.

“You’ll go no further,” he growled.

One of the bandits sneered. “Out of the way- We’ll take that lady off your hands.”

Laurence’s grip tightened. “You’ll have to cut me down first.”

The fight was quick but fierce. Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying in the night. Laurence moved with practiced precision, driving the bandits back step by step. When one tried to rush past him toward Aphmau, Laurence twisted, blocking the strike with his shield before sending the man sprawling to the ground.

Within moments, both attackers fled, limping into the darkness, muttering curses under their breath.

Laurence lowered his sword slowly, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. He turned back to Aphmau, who stood frozen by the table, eyes wide.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, voice calm despite the intensity of what had just happened.

She shook her head, breath catching. “Laurence… you—”

“I told you,” he said gently, sheathing his sword. “As long as I stand, no one will touch you.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. Aphmau stepped closer, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them together.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Laurence only offered her a small, reassuring smile. But in his eyes, the promise burned brighter than ever.

Aphmau’s heart was still racing as the echoes of the fight faded. She turned to the villager who had burst through her door, only now realizing who it was.

“Brendan?” she asked.

He was pale, breathing hard, dirt smeared across his cheek. “The east gate—there’s so many bandits! Garroth and the guards are holding them, but villagers are hurt!”

Aphmau immediately stepped forward. “Then we have to help them.”

Laurence blocked her path with one arm, sword still drawn. “It’s not safe. You should stay inside.”

Aphmau’s eyes narrowed as she gave him a sharp look, grabbing her sword from where it rested on the table. “I’m the lord, Laurence. My people need me. I’m going.”

For a tense moment, their gazes locked — golden fire against steady blue. Then Laurence exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just enough to show his concession.

“Very well,” he said at last, voice low. “But you don’t leave my side. Not for a second.”

Aphmau’s expression softened, and she gave him a quick nod. “Deal.”

———

The east gate was chaos. Torches flickered wildly against the darkness as steel clashed in the night. Garroth’s booming voice carried across the battlefield as he commanded the guards, while Dante fought beside him, blade moving with ruthless efficiency.

Before she could step further, Garroth noticed her and barreled through the crowd, shield raised, sword in hand.

“You shouldn’t be out here, Aphmau—”

“She insisted,” Laurence said flatly, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Aphmau planted her feet firmly, gripping her sword with both hands. “I’m not hiding,” she said, eyes flashing. “I’m the lord of Phoenix Drop. I don’t just sit at home while people are in danger—I can fight, and I will fight.”

Garroth’s jaw tightened. “You—”

“Garroth,” she cut him off, stepping closer. “I’ve trained. I’m not helpless.”

Before he could argue, a bandit charged toward them, reckless and screaming. Garroth moved like a force of nature, blocking the attack and driving the man into the dirt with a brutal sweep of his shield. He glanced at Aphmau, voice sharp. “Fine. But you stay with me or Laurence at all times, got it?”

Aphmau gave a quick nod, determination in her stance. “Got it. But don’t think I’m just standing behind you.”

Whirling around to make a plan- Aphmau watched as her villagers scrambled toward safety, guards shouting orders over the clash of steel.

“Why are there so many villagers out here?” Aphmau shouted, confused

“Someone lit a house on fire and its spreading- this was the closest evacuation area” Garroth shouted back as he cut down another bandit.

Aphmau’s mind raced—she had to get the people out.

“Follow me! The forest, now!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the din. Two guards flanked the fleeing villagers, helping them over debris and past the thick underbrush.

Once the last of the villagers disappeared into the trees, Aphmau spun back toward the fight. The bandits were relentless, a tide that never seemed to stop. She tightened her grip on her sword, meeting the first attacker head-on. Every strike, every block, had to be precise, because there were more behind him—and more behind them.

Laurence moved beside her like a shadow, calm and efficient, striking down any bandits Aphmau missed. Garroth’s voice was loud over the sound of fighting as he shouted directions to the nearby guards, cutting down any bandit who got too close.

“This isn’t normal!” Dante yelled, blocking a wild swing. “There shouldn’t be this many! Where the heck are they coming from?”

Aphmau’s chest heaved, but her expression stayed focused. “We just have to deal with it!” she called, dodging another attack and slicing cleanly through the man lunging at her. “We need to push them back out the gate! Don’t let anyone slip past!”

Steel clashed around her, sparks flying in the firelight. She felt the heat on her skin, smelled the mix of smoke and sweat, and her heart pounded in her chest. The danger was real, but the thought of her people being hurt pushed her forward. Every block, every strike, every push back of an enemy brought her closer to keeping them safe.

Even as she fought, her eyes darted around, making sure the villagers she had directed toward the forest weren’t wandering back into danger. She was on the edge, but she refused to step back. Phoenix Drop wasn’t just her home—it was her responsibility.

Aphmau swung her sword, knocking one bandit off balance, then twisted just in time to avoid another’s blade. But a glancing strike caught her arm, a sharp sting followed by warm blood running down her lower arm. She gritted her teeth, gripping the sword tighter despite the pain.

“Not… stopping… now,” she muttered, forcing herself to push forward.

The battle raged, sparks flew from clashing steel. Slowly, steadily, the bandits were driven back, their shouts faltering as Garroth’s booming commands and Laurence’s precise strikes pushed them toward the forest edge. One final clash, and the remaining attackers turned, retreating into the night with curses echoing behind them.

Silence fell over the village. Panting, bruised, and soaked with sweat, everyone stood among the trampled grass and scattered weapons. Aphmau’s chest heaved as she lowered her sword, her injured arm throbbing but ignored.

Laurence stepped forward, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he gently took Aphmau’s arm in his hands. Her breath caught at the touch—not from fear, but from the intensity of his gaze. He didn’t speak; he simply tore a strip of fabric from his tunic and wrapped it tightly around her wound, pressing firmly to stop the bleeding.

“I’m okay,” Aphmau whispered, wincing slightly but forcing a small smile. “Really… I’m fine, Laurence.”

He didn’t reply, only gave a brief, tight nod before letting go of her arm, his blue eyes still sharp and watchful.

Garroth stomped forward, scanning the aftermath. “We can’t just stand here,” he said, voice gravelly. “We need a meeting—now. But first… the fire’s still burning, and the villagers aren’t back safely. I’ll organise putting out the flames and you get everyone accounted for. Then we’ll talk at the guard post.”

Aphmau nodded, letting herself be supported slightly by Laurence as they moved through the village. Guards helped gather the shaken families, guiding them to safety, while others focused on extinguishing the remaining flames. Smoke still curled from the burned building, but by the time the last of the villagers were safe, the fire had been fully doused.

Hours later, the chaos had finally fully subsided. The village was quiet again, torches relit along the streets, and the exhausted group climbed the winding stairs of the guard tower.

The space was cramped, barely enough room for everyone, and the small table with maps and plans on it sat in the center. Guards leaned against walls, perched on crates, or crouched on the floor, murmuring quietly among themselves.

Aphmau sat on a crate against the wall, her bandaged arm resting on her knee. She glanced at the maps spread across the table, but the adrenaline of the battle and the exhaustion of the night made her eyelids heavy. Laurence leaned nearby, standing against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze flicking between her and the scattered group of guards.

Garroth’s boots thudded on the floor as he moved to stand near the table.
“Clearly,” he began, voice grave, “word has gotten out about the diamonds we got from Irene’s blessing. Someone knows what we have, and that’s why tonight happened. How are we going to make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

Murmurs rose as the guards began offering ideas.

“We should increase patrols around the east gate,” Dante said, rubbing a bruise on his arm. “Maybe double the usual shifts. They clearly knew where to strike.”

“Hiring more guards would help,” Brian added. “We can’t be everywhere at once, and if there are that many attackers again, we need numbers.”

Aphmau leaned back against the wall, rubbing her eyes despite the lingering adrenaline. “Agreed. But we also need to make sure the villagers are trained to react quickly in emergencies. Evacuation routes, safe spots, warning signals… all of it.”

Garroth nodded. “And the building that got burned down… we need it rebuilt right away. Maybe even reinforce it, make it harder to set fire to, or put it in a safer spot.”

Laurence added quietly, “We should also consider ways to hide or protect what’s valuable. If they’re coming for the diamonds, no one should be able to get to them easily.”

The discussion continued late into the night, voices low and tense. Plans formed and were debated: increasing patrols, reorganising guard shifts, organising the rebuilding of the burned structures, plans for reinforcing the walls, and arranging a safety plan for the villagers. Everyone spoke with the exhaustion and raw focus of people who had just survived a near-disaster.

Hours later, the meeting began to wind down. The cramped tower was silent except for the occasional shuffle of papers and murmurs about guard schedules. Aphmau, still perched on the crate and leaning against the wall, felt her body sag with fatigue. Her eyes slipped closed as the guards talked around her about weapon checks and patrol routes.

Laurence, noticing her posture, stepped closer, his voice low so as not to disturb anyone. “You really need to rest, Aphmau.”

She murmured something indistinct, already half-asleep. He glanced around the tower to make sure no one was paying attention, then gently adjusted her leaning position so she wasn’t slumped awkwardly against the wall. Her breathing evened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips in her sleep.

Laurence stayed nearby, back lightly against the wall beside her, silent but present—a quiet, steady promise that no matter what came next, he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. The chaos of the night, the bandits, and the weight of leadership faded for just a moment, leaving only the two of them in a small bubble of calm amidst the scattered plans, maps, and murmuring guards.

The meeting finally wrapped up. The guards filed out, murmuring quietly about schedules, patrols, and rebuilding plans, leaving the tower mostly empty. Aphmau remained resting against the wall, completely asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily.

Laurence stood quietly a few steps away, taking her in. Even in exhaustion, she looked… beautiful. Her hair fell in soft strands across her face, the faint moonlight catching her features just so. Her cheeks were flushed from the night’s battle, and the small rise and fall of her chest made him ache with a mix of protectiveness and admiration. For a long moment, he just watched her sleep, committing every detail to memory.

Garroth shuffled over, leaning against the wall with a small, tired smile. “She looks peaceful,” he said softly, glancing at Aphmau. “Not like last week when she was up half the night fussing over the new walls… Honestly, I don’t know how she does it sometimes.”

Laurence gave a faint smile but didn’t look away from her.

“Anyway,” Garroth continued, tilting his head,

“Are you going to be okay carrying her home by yourself? Maybe you should wake her… I don’t want her rolling off your arms, and it’s not exactly safe walking her through the village while she’s asleep.”

Laurence shook his head, gaze still on Aphmau. “No,” he said softly. “She’s been having trouble sleeping… I want her to rest as long as she can. She needs it after tonight.”

Garroth’s eyes softened. “Alright… just… be careful with her. She’s stubborn, sure, but she’s also… well, you know what I mean.” He gave a small smile and returned to the table, muttering about guard shifts and patrols.

Laurence bent carefully and lifted Aphmau from atop the crate and into his arms. She shifted slightly in her sleep, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, and he froze for a moment. She felt so light—almost too light. He tightened his hold instinctively, making sure her bandaged arm was supported. She really hadn’t been eating enough lately; no wonder she was so fragile.

Her small movements—curling closer against him, the gentle rise and fall of her chest—made him flinch slightly. Every step through the quiet village streets was slow and careful. He adjusted his grip occasionally, smoothing a stray lock of hair from her face, making sure she didn’t jostle or slip.

She murmured softly in her sleep, nuzzling a little closer, and his chest tightened again. He found himself walking even more cautiously, aware of every tiny shift, every small sigh she made. Carrying her like this made him realise just how much he needed to protect her, how easily she could be hurt.

When they reached her home, he opened the door as quietly as possible and carried her inside and up the stairs. Pushing open her bedroom door he headed straight to her bed, he eased her down with extreme care, tucking the blanket over her once she was lying comfortably. Her hair laid around her head on the pillow making her look ethereal. He brushed another lock of hair from her face, lingering just slightly longer than necessary.

He crouched beside her for a moment, still holding the edge of the blanket, before pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to her forehead. She didn’t stir, and he stayed there for a few seconds longer, watching her peaceful breathing, making sure she was warm and safe.

Finally, he straightened and quietly left the room, careful not to disturb her, heart still tightening at how light and fragile she had seemed in his arms.

Chapter Text

The sound of laughter and music spilled through the open square of Phoenix Drop, a warm hum that drifted through the night air. Lanterns were strung across the buildings and trees, glowing like captured stars, while villagers clustered around long tables piled high with food and drink. Somewhere near the center, a group of children twirled in clumsy circles to the beat of hand drums, their laughter carrying above the chatter.

When Laurance and Aphmau stepped into the square, the sudden cheer nearly bowled her over.

Aphmau froze for a moment, wide-eyed. Roasted meats glistened on spits, baskets of fruit and bread filled the air with sweetness, and everywhere she looked, people were smiling. Villagers she had fought beside, laughed with, and grieved with were gathered together, alive.

“This… this is all for us?” she whispered, her voice caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

Laurance’s lips curved into a smile as he watched her expression. He almost forgot to answer, distracted by how the glow of the lanterns painted gold across her features. Finally, he chuckled, leaning close enough for only her to hear.

“Looks like Malachai doesn’t do anything halfway.”
Aphmau let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Guess not.”

They began to move through the square, and several villagers waved, calling out her name. Aphmau returned each greeting with a smile, speaking briefly with people she recognized—old friends from Phoenix Drop, others who had stood by her side during the trials of Irene’s Dimension.

She asked after families, after health, after harvests, her warmth steady even as her nerves buzzed beneath the surface.

Laurance hung close, a steady presence at her shoulder. Every so often, he chimed in with a lighthearted quip that earned him laughter from the villagers, but his eyes never strayed far from Aphmau. She was the heart of this village—his village now too—and though she looked strong as ever, he caught the flicker of weariness when her smile faltered between conversations.

Eventually, as Aphmau excused herself from a group, her gaze caught on a familiar splash of pink across the way. Kawaii~Chan was leaning over the food table, arranging sweet buns with the care of someone who wanted everything to look perfect. Aphmau smiled faintly and made her way over.

“Kawaii~Chan,” she greeted warmly, “this all looks amazing. You really outdid yourself.”
The girl’s head popped up instantly, eyes shining. “Aphmau-senpai! I’m so glad you think so! I wanted everything to feel welcoming when you came back, and—” She broke off suddenly, blinking at Aphmau like she was seeing her properly for the first time. Her hands flew to her cheeks. “Oh no…”

Aphmau tilted her head, confused. “What?”
Kawaii~Chan gasped, circling her once with a dramatic sweep of her eyes. “You can’t wear armor to a party!”
Aphmau glanced down at her chest plate, then back at her. “This is all I have, Kawaii~Chan. It’s fine, really—”
“Nonsense!” Kawaii~Chan declared, clasping her hands together with determined energy. “You’re too cute to hide behind steel! Don’t worry, Aphmau-senpai, I have just the thing—come with me!”

Before Aphmau could respond, her hand was seized, and she was tugged away from the table. She shot Laurance a helpless look as she was pulled across the square, his amused grin answering her unspoken plea.

---

Kawaii~Chan’s house was only a short walk from the square, but Aphmau felt like she had been dragged across the entire village. By the time she stepped inside, the girl was already rummaging through a wooden chest, humming brightly to herself.

“Here, here, this is perfect!” Kawaii~Chan declared, pulling free a bundle of lilac fabric that shimmered faintly in the lamplight.

Aphmau eyed it warily. “Kawaii~Chan, I really don’t think—”

But Kawaii~Chan was already pushing her toward a small folding screen in the corner. “No excuses, Aphmau-senpai! Tonight is for celebrating. You wear armor every day. Let yourself feel like more than a warrior for once.”

Aphmau sighed but allowed herself to be guided. Changing out of the familiar weight of steel felt strange, almost wrong, but when she pulled the lilac fabric over her head and tied the ribbon at her waist, she froze.
The dress was soft and light, falling in layers that brushed her knees with each movement. The corset cinched at her waist, giving her a shape she wasn’t used to seeing—graceful, almost delicate. The bodice framed her shoulders, and the lilac hue made her skin look warm under the glow of the lantern. Kawaii~Chan had tugged her hair free from its ties, letting it tumble down her back, and finished with a crown of delicate white flowers.

When Aphmau finally stepped out from behind the screen, she barely recognized herself in the mirror.

Her cheeks heated instantly. “Kawaii~Chan… I—”

“See?!” Kawaii~Chan squealed, bouncing on her toes. “You look like a goddess! Lilac is so your color, Aphmau-senpai. Everyone at the party will be speechless!”

Aphmau laughed nervously, tugging lightly at the ribbon. “I doubt that…”

“No doubting!” Kawaii~Chan scolded, wagging a finger before suddenly remembering her own duties. “Ah! I promised I’d help finish the last of the food before the celebrations fully start—I’ve gotta go!” she chirped, practically bouncing as she slipped on her shoes. She paused at the doorway to beam at Aphmau one more time. “Don’t even think about hiding here, okay? Go enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

Before Aphmau could protest, the door clicked shut, leaving her alone with her reflection and the fluttering nerves in her stomach.

She smoothed her hands over the skirt, twisting a little to watch the fabric sway. She didn’t look like the lord of Phoenix Drop, not like the protector of her people. She looked… soft, and delicate. The complete opposite of when she's in her armor.

And that terrified her.

“Is this… too much?” she whispered to her reflection, fiddling with the edge of the corset. “What if they think it’s silly? Just showing up in a dress out of nowhere…”

Her spiralling thoughts broke at the sound of a soft knock on the door. Aphmau stiffened. Slowly, she crossed the room and pulled it open.

Laurance stood there, one hand raised as if he’d been about to knock again. His easy grin faltered the second his eyes landed on her.

For a heartbeat, he said nothing. His blue eyes widened, his lips parted, and all the usual smooth lines he carried seemed to vanish.

“…Wow,” he breathed, his voice lower than usual. “Aphmau… you’re beautiful.”

Aphmau’s face flamed, her heart giving an embarrassing little flutter. “T-Thank you, Laurance.” She shifted her weight awkwardly. “What… what are you doing here?”

He seemed to shake himself, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. I, uh… saw Kawaii~Chan dragging you off earlier, and when she came back alone I was worried something happened. I asked where you were and she just gave me a look, and told me to wait outside. But…” His lips curved into a flirtatious smirk. “Now I know why.”

Aphmau levelled him with her best unimpressed stare. “Really, Laurance?”

Laurance lifted his hands in mock innocence. “What? I’m just appreciating fine craftsmanship.” His grin tugged back into place, the mischief glinting in his eyes. Then, with a dramatic bow, he extended an arm toward her. “May I escort you back to the festivities, my lady?”

Her lips twitched despite herself, and a laugh slipped free. “Laurance, it’s a two-minute walk. I think I’ll survive.”

“You never know,” he said smoothly, grin widening. “What if you trip and fall? We can’t have you scraping your knee when we have a night of dancing ahead of us.”

Aphmau raised a brow, though her smile betrayed her. “Oh, so we’re dancing now, are we?”

“Of course,” Laurance replied without missing a beat. “You won’t be able to resist my moves.”

Shaking her head, she finally gave in with a dramatic curtsy. “Fine, Sir Laurance. Save me from the evil rocks waiting to trip me.”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and he straightened, grinning in satisfaction. For a moment, they simply stood there, and Aphmau became acutely aware of how firm his arm was beneath her fingers. Her grip faltered slightly, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks before she quickly looked away.
Laurance pretended not to notice, but his smile softened as they started walking.

---

Back at the party, the hum of voices and music wrapped around them like a blanket. Lanterns bobbed gently in the night breeze, their glow painting everything in warm gold. Aphmau slipped her hand free from Laurance’s arm the moment they stepped into the crowd, her heart thumping a little too fast. She needed something—anything—to distract her from how much her cheeks still burned.

Spotting Kawaii~Chan near one of the tables, Aphmau hurried over, her skirt brushing against her legs with every step. “Thank you for the dress,” she said, tugging self-consciously at the hem. “It’s… really nice.”

Kawaii~Chan spun around, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw her. “I knew it would suit you, Aphmau-senpai!” she squealed, clapping her hands together. “You look absolutely stunning!”

Aphmau ducked her head, flustered. “It’s not too much?”
“Too much?!” Kawaii~Chan gasped like Aphmau had just suggested the moon should fall from the sky. “It’s perfect!” She reached across the table, grabbing a small wooden cup and pressing it into Aphmau’s hands. “Here—try this! Logan’s special recipe. It’ll help you relax!”

“Uh… thanks?” Aphmau lifted it cautiously, eyeing the dark amber liquid inside. The scent was sharp and unfamiliar, stinging her nose. Still, she trusted Kawaii~Chan enough to take a sip.

The burn hit instantly. Her throat flared with heat, her eyes watered, and she doubled over, coughing hard enough that a few nearby villagers turned their heads. “Wh—what is this?!” she croaked, trying to catch her breath.

Kawaii~Chan giggled behind her hand, absolutely delighted. “Alcohol!” she announced cheerfully. “It's Logans secret recipe!”

Aphmau’s eyes widened, her voice rasping. “That was alcohol?! You could’ve warned me!”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Kawaii~Chan teased, leaning closer. “Besides, it’s tradition! First party drink always has to surprise you.”

Aphmau shook her head, still fanning her throat with her free hand. “If that’s tradition, I’m not sure I want to know what comes next.”

From behind her, Laurance’s laugh rang out, warm and unrestrained.
“Careful, Aphmau,” he called, sauntering up with his own cup in hand. “You might want to pace yourself, Logan's a werewolf after all, so it's super strong. You might not be able to handle it”

She shot him a glare, cheeks puffing. “I can handle it. I just wasn’t ready, that’s all!”

“Oh, sure,” Laurance said, smirking over the rim of his cup before taking a slow, deliberate sip. He didn’t even flinch as he swallowed. “See? Not so bad once you know what you’re in for.”

Aphmau crossed her arms, muttering under her breath, “Show-off.”
Kawaii~Chan giggled again, bouncing on her toes. “Ooooh, Aphmau-senpai and Laurance-kun drinking together at the festival So romantic!”

Aphmau nearly choked a second time—this time without taking a sip. “Kawaii~Chan!!”

Laurance just grinned, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction far too much.

---

The night blurred into a swirl of laughter, cheers, and too many refills from Logan, who was already swaying on his feet with a crooked grin. His werewolf strength made him sturdy even when drunk, but his voice carried louder and louder as the night went on.
“C’mon, Aphmau!” he slurred happily, splashing more of his concoction into her cup. “You’ve gotta let loose! Forget everything—drink, sing, dance! That’s what this is for!”
Aphmau giggled as some of the liquid sloshed onto her fingers, her flower crown sliding askew.
She raised the cup high like she was leading a toast. “See? I can keep up just fine!” she declared proudly before taking another long sip.

Laurance appeared at her side just in time to steady her when she swayed a little too far. His hand closed gently but firmly around her elbow. “You can’t even stand straight,” he muttered under his breath, though his tone was more concerned than scolding.

She leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “You worry too much. I’m fine,” she insisted, poking his chest with a finger that missed its mark and landed closer to his shoulder. “You think I can’t handle this?”

“I think Logan’s trying to test your limits,” Laurance replied, casting a wary glance at the werewolf, who was now loudly daring two villagers to wrestle him at once. He sighed, adjusting her flower crown so it sat properly on her head again. “And I don’t like it. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Before Aphmau could answer, the music shifted, swelling into a lively tune. Villagers cheered as the first beats echoed out, couples flooding the open square. Hands clasped, feet stamped, skirts twirled in lantern light, and laughter rose higher than the notes themselves.

Aphmau stilled, her giggles fading into quiet wonder as she watched. Her golden eyes shimmered in the firelight, reflecting the joy of everyone spinning around her. For a moment she forgot her drink entirely, clutching the cup loosely at her side.
Laurance followed her gaze, and something softened in his chest. She looked so captivated—like she wasn’t the lady burdened with leadership and decisions, but just a girl standing in awe of a simple village celebration.

He leaned down slightly, lowering his voice so it cut through the music just for her. “Would you like to dance?”

Aphmau blinked up at him, lips parting. “M-me?”

Laurance’s smile tugged crooked, equal parts charm and sincerity. “Of course. Who else?” He offered his hand, palm up, waiting patiently.

Her cheeks warmed, and though she hesitated for just a second, the sparkle in her eyes gave her away. She slipped her hand into his. “Alright,” she murmured, barely audible over the music.

“Alright,” he echoed, steadier, pulling her gently toward the throng.

The moment her feet touched the square, she nearly stumbled over a cobblestone, but his arm caught her waist before she tipped. She laughed breathlessly, her flower crown tilting again, and he couldn’t help but grin. “See? I told you—you need me out here,” he teased, guiding her into the rhythm.

He twirled her, the lilac skirt flaring like petals under lantern glow. Her laughter rang louder than the instruments, rich and unrestrained. When he dipped her, her hair spilled over his arm like ink, her cheeks pink and her smile dazzling.

Laurance felt his chest tighten as he held her. She wasn’t the warrior or the lady of Phoenix Drop in that moment—she was just Aphmau, glowing with joy, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughed up at him.

And as the music carried them through another turn, he silently vowed—as he always did—that he’d protect that happiness no matter what.

Chapter Text

The wind had been rising all afternoon, rattling the wooden shutters of Phoenix Drop and carrying with it the smell of wet earth. The storm clouds gathered thick and low, swallowing the last traces of sunlight until the whole village seemed washed in grey. Aphmau had been about to head inside for the evening when a faint sound pricked at her ears—low, drawn out, almost like a groan.

Her brow furrowed. It was probably nothing, but in Phoenix Drop, “probably nothing” was rarely safe to ignore. With no wall to shield them yet, danger could come from anywhere. She hesitated only a moment before pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders and following the noise.

At first, she thought it might be someone calling out. Donna? One of the children? But when she passed by the cluster of homes near the center of the village, the square was quiet—most villagers had already gone indoors to brace for the coming storm. Still, the sound carried again, faint and strange, from beyond the far gardens.

Aphmau’s steps quickened. If it’s someone in trouble… I can’t just leave it.

The fields were muddy from earlier drizzle, and her boots sank slightly as she crossed them. Each time she thought she was close to the source, the sound shifted—further left, then further out still. It was frustrating, like chasing an echo. The wind toyed with her senses, twisting the noise until she could no longer tell where it truly came from.

By the time she realized how far she’d gone, the houses of Phoenix Drop were little more than silhouettes behind her, lantern lights faint and hazy through the mist. She bit her lip. She should have turned back already, but if it really was a villager—or something worse—she couldn’t forgive herself for ignoring it.
Then she saw it.

Half-hidden in the tall grass near the tree line, a mottled brown cow stood shifting nervously on its hooves. Relief washed through her so suddenly that she laughed under her breath. “Kiki… your animals are going to be the death of me one day.”

The cow lowed, tossing its head, and Aphmau sighed. She stepped closer, hands out in a calming gesture. “Alright, you silly thing. Let’s get you back before the storm—”

A crack of lightning split the sky.

The cow startled violently, eyes rolling white. Before Aphmau could grab its rope collar, it bolted deeper into the dark, churning field. “Wait!” she called, stumbling after it. Rain began in fat, heavy drops, plastering her cloak to her back. Within moments it was pouring in sheets, the storm breaking in full force.

Her chest tightened. She was farther out than she’d ever meant to be, the village already swallowed by rain and shadow behind her. And now, the one thing she’d chased all this way had vanished into the storm.

Aphmau cursed softly to herself, shoving wet hair from her face. She had no choice—she had to turn back.
But the path home already seemed a blur, the landmarks blurred by pounding rain. The storm had made the world vast and empty, and for the first time that evening, a seed of unease lodged itself deep in her chest.

---

Her boots sank in mud, the wind pushed at her, and every flash of lightning left her blinking spots from her eyes. At last, through the curtain of rain, she saw the faint outline of Phoenix Drop—and for just a moment, she thought she spotted a figure at the top of the guard tower, watching.

Another deafening crack of thunder broke the moment. Aphmau flinched, pulling her hood down as the wind nearly knocked her sideways. She sprinted the last stretch into the village, heart pounding, and ducked under a small awning across from the guard tower.

She ducked beneath it, pressing a hand to her chest while she caught her breath. The storm was unrelenting, rain hammering the cobbles in silver sheets. She hugged her arms around herself and wondered if she should risk sprinting all the way home.

“Aphmau!”

Her head snapped up. Through the downpour, she caught sight of Laurence standing in the guard tower doorway. His cloak and hair were dry — he must’ve been in the tower when the rain started. He lifted an arm, beckoning sharply.

For half a heartbeat, she hesitated. Then another clap of thunder boomed, and she broke into a run.
Laurence grabbed her arm and hauled her inside, closing the heavy door behind her. The sudden quiet of the stone tower made her ears ring.

“Here,” he said, thrusting a towel into her hands before she could even speak. His eyes scanned her quickly, checking her over like he expected her to collapse at any second. “I saw you coming in from the top. What were you doing out there?”

Aphmau scrubbed the towel through her dripping hair, cheeks warm despite the chill. “I… thought I heard something past the fields. It was loud, and I couldn’t ignore it. I followed it, and it turned out to just be one of Kiki’s cows that got loose.”

Laurence’s brow furrowed, his voice sharper than usual. “Aphmau.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

He crossed his arms. “Even if it was only a cow, you should have come to one of us. That’s our duty. What if it had been a bandit? Or an assassin? What if you’d been hurt?”

Her stomach flipped. She stared down at her soaked cloak, suddenly feeling much smaller than she’d meant to. “You’re right,” she admitted quietly. “I just… I didn’t want to bother anyone over nothing.”

Laurence let out a slow breath, his tone softening though his gaze didn’t waver. “Your safety is never nothing. Not to me. Not to Garroth. Not to anyone here.”

Her chest tightened at that. She glanced away, fidgeting with the towel. “Thank you… for pulling me inside. I’d have frozen out there.” She tried for a smile. “And for the towel.”

Laurence’s lips twitched like he might return the smile, but then his expression shifted. His eyes drifted over her sodden cloak, the water still dripping from the ends of her hair, and the faint crease of worry returned.
“You can’t stay in those clothes,” he said firmly. “You’ll get sick.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said quickly, though she wrinkled her nose. The wet fabric clung to her skin in a way that was definitely not fine. “Once the rain lets up, I’ll just run home and change.”

He glanced at the window where rain still pounded in sheets. “Aphmau… please. The storm isn’t stopping soon. I don’t have trousers that would fit, but you can borrow a tunic and cloak. At least until you get home.”
She hesitated, then sighed in defeat. “Alright. Honestly, this does feel pretty gross.” A small laugh escaped her. “Thank you, Laurence.”

He guided her up to the second level of the tower and retrieved a folded tunic and cloak from a chest. “I’ll wait below,” he murmured, giving her space.

When she called that she was ready, he climbed the steps back up — and froze.

The tunic fell just above her knees, the mossy green cloak hanging off her shoulders in folds far too big for her. Her hair, still damp, framed her face in soft strands that caught the lantern light. For a moment, he thought she looked less like Phoenix Drop’s lord and more like some water spirit, strange and beautiful.

She didn’t notice his stillness. She was already leaning on the narrow window, peering out at the village below. “If the water keeps pooling there, the gardens are going to flood again,” she rambled. “We really need to dig the trenches deeper next time—”

Laurence stepped up behind her without realizing how close he’d gotten. “If we reinforce the ditch along that side,” he said, pointing just past her shoulder, “it should hold better.”

Aphmau’s words trailed off. She was suddenly very aware of how near he was, the warmth of him at her back, the way his arm brushed past hers. And — Saints above — how good he smelled. Clean leather, rain-dampened grass, faint spice. Her face warmed, and she launched into fast, nervous chatter about trenches and crops, anything to distract herself.

Laurence noticed the pink rising in her cheeks. He eased back a step, clearing his throat. “If you’re cold, there are blankets here. I’ll be right downstairs.”

Left alone, Aphmau eventually climbed to the top level of the tower. She sank down by the edge, watching as the storm turned Phoenix Drop into a blur of silver. The fields bowed beneath the weight of water, puddles pooling along the paths, lanterns flickering against the wind. Despite the chill, there was something calming in the sight.

The stairs creaked. Laurence reappeared, this time carrying two steaming flasks. He held one out. “Your favorite. I thought it might help.”

Aphmau’s heart softened. She accepted it, curling her hands around the warm metal. The first sip sent heat flooding down her chest, chasing the cold away. “Thank you Laurance.”

He settled beside her, their legs brushing faintly where they sat. He didn’t move his away, and neither did she.

For a long while, they sat in silence, watching the rain paint the village in shades of grey, the only sound the soft patter of water and the low rumble of thunder slowly getting further and further away.

When the storm finally began to ease, Laurence rose and offered his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

She let him guide her down the slick streets, his cloak still draped around her shoulders. At her door, she turned to thank him again — but he only smiled, warm and quiet, before heading back toward the tower.
Aphmau slipped inside, easing the warm cloak from her shoulders as she headed upstairs into her room. She sat heavily on her bed, burying her face in the fabric. It smelled faintly of him.

Her cheeks burned crimson. With a muffled groan, she shoved her head into her pillow.

“Oh, Saints…”

Chapter Text

The square buzzed with activity as the sun dipped low, streaking gold across Phoenix Drop’s stone paths.

Garroth and Laurence stood near one of the stalls, speaking with a merchant who had arrived that morning. Garroth led the discussion, asking the merchant of his wares and prices.

The merchant was in the middle of explaining the different items he had in stock when his words trailed off. His gaze drifted toward the edge of the square.

Laurence followed his eyes and immediately tensed.

Aphmau stood on the steps, speaking with Donna. Her laugh carried lightly through the air, over the bustling noise of the square.

“Who is that?” the merchant asked, his voice low, captivated.

Garroth, who hadn’t noticed his tone, looked up noticing Aphmau.

“That’s our Lord, Aphmau. You’ll want to speak with her yourself—she’ll decide if Phoenix Drop will hire you as a merchant.” He lifted a hand. “Lord Aphmau! Over here!”

Aphmau excused herself from Donna and crossed the square toward them. She greeted the merchant politely, offering a steady smile.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. You’ve built a good reputation.”

The merchant’s lips curved into something almost sly. “I’m honored my name has reached your ears, my lady. Though I must admit, I’d rather be known for making an impression in person.”

Laurence’s jaw clenched, though he said nothing, understanding well how captivating his lord was.

Garroth guided Aphmau toward one of the counters, spreading out the paperwork. “Here’s the inventory and his offer.”

Aphmau leaned over the documents, her back to the merchant as she scanned them carefully. Garroth pointed out sections, offering his own thoughts. Laurence positioned himself at her side, posture rigid, eyes fixed firmly on the merchant.

The man wasn’t subtle. His gaze wandered over Aphmau more than once, lingering too long for Laurence’s liking. His glare sharpened and he suddenly found himself hoping aphmau would reject the merchants offer for trade.

At last, Aphmau straightened and turned back to face the merchant. “Everything seems to be in order. If your service is as reliable as your papers suggest, Phoenix Drop would be glad to trade with you on a regular basis.”

The merchant’s eyes gleamed. He took her hand swiftly, bowing to press a kiss to her knuckles. “That would please me more than you know. I look forward to seeing you again very soon.”

Aphmau chuckled awkwardly and drew her hand back. “Thank you. But I do have duties to attend to. Garroth will see you back to your ship.”

Laurence’s eyes followed the merchant until he was well out of sight.

———

Later that night, Aphmau sat at her kitchen table, plans and reports strewn before her. The knock at her door made her glance up.
When she opened it, Laurence stood there, his expression troubled.

“May I come in?”

“Of course. Is something wrong?”

He stepped inside, shaking his head when she offered tea. “The merchant’s ship hasn’t left. It’s been sitting at the dock all day.”

Aphmau frowned. “That’s strange. Maybe he’s waiting on someone?”

“Maybe.” His tone was tight. “I just… I don’t trust him. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Laurence, he was just overly friendly. Don’t let it bother you.”

He said nothing, though his silence carried more than words.

As she sifted through her papers again, her expression changed. “That’s weird—I’m missing the document on our alliance agreement with Meteli.”

“Did you leave it somewhere? The tower?”

“No- I never took it outside- I can’t have lost it” Aphmau stressed, wracking her brain trying to remember where she last had it.

“Wait! I think it should be upstairs, on my desk. I was looking over it last night.” She made to stand, but Laurence stopped her with a raised hand.

“I’ll get it. Just tell me which one.”

“It’s the only paper on the desk. Thank you.”

Laurence went upstairs and Moments later, another knock sounded.

Aphmau frowned as she crossed the room. Laurence just went upstairs… who could that be?
She opened the door, only to find the merchant standing there in the torchlight, his smile practiced and confident.

“Good evening, my lord,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “I know it’s late, but I couldn’t resist coming to see you once more before I leave.”

Aphmau blinked, caught off guard. “The hour is late,” she said carefully, though her tone stayed polite. “You should be resting if you plan to set sail in the morning.”

“Ah, but rest is impossible when one’s mind is… distracted.” His eyes lingered on her, too long.
“Ever since our meeting earlier, I can’t seem to think of anything but you.”

Aphmau shifted uncomfortably, glancing back toward her table. “That’s… kind of you to say, but I think you should—”

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice as though confiding in her. “I know we’ve only just met, but I feel a connection. Surely you felt it too?”

She hesitated, searching for a tactful answer. “You’ve been very generous with your offers to Phoenix Drop. But my responsibilities as lord come first. I don’t have time for—”

“For yourself?” He tilted his head, studying her. “A woman as radiant as you deserves more than endless duties. You deserve someone who sees you, not just the title you wear.”

Aphmau’s cheeks warmed, though she shook her head. “I appreciate your words, but you don’t know me. And it isn’t appropriate for us to—”

He cut her off with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then allow me the chance to know you. A single evening. One date. That’s all I ask.”

She tried to keep her voice steady. “I’m flattered, truly. But I can’t. It’s not that simple.”

The merchant’s smile faltered, replaced by something sharper. “Not simple… or not wanted?” His tone hardened as he leaned closer, the space between them shrinking.

Aphmau instinctively stepped back into the house. “I think you should go.”

But instead of leaving, his hand shot out and closed around her arm. His grip was firm, insistent. “Just one date,” he pressed, his eyes glittering. “I promise, you’ll enjoy it.”

Her breath caught. “Let go of me—”

And that’s when Laurence came down the stairs.

Laurence’s boots thudded against the wooden steps as he descended the stairs, the missing paper in his hand.

“Found it—” he started, but the words caught in his throat.

At the bottom of the stairs, Aphmau stood rigid near the counter, her back half-turned toward him. The merchant’s hand was wrapped tight around her arm. Her posture was stiff, her eyes flicking wide when she looked up and saw Laurence standing there.

For a moment, silence stretched.

Laurence’s expression darkened, the paper crumpling in his fist. His voice cut through the room like a blade.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The merchants eyes widened as he froze in place. He tried to force a smile, though it came out crooked and strained. “N-no, you misunderstand. I was only saying goodnight, just being polite—”

Laurence’s steps were heavy, deliberate, as he crossed the room. The glow in his eyes sharpened, anger radiating from every line of his body. He stopped just in front of the man, towering over him.

“Polite?” he growled, seizing the merchant’s wrist before he could retreat. He wrenched it away from Aphmau completely, shoving him back a pace. “That’s what you call laying hands on her without permission?”

The merchant’s face had gone pale, sweat gathering at his brow. He stammered, “I—I didn’t mean—I wouldn’t—”

Laurence cut him off, his voice low and dangerous, vibrating with barely restrained fury. “Don’t. You thank Irene she’s standing here, because if she weren’t, you wouldn’t be walking out that door alive.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
The merchant’s composure shattered. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambled for the door.

With one last panicked glance at Laurence’s red glowing eyes, he shoved it open and fled into the night, his footsteps faded into the night, swallowed by the stillness of Phoenix Drop. The only sound left was the faint rustle of leaves outside and the quiet creak of wood settling in the house.

Laurence stood rigid for a moment longer, his shoulders squared, his eyes still faintly aglow. He drew in a sharp breath, forcing it out slowly as if willing the darker pull of his Shadow Knight form back down. His fists unclenched, the tremor in his hands easing bit by bit until the danger of fully transforming passed.

Only then did he turn back to Aphmau. The paper in his hand was crushed, the edges bent and folded. He looked down at it and exhaled. “...Sorry. I ruined it.”

Aphmau shook her head, her voice soft. “It’s fine, Laurence.”

The way she said it—gentle, steady—pulled him back further from the edge. He lifted his gaze, and for a long moment, their eyes held.
Her heart was still racing, but it wasn’t from fear anymore. The intensity in his eyes—protective, fierce, unyielding—made warmth rise to her cheeks. She managed a small smile, quiet but sure. “You really scared him off.”

Laurence’s lips curved into the barest hint of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Good. He deserved worse for laying a hand on you.” His voice dropped lower, more earnest. “I don’t… ever want to see you looked at that way again.”

Something in Aphmau’s chest tightened. She stepped a little closer without even thinking, the space between them shrinking.

Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing his arm in a light, grounding touch. “Laurence,” she murmured, “you don’t always have to worry about me so much. I’m alright.”

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly at her touch. He leaned into it ever so slightly, the tension in his frame easing as he searched her face. For a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist—just the two of them, the dim light, the quiet.

“You shouldn’t have to be alright with things like that,” Laurence said softly, his voice carrying more weight now. The faint red in his eyes from his shadow knight form was gone, leaving only the pale blue behind.

Aphmau’s chest tightened at the look he gave her. She reached up, her hand lingering against his arm just a moment longer. “Then I guess I’m lucky to have you” she whispered, her smile faint but steady.

For a long time, neither of them moved. The quiet of the house pressed in around them, broken only by the sound of their breathing.

Laurence’s gaze dipped for a moment—first to her lips, then back up to her eyes—and he swallowed hard, as if fighting something inside him.

“Aphmau…” he started, voice low.
Her breath caught at the way he said her name, and she tilted her head slightly.

“Laurence?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening before the words finally broke free. “I can’t keep pretending, not after tonight. I care about you. More than I should. More than just your guard should.”

Her eyes widened, though not in surprise—she’d always known, in one way or another. But hearing him say it so plainly made her heart skip a beat.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he went on quickly, his words spilling faster now, rough with nerves. “The last thing I’d ever want is to make you feel trapped, or uncomfortable, or like I’m—like I’m anything like that merchant. I just… I want to be good to you. Better. I want to protect you, yes, but not just because it’s my duty. Because it’s you.”

His voice faltered, but he pressed on anyway, rambling in his earnestness. “You don’t owe me anything, Aphmau. You don’t have to feel the same, you don’t even have to say anything. I just—”

“Laurence.”

The single word stopped him cold. He blinked at her, caught in the calm steadiness of her gaze.

She took a step closer, closing the last of the distance, and before he could stumble over another word, her hand slid up to the back of his neck. She tugged him down gently, pressing her lips to his.

It was soft, sure, but certain—an answer she’d been holding onto for longer than either of them realized.

When she pulled back, just enough to look at him, she whispered, “You don’t have to worry about being like him. You’re nothing like him.”

Laurence stood frozen for a beat, eyes wide, his breath unsteady. Then, slowly, a small, disbelieving smile curved at his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Aphmau laughed softly, her cheeks warm, her forehead resting lightly against his. “Then don’t wait so long next time.”