Chapter Text
Tressa's collar feels too tight. She tugs at the buttons, frowning anxiously in the mirror. Does the bow look better this way? Oh, no, that's worse. Wait, now it's crooked. How does she fix this. Why did she try to change it in the first place. Nice going, Colzione.
"You're fussing too much," Noa chides. She paps Tressa's hands away from the tie and redoes it, nimble fingers and light touches. "Everything will be fine."
"I know, I know," Tressa sighs. "I just— I'm nervous."
"I know, trust me," Noa replies, patting Tressa's shoulder. "There we go. Now don't mess with it anymore, I promise it looks just fine the way it is."
Tressa grumbles at her reflection. She pushes her fingers through the back of her short hair, mussing what Noa had just combed. Noa slaps her hand again. Tressa stuffs her hands in her pockets instead.
"You know who's coming," she mumbles. "Noa, this is the first time we'll all be in one place together in like, five years. Are you sure it's not too concieted that I invited them just to congratulate me?"
"They showed up because they're your friends and they're proud of you," Noa promises, reaching up and taking Tressa's cheeks in her hands. "You've worked for this for how long? Your whole life, right? It's a big deal for you! Not to mention that other thing."
Tressa grins abashedly. "I know, Noa," she promises. "Sorry. I just— I want everything to go perfectly."
"It'll be fine," Noa promises. "You're Tressa Colzione, remember? Youngest winner of Grandport's Merchant's Fair, ever? One of four merchants under thirty to win a Mercantile Excellence Award from the Guild? Noa Wyndham's sweetheart? Give yourself some credit."
Tressa sighs. "Yeah, you're right. As usual."
"I'm so glad you know that by now," Noa says. She leans in and kisses Tressa's nose. "Come on, let's see how many have showed up."
Ophilia clasps her hands together in delight. "Oh, Alfyn, you look so handsome!"
Alfyn flushes to the tips of his ears. "Really? You sure I don't look like a kid playin' dress-up in his dad's clothes?"
"You look fantastic," she promises. "Why, I would wager that you wouldn't be out of place at one of Professor Cyrus's fancy faculty balls."
"Aw, hell, Ophilia," Alfyn chuckles. "You're gonna make my behind itch."
"Try to resist the urge to scratch your ass in a ballroom full of rich folks," Therion says flatly, though there's a smile on his face. "Glad to see you haven't changed a bit, Sunshine."
"Seems that you have, though," Ophilia comments. "You've gotten taller, and are those… freckles?" She leans forward, squinting at Therion's cheeks.
Therion tugs his collar up. "Don't look so close," he mutters. "Yeah, they're freckles, okay? Don't make it a thing."
"Cute, ain't it?" Alfyn grins, slinging an arm around Therion's shoulders— which, notably, Therion doesn't push away. Instead, he just rolls his eyes.
"Have you seen Tressa yet?" Ophilia asks. "I want to congratulate her. It's not every day your old friend wins an award like this, after all!"
"Saw her with her parents," Therion says, nodding towards a few yards away, where Tressa's being fussed over by her parents, both of whom look like they've been crying.
Alfyn chuckles. "Can only imagine how proud they are," he says. "Shit, I might cry, too. Shortstack's all grown up!"
Something catches Ophilia's eye. "Oh, Professor Cyrus and ser Olberic! They made it!" She waves to the pair of them across the ballroom. Olberic catches her eye and waves back. They haven't changed much— maybe there's a little more gray in Olberic's hair, and maybe Cyrus has a pair of glasses on a chain perched on his nose, but they're still the same people they were before.
"Oh, how fortuitous we aren't too late," Cyrus sighs. He's holding Olberic's arm like they're a married couple going to an opera.
"Cyrus didn't want to ask for directions from Goldshore," Olberic says.
"I know how to read a map, I don't need directions," Cyrus insists. "And, besides, we made it here in the end, did we not?"
"That's the important part," Ophilia agrees. "And I would say it's more than worth it."
"Howdy, teach, boss," Alfyn says, nodding to Cyrus and Olberic in turn. "Long time no see."
"Ah, Alfyn! You shaved!" Cyrus says, clearly delighted. "And you combed your hair!"
"Zeph combed his hair," Therion corrects. "You should've heard him. He was whining like a little kid." Everyone laughs, and even Alfyn has to grin a little, his ears red.
"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up," he grumbles.
"Hey, you made it!" Tressa says excitedly, walking up to the assembled party with Noa beside her. "I didn't expect all of you to actually show up, y'know? It's a long way to Grandport."
"Nonsense," Olberic insits. "As if we were going to miss this."
Ophilia rushes forward and wraps Tressa in a tight hug. "Oh, Tressa, we're all so proud of you!" She pulls back. Her expression of delight turns to dismay. "Wait, you're taller than me!"
"Ah, yeah, call it that late-puberty growth spurt," Tressa chuckles. "You all remember Noa Wydnham, right?"
"Hey, been a while," Alfyn nods. "You two still going steady!"
Tressa and Noa glance at each other, eyes sparkling as if they have a surprise that they can't wait to share. Therion is the only one observant enough to pick up on this. Tressa beams. "Yup," she says proudly. "Couldn't ask for more."
"I'm so glad you're all here," Noa says. "But you're still missing somebody, right?"
"Yeah, Primrose and H'aanit aren't here," Tressa shrugs. "But they're a little hard to track down, as far as the mail is concerned. Has anyone seen Ali? I know I invited him."
"He's here, don't worry," Noa promises, patting Tressa's arm. "I know how much it means to you to have all of your friends here."
"Excuse me, but Ali is my arch-rival," Tressa says pointedly.
Noa chuckles. "Sure, sweetie."
Tressa looks around the ballroom, humming nervously. "I did invite Primrose and H'aanit," she says. "But I guess I shouldn't hold my breath. They may not have even gotten the invitations."
"Oh, that's a shame," Ophilia sighs. "I've gotten a few letters, but it's not really quite like seeing them in person, is it?"
"Guess Primrose is still out soul-searching," Alfyn shrugs. "She sounds happier in her letters, though. I think a change of scenery's been good for her."
A new voice chimes in. "What is it they say? Speak of Galdera…"
Everyone's attention snaps to the new voice— and it's none other than Primrose herself, in the flesh. She's a few years older, like all of them, but at the same time, she looks younger than she did before they all parted ways. There's a roughness to her cheeks that wasn't there before. There's a few faded scars poking out from where the fabric of her dress hides them. But her smile is brighter and easier than it ever was.
She pats H'aanit's arm. "And lo, he appeareth. That's what they say, right?"
"As I recall," H'aanit replies. She nods to the rest of the group. H'aanit doesn't look like she's changed much at all. Nor does Linde, ever-present at her side, but that kind of figures. "'Tis good to meeten you all once more. And my congratulations on thine award, Tressa."
Tressa's the first to recover. "Hey, you made it! How did— where—"
"Here and there," Primrose says, waving a hand. "Come on, did you really think I'd miss your big day, Tressa?" She pauses. "Did you get taller?"
"Yes," Ophilia sighs. "I can't believe this. I'm going to be short my entire life."
"Sorry, Ophilia," Tressa chuckles. "Guess that's how it goes."
Primrose laughs, and it's not a loud sound, because it never was, but it's clear and genuine and it's new.
"None of you have changed a bit, have you?" she says, shaking her head fondly. "I missed you."
"Aw, I knew you cared," Therion teases.
"Everyone except you," Primrose corrects herself. "Are those freckles?"
Therion sighs. "Yes! Okay! I have freckles! It's not that weird!"
"It's cute," Primrose grins. "I take it the Riverlands have treated you well?"
Olberic quirks an eyebrow. "The Riverlands?"
"You can't say that, you don't know what I've been up to," Therion replies. "I never said I've been hanging out in Clearbrook."
Primrose smirks. "No, but you just did."
Therion's eye widens. He turns pink, glaring at Primrose. "I hate you. You're a bad person."
Everyone laughs, and Primrose feels like she never left.
Halfway through the party, Noa Wyndham steps up onto the orchestra platform at the end of the ballroom. She murmurs something to her father, then motions for Tressa to come, too. Now that they're standing next to each other and at a difference, Primrose notices that their color schemes match.
"They've been acting weirdly giggly around each other all night," Therion murmurs to her. "Bet there's some kinda secret they're keeping."
"A hundred leaves that they got engaged," Primrose replies. "Look at them. They're practically on a honeymoon already."
"Oh, really, marriage?" Ophilia joins in. "That's so sudden. Tressa's only twenty-four."
"You wanna put your money where your mouth is, Sunshine?" Therion challenges, arching his singular eyebrow.
"It's wrong to gamble on a friend's love life," Ophilia says firmly. Then, quieter, "Double or nothing."
Therion grins. "Hope you're prepared to lose a couple bushels, then."
Noa taps a spoon onto a crystal glass, sending a high-pitched ringing through the ballroom. Everyone stops their conversations and turns to her. She and Tressa have a brief, mumbled conversation that nobody off the platform has any hope of hearing, and then turn back to the party guests.
"Everyone, I'd like to welcome you all again to the party," she says. "I know most of you were at the Merchant's Guild's recent award ceremony, and this is a party to celebrate the latest success of the newest acclaimed member of the Guild, Tressa Colzione—" she gestures to Tressa, who grins and bobs her head to the crowd. There's some applause, but Noa isn't done.
"But, to tell the truth, that wasn't the only reason that I hosted this party tonight," she continues. She grins at Tressa, and takes her hand. "As a matter of fact, this is also a perfect opportunity to announce something that both of our families have been very excited about— not just in the mercantile world, but in th—"
"We're engaged!" Tressa blurts out.
Noa thumps her. "I had a speech!"
Tressa grins and shrugs. "Oops?"
Congratulatory applause rises from the crowd. It's the last announcement Noa has to make, so she nods to the crowd to end her address and steps off the stage. They're immediately surrounded by various nearby congratulation-givers.
Therion smirks. "Pay up, Cream Puff. Two hundred leaves, no less."
Ophilia glares at him. "Well, you can't blame me for betting the way I did. We do it differently in Flamesgrace."
Tressa elbows through the crowd to get to them, her grin wide and infectious. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to tell you guys that. In fact, I would've told you all right away, but a couple somebodys decided to set out for parts uknown, or whatever."
H'aanit shrugs. "Guilty."
"Congratulations," Olberic says, patting her shoulder. "An engagement is a big step in a young person's life."
"You set a date yet?" Alfyn asks. "Also, c'mon, we're gonna be part of the wedding party, right?"
Tressa taps her chin thoughtfully. "Mm, Linde is," she says. "The rest of you are relegated to the guests table."
Linde mrrps happily, nudging against Tressa until Tressa gives her head scratches.
"We haven't set a date yet, though," Tressa admits. "I mean, it'll be here, obviously, Noa's not really up for traveling very far— as nice as it'd be to get married in Rippletide and see the looks on everyone's faces." She sighs. "So it goes. We're thinking summer, though."
"Ah, a summer wedding is lovely," Cyrus agrees. "Though, perhaps I'm biased, as one is." Olberic chuckles agreement.
It takes everyone a few seconds to connect the dots. When Primrose realizes it, even she's taken aback.
"Hey," Tressa says, papping Olberic's sleeve. "Hey, hey, when the FUCK were you two gonna mention that you got MARRIED?"
"Forget that, when the fuck did you get engaged?" Therion sputters.
"Did you ever mention you were even courting?" Primrose asks. "I don't blame you for H'aanit and I being out of the loop, but the rest of them, surely…"
Cyrus blinks. He looks at Olberic, at his hand holding Olberic's arm, at Primrose. "…Was it not obvious?"
"We were one another's dates to that Opening Night Gala in Noblecourt," Olberic adds.
"We were sharing a bed for quite a long time," Cyrus continues. "Come, surely someone would've noticed."
"You know," Alfyn mumbles. "That does explain a lot."
"Well, I mean, I'd thought it was just for practicality," Ophilia shrugs. "The bed-sharing, at least. And I'd figured that Professor Cyrus brought sir Olberic as his date because then he wouldn't need to subject anyone to his dancing."
"Oh, yeah, because sharing a bed even when there are four available is totally platonic," Therion snorts.
"It can be!" Ophilia protests. "Tressa and I shared and we're not romantically interested in each other at all, and it worked out fine!"
Tressa coughs. "Uh…"
Ophilia blinks. "What? It worked out wonderfully, your allergies be damned."
"Alright, alright," Tressa caves. "I have a confession. I made that up so I wouldn't have to share a bed with you because you steal all the covers."
"What? I— I do not!" Ophilia sputters. "And, frankly, I am shocked and appaled, that you would— I dedicate my life to our honored Flamebearer Aelferic, blessed be thy name, and this is what I get—"
"Alright, alright, okay," Alfyn holds his hands up. "Does anyone else have big important news to share? H'aanit, you and Primrose would let us all know if you were getting married, right?"
H'aanit shrugs. "'Tis not how we doest it in the Darkwood. The formality and ceremony of an officiated marriage matteren little."
Alfyn sighs. "Oh, that's good."
"But," H'aanit continues. "If thou speakest of some custom about a union of families…"
Alfyn shakes his head. "Absolutely unbelievable."
"Hey, if we're sharing news, Alfyn got a dog," Therion chimes in.
"Alright, nah, no, we got a dog," Alfyn corrects. "I think you hovering over my shoulder, giving your opinions on which of Madge's pups to pick, counts as both of us getting a dog. You basically live in Clearbrook anyway."
Therion folds his arms. "I go where I please, thank you very much," he says matter-of-factly. "I'm a wandering spirit. Roaming the land suits me just fine."
"Yeah, sure," Alfyn chuckles. "Don't think I haven't seen how you've taken to the garden, Therion. Can't really wander while doing that, huh?"
Tressa slaps her hand on Alfyn's shoulder. "Alfyn. Alfyn," she says urgently. "Can I pet your dog. Can I please pet your dog. It's a matter of life and death. I will die if I do not pet your dog."
Alfyn chuckles. "Come by for a visit and you can pet him all you want, promise. No dying needed."
Tressa claps her hands together in silent victory. "This is the greatest fucking day of my life."
Primrose looks to Ophilia. "Seems like it's your turn," she says. "What's new in Flamesgrace?"
Ophilia muses upon this, tapping her chin in thought. "Oh!" she realizes. "Lianna and I were fully initiated into the clergy! I'm now part of the division for enlightening Flamesgrace's children on the blessings of the Sacred Flame."
"Oh, so, you're gonna teach 'em those songs that get stuck in your head for the rest of your life, right?" Tressa asks. She snorts. "Can't say I envy you. You're gonna hear 'em in your dreams."
"The songs are a necessary part of early religious education," Ophilia insists. "It's preparing them for learning hymns later in life. But, in a word, yes."
Alfyn groans. "Aw, man, Shortstack, why'd you have to say that? 'A is for Aeber' is gonna follow me to the grave now."
Tressa puts a hand on his shoulder and looks at him very seriously. "If I have to suffer, so do you."
Ophilia shakes her head. "No appreciation for the importance of teaching," she sighs. "But you understand, right, Professor?"
"You know, I wonder about the patterns of song in relation to memorization," Cyrus mumbles, the gears in his head turning. "What is it about setting something to music that makes it inherently easier to memorize than, say, a list? I wonder, could this be applied to other classroom settings? Test scores would exponentially increase if I could teach my students a song listing the names and titles of all the kings of Hornburg…"
Ophilia sighs. "Professor," she says pointedly.
"Hm? Ah—" he blinks. "Did you need something, Ophilia?"
"Something about the importance of teaching," Olberic says helpfully. "I, er, wasn't paying much attention. But I'm happy for you, Ophilia, with regards to your promotion."
"Well, at least you're honest," Ophilia sighs.
"Honestly, I have to wonder what else you two aren't going to tell us," Tressa says, nudging Olberic. "Not us, your friends, who walked across the continent with you for an entire year—"
"I thought we sent out announcements," Olberic protests. "We didn't want to deal with the pomp and circumstance. It was just a short little thing in Cobbleston." He pauses. "We did mail out those announcements, right?"
"We did," Cyrus says assuredly. Then he hesitates, and frowns, a hand on his chin. "I did, didn't I?"
"Did you forget to send out your own wedding announcements?" Olberic repeats.
Cyrus hums. "It would appear that I have."
Alfyn groans. "Man, the next thing you'll tell me is that you adopted a kid and forgot to write, for all we know."
Olberic chuckles paternally. "Don't worry, we would definitely tell you all about that well in advance, should that happen." Then he pauses. "Should it?"
"That's not a bad idea," Cyrus admits. "Of course, there are logistics to work out, but not a bad idea at all."
"Gods, you two are ridiculous—"
"No, no, I certainly wouldn't forget to send out news like that! It would be my top priority! The first thing on my list!"
"Ah…"
"That's what he said about the wedding announcements, isn't it."
"Ah, perhaps, but this time—"
Primrose chuckles. "The more things change, the more they stay the same, isn't it?"
H'aanit squeezes her hand. "Verily."
Primrose loves her friends, but after getting used to just herself and H'aanit for miles around, all the excitement is a little much, so she excuses herself and retreats to Wyndham Manse's back patio for a breather. There are still people out there, enjoying the lovely Grandport evening, but it's quieter than it is inside. She just needs a moment to lean on the patio railing and look at the ocean in the distance.
She hears footsteps on the paving stones. Alfyn waves to her when she looks his way.
"H'aanit said I might find you out here," he says. "How 'bout all that, huh?"
"Knowing Cyrus, I can't say I'm surprised," Primrose chuckles. "That man would forget his brain if it wasn't inside of him— which I say in the fondest way possible."
Alfyn snorts. "Well, either way, I'm happy for them. Enjoying the party? I know it must be kind of a lot."
"The Wyndhams certainly know how to host," Primrose replies, nodding to the ballroom. Since they announced the engagement, Tressa and Noa both have been met with a seemingly-unending stream of congratulations and well-wishes. Primrose is happy for them— Tressa is an adult who can make her own decisions, of course, so it's not Primrose's place to give her opinions on who she should and should not court, but Noa's a nice girl. Primrose approves.
"I wouldn't really know anything about that," he admits, boosting himself onto the railing and probably getting smudges of dirt on the seat of his dress pants. "But the food's good. Have you seen the snack table? They've got those little sausages with a billion different options for dipping sauces. I love a good sausage."
Primrose looks at him.
Alfyn rolls his eyes. "Aw, real mature. How old are we again?"
"You walked right into it," Primrose insists, elbowing him. "So, did you need something?"
Alfyn shrugs. "Just wanted to chat one-on-one, I guess. Kinda hard to do that in a big group, s'much as I love 'em. How's the frontier treatin' you?"
"It's been pretty good, all things considered," Primrose admits. "Nice and quiet. I could do without the bugs, though. And the coyotes. And the elementals in every fucking cave. Gods, I hate those things. I'd almost rather fight Simeon all over again."
That sobers the atmosphere without Primrose even meaning to.
"Y'know," she adds, in a vain hope of steering it back to brighter things. "I shouldn't say that. It's insulting to elementals."
Alfyn chuckles. "I don't think they care that much, but that's not the point." He shifts a little. "In that theater, on the stage…"
Primrose's jaw tenses. She hates how familiar this tension is— she didn't realize how tiring it was until she finally let it go.
"How much did you see?" she asks tightly.
He purses his lips. "A good bit," he admits.
Primrose sighs. "Listen, I don't want your pity. I know it was bad. I know you're sorry I had to go through it all. Shit, Alfyn, I even know it wasn't my fault. That part's new, but there it is. Can we go back to forgetting that I ever showed any vulnerability?"
Alfyn sighs. He leans back, hooking his feet in the balusters so he won't crack his skull falling off the patio. "I mean, I know you want to forget about it, but…"
"There's no but about it," Primrose says shortly. "Why do you think I left, Alfyn? This part of the continent holds too many memories. I know some are good and some are bad, but it's all… noisy." She sighs. "I wanted somewhere quiet."
Alfyn nods. "Yeah, makes sense. Sorry to pry."
Primrose shrugs. "Don't worry about it."
He leans forward again, hopping off the fence and leaning on it instead. "I think I get it, though," he says. He looks at the paving stones. "A lot of shit happened. The past few years, I think we all needed to just… put the swords away and pick up a shovel again. Metaphorically. Whatever, it's just somethin' my mom used to say."
"So, then, what have you gotten off to, while H'aanit and I were hiking through parts unknown?" Primrose asks. "Did you go back to Clearbrook?"
"Of course," he shrugs. "Clearbrook's my home, and I never intended to find a new one. I had a good life there that I put on hold for a change of pace, and when the year was up, I picked it right back up again. Never thought about finding a new home and putting down roots somewhere else."
"So, you're back to being Clearbrook's second-best apothecary?" Primrose teases.
He smiles wryly. "Yeah, I'll concede to that. I just… can't ever see myself anywhere else, y'know? You asked me that five years ago, and I stuck to my word. And in another five years, I reckon it'll be just the same."
"I'm glad," Primrose says, and she means it. "Maybe we'll drop by for a visit sometime. To pet your dog, of course."
"He loves new people, you're not gonna have any trouble," Alfyn chuckles. "I'd be glad to see you. My place ain't big, but it's home for me. And if you ever wanna stay in one place for a while, it can be home for you, too."
Emotion tugs at her heart. "Aw, Alfyn, that's sweet."
"Just wanna make sure my friends are taken care of," he shrugs. He acts nonchalant, but he looks back at Primrose, and she can tell that it's not all in jest. "Hey," he says.
"Mm?"
"I'm real proud of you," he says. "Six years ago, you wouldn't be nearly so chatty."
"Well, that was a while back," Primrose shrugs.
"Still," he says. "You're so much… happier, y'know? You're smiling more often than you aren't, and that's pretty big, from the last time I saw you. Hell, I think tonight was the first time I ever heard you laugh."
Primrose's cheeks flush. "W-well, I'm…"
"Hey, don't worry about a snappy comeback," Alfyn says gently. "You've come a long way."
She smiles a little. "I guess I have, haven't I?"
"Yeah, and it's somethin' to be proud of," he agrees.
"I suppose I must be taking a page out of your book," she muses. "Wandering around. Seeing the sights. Going off the beaten path just because. You know, this whole continent has some incredible places— giant waterfalls and groves of pink trees and underwater caves no one's ever touched. I wouldn't have found them if I hadn't met you and learned from you, and I certainly wouldn't have been able to really appreciate them."
His ears turn pink. "Aw, shucks, Primrose."
"It's just like you said," she says, lightly nudging him. "Sometimes, you have to stop and smell the roses."
"Pun intended?"
"Maybe a little."
Alfyn laughs, bright and warm. "Well, shit, I'm glad I made an impression."
"You know I wouldn't be where I am now if I hadn't met you when I did," she says. "Give yourself some credit."
"Hey, hold up, we were just talking about your progress," he says, holding up a hand. "Don't make this about me."
"Newsflash, dumbass, I've made all this progress because I met you," Primrose retorts. "Though, really, I think we're both lucky. After all, if I hadn't come along to protect you, you could've gotten into some big trouble."
Alfyn snorts. "Protect me?" Then he pauses. "Alright, yeah, that's fair."
Primrose hesitates, chewing on her words a little before she says them. "Hey," she says. "Thank you. For everything."
She can tell that Alfyn wants to make a witty comment, but he doesn't. Instead, he just smiles back at her. "Don't even worry about it. Y'know, if you were anyone else, I guess this is where I'd hug you, but…"
He holds out his hand. Primrose glances at it, then back to him. She sees Alfyn falter, about to play it off, but he doesn't get a chance to. Instead, she hugs him. She figures that it's long overdue.
He feels familiar. He feels like coming home.
When she pulls away, he blinks. "Aw, shit," he says. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," she says, and she means it. "I figure it's high time I give all of you the hugs you deserve."
"Now that's improvement, Primrose," Alfyn remarks. "Well, you know I ain't gonna stop you."
Primrose. It's her name, and yet, from Alfyn's lips, it feels strange, ill-fitting.
"You know," she says. "You might as well call me Prim."
"Prim, huh?" he tries it out. He nods. "Yeah. Yeah, it feels right."
He glances back at her. "Thank you," he says. "I know how much it means to you."
Primrose shrugs. "It's just a name. You let me borrow yours, so I figure I'm returning the favor."
Alfyn chuckles. "Shucks, Prim, that's real sweet," he says. "Y'know, I could get used to this. Feels like it's as it should be, y'know?"
Primrose nods, looking out at the ocean in the distance. While they've been talking, the sun's dipped below the horizon, and the sky is dark red and fading to black. After a while, she speaks again.
"Yeah," she agrees. "Just as it should be."