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It’s a scene she only thought possible in her dreams. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, standing there and staring at him the way Stark often stares at Fern. Fond, longing, and maybe a hint of sadness in the corners of her eyes.
The light from the sun glints off his hair, bathing it in a soft hue that makes him seem all the more radiant. Blue, blue, blue—it invades her senses, blinding her with its intensity, choking her with words that clog her throat, numbing her to this reality so that all she can register is the sight of him, the smell of the earth, and the warm sun on her skin. Though, mostly, Frieren stands frozen, three pairs of eyes watching her curiously, but she only has eyes for one.
He tilts his head to the right, his gaze questioning, the breeze swaying his hair and tickling his skin. She wonders, for the briefest moment, if he would feel as soft as he did in her dreams.
“Frieren?”
His voice rings in the air like a melody she can never tire of hearing. Birdsong atop the trees, bell-chimes in the wind, the rushing waves across the sea. Ever-present, like stumbling into her bed after a hard day of adventure, like a warm bowl of stew on a harsh winter’s night. Like coming home, here in this meadow, his presence filling her with something she hasn’t felt since she was thirty years younger, sitting on a hill next to the old, wizened version of the man standing in front of her and watching the stars fall together.
Frieren takes a shaky step towards him, eyes glassy, wishing this wasn’t a dream, an illusion, a figment of her imagination stemming from long-forgotten feelings of want and longing that cling to her very being until it is etched into the depths of her soul.
Her mouth parts, a breath exhaled, throat loosening enough for her to speak.
“Himmel.”
And then, she is closing the distance between them, one foot in front of the other. The distance feels like eternity as she crosses the space separating them, that which had once been the barrier between life and death, now nothing more than a mere meter, an arm’s length, a few inches away.
Himmel opens his arms to welcome her, like a lover returning from war, ever-ready to catch her should she fall. A steady rock, her anchor, the person who managed to thaw a thousand years’ worth of loneliness.
He’s warm, is the first thing that comes to her mind. The second is the sound of his heartbeat against her ear, loud and fast, very much real and alive. He smells like the sun and nature, a hint of iron-rust-blood, and as she buries her face on his shoulder, something light and floral enters her senses. How very much like him, to smell of adventure and death and flowers all at the same time.
She feels him flail his arms at her back, unsure how to act in the face of such an out of character move.
“Frieren?! A-Are you sick or something?” His voice holds a panicked tone to it, but despite this, he makes no move to push her away.
“She must have lost it…” She hears Heiter mutter.
“Indeed,” comes Eisen’s agreement.
The sun on her back, the smell of flowers in her nose, the sound of her comrades’ voices in her ear—it is all too much. If this is a dream, she hopes she doesn’t wake up any time soon. If this is an illusion made by a demon’s trick, she will make sure it dies a painful death.
But if this is real, if the man before her is the one she’s been longing to see…
Frieren steps away, her feet dragging along the grass almost reluctantly, and comes face to face with a sight she only thought possible in her dreams. Himmel smiles at her, the furrow of confusion in his brow doing nothing to hide the warmth and adoration in his eyes. And oh, how could she have failed to see it all those years ago? Staring at her right in the face and all but announcing his feelings to the world, left unseen by her younger naive self, acknowledged only when the time has long passed.
The pads of her fingers find his cheek, smooth and unblemished beneath her touch, cupping his jaw with her palm and sliding it over his skin, thumb ghosting along the corner of his mouth. He is so warm and tender and real. The cool, lifeless statues could never compare to the real one before her, watching her indulgently, a smile pulling at his lips.
Frieren gazes at him with barely concealed wonder.
“Himmel,” she breathes, unable to conjure up anything but his name on her tongue. In the back of her mind, she notes that their other companions have gone silent, watching their interactions the same way one might watch a play in a theatre.
“Yes, Frieren?” Himmel leans into her touch, fingers rising to enclose around her wrist, almost as if he is willing her to never let go.
“This is real.” Her eyes roam across his face, memorizing each contour, every crevice, all the little details a statue could never hope to replicate. “You’re real.”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice holds a teasing edge to it, reminiscent of those times he would play upon his vanity and tell her how handsome he is. Everything about him leaves her head spinning, a thousand years of experience leaving her without her notice the moment she’s faced with the image of a long-forgotten dream.
Until finally, it clicks.
Oh, Frieren thinks with finality, you’re real.
And then, she is surging to the tips of her toes, face tilted upward and eyes closed.
For the first time after a thousand years of existence, Frieren feels the soft touch of lips against her own. It’s lightning in her veins, rushing through her and leaving her heady as though she has swallowed ambrosia. It is simultaneously everything and nothing she ever thought would feel like, as surreal a sensation as being in the past and meeting Himmel again. If this is a dream, then by the goddess, she hopes she never wakes up.
It is Himmel, unexpectedly, that pushes her away with firm hands on her shoulder, ever so gentle, like handling a precious, fragile treasure.
Frieren opens her eyes, lips still puckered, and finds that Himmel has looked away, a rueful smile on his lips even as his face explodes in a violent blush. She thought he’d look more surprised, embarrassed even, with her sudden kiss. Instead, he looks melancholic, a twist to his lips that makes her think of the way Fern looked when Stark said something that bothered her.
From her periphery, she sees Heiter and Eisen sporting comically gobsmacked looks, eyes darting between her and Himmel in incredulousness. But Frieren only has eyes for the person before her, who is looking at her like this is the first time he’s seeing her. She sees him swallow, red tinting his neck as she follows the bob of his throat.
“Frieren,” his voice is like honey to her, flowing smoothly in her ears and sweeter still, but his next words lead her wandering thoughts to a halt. “How far along in the future are you from?”
Frieren only has a moment to feel surprise at how quickly he managed to grasp the situation, before fondness trickles in, because of course Himmel would notice right away. Down to the very last strand of her hair, he would notice if something were amiss and act on it. That was simply the kind of person he was.
“You’re as astute as ever, Himmel.” Frieren smiles at him, equal parts fond and amused. He smiles back at her, a question lingering in his gaze, but there’s a new light in his eyes as though he’s gotten a glimpse of the future and found hope in it.
In the background, she hears Heiter and Eisen muttering to themselves about the apparent discovery of her being from the future, but it feels distant as she stares at Himmel.
“You’ve changed a lot.”
Her previous self would have shrugged off his observation, deeming it insignificant enough to be ignored. Now, she grins at him, content to ignore the weight of grief and old-forgotten hurts for the moment. “I suppose so.”
Himmel stares at her for what feels like an eternity, eyes roving over her face, cataloguing every minute twitch and movement. His hand finds its way to her forehead, impossibly gentle fingers moving a strand of hair away from her face, the sweep of his skin against hers almost akin to that of a loving caress, as close to a confession as he is willing to make. The weight of the future and the years between them is a heavy burden, but despite this, his eyes hold no strain in them as they meet hers, gazing at her like hers is the only existence that matters in the world.
“I see,” he says after a moment’s pause, something like pride and relief in the tone of his voice, blue eyes made brighter by the sun. His lips stretch into a smile that leaves her dazed by the sight, like a dream breathed into life, like a wish being granted, like something dearly missed. “How sublime.”