Chapter Text
Ferdinand was biding his time in Ahrensbach while gathering as much evidence against Georgine and the Lanzenavians, but his mind was constantly wandering off because of a certain gremlin. It had already been three seasons since he left Ehrenfest, and while the shield of Schutzaria had already been raised up in defense of Geduldh, the weather was far warmer than any he was accustomed to from Ehrenfest.
Over the course of less than a year, Rozemyne’s situation had become more grave and dire with each and every letter he received. Every news he heard from her while she was out of sight was baffling, but now his anger towards her actions started to change targets.
After a pause of a few weeks, in which his letters to her were not being replied to, she confessed in a more secret letter that she had been deeply reprimanded by Sylvester for injuring Wilfried’s pride by being herself. She was ordered to stop caring for Ferdinand and focus her attention on her supposed fiancé and her role as future first wife. This letter was sent through traveling merchants, in order not to be noticed by the archducal couple.
Ferdinand was beginning to notice through her letters over time that she was being pushed beyond her limits by the very people who were supposed to help her. He didn't realize that he should have made Sylvester swear to protect her, even though he had told Rozemyne to take care of Ehrenfest in his stead.
His blood ran cold when he read her secret letter after the Archduke Conference. After he warned her numerous times not to even interact with the royal family, now she was faced with the consequences of trusting them. She was trying to get the Grutrissheit just to save him… why…
No matter what he was writing to her or the plans he was trying to make, she was just pushing forward, more desperate with every letter. His biggest problem was that he couldn’t understand her priorities.
Ever since he read her last letter, he was stumped. He was partially at fault for demanding such heavy-handed questions such as “Tell me your Geduldh.” Still, it was a pretty common and simple expression, so she should have understood it. Yet her response left him doubting everything he had planned.
“While I know that your Geduldh is broadly Ehrenfest and more specifically Sylvester, my Geduldh doesn’t contain the general duchy. It contains the people who have closely supported me in my journey. Especially my family, and that includes you. You are a very essential part of my Geduldh and of my family. That is why I am doing everything I can to keep you safe, even if I have to be part of the royal family. So please stay strong until I save you.”
Ferdinand had read this letter a countless number of times, yet it still felt like he was reading the language of the strange world he had caught glimpses of in her memories. Why was she going so far for him? Why did it seem like she was sacrificing herself for him? It didn’t make any sense. He was the one born to be a feystone. HE was willing to die to protect what he held dear, and she certainly wormed her way into the very short list of people he would die for over the course of the years they spent together.
A wild thought flew through his mind as if whispered by a mischievous goddess, “If you’re willing to die for her, why don’t you try to live for her?”
“Live for her”? He chewed the words aloud, glad to be in his hidden room that was negotiated by the person herself.
What would that even be like? All his plans, secondary plans and contingency plans that he had built up for nearly a year rested on the one ending they all had in common – his own death. He remembered a saying that Rozemyne once told him at a Harvest Festival: “The only certain things in life are death and taxes.” Despite the topic, the memory made him chuckle.
Maybe a life in which he got to hear more weird sayings and nonsensical metaphors that did not include any god would be worth living.
With his heart a little lighter than when he entered his hidden room, he decided to make a few visits that he hoped to not regret later on. While he was willing to throw most of his plans in disarray, he was not willing to go on a rampage with zero plans. Only Rozemyne would do such a thing.