Chapter Text
In the midst of the heroes' crazy journey to defeat the Demon King, a particularly quiet day arrives.
The sky glows in shades of orange over the silent hills. The light of the setting sun falls slowly upon the village's stone path, tinting Frieren's silver hair with gold as she absentmindedly observes small flowers growing among the cracks in the ground.
Himmel walks beside her, ever attentive, though perhaps a little too close.
Frieren barely glances up, curious to see him so strangely serious. Himmel holds something small between his fingers, concealing it with a smile that seems to waver between confidence and nervousness. It's something he bought a moment ago at the market.
With a small gust of wind, Frieren turns to look at him and notices his behavior.
"What's wrong?" she asks calmly. "You look stranger than usual."
Of course, Himmel lets out a small, hurt laugh.
"Thanks, hahaha. You're always so kind."
Then, before she can ask anything else, Himmel does something unexpected: he kneels before her, his white cloak billowing with his every movement.
Frieren blinks, taken by surprise, although her face does not change.
A soft breeze stirs the hero's cloak as the reflection of the afternoon sun illuminates his face. Himmel, a soft smile curving his lips, delicately takes Frieren's left hand and slips a silver ring onto one of her fingers. A simple, elegant gesture.
The silver reflects the sunset like still water, and at its center rests a small blue gem that glimmers faintly in the golden light. Frieren gazes at the ring in silence, then at Himmel. Then back at the ring.
"What is this?" she asks, confused.
"A gift," he replies, his tone gentle, as is the touch of his hand on the elf's fingers.
She snaps out of it again, then asks with genuine curiosity:
"And why are you kneeling to give me a gift?"
Himmel remains silent for a few seconds. Then he smiles with his usual mischievous grin and says:
"Because I look charming doing it." ✨
"You're exaggerating and self-centered, Himmel," Frieren finishes, staring at him intently.
The blow pierces the hero's proud heart.
"Frieren... sometimes I feel like you ruin my best moments without even trying."
"Really?"
"Yes, hahaha... really..."
Himmel straightens up, his head held high as always. Even proud of himself.
She lowers her gaze again to the ring. She turns it slightly with her thumb, watching how the gem catches the light of the setting sun. It's beautiful. Truly beautiful.
Himmel smiles at her, so engrossed, and can't help but say,
"It suits you."
"Hmm..." Frieren murmurs without looking at him.
"That means 'thank you,' right?" ✨
"No."
"How cruel!"
Frieren ignores the comment and continues staring at the ring for a few more seconds before starting to walk again. Himmel sighs dramatically and follows her, placing a hand on his chest like a tragic hero defeated by an elf's indifference.
However, it doesn't last long. As they walk along the path, Frieren keeps her gaze fixed ahead... and every now and then, her eyes drift down to the ring.
She doesn't understand why. She's received gifts before. Grimoires, jewelry, clothes, useless magical objects. Himmel is always giving things away. To villagers, children, the elderly. He even once gave flowers to a statue.
He's just the kind of person who does those things.
So why does this gift feel different? Why does the blue gem's gleam in the sunlight seem so beautiful to her?
Frieren frowns slightly, more intrigued than she'd like to admit. So she says softly, but sincerely:
"Thank you for the gift, Himmel."
Simple, direct words, but more than enough for the hero.
"You're welcome," he replies with his usual radiant smile.
When they arrive at the camp, Eisen is finishing chopping wood while Heiter brazenly steals pieces of food from the pot before dinner is ready.
"You're late," Eisen says without stopping his work.
"It's just that Himmel was acting strange again," Frieren replies casually.
"Why are you betraying me so quickly?!" the hero exclaims with exaggerated drama.
Heiter raises an eyebrow, amused.
"That doesn't reduce the odds much. Himmel acts weird all the time."
"You're not helping, you drunken priest."
After a few chuckles, Frieren sits down by the fire while Himmel continues complaining about the lack of emotional support within the group. Dinner soon fills the air with a warm, pleasant aroma, mingling with Heiter's quiet laughter and Eisen's curt replies.
Everything is normal, familiar. But even so... Frieren's fingers absentmindedly brush against the ring on her hand.
Her eyes involuntarily drift to Himmel. He's smiling as he argues with Heiter about something absurd. His expression is bright, carefree. The campfire dances over his blue hair and clear eyes.
Frieren watches him for a few seconds longer than usual. And for some reason... something in her chest feels slightly uneasy.
It's not unpleasant, just strange and unusual. Like a small drop falling into still water.
A tiny ripple, but persistent.
🤍🩵🤍🩵
The days continue to pass just as they always have. Mountains, forests, small villages hidden among stone paths. Demons defeated. Absurd requests from desperate villagers. Exploring the occasional abandoned dungeon.
Nothing really changes... and yet, for Frieren, something feels different. At first, she barely notices it. They're small things, too small.
Like noticing that Himmel always walks slightly ahead of her when they cross dangerous places. Or how he slows his pace without a word when Frieren stops to look at strange flowers or grimoire shops.
There's also his smile. That bright, calm smile that appears whenever Frieren does literally anything.
Sometimes all it takes is for her to say, in a more excited tone:
"I found another useless spell."
And Himmel replies as if he's just heard the most wonderful news in the world:
"That sounds incredible. What spell is it?"
The elf doesn't understand, but she's beginning to notice.
She begins to become aware of things that she wouldn't have cared about in the slightest before.
One afternoon, after defeating a demon near a village, a group of children excitedly surrounds Himmel. He laughs as he demonstrates how to properly hold a wooden sword, exaggerating heroic poses until they chuckle.
Frieren watches him from afar. The sunlight falls upon Himmel as if the entire world has decided to cooperate with his natural dramatic flair. Even tired and covered in dust, he still smiles sincerely. The hero still shines.
"You've been looking at him a lot lately," Heiter murmurs beside her, discreetly taking a sip of alcohol from a bottle.
Frieren barely glances away, her tone neutral.
"Really?"
"Yes," the priest replies immediately. "It's something new for you."
"I'm just observing him. It's not a big deal."
Heiter, however, remarks with an air of wisdom:
"That's what people usually do when they're interested in someone."
"I don't understand what you mean," she replies, her expression neutral but genuinely confused.
Heiter just smiles behind his bottle.
"Of course not. That's the point."
Frieren frowns slightly. Not again.
Lately, Eisen and Heiter have been saying strange things about Himmel.
Loose comments or murmurs about the "attention" Frieren has been paying her companion lately. Comments they, of course, don't bother to explain properly.
And the worst part is that, for some reason, those words keep going around in her head longer than necessary.
Later, a problem arises in their adventure.
The four arrive in a small town at dusk, exhausted after a particularly long mission. Himmel insists he's fine throughout dinner, though his voice sounds weaker than usual. He even looks a little paler.
Frieren notices it immediately: Himmel always talks too much. Too loudly and cheerfully. But now his movements are slow and heavy.
When they go up to the inn's rooms, Himmel can barely stand before swaying slightly. Heiter instinctively takes his arm. His skin is hot; a very bad sign.
"Himmel... Why didn't you say anything?" the priest asks, scandalized.
Himmel laughs awkwardly, leaning against the stair railing.
"It seems my body decided to give in before my heroic spirit," he replies in a light, nonchalant tone.
Frieren approaches slowly, raising a hand to touch his companion's forehead.
"You have a fever," she says in the same calm, but not indifferent, tone.
The hero tries to smile again, as he always does.
"Just a little, don't worry..."
"But you're shivering."
"That adds to the drama, doesn't it?"
At that moment, Frieren stares at him. Himmel tries to maintain his usual smile, but this time he looks fragile. Strangely fragile.
And that bothers her.
Upon reaching the shared room, the man is laid on the bed. Heiter finishes examining him while Eisen stands with his arms crossed by the door.
"I thought you said handsome men never catch colds," the dwarf remarks mockingly.
"I lied..." Himmel admits, weakened and somewhat embarrassed. Then he raises his chin with his typical arrogance. "But that doesn't make me any less handsome." ✨
The priest sighs with uncharacteristic seriousness and steps back slightly.
"It's not a normal fever."
"What does that mean?" Frieren asks.
"He probably inhaled pollen from a demonic flower in the forest yesterday," Heiter explains, his tone more concerned than ever. "Magical fever takes time to develop and can be fatal."
Instantly, Himmel raises a hand from the bed and exclaims,
"Good news. If I survive, this will greatly enhance my legend."
"Shut up, you stupid hero," Eisen says, almost angrily.
"How aggressive..."
But even as he jokes, his breathing is heavy.
Frieren continues to watch him silently. She had never given much thought to human fragility.
Humans simply age quickly. They get sick quickly. They die quickly. It is something natural, distant, and unalterable. But now Himmel is in front of her, breathing heavily in the dim light of an unfamiliar room... Suddenly, that reality feels uncomfortably close.
Heiter stands up, looking more determined.
"The cure should be sold at a monastery on the other side of town, but we're out of money. That means Eisen and I will have to look for another option."
"There's no need for so much fuss," Himmel murmurs from his bed, without fear or worry. "I'll be perfectly fine tomorrow. You'll see."
"Yeah, right," Heiter says sarcastically. "And I'll give up drinking."
"Miracles do happen, my dear friend." ✨
Eisen grabs his coat and heads for the door as well. He pauses for a moment in the doorway, looking at Himmel with calm, yet somewhat worried, eyes.
"We'll be back soon. Be good, silly hero."
After he leaves, the room falls silent. Only the soft sound of rain beginning outside in the darkness of the night remains... and Himmel's ragged breathing. Frieren remains standing by the bed, and Himmel barely turns his face toward her.
Even in his illness, he tries to stay cheerful and positive.
"You don't have to stay, Frieren. I'll be fine... you can go with them."
She observes the faint glimmer in his eyes, the slight trembling in his hands, the weariness he's clearly trying to hide. And she doesn't understand why seeing him like this causes such a heavy feeling in her chest.
It's unpleasant, unsettling. As if something is out of place.
"I'll stay," she finally says in her usual serene tone.
Himmel seems a little surprised. Then he smiles, a different kind of smile, smaller and more genuine.
"Then I suppose I'll survive the night. It would be shameful to die while you're taking care of me."
Frieren ignores the comment and sits down in the chair by the bed.
As Himmel slowly drifts off to sleep, Frieren's gaze falls on the silver ring on her own hand. She has been wearing it daily because it is a gift she really likes.
The blue gem glows faintly in the light of the room. Her fingers brush against it absentmindedly.
Then her eyes return to him and suddenly, for the first time in her entire existence, Frieren silently wishes that time would slow down.
An unexpected memory floods her mind. On one occasion, after saving a village from demons, they stayed a little longer with the inhabitants. Among them was a very sick child who couldn't be saved by any kind of magic.
In his final moments, the group did everything they could to make him happy. They gave him flowers, told him stories of their adventures, and made him laugh with absurd anecdotes featuring Himmel and Heiter.
Frieren still remembers the child's faint smile that night. And she also remembers Himmel.
He sat by the bed, holding the child's small hand in his own until the very last moment. Never leaving him alone.
At that time, Frieren didn't understand why Himmel was so excessively kind and attentive. Now... perhaps she's beginning to understand a little.
The rain continues to gently patter against the inn's windows as she watches Himmel sleep in the dim light of the room. His breathing is still heavy. His hand rests outside the blankets, trembling slightly with fever.
Frieren hesitates for only a few seconds. Then she slowly extends her hand. Her fingers first brush against Himmel's warm skin. Then, with an almost clumsy gentleness, she intertwines her fingers with his.
The hero's hand is burning hot, but still... Himmel responds to the touch almost immediately. His fingers move weakly around hers, as if even asleep he could recognize her.
And then he opens his eyes.
"Frieren...?"
His voice is hoarse with exhaustion. Noticing their clasped hands, the hero is startled.
"Huh? Why are you doing this, Frieren?"
His heart starts beating too fast. He can feel it even amidst the exhaustion and fever.
Frieren silently observes Himmel's reaction: the slight blush that appears on his cheeks, his confused expression, the way he tries to remain calm while clearly panicking inside.
And, to both their surprise, a small smile appears on the elf's face. A delicate, tiny, but genuine gesture.
"Because I thought this would make you feel better," she replies calmly. "Just like you did with that sick child in Hage Village. Remember?"
Himmel remains motionless, his eyes widening slightly. He doesn't seem surprised merely by the gesture... but by the fact that Frieren remembered that detail.
Of all the things she could keep in her eternal memory, she remembered that. Him holding the hand of an unfortunate child.
The hero slowly lowers his gaze to their interlaced fingers and can't help but smile. This time it's not the bright, exaggerated smile he usually shows the world. It's something more fragile, intimate, and sincere.
"Of course I remember," he murmurs in that soft tone.
Frieren tilts her head slightly, adding with curiosity and nostalgia,
"I learned that humans do that a lot when someone is sick. My teacher Flamme did the same for me when I had a cold."
"Yes. It's a simple gesture we have to show support and companionship..."
"It still seems strange to me."
Himmel lets out a small, tired laugh. Then he looks at her tenderly.
"Hahaha... And yet you're still doing it."
Frieren remains silent, because she doesn't know the answer. She can't explain why seeing him suffer makes her so uncomfortable.
She can't explain why she wants to stay by his side. She can't explain why her chest feels strangely calm now that Himmel is squeezing her hand back so gently.
The hero watches her for a few more seconds, as if he wants to etch that moment into his soul.
Then, his voice muffled by sleep and fever, he murmurs from the bottom of his heart:
"Thank you, Frieren."
Hearing him, something warm stirs in the elf's chest. Small, silent, but impossible to ignore.
And while the rain continues to fall outside, Frieren stays there beside him, never once letting go of his hand. Definitely, something has changed inside her.
(Continued in the next part... 💖).