Chapter Text
Kanne sat cross-legged on her bed, sorting through a pile of travel gear. Lawine was next to her, leaning back against the wall, arms loosely crossed. The room was cluttered—half-packed bags and a map with scribbled notes.
Kanne held up a folded blanket. “We’ll be able to sleep in the same tent, you know.”
Lawine glanced over. “Obviously. It’s not like Frieren’s gonna micromanage where we sleep.”
Kanne grinned. “It’s kind of cool. Like the old heroes. Traveling together, sharing inns, camping out.”
Lawine raised an eyebrow. “You mean the ones who got frostbite and had to fight demons when they were half sleep?”
Kanne shrugged. “Still sounds fun.”
Lawine snorted. “You think everything sounds fun.”
Kanne leaned her shoulder against Lawine’s. “Not everything. Just stuff with you.”
Lawine didn’t move away, but she didn’t say anything either.
Kanne looked up at her. “You’re not gonna complain if we end up in the same bed at some inn, right?”
Lawine rolled her eyes. “I’ve slept next to worse.”
Kanne laughed. “That’s not a no.”
Lawine gave her a sideways look. “You snore, don’t you?”
Kanne blinked. “No?”
Lawine. “You have snored for the past 2 weeks. We've slept together.
Kanne had pulled the blanket off her bed and wrapped it around both of them without asking. Lawine didn’t protest—she just shifted slightly to make room, her back resting against the headboard, Kanne tucked against her side.
“You packed your socks, right?” Lawine asked.
Kanne blinked. “...No?”
Lawine sighed. “You’re hopeless.”
Kanne tilted her head up. “That’s why I have you.”
Lawine gave her a flat look. “I’m not your checklist.”
“You kind of are,” Kanne said, grinning. “But you’re also warm.”
Lawine didn’t respond, but her arm settled more firmly around Kanne’s shoulders.
Kanne pulled the blanket tighter. “I bet the inns we stay at will have those tiny beds. The kind where you have to sleep shoulder-to-shoulder or fall off.”
Lawine raised an eyebrow. “You’re already planning how to cling to me in your sleep?”
Kanne smirked. “I don’t cling. I drift.”
Lawine snorted. “You latch on like a barnacle.”
Kanne laughed, then rested her head against Lawine’s collarbone. “You’re not pushing me off.”
Lawine looked down at her. “You’re warm too.”
Kanne smiled. “See? Mutual benefit.”
Lawine didn’t argue. She just leaned her head back and let the quiet settle in.
After a moment, Kanne spoke again. “Do you think Frieren ever cuddled with anyone?”
Lawine blinked. “What kind of question is that?”
“I dunno. She’s been alive for centuries. Statistically, someone must’ve pulled her into a blanket at some point.”
Lawine considered it. “She’d probably freeze them solid.”
Kanne giggled. “Guess we’re lucky.”
Lawine glanced at her. “Yeah. I guess we are.”
The door creaked open.
Linie peeked in, her head tilted. “Why are you two under the blanket? Did something happen?”
Kanne blinked, then grinned. “Nope. Just staying warm.”
Lawine stiffened slightly, her arm still around Kanne. “It’s not—we’re just sitting.”
Linie stepped inside, looking unimpressed. “You’re sitting under a blanket. On a bed. Together.”
Kanne patted the spot next to them. “Want to join?”
Linie shrugged. “Sure.”
She climbed onto the bed and ducked under the blanket without hesitation, settling beside Kanne. Lawine shifted awkwardly, clearly unsure where to put her arms now that Linie was pressed in on the other side.
Linie looked around. “Where’s my mom?”
Kanne answered easily. “She went out with Frieren and Fern. They’re picking up supplies for the trip.”
Linie nodded. “Okay.”
Lawine cleared her throat. “You’re not cold, right?”
Linie blinked at her. “No. But this is nice.”
Lawine looked like she wanted to say something else, but didn’t. Her eyes flicked between Kanne and Linie, then down at the blanket.
Kanne leaned into her again. “You’re doing fine.”
Lawine muttered, “I wasn’t asking.”
Linie tilted her head. “You’re weird when people are close to you.”
Lawine flushed. “I’m not weird.”
Kanne smiled. “She’s just shy.”
Lawine groaned quietly and pulled the blanket a little higher, as if it could hide her.
Linie looked at both of them and asked innocently. “You two are kind of like a couple, have you made out yet. I hear it from Fern and Stark constantly. ”
Lawine choked on air. “We’re haven’t …—”
Kanne cut in, cheerful. “We’re close but … .”
Lawine buried her face in the blanket.
Linie nodded. “Okay.”
Linie shifted, then lay down under the blanket, her head resting lightly against Kanne’s lap. Kanne adjusted without fuss, brushing Linie’s hair back with one hand.
“You’re a good girl,” Kanne said softly, patting her head.
Linie blinked up at her. “You say that like I’m a dog.”
Kanne smiled. “You’re better than a dog. You’re sweet.”
Lawine, still sitting upright, hesitated—then reached out and gently patted Linie’s head too. Her touch was awkward, but careful.
Linie didn’t move. “You’re both weird.”
Lawine gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. “You’re not complaining.”
Linie closed her eyes. “It’s nice. Being somewhere warm.”
Kanne leaned back against Lawine’s shoulder again, her hand still resting on Linie’s head. “That’s the point of traveling together. You don’t have to be cold.”
Lawine let out a quiet breath, her posture finally easing. She didn’t say anything, but her arm settled around Kanne again, more naturally this time.
Kanne glanced at the half-packed bag near the desk and sighed. “I should finish packing.”
She gently slid out from under the blanket, careful not to jostle Linie too much. Linie didn’t move—she just shifted slightly, her head now resting against Lawine’s side.
Lawine froze for a second, unsure what to do with the sudden proximity.
Linie didn’t say anything. Her eyes were half-closed, and a small, relaxed smile had settled on her face.
Lawine looked down at her, then at Kanne, who was now sorting through clothes on the floor.
“She’s just gonna fall asleep like that?” Lawine asked quietly.
Kanne glanced back. “Probably. She likes being close to people she trusts.”
Lawine blinked, then looked down again. Linie’s breathing was slow and steady.
After a moment, Lawine let herself lean back a little more, her arm resting lightly beside Linie.
Kanne knelt by the desk, sorting through her gear with casual focus—folding clothes, checking her pouch, muttering to herself about socks. Her hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned forward, and the soft light from the window caught the curve of her cheek.
Lawine watched her quietly from the bed.
Linie was still curled up against her side, eyes closed, smiling faintly. But Lawine’s attention had drifted.
She didn’t say anything, didn’t move—but her gaze lingered. There was something in it: not just fondness, but a quiet ache. The way Kanne moved, the way she hummed to herself, the way she’d smiled at Linie without hesitation—it all pulled at something in Lawine’s chest.
She looked away for a moment, then back again.
Kanne glanced over her shoulder. “You okay?”
Lawine blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah. Just... watching.”
Kanne smiled. “You’re allowed.”
Lawine didn’t answer, but her ears were pink.
Lawine shifted slightly, then spoke up—her voice low, but clear.
“Do you ever think about having kids?”
Kanne blinked. “Huh?”
Linie’s eyes snapped open. She sat up halfway, face instantly red. “Why are you asking that?”
Lawine looked at her, then back at Kanne. “I was just thinking. Not now. Just… someday.”
Kanne tilted her head. “You’re not really the type to bring that up out of nowhere.”
Lawine shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I guess I’d want someone like Linie.”
Linie stared at her, wide-eyed. “Me?”
Lawine nodded, not quite meeting her gaze. “You’re honest. You care about people. You’re not afraid to say what you think. That’s the kind of person I’d want to raise.”
Linie’s blush deepened. She looked down at the blanket, flustered but quiet.
Kanne smiled softly. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”
Lawine muttered, “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”
Lawine was still flustered, her gaze flicking between Kanne and Linie. The room had gone quiet again, but something hung in the air—soft, uncertain.
Kanne shifted closer, her voice steady. “You know… you’re the only person I’d ever even consider having kids with.”
Lawine blinked, stunned. “What?”
Kanne leaned in and kissed her—light, brief, but unmistakably real.
Lawine didn’t move. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed, but she didn’t pull away.
Kanne stayed close, her forehead resting lightly against Lawine’s. “I mean it.”
Linie, still sitting nearby, was frozen in place, her face redder than ever.
Kanne turned to her gently. “And you… you’re a good child for your mom. She’s lucky to have you.”
Linie looked down, trying to hide her face behind the blanket. “You’re both embarrassing.”
Lawine let out a quiet breath, still processing, but her hand found Kanne’s under the blanket and held it.
Kanne smiled, but then noticed Linie sitting stiffly nearby, her face red and eyes darting away.
“…Wait,” Kanne said, blinking. “Is Linie embarrassed?”
Linie pulled the blanket up over part of her face. “No.”
Kanne tilted her head. “But demons don’t get embarrassed.”
Linie muttered, “Please don't call me that.” as her face blushed red.
Lawine looked at her for a moment, then gently patted her head. “Guess you just learned a new emotion.”
Linie peeked out from under the blanket, still flushed. “Should we tell Frieren?”
Kanne grinned. “She’ll probably ask you to describe it and rank it on a scale.”
Lawine nodded. “She’ll want to know what triggered it.”
Linie groaned softly. “I don’t want to be studied.”
Kanne leaned back, still holding Lawine’s hand. “Too late. You’re officially interesting.”
Lawine smirked. “Welcome to the club.”
Linie didn’t respond, but her blush lingered—and so did her quiet smile.