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saccharineomens · 9 months ago

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I wrote another excerpt from my fic!

During the feast at the end of the manga, Marcille re-connects with Fionil and Doni. Some secrets about Fionil are about to come to light, however… (1.6k words)

—

Stuffed. Stuffed was the only word that came to Marcille’s mind right then. She’d been eating as much as she could since she woke up that morning, taking bites in-between helping Senshi prepare vegetables and stock for soups until she was fit to burst. It had been taking real effort to keep up the momentum, but she wasn’t about to slack off just when they were making real progress with eating the Chimera. Was this plan to revive Falin going to work? Marcille didn’t even know. But the food was good, and the company was great, and even if it didn’t work, even if Falin didn’t come back…Marcille didn’t regret one second of it.

The weather had held steady all week, making it much easier to do all the cooking and feasting and merry-making. If Marcille closed her eyes and imagined some tents selling wares, this would almost feel like a festival. As it was, people as far away as the southern coast of the island had made their way here to partake in the free food and the celebration, and some bards had set up and started busking for loose change and a warm meal, and Marcille couldn’t remember a time things felt so joyous. Her steps felt light even as she strolled around taking in the sights of happy guests and drunk revelers.

A blue cloak and a flash of blonde hair passed her, and Marcille spun with the excitement of recognition. “Ah!” she exclaimed in surprise. “You’re those adventurers we met on the second floor!”

The girl had her hood pulled far over her face, but the young man at her left gave a reassuring nod before at smiling apologetically at Marcille. “Yes, I was attacked by the basilisk.” He proudly held up a bowl of stew. “Doing our part to help Laios out.”

Marcille grinned. “Doni, right? And Fionil?”

“Shh, please,” Fionil whispered, eyes darting around, and she held a finger up to her lips. “Let’s speak elsewhere.”

Marcille didn’t understand her timidity, but she had no reason to suspect any ill will from the two fledgling adventurers. With a shrug, she trailed behind Fionil’s hurried escape as they left the crowd.

[continued under the cut!]

The two of them led her to the very edge of the clearing near a thick grove of evergreens, needle-heavy branches brushing the ground like a curtain of privacy. There was no table to speak of, but Fionil knelt on some dead leaves and placed her bowl on her lap. It was some of the pulled and roasted meat, simmered with vegetables. The soup had been pretty tasty, but a little bland, in Marcille’s opinion. Senshi hadn’t directly overseen that dish, so it hadn’t had his special touch.

Doni sat cross-legged next to Fionil and offered her a napkin, which she accepted with down-cast eyes.

“Are you…hiding from someone?” Marcille asked. She looked over her shoulder, but there was no obvious sign that anyone was paying them attention at all.

Fionil sighed. “Yes.” She pushed her hood back, finally, glancing up at Marcille with mournful blue eyes.

“Oh, I never noticed,” Marcille said softly, a hand coming up to her mouth in shock. “When we helped you with the basilisk, we were so busy preparing the medicine…” She trailed off. “You’re a half-elf.”

Fionil looked back at her lap. “I am,” she said solemnly. “I’m hiding from the Canaries.”

“The Canaries? What would the Canaries want with you?” After all, it’s not like Fionil had been performing highly illegal ancient magic. Unless she was. Such a shy and unassuming elf performing bold and advanced magic yet almost dying to a basilisk was a pretty hilarious image.

Fionil didn’t respond right away, chewing her lip, and Doni put a hand over her arm. “It’s okay, Fionil. We can trust Marcille.” He raised his head. “She was a spy for the Canaries.”

“Doni!”

Marcille was as agape as Fionil.

“Well, it’s not true any longer, is it?” Doni said, smiling. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But you…you’re so…” Fionil’s cheeks got pinker, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I still can’t believe you don’t hate me!”

Marcille raised her hands to slow them. “Wait, wait. A spy? How exactly were you a spy??” She was so….’easily defeated’, was a kind way of putting it. Her being some sneaky, cunning shadow didn’t fit.

Fionil looked away again, brow pinched with anxiety. “I’m from the Central North Continent, yes. But I wasn’t a Canary. Mixed-bloods aren’t allowed. Not that I wanted to join them.”

The girl fidgeted with her skirt, causing her bowl to rock dangerously, and Doni moved it to the solid ground. Fionil’s mouth quirked a small smile, and her posture relaxed some. “I’m just a mage the Canaries hired to report on the city outside of the Dungeon. They paid me to inform them if they needed to intervene.” Her head snapped up suddenly, eyes wide. “But I didn’t tell them to come here! I swear! I haven’t sent them correspondence in months!”

Doni’s other hand went to cover Fionil’s, and Marcille watched as he gave it a gentle squeeze. Despite her questions and alarm, Marcille couldn’t help how the sweet gesture tugged at her heartstrings. “Take a breath. Tell her what you told me.”

Fionil sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, her cheeks all the redder with Doni’s touch. “When I met Doni…” She cast a furtive glance toward him and gave a watery smile. “He was so curious about the Dungeon. He didn’t want riches. He didn’t see the Dungeon as a source of all evil, like the elves did. It was the adventure that called to him. He told me how he’d grown up in a small world, and how he’d wanted to see it with his own eyes.” She put her other hand over Doni’s, a tear slipping down her cheek as hope entered her voice. “I started avoiding the Canaries. I didn’t want to go home again. The Western Continent isn’t home to me, anymore, my home is here. With Doni.” She looked back at Marcille, pleading. “And with Laios, and the kingdom he wants to create…I want to see it. I don’t want anything to do with the Canaries ever again.”

As romantic as this whole story was, Marcille remained cautious. Everything with the Canaries had turned out alright so far, since the Queen hadn’t ordered any immediate war on the way, but Fionil’s loyalty was still under question. “Don’t you have family back home? Friends?”

“My mother passed, and my father is distant,” Fionil sniffed, rubbing her tears away with the palm of her hand. “I never could get close to anyone, as a half-elf…to the elves, I’m an inferior race, and to the humans, I’m a proud elf.”

Just that one sentence struck Marcille like a bolt of lightning. She saw herself reflected in Fionil, like a mirror. No one her age to befriend, only her parents to spend time with. And at the academy, every gnome and human student was decades younger than her. Even Falin…

“I know how you feel,” Marcille said emphatically, springing forward to take Fionil’s hands, and Fionil startled at her intensity. “I grew up here in the East, among humans, but it was the same for me.” Well, at least she didn’t have elves looking down upon her like Fionil did. But her father, and the court her mother worked at, it was all tall-men. Dwarves were rare, and she hadn’t seen a half-foot until coming to the island. The empty hills and her mother’s garden were the most comforting friends to her.

Fionil blinked at Marcille, jaw dropped. Her face was an open book, she’d clearly never been trained for politics or espionage. The Canaries had probably picked her because she was so much more unassuming than someone as straight-laced and professional as Pattadol.

Marcille grinned and squeezed Fionil’s hands. “It’s okay, Fionil. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. The Canaries don’t like me much, either.”

Doni laughed and shook her shoulder. “Isn’t that wonderful? I told you Marcille would understand!” He picked up Fionil’s bowl and held it out to her, and she pulled her hands from Marcille’s to take it with a shy thank you.

The kind concern Doni showed Fionil was unbelievably sweet, especially since he was so young. Was he younger than Falin? But the attention he showed Fionil felt more akin to something Marcille’s father did to comfort her mother when she was upset…

“Are you two…together?” Marcille asked, tilting her head. Hadn’t they had a full party of adventurers with them when Marcille last saw them in the dungeon? There was no sign of them now, but Doni and Fionil were still glued at the hip.

“What?!” Fionil flushed deeply, and even Doni looked a little more sheepish as he scratched at the back of his neck and shuffled aside to give them some distance. “I don’t— I mean— W-what made you think that?!”

Not yet then. Marcille waved a dismissive hand and smiled placatingly. “Oh, it’s nothing! I was just jumping to conclusions.” Maybe they would figure it out, someday. Fionil must be quite young, then, too. First love? That was *soooo* cute. Already the gears were turning in Marcille’s head to see if she could encourage them to admit their feelings for each other…

“It was great to see you both again,” Marcille said, holding out a hand for a shake. “I should get back to cooking, but I look forward to seeing you again soon.” It wasn’t clear if she and Fionil would become best friends, but it would be nice indeed to have another half-elf around to talk to.

They both reached for her hand at the same time, blushed, and Doni retracted his while Fionil took Marcille’s. There was a small smile on her face, and even with her eyes reddened from crying, her smile was strong enough to outshine the sun. “A pleasure to meet you again, Marcille. Visit me any time you please.”

Oh, Marcille had plans to.

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