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To say that the day in the Imperial capital of Berun was perfect would technically be incorrect, but for the denizens of the metropolis it was close enough to be called such.
Why.
When one had not even a decade ago been gripped by the hardships of war, every day after seemed a little brighter, a little better. Markets that had once struggled to even carry enough turnips were once again bursting with fruits and vegetables. Bouquet shops once again had flowers from every corner of the world adding spectacular colours to the streets.
Why.
The late spring weather was also perfect for an afternoon walk through the many parks dotting the city. Families and young couples, with stalls offering treats and plenty of shade breaking up the sun’s rays.
Truly, anyone would call it a perfect day.
WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN TO ME.
Anyone that wasn’t one Erya Sieber.
To be honest, the Intelligence Officer should have expected this outcome. It was meant to be a day to catch up with her old classmate and dear friend Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakova.
Of course that was before a third was brought along due to a scheduling error, a certain living legend of the Empire, Tanya von Degurechaff.
This wasn’t a problem at first. The trio shared many stories of the past few years over lunch, with a few embarrassing tales added in when a pause was found. Seeing the famed and feared Argent go quiet and attempt to hide a flushed face was quite amusing, something Visha readily agreed with.
This rapidly changed upon arriving at the Großer Tiergarten.
Now, Erya was relegated to being the third wheel to a pair of excessively besotted lesbians.
This was made more insufferable by the way each defended the other from flirtatious advances. Degurechaff would show that the Devil of the Rhine could indeed exist outside of the Rhine while Serebryakova would reveal her Rus ancestry as her eyes took a frigid edge.
As if that wasn’t enough to cause the sexual tension between the two to glow like an overloaded computation jewel, they would then use the recent event to flirt with each other.
Good god, Erya wept within the confines of her own mind, Do they know such behaviour is beyond the decency of public spaces?!
If she were to be honest with herself, which she only did while looking past her totally valid grievances, she could at least understand Visha’s lack of restraint. While she wasn’t interested in the fairer sex, the slacks and buttoned shirt the Colonel wore cut a rather dashing figure. If her flowing golden locks were done into a bun, she could pass for a rather effeminate man.
“If I had known this would devolve into such tooth rotting behaviour,” She muttered beneath her breath, glaring at the two young women strolling gaily past the sparkling pond that completely contrasted her current mood, “I would have brought my boyfriend along. At least I could distract myself by teasing him.”
Her endless see-saw of melancholy and self-pity was ground to a halt along with the aforementioned pair. The Colonel was explaining something she wasn’t close enough to hear clearly, but even if she was that would be less of interest than the look of unabashed adoration on Visha’s face.
She had to pause to observe such an intimate moment. Not even during the false peace with the Francois Republic had Visha let herself be so undefended, and as the war continued year after year with no end in sight, the increasingly scarce meetings had tenser shoulders than the last. But her eyes were filled with concerns that were always directed to her dear Colonel, who seemed to sleep less every day, barely functioning even with her world class coffee.
To see barely a shadow beneath those sapphire eyes (excluding when Visha was the reason for those shadows), lifted a weight from her shoulders that her friend carried for nearly a decade. That was enough to lift the edges of Erya’s mouth into a slight smile.
“-oor man couldn’t run away fast enough.” Speaking of the devil, her voice bringing her back to the present, a teasing smirk aimed at an equally amused Visha. “It doesn’t suit an Imperial officer to be needlessly antagonizing civilians in public spaces.” A breathless chuckle escaped her lips. “I should of known of your possessiveness when you were willing to shoot through me to get an unwanted approach to back off.”
Sieber’s shock of attempting to decipher if Tanya was serious was missed by Visha rolling her eyes.
“Only because you are too dense to know when someone is making advances on you.” She responded with an imperious tilt of her chin, ignorant to her friend’s growing dread. “Honestly, how did you orchestrate so many offensives without getting us encircled?”
There’s NO way they’re using past combat actions to flirt, Sieber internally screamed. Is this something unique to veterans, did the war leave them wired differently?
She lasted until they mentioned something about the Southern Continent and “conserving water” before she snapped.
“I swear to god you two, we are IN. PUBLIC.” Erya hissed, drawing immensely on her years of Imperial discipline to not scream her indignation to the heavens. “Can you not be so…” her exasperated rant petered out like an empty automobile.
The aforementioned pair paused their walk to look back at the vexed intelligence officer, Tanya arching an eyebrow. “So…?” She repeated leisurely, as if not taking enjoyment in Erya’s misery.
“You two seesaw from the most heart achingly adorable couple to the most… scandalous one! You’ve been jumping each others bones for years now, yet you act like you’re in your first month of dating!” Leave it to the Argent to seemingly rob her vocabulary by mere proximity. Was this how she ends up sounding like the smartest person in the room?
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” she would get no respite from her dearest friend, tittering away at her suffering. “Perhaps now you know what it was like for me to hear you gush endlessly about your dearest Ernst and his-”
“TH-THAT’S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT AND YOU KNOW IT! AT LEAST I’M NOT-” her jaw slammed shut as her brain caught up to her mouth. You could name a colour of red after Erya for how flushed her face was. “UGH! Forget I said anything. Just go back to being aggravatingly gay, in both meanings.”
Visha’s giggling and Tanya’s chuckle merely caused her to turn her head and definitely not pout. It took drawing even more from her training to not stomp her foot like a petulant child, as if they needed more amusement at her expense.
Of course the two were soon absorbed into their own world soon after, hands linked in a way that showed her the gold band on Tanya’s finger that perfectly matched one on Visha’s right hand.
Her returning smile thinned as her eyes saw the tanned palm before traveling up the forearm to the rough patch of skin.
She remembered the long days of shopping for Visha’s wedding dress, the excitement always slightly dampened by the specific requirement to show as little scarred flesh as possible. Not for Tanya, who was more than willing to go on about how beautiful her Visha was (after copious amounts of alcohol), but for the many civilians who would be at the ceremony. Awareness of the two’s profession would not stop those far from war from whispering behind one’s back, something both wished to spare themselves on their wedding day, and spare their friends from having to pause their celebrations to death stare the chittering insects into silence.
While her task was successful, as Tanya could’ve attested to if she wasn’t fighting to only let out tears at the altar, she knew it was always an uncertainty when going into public if one would attract stares.
Erya knew she was lucky to be spared those injuries, she’d be a poor spy if she couldn’t avoid them, while the two mages in front of her did not have such luxury. Their clothes hid a plethora of scarred and burnt flesh remaining to tell their silent stories.
Not all wounds were that of an amateur artist’s works. Tanya often felt with her left hand, while Visha ever so slightly favoured her right foot. Damaged joints and nerves that would never fully heal and would undoubtedly grow more severe as the years wore on.
But they’ll have each other to lean on, Erya mused, her mind going back to the isles filled with teary eyed men and women, watching their commander and her adjutant seal their marriage with a kiss, and they‘ll have an adopted family to back them wherever life takes them.
Where it took them appeared to be a pastry stand, with all the scandalous behaviour one can partake in public with syrup covered sweets.
“Seriously you two?!”
That Night
Viktoriya always enjoyed reading, but it was only after eight years of endless war that she appreciated doing so with the crackle of an evening fire. Flickering lights back then were only signs of careless sentries or illumination flares seen over waterlogged trenches, signalling an artillery barrage or storm assault.
Here, the fire was shielded by brick, the crackling of firewood filled a modest living room instead of echoing over siege lines. It also helped muffle the odd late night engine backfire. Tanya was insistent that they get the house renovated with soundproofing for such a reason.
What was not admitted to the contractor, was the bonus of muffling sounds coming from inside the house.
The flat incident was to remain a singular event.
The sound of clinking utensils and sloshing water had died out some 40 minutes ago, yet Tanya’s chair was left unfilled. There wasn’t a specific reflection of light on the shovel over the fireplace, so she wasn’t in the study.
The only place she would of gone-
“Visha,” a low murmur next to her ear, that from anyone else would make her jump, instead answering her unasked question. A pair of slim arms wrapped around her shoulders. “It’s nearly eleven. You’ve been staring at the same sentence for a few minutes now.”
“Only wondering where you went,” she softly replied, a hand rising to grasp hers, tracing the knuckles with her thumb.
An exhale brushed against her ear, sending a shudder down her spine. “I think I’m capable of finding my way around the house. You’d likely be able to find me in the middle of a festival with ease; I wouldn’t even need to wear a striped shirt.”
Visha furrowed her brow. “Striped shirt?”
“Never mind that,” she replied, placing the bookmark before closing Visha’s book. “It’s getting late.”
Visha was quiet for a moment, reluctant to leave the embrace. The fire had reduced to flickering embers.
“Mm.” Rising from her seat, keeping a hold of Tanya’s hand as she followed her down the hallway to the bedroom. “I still don’t know how you sneak up on me. The fire doesn’t mask much and the house rarely settles.”
Tanya let out a breathless chuckle as Visha sat herself in front of the vanity. Tanya placed a slightly taller stool behind her, smoothing Visha’s hair before beginning to brush.
“The orphanage carried sound far. A church mouse could be heard from the opposite end.” Tanya answered, pausing to let Visha move her head, “There were some nights where I sneaked out into the garden when sleep evaded me. If I was lucky, fireflies would come out.” They both stood up, shuffling their stools, reversing their sitting positions. “I always found them calming.”
Visha shook her head in bemusement, removing Tanya’s hair tie before grabbing a comb to tame her golden locks.
“Tanya Degurechaff, breaking the rules?” Visha tittered. “Was this the rebellious child that joined the army at age 9?”
“Hardly.” Tanya scoffed. “The army was a calculated decision.” Her eyes averted to the side to avoid Visha’s through the mirror. “One of the nuns, Emmi if I believe, caught me during one summer night. She had a fascination with astronomy, knew the constellations like the back of her hand. She would keep silent about my night time sojourns if I let her teach me the constellations.” She let out an embarrassed cough as she turned her head back, leaving her exposed to her wife’s doting smile. “It ended up being quite useful for nighttime navigation.”
“Have you considered going back? If only to say hello?”
She hesitated. “Other than not raising a fuss during mass or when food was scarce, I didn’t leave the best impression with them.” Her thumb tracing her ring. “I’m also not sure how they’d respond to who I chose to spend my life with.”
Visha was silent in thought, swapping the comb for the brush. “Not even to talk to Emmi? Just to say thank you for teaching you about the stars?”
Tanya’s creased forehead confirmed she’d caught her. Leaving a supposed debt unpaid never sat right with the Argent.
“Perhaps,” Tanya drawled after a moment, “I could also see if Colonel Von Meyer could talk to the Berun Astronomy Society to see if they’re interested in another member.”
Visha beamed in her victory. “I’d like to meet her. I’m sure she’ll have trouble deciding which skies we’ve slept under to ask about first.”
Their conversation paused for several moments, filled by the sound of the brush against Tanya’s hair.
“Other than rough locations,” Tanya finally replies, “I’ll admit I might struggle to remember the night skies. I might very well confuse Algeria with Aestonia.”
“And how would your vaunted photographic memory struggle to remember such details?” Visha jabs, only to be interrupted by Tanya reaching over her shoulder to pull her into a kiss.
“Perhaps I’ve forgotten,” Tanya murmured huskily after breaking the kiss, “because there’s only one star I now care to memorize.”
Visha could only stare, wide eyed and flushed, before reengaging the kiss with greater fervour.
“You,” the brush clattered onto the table, “and your silver tongue,” a trail of clothes left behind, “are utterly incorrigible.” Visha grumbled through the openings.
“Don’t try to act like you don’t crave it.” Tanya growled, lamenting having to pause her thorough exploration of her wife’s lips to remove her blouse.
Tanya had barely removed her brassiere before she was pushed onto the bed, forearms pinned above her head.
“I do crave it,” Visha breathed, her eyes smouldering with a heat that made Tanya’s chest spasm, “and I cannot get enough of it.”
It was moments like these that made Tanya wish Visha’s chestnut locks were longer. A curtain to hide them from the world, just the two of them.
“Especially when you look at me like that.” Visha breath tangled with hers. She was so close. Her restrained arms kept her from reducing that scarce distance.
A pair of lips found the side of her neck, those same chestnut locks tickling her jaw as Visha moved over her collarbone, over her oldest scar.
It was one of Visha’s rituals. She wouldn’t dare leave a part of her love’s body insufficiently worshipped, but Tanya’s scars were favoured for attention. Despite her legendary agility and misdirection making hitting her challenging enough, there were always ways to force the devil to bleed.
The large burn scar that covered her chest was the greatest reminder of the Argent’s mortality.
Of the most terrifying day of her life.
The sweat on her marred flesh carried the scent of the North Sea, the still air in the bedroom matched the impossibly still air above it that day.
If she let her mind follow the scent, she could see a blonde pixie fighting for her life against a monster that should have been buried beneath the very waves they fought above.
“Visha.”
The same pixie, now woman, who survived the unending hell. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw the same brilliant sapphire orbs staring with well hidden concern.
Her hands had moved from her wrists to just above Tanya’s shoulders, exactly where she shot through her to distract the monster.
“I know.” Visha preempts. “It comes and goes lacking rhyme or rhythm, like a white squall.” She murmured, laying her head against Tanya’s chest.
They laid for several minutes, the beating of Tanya’s heart slowly lulled Visha to sleep.
She honestly wished to sleep her problems away, but Tanya had long spoke of the need to properly communicate to minimize friction in their relationship, now marriage.
Perhaps I could get her to talk about logistics next time, Viktoriya passingly mused, lifting herself into a sitting position, then I could at least exasperate her need for more civilian friends.
Tanya had moved to sitting seiza style, yet even with it and nearly a decade of proper nutrition, she was still slightly shorter.
With only boxer panties on, Viktoriya could thoroughly examine her form.
To most, the many scars littering Tanya’s skin would be unappealing. But to her, they told a story of survival, adaptation and sheer audacity.
In other words…
Beautiful. Viktoriya thought.
The tightness in her chest returned as her gaze returned to the almost precise circle under her shoulder.
A tanned palm reached up to caress her cheek, drawing Viktoriya’s cobalt eyes to Tanya’s sapphire.
“Viktoriya.” Ah, it’s serious then. “You and I both know how dangerous our profession is,” Tanya began softly, “A single day on the Rhine would prove it to any fool, let alone eight years of war. We rolled the dice every day betting on the hard six.” Her eyes crinkled ever so slightly. “So I’ll make this perfectly clear.”
“If anyone else was my wingman on that day, I would have died.” She spoke with absolute certainty. “No one else could have made that shot that day. No one.”
“I still hurt you.” Viktoriya whispered, her soul crying at a physical reminder of the harm she caused to her other half.
“Does one blame the surgeon just because they don’t leave flawless skin?” Tanya’s retort sent a slight ache through Viktoriya’s ankle, “Every day when you did your best to make that liquid mud they dared call coffee into something digestible, stayed up late to help with signing reports, being at my side through the most fatal depths of hell.”
“Even-” Tanya paused to keep her voice from cracking, “Even when I laid the ugly blemishes of my soul bare, you took it into your arms and showed a level of caring and love that I didn’t think exist nor deserve.”
“If there was any supposed debt from that day, it was paid off by the interest from my debts to you,” Tanya continued, “Every other scar is someone’s failed attempt at killing me. Yours is proof you saved me.”
“Even if someone offered to heal every last scratch on my body, I would happily carry it for the rest of my life.” She finished, a gentle smile radiating like the sun.
Viktoriya couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat, instead pressing her cheek into Tanya’s palm.
A night was shared by two battered women who dove head first into hell enough times to name every landmark a dozen times over. If they were broken by the war, they found in each other enough pieces to become whole again.