119La Vie en Rose
Summary: The best thing about being seen as nothing more than pitiful, traumatized children is that no one would believe it possible for any of them to conspire with the Fae to kidnap the Girl-Who-Lived. FemHarry.
Just a warning: FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Non-Cannon Character Death, More in the Future…
Just so you know (Name): FemHarry's name is Andromeda Rhoswen Potter. The name Andromeda means "Ruler/Protector of Men" and was the name of an Ethiopian princess whose mother angered the gods. To placate the gods, Andromeda was fastened to a rock to be used as a sacrifice to a sea monster, from which she was rescued by Perseus. In astronomy, Andromeda is a large northern constellation between Perseus and Pegasus as well a galaxy located two inmillion light years away. Rhoswen is a Welsh name meaning "White Rose" as well as "Fair/Blessed Rose".
I don't own anything related to Twisted Wonderland or Harry Potter!
Chapter 10. Astilbe for I'll Still be Waiting
BALDUR
Throwing his pencil somewhere in the room, Baldur leaned over his recipe book and reached out to tug his hair with a low hiss.
As much as he tried, Baldur couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that there something wrong. Worse yet, that horribly persistent feeling had been nagging on him for the past week or so, keeping him awake at night until he either passed out from exhaustion or decided to mix a few drops of Sleeping Potion with his tea.
For the life of him, Baldur couldn't understand what was causing this. Not even reviewing his routine for the hundredth time in the past three hours helped him because the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary: All his chores were done, the garden was in perfect condition, the pantry was restocked and, most importantly, he had made sure to keep Andromeda company as much as possibly while Ymir continued avoiding her like the stubborn mule he was.
So, yes – Baldur truly couldn't understand what was causing this incessant feeling and, honestly, it was driving him crazy.
Sighing, the dark-eyed man decided to give up for a moment. Leaning back, he turned his head to look towards the clock hanging near his desk only to blink in surprise when he saw that see it was already nearing two in the morning.
Baldur blinked, staring for a moment before he decided that, maybe, he should get some tea before trying to sleep.
And the potion, of course. He couldn't forget the potion.
Rubbing off the stiffness in his shoulders, the dark-eyed man walked out of his room as silently as possible, looking down a few times despite knowing exactly where to step to avoid waking up the whole neighborhood with loud, screeching-like sounds some of the floorboards produced. And, hadn't he tripped and fallen headfirst on the floor, maybe he would've succeed in his task.
The large, muscular man hissed in pain and looked over his shoulders.
Was he truly that tired that he tripped over absolutely nothing? Really? He had never been that clumsy.
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
Baldur blinked again, turning his head to see Ymir looking at him from a small opening of his door. He looked absolutely horrible and, if the smell was anything to go by, the older man had been drinking again. Baldur pursued his lips at the sight – As much as he felt his heart drop a little every time he saw his oldest friend and boss like this, the dark-haired couldn't bring himself to care all that much: Ymir wasn't going to stop no matter what he said, at least not until some sense was knocked into him somehow.
"Admiring the floorboards," Baldur said with false cheer. "Such beautiful craftsmanship."
Ymir winced at the higher than normal volume of his voice and gave him a look.
" Craftsmanship," he drawled. "From the floorboards?"
"Yes," Baldur said.
Bloodshot eyes squinted at him suspiciously. "Since when there's any kind of craftsmanship on floorboards?"
There was a moment of silence as they stared at one another. Ymir, who usually refused to budge in any kind of competition, looked away first, glaring at his feet and gritting his teeth loudly.
"I don't even know why I bother," the purple-haired scientist hissed. "Try to not disturb me again while admiring your so called art."
Without another word, he slammed the door of his room shut. Baldur stared at it for a second, feeling the moment Ymir threw a privacy ward at the door, before he looked over his shoulders again and freezing in place, fear coursing through his body.
Glowing yellow eyes stared back at him.
Wide eyed, he refused to blink as the eldritch bird-like being standing over him tilted its head. Its eyes, however, seemed to blink with the the same beat of the heart chained to its chest. All his thoughts seemed to stop for a moment as he tried to process what was happening (And was he going to now? What did he do?!). Not that he would be given time to process anything before the creature gripped his ankles with deadly looking talons and pulled.
Baldur bit his tongue, swallowing a scream as he was dragged down the corridor. It was over in the blink of an eye but the large, muscular man felt like he had just gone up and down the largest mountain of the region at least seven times, blood rushing to his head and his heart practically trying rip itself out of his chest.
He blinked a few times, flinching back when the shadow being let go of his now bruised ankles and leaned closer, pointing at something with bloodstained talons. Hesitantly, the dark-eyed man turned to see what the shadow being was pointing at only to pale when he saw a familiar door.
That – Baldur couldn't breathe.
That was Andromeda's door.
Was she alright? he thought in a moment of panic, forgetting the shadow creature for the time being. Was she sick?
And… were those spells at her door? No, Baldur squinted his eyes a little. Not spells.
Those were wards.
How – How long had those been there and how didn't he notice before? How bad of a guardian he was if he hadn't noticed anything wrong with his little ward until it was literally pointed out for him?!
The large man didn't have time to keep panicking and questioning himself as his thoughts were cut off by several distorted voices echoing through the hallway, making his ears ring.
Doth something, the voices growled out in a way that reminded him of nails on a chalkboard. Or something shalt beest done about you.
Then, just as fast as it appeared, the shadow being disappeared.
Baldur didn't even blink, pushing himself up and throwing the door open –
Only to stop when he found Andromeda laying on the floor, pressing a hand against her neck while the other seemed to reach out for something under her bed. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the large pool of blood underneath her.
Baldur could feel his hands shaking, dropping to his knees next to the deadly pale girl. He hovered, trying to keep his growing panic under control and thinking back about everything he had learned about first aid. But he couldn't think of anything. As much as he hated to admit it, to acknowledge one more failure from his part as a guardian, Baldur knew that there was nothing that he could possibly do to help.
He knew someone who could though.
And if he had to drag him by his hair and force, threat or blackmail him to help Andromeda then that was exactly what Baldur would do.
Without a moment of hesitation, the dark-eyed man sent a pulse of magic out and screamed loudly enough to make the whole house shake.
"YMIR!"
YMIR
Consciousness doused Ymir like a bucket of cold water. He flailed awake, cursing under his breath as he fell off of the couch and collided with the floor.
Heart hammering against his rib cage, he stared into he darkness of his room for a long moment before he managed to turn his eyes down to the numbers blinking back at him from his wrist watch. Ymir let out another curse, wondering why he had woken at three in the morning. Especially when he had finally been able to sleep without tiring himself out or trying to put himself in a alcohol induced coma.
Pushing himself up, Ymir freed himself from the stifling sheets tangled around his legs and squinted around the room while playing with the ring in his hand absentmindedly.
Now that he was awake, there was no way he would managed to get back to sleep: he needed something to do before he ended losing anymore brain cells than he already had after the amount of drinks he had those past… What was it again? Days? Weeks? A month? He had started to lose track of time at some point.
Shaking his head, he decided to focus on the task at hand, walking towards his bookshelf. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light but he quickly found one of the few titles he hadn't taken the time to read yet, a new book he had brought a few days before the Lord of Shadows had decided to ruin his life again.
Ymir growled, pushing his hair out of his face and reached out for the book.
He never got the chance of even touching it. The moment he stepped back and glanced down at the book, he felt it.
Ymir froze, eyes wide as his head snapped towards his door. He stared, waiting until he felt it again; a familiar pulse of magic that he recognized from some of old Professor Madison's lessons on how to break wards.
And that was exactly what was happening, wasn't it?
Someone was slamming their magic against his privacy wards with the delicateness of a raging bull in a pottery.
No, he realized a moment later, flinching back. It wasn't just someone. He knew very well who that pulse of magic belonged to.
Another pulse of magic, this time strong enough to break not only his privacy wards as it was intended but also some of the wards in his lab that protected his more delicate experiments. He didn't acknowledge it though, staring at his door with wide eyes.
" YMIR!"
The scientist felt his heart stop as the scream tore through the walls of the house, making his ears ring. Without thinking, Ymir leaped out of the room, making a sharp turn and following the scream towards the end of the hallway – Towards the room that he had been avoiding ever since the little creature started living with them.
Ymir snarled.
While the Fair Folk terrified him, while he knew he was powerless when dealing with one of their kind, Ymir knew that he would at least try to fight if necessary. Eminent consequences or not, eternal suffering or not, all Ymir cared about at the moment was to make sure his idiotic assistant wasn't paying for the mistake of trusting one of the chaotic creatures.
When he finally reached his destination after what felt like an eternity, Ymir stopped. His mind blanked and all possible plans he had been coming up with simply disappeared as he stared with eyes, trying to understand what he was seeing.
Baldur was drenched in blood and tears, looking like he had just walked out of a slaughterhouse. There was more blood on the floor and the Lord of Shadows' little clone was —
The little monster was the source of the blood, not Baldur, he realized.
It was such strange concept that he had a hard time believing it. The Fair Folk weren't as frail as humans and, while a mage of considerate power and ingenuity could fight them, it took a lot to wound or kill one of the creatures. Of course, there were methods to hurt and ward against them, but it could do in the end was either amuse or irritate them. Actually, after the war centuries ago, the Valley of Thorns and other Fae kingdoms had made sure to destroy anything that could truly pose any kind of danger to their kind (Be it weapons, books, scrolls, plants and especially people).
So, to see the little creature bleeding and in pain…?
It wasn't something he even knew how to process properly.
"Ymir," Baldur called out. Ymir couldn't hear a single word though, heartbeat echoing in his ears and blinking his eyes a little stupefied. "Ymir, I don't care how much you hate the Fair Folk. Help me."
Could the Fae even feel pain? Could their kind look so frail like this? Could they even imitate a dying human like this?
Human, he thought faintly. It looks human.
Was this a trick? Was it waiting for the right moment to —
"YMIR!"
The scientist jumped, snapping himself out of his thoughts and the questions that seemed to never end. It was then that he noticed that Baldur was pressing both of his hands around its neck in a poor attempt of stopping the little creature from bleeding to death. Its hands were shaking, his eyes immediately noticing the tell tales of previous and possible future seizure, and there was blood staining its mouth in a very morbid way.
His dark-eyed assistant had turned its head to the side in attempt of keeping it from chocking in its own blood as the Fae babbled incoherently. And the eyes…
If he needed a confirmation of how human the Fair One seemed to be, Ymir had it in the pained and expressive green, green-eyed staring at him.
The color was the same and the face almost identical.
But the Lord of Shadows would've never showed any kind of weakness.
"Move," he spoke, only growing aware of what he had done after the order left his mouth.
Baldur winced, looking over his shoulders. His hesitancy and the hint of suspicion hurt, but the purple-haired mage tried to dwell on it. He knew very what was going through the younger man's head.
The little Fae gurgled, managing to make it sound like a pained whine.
Baldur gave her an look that he couldn't bring himself to decipher and immediately stepped aside, making sure to give Ymir space to approach – it, the Fae – the girl without having to move his hands too much. Ignoring the other man and the large pool of blood on the floor soaking his socks, the tall, purple-eyed scientists summoned his personal emergency kit from his lab with a wave of his hands.
"Why didn't you try to close the wounds?" Ymir asked, pulling some of the bandages the Fae was wearing and scanning every single cut he could see. Which proved to be a challenge with all the blood.
It was a wonder how it – she – hadn't passed out yet.
"I did!" Baldur snapped. "Most of them refused to close and almost all the spells I used to stop the bleeding failed! All I managed to do was clear her lungs from the excess of blood and keep her from chocking to death!"
Ymir narrowed his eyes.
While Baldur was no Healer, whatever he had learned with his ridiculous boy scouts group should've been enough to at least heal the smallest cuts.
He leaned closer to the girl's face, ignoring the way Baldur' muscles tensed. Hadn't he been so focused, he would've scoffed; Ymir didn't use the title a lot but he was still a Healer. He would never hurt a patient under his care no matter what they were or how he felt about them.
"Enchanted weapons or curses?"
" What?"
Baldur was ignored again.
"Enchanted weapons or curses?" Ymir asked again, firmer than before.
It took a second before the girl understood what he was asking. She opened her mouth instinctively, coughing blood for three or so seconds until she could actually answer.
She blinked twice and then moved her nose in a way that was rather familiar, one of Baldur' giveaways whenever the younger man disagreed about something during one of their discussions but didn't outright point it out.
Both options, he thought, grabbing his emergency kit when it flew into the room. But not. So, what did I get wrong?
He grabbed her arm to examine the large gash there before turning her body over slightly, pushing her pajamas shirt up with pursued lips as he sent a pulse of magic to get a better diagnosis of the wounds he could see under all the blood. The tip of his fingers tingled every time he touched one of the wounds, some making him feel as though he decided to stick his hand into fire.
Literally.
Ymir hissed, looking down at his hands but not really finding anything physically wrong with them despite the pain.
Purple-eyes narrowed in thought, recalling some of his old lessons during his time as a Night Raven College student.
"Not enchanted weapons then," he mumbled. "Some of those were made by cursed weapons. Perhaps a dagger?"
"A dagger?" Baldur chocked.
He ignored his assistant again, far too immersed in his own thoughts and mental analysis to even notice that he had spoken.
"The others were made with dark magic… No. Dark magic can be treated and the damaged skin tissue of some of the wounds is actually rotting. This is Black Magic…"
Ymir resisted the urge of cursing out loud. He could have dealt with a simple enchantment or dark magic. But cursed weapons and black magic was another story entirely; those were a more specialized area of healing and he neither had the necessary tools nor the necessary understanding to heal it. And let's not forget all the other issues he knew were there but that he would only be able to begin to understand with a more in deep and invasive diagnosis.
Honestly, aside from knocking the girl out, stopping the bleeding, temporarily closing her wounds and perhaps giving her some relief from the pain she was under, there was nothing else that Ymir could do. Just the basics.
And for someone like him, who always prided himself for being one of the bests in what he did, that fact physically hurt him.
The mage hated it.
Pushing those thoughts aside for a moment, he decided to focus on what he could do (Ymir would deal with this failure a later date). So he moved to press a bloodstained finger against the purple opal of his ring and, at the contact, the jewel glowed, the light taking form until it faded away and he found himself holding a staff as tall as he was.
"Look at me," he ordered.
With only a brief moment of hesitation, the girl obeyed. As he turned the staff around, a rattling sound echoed loudly while managing to not disrupting the tense atmosphere that had taken over the room — Baldur shivered, unnerved as always by the skull sitting on the top of the staff.
He tapped the staff against the floor once, the purple opal stones that made-up its eyes glowing brightly. His eyes narrowed when the girl's face twisted, her otherworldly green eyes flashing with defiance.
" Do not fight it," Ymir snapped.
She blinked.
Thankfully, the girl actually listened because while she seemed to fight the effects of the spell for a few more seconds, as though it was already some kind of second nature for her to reject any kind of mind magic (And wasn't that a interesting piece of information?), she finally started to relax. He observed in silence, waiting until her eyes closed before turning her over once more.
Ymir took a deep breath, turning to open his emergency kit which was floating next to him.
"Is she allergic to anything?" he asked.
"I…" Baldur pursued his lips, anger written all over his face.
There was a moment of silence.
"You don't know," Ymir stated.
The dark-haired man refused to look at him.
That, Ymir thought as he stared at the contents of the emergency kit, is a problem.
What now? He couldn't use a potion or a one of his own elixirs when he didn't even know what ingredient would just makes things worse. And yes, he had a large list of spells in his arsenal, of course, but nothing that could work against Black Magic. At least not without the help of some of his most potent and experimental poti – Ymir stopped, leaning closer to the girl and reaching out for the bloodstained bandages tied loosely around her torso.
"Uh," Ymir arched his eyebrows with interest, wondering how he hadn't noticed that those weren't simple bandages.
"What?" Baldur asked, desperate for information.
"Runes."
Ymir brought the bandages closer to his face, touching the cloth with as much wonder as someone like him could muster. He could feel the runes carefully stitched in the cloth and while he couldn't recognize them and had never taken all that much interest in Ancient Languages, it was impossible to not feel the power and intent coming from it.
The bandages seemed to be spelled to somehow close the wounds and keep the girl from bleeding to death (Although she would also have to avoid moving too much or too enthusiastically as to not ). At the same time, the runes would disinfect her wounds while destroying the dead tissue of her skin and heal it.
He was sure there was a limit to how many times the runes would work before the girl would need to change the bandages, but it was a simple and ingenious idea that made Ymir wish he could wake her up just to ask her where she got those and who made them.
"I think I saw that before."
Ymir blinked at the sound of Baldur' voice, head snapping in his direction.
"What?"
The large man made a motion with his head. "Under the bed. I think Andromeda dropped it at some point."
Ymir checking under the bed before his assistant even finished speaking. And there it was, a roll of bandages left miraculously untouched by all the blood on the floor.
"Perfect," he said.
Ymir could finally do his job properly.
In silence, he used a few spells to clean all the blood, quickly changing the bandages the girl was wearing. Baldur stepped back at some point, staring down at his bloodstained hands with an uncharacteristically blank expression on his face until the girl coalesced into a mess of sentences, names and desperate apologizes in her sleep. The words meant nothing to them nor did they try to make sense of it, but they had to work together to keep her from moving too much and opening all her wounds all over again.
As straight forward as it seemed, it wasn't easy to actually keep her still. Ymir had to knock her out several times before she finally stopped and, by then, it was already five in the morning.
"I knew she was going to be trouble," Ymir grumbled, leaning his weight against his staff.
Baldur blinked slowly, staring at Ymir.
The scientist waited for him to speak before he started to grow irritated by his silence.
"What is it?"
The buffoon burst into tears. "I knew you would come around!"
Ymir gave him a look.
"I did no such thing."
"You said she!" he started bawling, opening his arms for a hug.
"Don't even think about it," Ymir growled, using his staff to keep the large man away from him.
The large smile on his face didn't falter. "I'm so proud of you! Now you can stop avoiding her all the time!"
No.
Absolutely not.
Ymir wasn't dealing with this. Just because he helped the girl didn't mean he was going to start liking her or anything.
"I'm leaving, and you need a bath."
"We can have lunch together today! And dinner and —"
" NO!"
Ymir paused before leaving the room, turning to look at the girl one more time. He frowned, glancing at Baldur whose smile turned a little resigned.
Things were in control now but both of them knew this was far from the first or the last time something like this would happen.
"See if you can talk to her," he mumbled. "Maybe we can avoid another bloodbath."
Ymir didn't wait for a answer and left, intent in forgetting everything that had happened for a few hours and go back to sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so drained.
Baldur sighed with a bitter smile when he closed the door behind him, shoulders dropping as he sat down on the bed. Slowly, he turned to look at Andromeda again and reached out to check her pulse.
He didn't know if talking to her would help in any way but Baldur would try of that meant he could be a better guardian.
"So, wake up soon, ok?" he whispered.
He didn't see the girl again until the next day.
Honestly, Ymir had wished to continue avoiding the girl. He felt sick at the mere thought of being in the same room for long with a Fae (Especially one with that face), torn between locking himself in his lab and warping his hands around that extremely frail neck. But he was a Healer despite not having in the field for so long, which in turn meant that he found himself obligated to drag himself to her room and check on her.
He let out a sign, glaring down at his feet. Sometimes he wished he was as heartless and irresponsible as some people constantly accused him to be.
The purple-haired scientist stopped by the doorway of her room, peaking inside the room with caution. Baldur was nowhere to be seen but the girl was awake, sitting on her bed and looking out of the window.
"Good Morrow, Mr. Tecuampil," the girl said, turning her head.
Ymir flinched, avoiding her eyes as he stood straighter. As human as she seemed to be when compared to others of her kind, he couldn't allow himself to show any kind of weakness. After all, the Fair Folk were as unpredictable as they were cruel, and the last thing he needed was for her to get ideas.
"I'm here to check on you," he said professionally if not a little curtly, forgoing any kind of greeting.
She blinked slowly and he had to hold back a grimace of pure distaste when her head tilted to the side much like a bird's would.
"Baldur did say you would…" she replied softly.
Oh, did he? Ymir thought dryly. The younger man had more than likely been planning to drag him into her room by his hair if he didn't take the initiative or if refused to check on her.
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Ymir pulled his stethoscope from one of the pockets of her lab coat and slowly approached the bed. The girl didn't say anything as he did followed the usual procedures for any normal check up, only flinching a little when he moved her head to check her the bandages around her neck.
"When was the last time you changed those?" he asked, staring at the blood stains in the cloth.
"Not too long ago," she replied after a moment of silence, her voice so low that if he wasn't standing so close to her, he won't have heard it. There was a pause before she continued. "The bandages can seal the wounds temporarily but it will just open up again if I move too much or if it uses all it's magic so I need to change them at least every seven hours. The ones for my back need to be changed every five hours because the curses from those wounds…"
She stopped and made a motion with her hand, looking for the right word.
"Need more constant healing," he finished, understanding what she was trying to say.
"Yes… That…" She nodded slowly. The spots on her neck had grown a little more with each word that came out of her mouth. It wasn't much but he still made a mental note about it.
The girl seemed to used to Healers because she allowed him to poke her without a word of complaint, not even moving a single muscle when Ymir turned her around to check her back. He hummed with interest when he saw that the bandages around her torso where glowing softly and that the runes felt cold under his fingertips when he touched it.
"When will you need to change it again?" Ymir asked, stepping back just in case. Without a word, he pulled out a pen and a notepad from the breast pocket of his lab coat.
The girl blinked again.
"The ones for my neck need to be changed in five hours…" she whispered.
He nodded, writing it down.
"So, three hours for your torso?" he waited for her to agree before moving on. "Any allergies aside from the obvious?"
Now that he stopped to think about it, Ymir had to admit that he didn't even known if the Fair Folks could be allergic to anything that wasn't enchanted iron (If he could even call it an allergy), but he didn't wish to risk harming her and rousing Lord Raven's wrath.
"Pearl Dust and Wormwood."
He bit his tongue to keep himself from making a face at that.
Pearl Dust was mostly found in Love Potions so it wasn't common. But Wormwood? Both the herb in itself and it's essence were extremely essential for Healing Potions and salves. That meant Ymir would need to come up with an substitute for it if he wanted to give the girl any kind of Potion.
Well, at least that he actually liked this kind of challenges.
"Right," the tall man grumbled. Absentmindedly, Ymir starter writing a small list of possible ingredients that he could use as a substitute for the Wormwood. "I hope Baldur spoke to you because I won't waste my time."
"He did," she replied.
She made a face, looking like she didn't wish to talk or think about what had happened. And, had it been any other day, Ymir would've been more than happy to comply. Not now though — Especially not when he could already see that he would be the only Healer in charge of her health during her schooling.
Ymir knew that he couldn't ignore what the incident. Not entirely.
"Will the bloodbath will be repeating any time soon?" Ymir asked abruptly, managing to make it sound like an accusation.
Primly, she placed her hands on her lap and turned to look at him. He kept his eyes glued to his notes but still managed to catch the change in her expression, flinch back in surprise when he saw what he could only describe as remorse.
"More than likely," the girl said softly.
He took a deep breath, tapping his pen against his notepad.
I thought so, he thought with dark humor. It was a good thing that the purple-haired mage wasn't really familiar with the concept of a healthy sleep schedule.
"Once," he paused, glancing at the girl when she spoke up, "one of my friends said that some nights are less violent and far more tragic." Her lips turned down in a grimace before she continued, "But that all the blood was a far better alternative than a empty husk..."
She didn't elaborate, trailing off at the end. Thankfully, Ymir was smart enough to recognize the warning for what it was and immediately made a note to place some kind of monitoring ward in her room to alert him whenever she had some kind of attack like the one from the previous morning. Baldur had already been shaken by the bloodbath despite acting like it was nothing, and Ymir wished to spare his assistant from breaking his heart even further by worrying non stop about his so called ward.
The purple-haired mage opened his mouth but never got the chance to do so when Baldur literally jumped into the room, holding a tray of cookies and glasses of milk.
"Ymir!" he beamed with a stupid grin on his face. "Join us! I'm going to teach Andromeda how to play a few cards games!"
"No," Ymir drawled, shoving his pen and notepad back into his pocket and turned around to leave.
"Oh… I didn't think you were that scared of losing."
He froze, head snapping back to glare at his assistant. Baldur blinked back innocently and shrugged with mock disappointment.
It was a trick.
"Don't worry about it, I can understand why."
A pathetic and simple trick that even a child would have been able to spot —
"If I lost all the time to the same person for five years of my life, I would also be a little traumatized."
And it was fucking working.
"That dirt fish cheated!" Ymir snapped.
Baldur pulled a chair to sit next to the girl's bed and gave him a disgustingly sympathetic look. "It's ok," he assured the older man. "Not even a genius like you can be good at everything."
Ymir growled, stepping out of the room to look for a chair and stomping his feet on the way back. With a even larger grin and victory in his eyes, Baldur cooed at the girl, telling her to eat a cookie while the scientist placed the chair next to him.
From her bed, Andromeda accepted the offered cookie with grace despite not being hungry (Despite being so user to hunger that she could go survive days without anything to eat). She observed in silence as Ymir reached out to rip a deck of cards from a laughing Baldur' hands, grumbling and growling. Her eyes softened with happiness, relieved that they didn't seem to be fighting because of her any longer.
A wave of homesickness washed over her at the sight they made, heart squeezing painfully against her chest as she thought about her brothers and friends who never gave up on one another despite their spats. Briefly, she wondered what were they doing and if they were safe before she shouldered on and pushed all those thoughts aside for the time being, reminding herself that there was a reason why she was sent to this place and that she needed to trust on Ron's promise.
Only a week until classes start, Andromeda thought, looking out of the window again. After that, it was only a matter of time until they all came.
Andromeda bit her cookie.
All she needed to do, was to wait a little longer.
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– Cissnei.