Chapter Text
From Chapter 15: The town guard detect Frieren’s mana released
Omake idea: SpacePi
Stark was startled awake by loud noises, and it took him a couple of seconds to realize that someone was banging on his door.
What? Why? At this hour?
More loud banging, and then came a voice he knew all too well.
“Stark-Sama!”
What now? What did he do? He hadn’t drank any juice - not any that Fern knew about, anyway.
“I’m coming…” he called out, rubbed his face, and put on his boots.
“Stark-Sama please I need you to-”
Stark opened the door wide to find Fern standing in front of him with her fist raised in mid-air, and wearing her black cloak over her sleeping gown. And her face. Goddess save them all. Her face. It sent cold shivers down his spine.
“Fern… what- Oi!”
“Come with me,” Fern grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out of his room and into the hallway.
“What’s going on? Fern, what’s wrong? My axe-”
“You don’t need it. No time to explain.” Fern made him come down the stairs. She sounded stern, tired, and pissed. This was by far Stark’s least favorite kind of Fern.
“At least tell me what you want me to do,” he grumbled when they found themselves outside the inn, right in the middle of the cold night. He didn’t detect any threat, and yet Fern looked ready to fight a demon.
Wait. Was she… was Fern blushing?
“Just agree with me, if necessary,” Fern kept her eyes set on the street ahead of them, as if she were expecting someone to come, and indeed, a few seconds later, Stark could make out several figures approaching them. Four soldiers, a priest, and a mage, all of them dressed in official city robes.
“What the hell…”
“I swear, Frieren-Sama…” Stern stood straight, chin up, and allowed herself a sigh.
Before Stark could ask something else that would not be answered either, the entourage reached them, and Fern took a step forward.
“Good evening. I believe that I know why you are here,” she said in a rather solemn tone.
The men stood in front of Fern and Stark, studying them.
“Good evening, miss,” one of them, the mage, said. “There was an overwhelming mana release not long ago, and we believe that this inn is the source.”
“It was a most suspicious mana,” added the priest, his gaze severe.
Stark saw Fern swallow, then nod, as if accepting a mea culpa. “That is correct. That was me.”
“You?” The mage raised his eyebrows. “Just you alone? We were expecting to find an entire coven.”
“It was just me,” Fern assured them. She produced her First Class Mage certificate, handing it to the mage, who studied it.
“The mana I detected…” the priest added, “was of a very, very special kind. It was… well… it communicated quite a lot.” He raised a high, critical eyebrow as he looked at Fern up and down, and Stark tensed as his attention turned to him. Why was he being judged so harshly? What had he done?
“I was just practicing mana concealment techniques,” Fern pursed her lips.
“It's hard to believe that that was it,” the mage raised an eyebrow.
Fern looked down, her blushing intensifying.
“My apologies,” She turned to Stark and, to his utter surprise, took his hand, and then, with the shyest voice, she added, “we- we got carried away.”
The mage gave them a surprised look, while the priest shook his head in clear disapproval. The soldiers seemed to have no idea about what was happening.
“Well, this is…” the mage cleared his throat and rubbed his nape, as if he were embarrassed himself. “To think that First class mages possess this amount of mana,” he chuckled. “Just… make sure to keep it under control the next time you two-”
“Yes, I will. Again, my deepest apologies,” Fern bowed, her hand sweating in Stark’s.
“Alright. You gave us quite a scare.” The mage returned the certification. “Well, again, make sure to control that mana of yours, hm? And… uh… carry on, I guess.”
Fern could not make herself say another word. A nod was all she could manage, and she pinched her nose as the men turned and left, whispering among themselves.
Stark had never been so baffled in his life.
“Fern?”
Fern kept pressing on her nose, and her blush would not let up.
“We will never speak of this again,” she said at last. “To anyone. Ever.”
“I don’t even know what this is,” Stark scratched his head.
“Believe me. That’s a good thing,” Fern sighed, glaring up at the inn, straight to the room where she knew Frieren and Methode were causing her this ludicrously embarrassing kind of trouble.
Stark felt like retorting, but he wisely chose self preservation, and let it go with a quick sigh.
“Fern?”
“Yes?”
“Can you let go of my hand now?”
Fern’s blush returned with a vengeance, and she dropped Stark’s hand as if burned. She pivoted in place and strode back to the inn without another word.
Stark shook his head, and after a loud sigh, he followed after her.
Sein observed them go back in from his own window, rolling his eyes. Well, that was amusing to watch.
Ah, Frieren, Frieren. Truly, that damn elf had the very luck of the devil himself.
From Chapter 15: Serie detects Frieren’s mana released
Omake idea: Guest
All kinds of creatures desired power in this world. They wanted omnipotence, even omniscience, and did all kinds of acts to achieve it, some commendable, some reprehensible, and some outright deplorable.
Serie put on her sleeping gown and slammed her chamber doors open with a flick of her hand.
Fools. The lot of them. Fools. They had no idea what power entailed. True, it allowed one to do monumental feats, to destroy and create, command, and change. Yes, power was incredible, but it could be a terrible thing as well.
She made it into her studio, where she started to pace.
Power engulfed, it smothered, it dug deep, it demanded as much as it gave, it allowed its user to see parts of the world that were better left undiscovered. Forsaken.
Indeed, there were things that Serie wished with all her might to have never known, like the cursed moment in which she felt Frieren releasing her mana as she orgasmed. The seven sages of destruction damn her! Orgasmed! And with one of Serie’s own students nonetheless!
She would allow herself this little, puerile expression. Just this one. It was justified after all.
Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.
And why did Frieren keep taking her things away from her?
“Did you call, Serie-Sama?” Lerner walked in, his hair in disarray, and his robe hastily thrown around his shoulders.
“Did you feel it, Lerner?”
Lerner frowned. “Feel what, Serie-Sama?”
“Of course you didn’t, it’s too far away for you,” Series snorted. “Send a letter to Methode. Ask her to come back immediately.”
“Is something the matter?”
“Do as you’re told,” Serie glared at him. “And while you’re at it, lift Frieren’s ban.”
“Serie-Sama?”
“And summon her so I can ban her again.”
Learned blinked, his forehead marked with multiple creases.
Serie sighed. “Yes, you’re right, she doesn’t deserve that much attention. Just summon Methode back.”
“Of course, Serie-Sama,” a quite confused Lerner bowed, and left.
Serien rubbed her temples and briefly considered casting a forgetting spell on herself, but decided against it in the end.
A couple of weeks later, a vein popped in her forehead when Methode, instead of returning, announced that she’d be taking a sabbatical to journey along with Frieren for a couple of years.
Sense was the fool who implemented the policy of temporary leave for all First Class mages. Naturally, Serie gave her the cold shoulder for a month.
From Chapters 17-19: Frieren takes care of a wounded Methode
Omake idea: Cat O'Moss
That first night, Frieren didn’t know if Methode would live long enough to see another daybreak, so she prepared herself for the agonizing possibility of never seeing those deep blue eyes looking back at her again.
She was deliberately slow and gentle when she cleaned as much blood and dirt as she could from Methode. Sein had told her not to disturb her torso, so Frieren focused her attention on the woman’s blood-matted hair, her face, her hands, and as she did, she made sure to engrave the exact color of her tresses, not quite blonde, not quite brown, but a warm golden hue instead. And since her lips were pale and cracked, Frieren focused on their shape instead.
How beautiful she was to her.
At last, she held her hand in hers to learn its frame by heart. The healing hand that had saved Fern.
In that moment, more than ever, she wanted to believe in the Goddess, and so, she prayed.
---
The second night found Frieren relishing in her relief. Fern was stable and rapidly recovering color and strength, and, despite the odds, Methode had held on to life just long enough to give Sein time to recover his mana and bring her back from the brink of death.
Methode was far from healthy, but she would live.
Frieren felt too much, her emotions swirling and saturating her, making her dizzy. But drained and tired as she was, she preferred not to dwell on those feelings for now. Besides, that night, after sleeping for most of the day, Methode had opened her eyes and smiled for her, just for a moment, before returning to her healing slumber.
Frieren’s heart felt as if it had grown three sizes.
No aureole for Methode. Not yet, anyway.
---
“Does it hurt?” Frieren asked as she helped Methode to sit up against a wall.
“It’s bearable,” Methode fought a flinch, releasing a sigh when she found a comfortable position.
Frieren fixed the blanket over Methode’s lap, and then offered her a spoonful of apple mash.
“Frieren, I can do that,” Methode said, her voice faint.
“You can’t,” Frieren looked at her, then offered the spoon again. “Why would you pretend otherwise?”
“Pride, I guess,” Methode studied the food, and at last opened her mouth to receive her first meal in three days. She winced when her tastebuds tingled with the sudden sensory overload.
“I’ve found that pride is quite useless,” Frieren nodded approvingly when Methode swallowed. “It generally is fear with another name.” She got more fruit on the spoon and offered it again, finding Methode’s soft gaze on her.
“What?”
Methode smiled. “Nothing. You’re right. I don’t need pride. Not with you.” She opened her mouth.
Frieren, patiently, fed her, got her to drink some water, and then helped her to lie down again, and due to some unexplainable spell, Frieren fell under the hypnotic allure of watching Methode fall asleep.
---
“Methode?” Frieren whispered as she lay next to her on the fourth night.
“Hm?” Methode opened her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Methode frowned, trying to discern Frieren’s features in the midst of the night.
“Why?” She asked at last.
“Fern says that self-reproach doesn’t fit me,” Frieren kept her voice quiet. “But I’m still sorry.”
“For this?” Methode patted her own belly, and Frieren nodded.
They remained quiet for a while, until Methode took Frieren’s hand in hers and led it to her healing wound.
“I understand guilt,” she said while she stroked that hand. “And I know how useless it is to ask you not to feel that way, Frieren. It will take time. I know that.
Frieren pursed her lips and pressed her forehead against Methode’s temple as she felt the warm skin under her palm.
“But it’s okay,” Methode spoke again with a gentle tone. “I have no space in my heart for your guilt, anyway.”
It was Frieren’s turn to frown, and Methode smiled for her. “Well, it’s already full.”
“What do you mean?”
Methode closed her eyes. “It’s full of other good things. So, once you’re ready to part with that guilt, you can just let it slide, alright?”
Frieren stayed quiet for long moments, and at last, she sighed. “Okay.”
What Methode didn’t specify was that all those good things already filling her heart were all for Frieren.
After Chapter 23: Himmel and Heiter react to Frieren dating Methode
Omake idea: Friendly Guest
Where Himmel was could not be called a place, and yet, it existed.
What Himmel was, was, and wasn’t. Nonetheless, he had never been more real.
When Himmel existed couldn’t be called the present. However, it was today, and tomorrow, and yesterday. And always, and never.
It was simply unexplainably perfect. Having said that, perfection surpassed itself one non-day.
“You’re smiling,” Heiter approached him.
“I am,” Himmel said. He had conjured himself a field of flowers and was placidly sitting in the middle of it. He looked up. “You too. You saw her, your daughter.”
Heiter’s serene eyes softened even more. “I did. She’s everything I ever wanted for her.”
“And what is that, Heiter?”
“Happy,” Heiter sat next to Himmel. “She’s happy.”
“I’m glad,” when Himmel smiled, somewhere, a gorgeous sunrise warmed the land.
“What about you, Himmel? You spoke with Frieren quite a lot.”
Nostalgia within bliss was such a unique thing to feel. Himmel lay down, butterflies flying around him as he rested his head on his bent arms. “She’s as beautiful as I remember, perhaps even more.”
Heiter joined Himmel on the field of flowers, and some seconds of an eternity went by.
“She found love again,” Himmel spoke again.
“Did she, now?” Heiter said. He knew, of course. He had, too, spoken with Frieren.
Himmel nodded. “And she’s allowing herself to feel it this time. She had quite a lot to tell me about her.”
“And how do you feel about that, Himmel?”
Himmel looked at Heiter, his smile serene. “I’m very happy for her. I’m proud of her too. Her heart has opened. There is still healing for her to do, but she will, Heiter.”
“Of course she will. That’s our Frieren,” Heiter said.
“That’s our Frieren,” Himmel echoed.
“You know, she reproached me.”
“Oh? About that?” Heiter blinked.
“Well, apparently my intentions towards her were never clear. She claims that all I needed to do was use my words and simply state my feelings.”
Heiter’s laughter was loud and melodious, and Himmel couldn’t help joining in his joy.
“She’s not wrong. I meant to avoid her pain, and myself as well,” Himmel sighed. “But I’m always with her, and when she feels lost, she wonders what I would do, you know? That’s what she said.”
Heiter nodded. “She’s truly carrying your memory, as she promised she would.”
“Yea, and even here, she managed to heal something in me, too,” Himmel felt his chest. “I now know what perfect bliss feels like.”
Heiter sat up and looked down at Himmel, nodding. “If anyone deserves it, that’s you, my friend.”
Himmel wanted to say something, say thank you, or have the perfect words to such a heartfelt declaration, but that was not necessary, not there, not with them.
They rested on that field of flowers for an eternity, or perhaps a few instants. In Aureole, that mattered not.
After Chapter 23: Eisen meets Methode
Omake idea: Cat O'Moss
“Hey Methode,” Stark approached Methode in the tavern, his special mirror clutched in a hand. “My master wants to talk with you.”
“Oh?” Methode, who was busying herself with a drink, looked up. “With me?”
“Yeah, he wants to meet you,” Stark handed her the mirror.
Methode took it, eyebrows raised, and quite unsure about what she was supposed to say.
“Eh… hello?” She stared into it to find two penetrating eyes looking back at her.
“Methode-San, I assume,” Eisen said.
“Yes. Good evening, Eisen-Sama.”
“That’s my master.” Stark sat next to Methode. “Isn’t he cool looking?”
“Stark, a warrior does not look cool,” Eisen said.
“Oh but you do,” Methode smiled as she cupped her cheek. “You look quite impressive, Eisen-Sama. I’m very pleased to meet you. Your student is a most formidable warrior himself.”
Stark beamed, and Eisen stroked his beard.
There was silence, and even through the mirror, Methode felt the studious stare of the dwarf.
“Say, is Frieren a good mate?” He asked at last.
“Yeah, that’s my cue,” Stark said and stood up, leaving at once to go find the others.
“Oh my,” Methode chuckled, blushing a little. “Well, yes, of course she is.”
“And are you?” Eisen asked.
Where was that coming from? Methode wished she could read the dwarf’s expression under that beard and helmet.
“I absolutely try my best,” she finally said.
“I see,” Eisen nodded. “Good. Very good. I’m pleased to meet you, too.”
“Thank you,” Methode sighed inwardly, having the certainty that she had passed some sort of test.
“Pardon if I seem like I am prying,” Eisen went on. “I was curious.”
“Oh?” About me?” Methode blinked.
“Yes. Frieren speaks highly of you, and I needed to meet the person who had gotten through that millennial, thick skull of hers.”
“My, I’m not sure what to say to that,” Methode chuckled.
“No need to say anything,” Eisen smiled. Perhaps. Methode couldn’t really tell. “You’ll make sure that she doesn’t get lost in her own sense of time, won’t you?”
“Yes, Eisen-Sama,” Methode said. Ah. She understood now. “I try to make every day count.”
“Good,” Eisen stroked his beard. “You’re a good woman, Methode. I can tell.”
“Thank you,” Methode smiled. “And you’re a good friend to my sweet elf. I can also tell.”
Eisen seemed to be the kind of person to deal poorly with compliments, Methode mused, but to the dwarf’s luck, the others returned in that moment.
“Sein, come meet my master!” Stark said, and after saying good bye, Methode gladly relinquished the mirror to the priest, and while he, Fern, and Stark took over her table to talk with Eisen, she joined Frieren at a different one.
“I see you spoke with Eisen.” Frieren said. “Isn’t he great?”
“Yes, really great,” Methode smiled as she took Frieren’s hand in hers. “I can’t wait to meet him for real.”
“Just don’t pat his head. He’s shorter than me, but he won’t like it if you find him cute,” Frieren warned.
“Duly noted,” Methode chuckled.
Not long after, once they had said goodbye to Eisen, the party shared a good meal before continuing their journey to the North.
After Chapter 23: Stark proposes to Fern. They kiss.
Omake idea: Sobeke and Patrick
Stark fixed his jacket. The little northern town where they were staying was a perfect spot for a well deserved date. And didn’t Fern look adorable that afternoon? With that cute dress of hers, her hair shining with the sun, and her face, sweet and demure. Indeed, despite the many dates they had had, Fern still blushed and acted coy around him. They hadn’t even kissed, not yet, except for the little pecks on the cheek that they allowed themselves.
This was Stark’s favorite thing in the world; walking next to the purple haired girl, hand in hand, as they visited this or that store, ate snacks, and enjoyed their walk. He loved to see her blush when he called her pretty, when he complimented her dress.
He simply loved her.
They were now at a viewpoint, observing the snowy mountains beyond the town, and the more he looked at Fern, how the wind moved her hair, the faster his heart beat. His hands were sweaty, and he couldn’t stop shifting his weight from one leg to the other while his fingers played with the little, velvety box hidden in his pocket.
“Stark-Sama?” Fern turned to him. “Is there something wrong? You look terribly restless.”
Stark took a deep breath and looked at her, at those purple eyes, and a wave of calmness suddenly washed over him.
This was no dragon. This is what Stark desired the most.
“Nothing is wrong at all,” Stark said, reaching for Fern’s hand. “It’s just that now that we’ve reached Aureole, I have been wondering what our next adventure will be. But I already know.”
“Oh?” Fern sided her head, looking at him, and then her eyes widened when Stark bent his knee, her hand still in his.
“Stark-Sama…?”
“Fern,” Stark produced the box, opening it with one hand, and there, a golden ring with the design of a mirrored lotus in full bloom rested.
“Please, be my wife. Let us live every new adventure together.”
Fern’s mouth was agape, her own heart galloping in her chest, and a moment later she made Stark stand to his feet, crushing him in her arms, her face hidden in his chest.
“Fern…” Stark wrapped his arms around her, and his face split in a grin when he felt her nod.
“Y-yes?”
He received another series of nods from Fern.
Stark yelled his joy. He picked her up by the waist, pivoting with her, uncaring of the onlookers, and then he crushed her into his arms again, and Fern was laughing! She was laughing with him!
She pulled away at last, her eyes teary, and finally offered her hand.
“Yes!” She swallowed, her smile shaky. “Yes! I’ll marry you!”
Stark slid the ring into her finger, and then, gently, careful, pressed his lips to hers to share their first kiss.
They remained in each other’s arms well beyond the sunset.