Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Roland keeps running.

He cannot see the path in front of him clearly because of the blood that covers his left eye. Maybe his sight is damaged permanently.

He doesn't care.

He just keeps running.

He doesn't have any particular destination for the time being. Simply lets adrenaline pump in his veins to push his legs to just run.

Away from the incoming danger.

Anger bubbles inside of him, and he curses, "That damned Ostanian shortie!! I really should’ve just -... AUGH!"

He trips.

Clutching his rifle for dear life, he tucks his arms close to his body as he tumbles down the rough, muddy slope.

Finally coming to a stop at the end of the incline, he pushes his arms to try and stand, but a sudden jolt of pain coming from his left leg stops him from doing so.

Biting down a hiss, Roland drags his body to the nearest bush, and curls to make himself small, while desperately controlling his breathing to be as silent as possible.

Soon after, he can hear activity and yells from above.

The boy curls even further and holds his breath.

For several minutes, all he can hear is the angry yelling and the frantic footsteps on wet grass. Next off the sound of multiple shots firing is soon accompanied by screaming and growling. And then suddenly everything goes quiet.

Releasing his breath, Roland tries to take a peek with his good eye towards the top of the slope to no avail. So he strains his ears, and to his relief, he doesn't hear anything aside from the sound of wind rustling, crickets chirping, and typical nocturnal life of the forest.

Grunting, he repositions himself and does a damage report on himself.

Left eye. Busted

Arms. Functional

Chest. Intact

Legs. The left fractured.

The blond boy heaves out a sigh, clamps his jaws and tries to stand using his rifle as a makeshift crutch. He stumbles but manages to stand straight.

He has no idea what his current position is, so he decides to find a clearing and guide himself back to the camp navigating by the constellations.

Hobbling for no further than a couple meters, he hears a low growl and rustling from his left. The sounds of the commotion prior had masked whatever was hiding behind the underbrush.

Making an intimidating stance as best he can, he aims his empty rifle at the source of the sound. He just hopes his posture is imposing enough to ward off whatever animal coming at him. Though to be quite honest, with a situation as pathetic as his, he convinces none.

Survival first.

He braces himself when the rustling moves closer.

Animals.

He can hear the growls as clear as day now.

Animal. Big animal.

He frowns when he sees a massive silhouette looming a short distance above him.

A bear.

Its front paws are off the ground and stand taller than him.

He grits his teeth. He knows that bears aren't aggressive animals by nature. So as long as he looks confident, he can convince the animal to leave him alone.

"Shoo!!" Roland yells and tries his best to scare the bear away.

Unfortunately, things don't go as he planned.

The bear drops to its feet, ready to pounce him, growling something fearsome.

BANG!!

Shooting his empty rifle in his attempt to scare the animal only makes things go horribly worse.

The bear charges and snaps its jaw at him, which Roland barely avoids by rolling out of its reach. Which has pain rolling through his broken limb, making him fall to one knee.

He sees the bear lift its paw and slash at him. It’s actively trying to maul him, and he desperately struggles to defend himself by using his rifle to block the incoming attack. But the sheer force pushes the rifle into his chest, hurling him away until his back slams into a tree, and he falls limply like a rag doll.

Coughing and gasping for air, Roland shakes his head to ward off the black dots swarming his vision. Trying to push himself up with shaky arms and failing, he can only suck in a breath and watch in horror as the bear charges at him, its jaws open and ready to rip him to pieces.

The animal only covers a few lunges when suddenly an unknown force slams into it, catapulting the creature sideways.

Roland blinks for several seconds in shock and heaves in relief when his brain catches up to the fact that his life is still intact. Before he could figure out the whys and hows, his mind starts to get foggy and he feels his whole body shuddering as adrenaline starts to wear off.

"Now that is not good, Mr. Bear…." He hears a feminine voice.

A girl.

WHAT?!

His confusion is disrupted by the awful racket he hears from somewhere in front of him but only manages to catch glimpses of moving shadows through his steadily diminishing visual.

"Whoah!!! That is not nice, Mr.Bear! What's gotten into you?"

Once again he hears the feminine voice speak in an attempt to reason with the beast. Ridiculous.

He tries his best to keep his eyelids open as he hears the bear roaring dangerously.

"Oh dear…. In that case, would you give me the honor of taking your life?"

The tranquility of the voice is the last thing Roland notes as his world swirls into darkness.

.

When he comes to his senses, Roland notices that he is now lying prone on his back on top of something soft but uneven; most likely makeshift bedding; his left eye is covered with something cool and sticky, thin sheets cover the rest of him.

His hearing registers someone humming an unknown melody accompanied by a crackling of something; likely a campfire; which he realizes is the heat source coming from his right.

Controlling his breathing so as to not alert the stranger to his waking, Roland tries to flex his fingers. He is quite astonished to realize not only can he flex his fingers but move his arms freely as well.

What? So whoever this person is, they didn't think to tie me up?

When he quietly moves his left arm a little, it touches cold metal.

His rifle.

What????

Baffled, Roland dares to peel his good eye open and take a peek around.

For the umpteenth time that day, the Westalian soldier finds himself baffled.

His savior, a girl with long black hair, is sitting to his right with her back to him, humming cheerfully while doing something in front of the fire.

Welp.

Not to be ungrateful to the person who has saved him, but Roland is still a soldier in enemy territory. So when the person is this careless, he; as any lucid soldier would; will use the opportunity bestowed upon him to plan his escape.

Thus, as silent as possible, Roland slowly sits up, grabbing his empty rifle. He shifts forward on his good knee and lifts it with both hands, holding it like a baseball bat, and takes aim to hit the back of her head.

Slowly, of course.

He only intends to knock her unconscious. He is not the same as those evil bastardly Ostanians after all.

He waits until the girl moves her head a little to the left, and he swings.

But the rifle never lands the hit.

CRACK!!!

And Roland widens his eyes when not only the girl catches his rifle but also snaps the barrel barehanded.

How the hell???!!!!

The silence while the weapon tumbles down in two and the girl turns to face him is complete.

A chill runs down his spine when he feels the murderous glare the girl is giving him. He gulps in fear when the blood-colored eyes zoom in on him and his lousy failure of a surprise attack.

But then she gasps and squeaks embarrassed, "Oh my gosh!!! I'm so sorry!!!"

Huh? He blinks.

"I'm so sorry! I thought you were another animal. Oh no! I broke your weapon. No no no no! What should we do now??" She wails.

What?? Is she for real??

Roland is at a loss for words. "Uh… No... no… it's okay. I'm… I'm sorry that I thought… I thought you were the bear…" Well, that isn’t any lousier than his attempt to knock her out.

He sees her blinking and can’t help giggling. And for some unknown reason, he felt his face heat up.

"Oh, you mean Mr. Bear here?" She moves to the side and gestures to the piles of meat in front of her. Several are already skewered and are being grilled on the fire, while others are already packed inside bags that seem to be made out of dried leaves, and the fur is already rolled into one compact cylinder.

"Uuhh… how???"

The girl cheerfully explains, "Mr. Bear here is usually not aggressive. Rather he was already harmed by somebody badly, and well…. I helped end his misery. And what other way to respect him other than make use of all his parts?"

That is actually not the answer he is expecting, but Roland just dumbly nods his head and returns to sit properly at his makeshift bedding.

"How are you feeling?" She studies him from head to toe.

"Good."

She nods. "I've placed a mixture of herbs on the wound in your eye. It should stop the bleeding. But it is still quite a terrible wound. I hope your sight isn't affected. As for your leg, I use Mr. Bear’s longest bone to immobilize it. I hope it is not broken. And…."

He tunes out her explanation as his head tries in vain to think of any logical reason for why a despicable Ostanian would do something so… so…

Illogical.

They are enemies.

She should’ve killed him while she had a chance.

But no.

She helped him.

There must be a reason.

Some kind of strategy to confuse him and have him questioning his loyalty to his country.

Yes.

That must be it.

Just like the curly-haired Ostanian soldier who managed to make him lower his guard with all of his nonsense logic. And look at where he is now.

This must be a common trait of Ostanian's despicable people.

Something called reverse psychology.

The more he thinks about how manipulative the technique is, the more uncontrolled anger starts to bubble inside his chest. And he blurts out, "Why did you do it?!"

The girl blinks and tilts her head in confusion. "Do what?"

"Don't play mind games with me, woman!" He bellowed. "Just spit it out already! What do you want from an enemy soldier like me?!"

He glares at those ruby orbs. Challenging her to cut the crap and get to the point.

But there is no point. And he does not in the least expect the look of despair on her face.

"I'm not... I'm not a soldier…" The girl mumbles. "I'm just a ... A normal person, trying to hunt for food, so my brother and I won't starve during the upcoming winter."

The girl then averts her eyes towards the fire and continues, voice just barely above a whisper, "We lost our parents to the war. I can never go back, but sometimes I think that maybe if my parents got help in time, then maybe they would still…" She takes a shuddering breath, "So when I saw you were hurt, I just... want to help..."

Roland clenches his jaw, while his chest is twisted with pain.

Have you seen these Ostanian monsters? Have you seen their evil deeds?? His father's voice echoes in the back of his mind.

They tell us to hate each other. So we fight. And then we die. It's the most pointless thing in this world. I'm in the same boat! I lost all my friends too! He remembers the curly-haired Ostanian soldier's words.

The girl's small voice reaches his ears. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have….."

He feels like an utter jerk now.

Ungrateful and barbaric.

His mother would definitely be disappointed with him.

"No. I'm sorry….." Roland interrupts her.

When the girl turns her attention back to him, it is his turn to avert his eyes in embarrassment. "I'm… I just…"

"It's okay. I understand. You must've been through a lot too."

The immediate response makes him snap his head toward her. And upon seeing her smile her understanding, once again, Roland feels his face getting warm.

"Th-... thank you…" He stammers.

"No problem." He sees her smile get wider, and with that she returns to her previous activities.

They fall into mutual silence.

Deep down inside, Roland blamed his outburst earlier that most likely hurt the girl's feelings, thus she stopped initiating friendly conversation with him. And now it puts him in an awkward position.

To avoid fidgeting in his place, he then chooses to observe the girl in front of him.

Other than the black locks of hair and red eyes that he noticed earlier, the girl has a slender build. Nobody will suspect her to have enough strength to subdue a bear. She is using a knife to craft something, and from how nimble her hands work, she must be very skillful in using it.

She’s been hunting for quite some time then.

She also wears a simple light pink colored dress and minimal shoes that…

Wait a minute.

Why would someone go hunting in a dress? Moreover, are that blood splatters?!

His stomach churns. "Hey… Are you hurt??"

"Hmm?" The girl stops her crafting and follows his gaze toward herself. She then starts to laugh nervously, "Oh! No. This isn’t mine."

Roland tries to search her face, and he finds her smile strained and the corner of her lips twitching.

Goodness gracious, she's so bad at lying.

When she turns her body away in an obvious way of shielding the blood splatters from his view, he sees the tears at the side of her dress, just beneath her right shoulder blade.

Three parallel tears covered in red.

"You're hurt!" He points.

She gasps, turns back around, and covers the tears with her left hand. "I'm fine." She squeaks.

He raises one of his brows, and she fidgets. "It… it's just a scratch. Nothing of concern. I already took care of it."

Roland sighs. "It is quite obvious that you got hurt by the bear, because of me. And it is impossible for you to tend to that would well by yourself."

"I'm… I'm good…Really…"

By then he notices the blood seeping into the dress beneath her hand that she tries to cover desperately. He points his finger toward the area, "I can see the blood is seeping. At least let me properly redress the bandage to stop the bleeding."

When he sees her reluctance, Roland sighs again, "Look, I'll be honest with you. I hate being indebted. Just let me return the favor, so we are even. And then we can go our separate ways and carry on with our separate lives."

He lies of course. He really just wants to return the favor. But she doesn't need to know that.

Roland gives her time to contemplate his offer.

After a minute or so, she finally relents and scoots closer.

"Turn around so I can properly see it." He uses his best tone to voice a firm command, and she follows. She even pulls aside her black tresses so he can assess her injury more clearly.

All of a sudden, Roland realizes that he has to ask her to remove the dress covering that part of her back to help straighten the gauze. He is aware that to do that means her chest will be exposed. Even though he swears that he won't take advantage of her, he is also painfully aware of the fact that this is the very first time in his teenage years that he is being this close to a girl.

He clears his throat and with a very red face and stammers, "Y-... you have to-... to remove your clothes."

"Huh?!" The girl whirls back to him. Her face is as crimson as her eyes.

"Only the part that blocks access to your injured site!" He immediately clarifies.

"Oh… o-... okay."

"Cover your chest with this." He hands her the sheet that's been used to cover him.

The girl nods stiffly and does as told.

As soon as her upper clothes are removed, Roland notices the loose herb gauze poorly placed on top of deep gashes that will surely scar her. He frowns, then skilfully repositions the gauze, before reapplying the bandages around her torso tight enough to help stop the bleeding. Along the process, Roland curses inwardly at how warm his face feels, and how shaky his hands are.

Get it together, dang it!!!

Nevertheless, he finishes redressing the wound in record time.

"That should do it."

The girl immediately puts on her clothes, before scooting away. With a reddened face she then looks back at him and genuinely smiles. "Thank you."

His eye widens because for some unknown reason he feels his heart skip a beat. Maybe it is because this is the very first time in his teenage life that a girl has ever genuinely smiled and thanked him.

A very pretty one at that too.

Wait, what???!!

Goodness! What is wrong with him?!

Maybe he hit his head too hard.

Roland just grunts his answer, as he coughs into his fist, and beats himself inwardly with a reminder that the girl IS still an Ostanian citizen.

They sit in awkward silence for a couple of seconds before he sees her beam, "By the way, this is for you."

He looks at the crooked wooden crutch given to him. And he realizes that this is what she’s been working on.

"I hope it suffices to help you walk back towards your camp," She continues, "You'll just have to follow the small river down there, and head North."

Something inside him goes cold, "You know our camp?!"

She flusters, "N-... no!! I'm just guessing. Because the widest plains are located there. And… Umm… sometimes I can see smoke coming from that direction."

Roland narrows his eyes, and the girl splutters, "A-... anyway... It's obvious that I can't take you there. So, I hope this crutch can help you."

The boy eyes the makeshift tool, and sighs, "Yeah. I can manage."

Once again she beams and starts to clean their makeshift camps. She puts out the fire and gathers all her hunting goods.

"Alright then. The sun starts to rise, I gotta hurry to the market and sell Mr. Bear's fur. So here…." She places several skewers of grilled meat on top of a wide leaf and pushes them together with half a slice of bread and a water canteen towards him, "I hope this is enough to-..."

He scowls.

He cannot, will not accept any more from her. He is a Westalian soldier. And he has his pride to uphold. "I'm not hungry."

But his stomach decides to betray him at the exact moment and growls.

For the umpteenth time that day, his face turns beet red, even more so when he hears the girl giggle.

"It's not poisonous," she adds shyly, "It’s sufficient to give you strength to return to your friend."

Roland can do nothing but nod at her logic.

She stands up and hauls all her goods. "Alright then, see you again-..." She gasps as she claps her hand at her mouth, "Oh dear, where are my manners? My name is-..."

"We don't need to know each other's names!" Roland intercepts her harshly.

He then adds while averting his eyes to the ground, "We-... we are enemies. It's better if we stay strangers. As a matter of fact, we better forget we've ever met."

The boy glances at her, "I hope we never meet again. Cause… Cause…"

Cause I don't want to have to hurt you…

Huh?

Since when is he seeing Ostanians as human?

Isn't he a prideful Westalian soldier?

Aren't all Ostanians monsters?

He clenches his fists, somehow feeling ashamed even though he is just doing what he has been believing all this time.

"I see." At the girl's gentle voice, he dares to look at her. And he is astonished to see her full of understanding, and not giving him a hateful look.

"Well then, I hope we meet again when the war is over. Just, please don't become a traitorous scum by then." She smiles and turns around, "Good luck!"

Roland's brows knit at the strange message as he stares at her retreating figure until she takes a turn and disappears from his view.

His grumbling stomach makes him glance at the food before him. Slowly he takes one meat skewer and takes a bite.

Immediately his palate is assaulted with warm chewy meat and smells of gamey, mixed with a burnt taste from its edges, a bit of sweetness, and saltiness.

Roland chews and gulps down the meat, gobbles down the bread, and takes a swig from the water canteen to help him swallow it through his dry throat.

As he takes bites faster and faster, he feels different kinds of emotions bursting through his chest.

All this time, he, as the front unit soldier, only survived through survival rations that tasted like sandpaper and lead, while surrounded by the smell of death.

This freshly cooked meat, made with utmost kindness from another living person, a human with flesh and blood that doesn't reek of malice and death, is such a luxury he thought he would never receive.

With tears flooding from his eyes, he sobs, "This is delicious!!"