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“Well, you actually got me down here,” Hilda hums, as she and Caspar pass through the cast-iron gates to the training grounds. “And if I’m willingly going to spar, we better make this something to remember.”
The sweltering heat of Garland Moon has tempered since nightfall, but Caspar’s entire body burns like he’s been cast into the molten lava of Ailell. Whether his skin still sizzles from the lingering brand of Hilda’s kisses or blazes with apprehension for the salacious fantasy they intend to execute, Caspar can’t exactly determine. Only one thing’s clear as he gathers Hilda in his arms: he’s going to savor every second of this thrill.
“Oh, I’m gonna make it unforget—” he begins, but a booming battlecry alerts him of Raphael’s presence in the room.
Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so playful.
Undeterred, Hilda plants a reassuring kiss on his cheek and drags him deeper into the room.
“Wow, Raphael, so impressive!” she cheers as a wooden dummy falls victim to Raphael’s axe. “Although...Oh, nevermind! I should mind my own business.”
With a shrug, she turns her attention to the weapons rack and heaves a battleaxe off it. As she balances it at her side, her gaze wanders to Caspar, who throws a greataxe over one shoulder.
Agitation raises the blood in his veins. They should be sparring all ready. He should have Hilda pinned under him, ravishing her. But instead he just feels like a dog denied its promised treat.
“Huh, what’s wrong?” Raphael asks, stopping midway through his swing. “My form? Didn’t hit the thing hard enough?”
“Well, if I’m being honest... you look a bit pale, kinda woozy.” Hilda manages to sound sincerely troubled even as she teases her fingertips along Caspar’s free palm, her touch featherlight and fleeting. “When was the last time you ate? Two hours ago? Three?”
Raphael rubs his stomach. “Maybe four. I guess I am pretty hungry, but I’m only halfway through my routine. I dunno if I should stop yet.”
“Wow, four hours? It’s a miracle you’re still standing! Must be because you’re just that strong! Honestly, I really think you should take a break.”
Those elusive fingers wrap around Caspar’s rear, startling a gasp out of him. Hilda casts him with an imploring look, nodding towards Raphael.
“Uh, yeah,” Caspar says, a traitorous waver in his voice. He’s a terrible liar, but these were desperate times. “You, uh, gotta keep your strength up, you know? Get outta here and recharge, pal.”
“Oh! I know just the thing!” Hilda exclaims. “Before we wandered over here, I saw Mercedes bustling around the kitchen, baking something that smelled absolutely delish. Oven-hot sweets will invigorate you, no doubt. Always works like a charm for me!”
Salivating, Raphael finally flees the training grounds. Each of his diminishing footfalls echo the nervous thrum of Caspar’s heart. Yet once Caspar ensnares Hilda in an embrace and lavishes her neck with feverish kisses, her giggles easily drown out all other sounds and transform all remaining doubts to dauntless lust.
Or most of them anyway.
The warmth of her skin pressed against his body, the overwhelming aroma of her perfume, her bright laughter in his ear— every sensation makes his heart writhe with the cruel realization that carefree moments like this are numbered. It’s not her teasing kisses or this fantasy-turned-game that fills him with trepidation, but the fact that the promise of ‘no-strings-attached’ morphed into a lie, and now he is tragically entangled.
“The training grounds?” Hilda laughed, snuggling into Caspar’s chest. “I was thinking of some place more scandalous, like the Goddess Tower or...the Cathedral! During a service! Now that would be crazy!”
“Hey, you asked for a fantasy!” Caspar chortled. “If you want ‘crazy’ then how about…”
He traced her bare shoulder with two fingers, lost in thought. After a few moments, he grinned. “Oh, I got it! On the deck of a boat to Brigid, one crammed full of people!”
“Oh, now that is pretty devious.”
“Or,” he continued, tone tickled with mirth, “in a private box at the Mittelfrank Opera, all the stuffy nobles around us. Heh, I bet I can make you sing louder than the star!”
Hilda tilted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes crinkled in the way he always found so endearing. “My! Those are crazy! In fact, they’re so crazy I’d call them pure fantasy.”
“Well, maybe for now!” He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her closer. “But you and me can make them happen! Or we can go somewhere else. There’s so many cool places I want to show you! After the war’s over, we could go wherever we want, screw wherever we want. Go totally wild!”
Hilda’s gaze turned to the pillow. “That sounds fun and everything, but...I’d hate for you to get tired of all my complaining. Not really vagabond material, you know.”
She laughed, but there was no warmth to it. “I mean, me roughing it every night? Now that’s a fantasy!”
Caspar shoves away his worries and focuses on savoring this moment, seeking this thrill. Even if it’s finite.
As they make their way to the center of the training grounds, Caspar tries his best to sound nonchalant, but Hilda’s bedroom eyes only encourage his eagerness. “So I want to overpower you, but, uh, I don’t wanna hurt you, you know?”
Hilda swings her axe thoughtfully—and effortlessly—musing, “Overpower me, huh? I could get into that.”
Her last words come out as a sultry purr and Caspar blushes.
“Oh, good,” he stammers. “Great! That’s, uh, awesome.”
Hilda skips ahead to the opposite side of the arena, skirt flouncing up with each hop, blessing him with a peek of her pink undergarments.
“At the count of three, okay?” She spins around, the momentum completely lifting her skirt.
Caspar fails to focus on her eyes or the axe she throws over one shoulder. Hilda must notice his leer, for she wiggles her hips as she shouts, “One!”
His eyes snap up to her wide smirk and he sinks down into a fighting stance, steadying the greataxe with both hands. A jitter courses down his spine.
A countdown. That’s all these remaining days together are, right? They’re fun, sure, but time is racing forward. They’ll take Enbarr and...
“Two!”
Caspar sucks in a deep breath. On his exhale, Hilda blows him a kiss more lethal than Freikugel. The remnants of his composure crumble to pieces.
Hopelessly entangled. Again.
“Three!” Hilda cheers and jogs forward, axe brandished high.
Hilda’s leisurely pace permits Caspar enough time to regain his bearings, but not enough to completely banish the tension coiling in both his chest or groin. With a belated roar, he surges towards her, closing the distance between them in two short heartbeats. Hilda barely manages to raise her axe in time to block his first strike. The screech of metal vibrates down his hands, but then the pressure dissipates. Before he can blink, Hilda’s axe careens to the ground.
Hilda backs up and holds her hands up to surrender.
“Oopsies!” she cries, feigning surprise. “It looks like I'm left totally defenseless. Whatever will I do?"
Caspar stares at the weapon on the ground with disappointment. "Come on, Hilda,” he cajoles. “It's no fun if you aren't trying."
Hilda rolls her eyes but retrieves her weapon. "Oh, you actually want me to fight you? I thought it was, you know, just a game."
“Yeah! Fight me! It’s really hot when you’re all fired up!”
She heaves a labored groan, “Ugh, why can’t you find dainty and helpless attractive?”
Circling her, Caspar laughs, “Ah, c'mon, everything about you is great! It’s just really something to see you completely let loose! When you get like that I can't take my eyes off you!”
Hilda’s cheeks bloom into a pretty shade of pink. “You’re so weird, Caspar.”
Suddenly, she rushes at him with an invigorated battle cry. Her axe splits the air just above his head as he ducks. Hilda uses the momentum of the failed maneuver to whirl into a second strike. Their axes meet with a reverbating clang. Hilda pouts from behind the cross of shaft and blade, releasing a feeble whimper that instantly fills Caspar with guilt.
Then, a smirk quirks her lips, and before Caspar can admonish himself for falling victim to her underhanded tactic, she twists sideways, nearly ripping the axe from his hands.
He plants his feet into the ground, negating her attempt to disarm him. Hilda jerks to a halt, and then redirects her bodyweight to escape. Before he can counter, she swings again. Caspar parries just in time to prevent a fractured rib or three.
“Yeah, like that! That’s hot!” he crows, stealing an impulsive kiss.
Hilda’s lips part under the press of his own, and he feels her weight shift for a sneak attack. Predicting her move, he barrels against her, pushing off against their tangled weapons. Hilda fumbles backwards, narrowly clearing the following onslaught of jabs.
“No fair!” Hilda grouses. “You’re supposed to let your guard down!”
“What? No way! I’m not gonna fall for such a cheap trick!”
Hilda crouches, easily avoiding his next attack. Sand kicks up as she pivots and bashes the shaft of her axe into his knees. Caspar grunts and buckles.
“You’d go a lot easier on me if you really were as taken with me as you claim!” she grumbles, vengeful, as she skirts around his back, axe raised high.
She swings it down like a hammer, but Caspar throws his weapon in front of its path. Hilda pushes, but he twists, wrenching it out of her grasp.
The axe pinwheels through the air, and Caspar knows from the way Hilda gapes that this time he earned the disarm. Seizing his advantage, he bullrushes her into the nearby wall.
She releases a strained “Oof!” and he gasps, breathless from the exertion. Then, Hilda dares to giggle.
“Um...you could resist,” he mumbles. “I wanna actually earn the victory, you know.”
Hilda pouts. “We're still sparring, are we?"
Begrudgingly, she clasps her hands around either side of the axe’s helve. The air grows palpably tense, spurring a chill down Caspar’s spine. In an instant, it shifts, imploding, and an unfathomable ancient energy radiates off Hilda as her crest activates. Pink eyes gleam gold and the crest of Goneril manifests on her chest with a pulsating glow. In a burst of raw power, she knocks him off her, stealing the weapon out of his hands with terrifying ease.
Caspar grins like a fool, shocked, amused, and absolutely relishing her unusual motivation. Even though her crest still flares, he rushes her, drawn by the mesmerizing effulgence of her ferocity. It’d be pretty badass to overpower her in this state.
Hilda yelps in surprise as he grabs hold of the haft. She resists, but he summons all his strength to push her back against the wall, pinning the axe between them.
Caspar barks a laugh, triumphant, and then mashes their mouths together. For a moment Hilda squirms under him, but then relents, eagerly returning the intimacy. After a few traded kisses, her knee snakes between his thighs.
Caspar hisses and recoils.
"What, giving in already?" she teases.
“No! Course not!” He tears the axe from her hands and tosses it far away.
Giving her no chance to recover, Caspar surges back at her, pinning her arms above her head and locking her legs against his and the wall.
“There!” he gloats. “Got you!”
He rolls his hips against her and tastes her throat, decorating it with quick kisses before he latches onto a spot at her pulse point. Hilda gasps and bucks back, falling into a steady rhythm with him.
“Of course my brave, strong Caspar won,” Hilda croons as his mouth wanders down her chest. “I never stood a chance.”
Caspar lifts his head to meet her gaze, lips ghosting an inch from hers. Roseate eyes peek out behind dark lashes, heady and spellbinding in the same way he’s memorized on countless nights. In a way he doesn't wish to forget in future days.
"I’m the one who never stood a chance,” he mutters and closes the distance between them.
Their lips meet, sweet and brief at first, but each consecutive exchange grows heavier, more heated. Caspar releases her hands and they fall to his shoulders. He shifts his grip to her rear, relishing her whimper as he squeezes. Her fingers card through his hair, gentle motions transforming to needy tugs in accompaniment with hitched sighs transforming to moans.
Caspar’s lust swells with each rock of their hips, fueled and baffled by this titillating fantasy transcending into reality. He’d dreamed this more nights than he’d admit, and now that he’s living the moment, he knows he really ought to savor the thrill of his triumph, the scent of sweat mixed with Hilda’s perfume, the warmth of every kiss; but, like always, he’s impatient. His hand slinks between their bucking hips and he plucks free the buttons of his pants, freeing his growing erection.
He strokes his cock up and down Hilda’s inner thigh, delighting in the unbridled contact between their skin. Hilda quivers under him. Their lips separate and Caspar groans, the sound muffled against her neck.
Hilda whispers, “Ravish me, Caspar. It’s your victory. Claim your prize.”
The words barely leave her tongue before she leaps up and wraps her legs around his waist. Bright laughter erupts from both of them as he stumbles. Once steady, he hooks his arms under her thighs and leans her back against the wall. Caspar rocks against her, but a barricade of rucked skirts prevent further contact. Frustrated, he fumbles to push it out of the way. Another thrust and his length slides against damp undergarments.
He groans, “Uh, Hilda, a little help?”
In answer, Hilda sucks a devilishly slow love bite on his collar bone. After an apologetic smooch, she says, “Surely the winner of the fight doesn't need help unwrapping his reward.”
“Uh, pfft, no!” he scoffs. Shuffling her to one arm, he tugs down her underwear from the back. It hitches on her spread legs, only wrinkling up. With a grunt, he tries again.
Hilda giggles, “You’ll give me an amazing consolation prize, right?”
“I’ll do you one better and give you two!”
She nuzzles her nose against his. “You plan to spoil me, eh? Funny way to treat the loser, but I’m not going to complain.”
Her hand wraps around his cock and guides it to her entrance, using her ring finger to peel away her undergarments. Impatient, he pushes in and swallows her gasp in a hungry kiss.
A million sparks of pleasure tingle throughout Caspar’s body, like the charged flow of lightning as it sizzles down a tree trunk. Hilda’s carefree spirit and furtive ferocity always lured him to her with an irresistible magnetic pull, and, now, like so many times before, he’s completely lost in the eye of her storm.
And rather than think about the aftermath of tumultuous wars, Caspar wants to stay trapped in this tempest with her, taste the sparks on her tongue, feel the blaze of her skin, and immerse her in the downpour of his passion.
Hilda returns his fervor, moving her lips to his neck to scatter searing kisses. Whimpers fill the interludes between her mouth on his flesh, and Caspar can’t help but preen as they grow louder.
Kisses fail between them as their panting grows heavier. Caspar’s arms burn, the fatigue of the spar testing him now as he suspends Hilda. He never did know how to conserve his stamina well, but there's no way he's stopping or slowing down—he's relishing every sensation.
And now, more than ever, Hilda is utterly breathtaking.
Especially when her whine transforms to a raspy gasp. He picks up his pace, falling into the tempo that she’s always begged for when close. Hilda’s cries echo in his ear and he can feel her every tremble. With a moan, she clamps her legs tight around his waist as her walls clamp delightfully around his cock. As she rides it out, he presses sweet kisses to her arm draped around his neck.
“One,” Caspar gloats after giving her a moment to recover. “Now, for your second consolation prize…”
Carefully, he releases one of her legs, compelling Hilda to hook it tight around his waist. Now with one hand freed, he caresses her jaw for several doting seconds and then steers her into his ravenous kiss.
When they part, Hilda chortles, "Don’t you dare hold back. I’d like to be a well-satisfied loser.”
“We can have a second match, you know,” he huffs as he returns his thrusts to a relentless rhythm. “Winner’s who can hold out longer.”
“Eh, I don’t know... losing works out much more in my favor.”
“You’re no fun. Come on, drive me wild, Hilda! And I’ll return it tenfold!"
Hilda coos, “Oh, no, I can’t. I’m helpless. Completely trapped in your big, strong arms.”
Caspar nips at her neck, growling, “Well, I guess I gotta entice your fighting spirit then! Stick me with your worst favor, and if you win, I’ll do it. But I don’t plan on losing!”
She suckles his earlobe and then whispers, “I suppose I can pretend to play along.”
Encouraged, he squeezes his hand between their hips.
"You— that’s cheating!" Hilda grunts, throwing her head back when his fingers find her clit.
“I’m not cheating! ” he growls. “I told you I’d drive you wild! This is fair game!”
Hilda whimpers as he increases the force of his ministrations.
Her nails dig into his back and she finds his gaze. “If I win then I get to choose the first place you take me once this war is over.”
Caspar’s hand stops. “You— you want to go with me?”
“Of course I do, silly! I wanna be wherever you are.”
Disbelief transforms to pure happiness. He rams into her, invigorated, using his body to say what his words can’t. Hilda yelps as her back hits the wall with a thud. Another thrust, just as impassioned. Another faint thud, but this time her cry is raw and rapturous, halting the apology at his lips. Instead, he pleasures her further with a vigorous tempo.
The sparks on Hilda’s tongue erupt into something uncharacteristically voracious, pulling him deeper into her tempest to consume all his senses: Hilda’s fury of kisses dampening his skin, her moans booming an echo to his, her eyes darker than any night sky, filled with unbridled desire. Caspar’s pleasure writhes, burgeoning, like the tension in the air before lightning strikes.
He’s losing his last remnants of restraint, only anchored by Hilda’s rough kisses and sharp fingernails dragging down his shoulder blades. He can’t think clearly enough to tell his hand to touch her in competition. All he can manage to do is rock against her. Harder. More desperate. There’s a ferocity, a carnality to her every movement. Intimate, but so much more. Unfurled wings always suited her best.
The ripples transform to electricity, sparks flaring to an inferno, unexpectedly exploding, like a violent crash of thunder. Caspar barely manages to jerk away before he comes, his groan muffled in the crook of her neck. His legs shake, almost buckle, as the pulses thrash through him.
Hilda kisses his cheek sweetly as he sinks to his knees, dragging her with him. His heartbeat echoes in his chest until Hilda’s excited banter drowns it out.
“So, the first stop on our journey is Goneril! I told my brother all about you, and he’s so excited to meet you! Well, mostly excited. He said, ‘I must evaluate whether I can entrust this young man with my sister’s life.’ He’ll probably want to test your combat skills or something, but I figured, you’d be all for that kind of thing.”
Flabbergasted, Caspar stammers, “Wait...you wrote to Holst about us?”
“Of course! I’ll need a much bigger allowance if we’re going to be traveling! Imagine all the clothes and accessories I’ll want to buy. Not to mention the cost of inns.”
Caspar squeezes her and his voice cracks. “To be honest...I thought you didn’t want to come with me.”
“Well, all your talk about wanderlust really got my imagination running wild. And I said, what the heck! I wanna be with Caspar! And doing crazy stuff like this”— she gestures to the training grounds— “sounds a whole lot more interesting than dealing with boring things like politics back home.”
She leans her head on his shoulder, “I hope you won’t get tired of helping me with little favors. I really do need the help, you know.”
“No way! I’m never gonna get tired of you.” Cupping her jaw with one hand, he draws their faces close together. “I’m gonna love you forever, Hilda.”
Her eyes crinkle in amusement. “You know...if you want to do something crazy like this again, you can make love to me back home. Now that’s daring! My brother would tear you to pieces if he found out.”
“No, he won’t. I’ll pound him into the ground if he tries!” Caspar’s lips brush against hers. Electric still. “We’re gonna take Fodlan by storm, just you and me.”
Suddenly, the door creaks like a howling gale, paralyzing them both.
“Caspar! Hilda! You guys still here?” Raphael calls as said two scramble behind a pile of damaged training dummies. “Let’s all train together! My muscles are happy now and ready to go!”