[3rd POV]
The atmosphere was quiet. Altair was resting between his Servants, Okita Souji and Oda Nobunaga. Nobunaga was hugging his arm, which lay across her chest, while Okita slept peacefully, clutching the sleeve of his shirt.
In the middle of the night, only a pink-haired Shielder was patrolling the area, letting her Senpai sleep soundly next to Artoria.
Among them all, there was one Servant who couldn't fall asleep, lost in her thoughts. Jeanne was staring at the stars, behaving strangely, almost as if distant.
"Is something wrong, Jeanne?" Marie approached, placing her hand on the confused saint's back. "You look down… Are you tired?" The Queen of France tilted her head, curious.
"No, I'm not tired. Thank you for your concern, Marie," Jeanne replied, offering a small smile. "I am a Servant, after all."
"Oh! Then what's the problem?" Marie blinked her large eyes, fixing them on the saint. "Maybe you're sad about the state of France…" she murmured, her soft voice filled with empathy.
"I suppose so… Seeing so much destruction caused by someone who looks exactly like me weighs on my heart," admitted Jeanne, averting her gaze to the crackling campfire. "If my Master were to hear me now, he'd definitely give me a lecture." A timid smile appeared on her lips.
Marie watched her for a moment, blinking again. "I see!" she exclaimed, sitting down in front of her. "I think what we need is a good girl talk." Her smile was radiant, full of energy.
"…Excuse me?" Jeanne responded, somewhat flustered, not fully understanding the intentions of this eccentric queen.
"Did girls in your time never do that?" Marie asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
"No… not exactly," Jeanne replied, raising her hand and waving quickly side to side. Before she could explain further, Marie interrupted her with a brilliant smile.
"Oh, it's perfectly fine! There's nothing strange about it. You and I were summoned at the height of our youth, you know? We're practically in the middle of puberty, with hormones going crazy. Besides, I absolutely love talking about love and romance!" Marie raised her arm, overflowing with enthusiasm.
Jeanne, faced with the contagious energy of the beautiful Queen of France, scratched her cheek with her hand, a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Marie, but I have no experience with those things."
"Really!?" exclaimed Marie, surprised, her eyes widening. "You've never fallen in love?"
Jeanne shook her head, but for a brief instant, the image of a black-haired boy crossed her mind, making a faint blush rise on her cheeks.
Marie, noticing the pinkish tint on the saint's cheeks, could almost smell the scent of romance in the air, something pure and still in its earliest stages.
"But it seems like you and your Master are pretty close. Are you sure you've never fallen in love?" Marie asked, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
The blush on Jeanne's face deepened. "No… you've misunderstood. At that moment, I was only… taking care of my Master. Yes, that's it, just taking care of him," she replied, trying to justify herself, while her heart seemed to betray her with a slight quickening.
Jeanne's confusion was quite a delightful sight for the Queen of France. "Hehehe! I'm not sure if you're trying to convince me or yourself," said Marie, covering her mouth to stifle a soft giggle. "Dear Jeanne, there's nothing wrong with falling in love. In fact, it's one of the most beautiful things there is. Give yourself to that feeling and let yourself become entwined with your Master."
With her face completely red, Jeanne lowered her head in embarrassment. "Please, don't tease me…," she murmured softly. "There's nothing between the two of us."
"As you yourself said, you've never experienced that feeling. So how can you be sure you're not in love?" Marie retorted, crossing her arms over her chest with an expression that suggested she knew far more than she was letting on.
Jeanne blinked rapidly, flustered. "But…" She searched desperately for an answer, something that could convince the queen—or perhaps herself. Failing to find one, she let out a forced "Cough, cough!" trying to dispel the flush burning on her cheeks. "And what about you, Marie? Have you ever fallen in love?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.
"Of course!" replied Marie, her face lighting up with a smile. "I fell in love with a boy who proposed to me when I was only seven years old. I think he was my first love. Then, at fourteen, I fell in love again, this time with the prince I married, Louis XVI."
Jeanne couldn't hide her surprise. Married so young? "My God!" she exclaimed. "Fourteen!? When I was that age, I was working in the fields or playing with other children." She simply couldn't comprehend how anyone could marry so early.
"That sounds so fun!" Marie let out a gentle smile. "But for us nobles, marrying young is completely normal, especially for women. And I loved my husband, so I saw no problem in marrying young." Thoughtful, Jeanne rested her elbows on her knees, propping her chin on her hand. "Actually, your Master has some traits that remind me of my husband."
"The Master!?" Jeanne furrowed her brow, unable to imagine how Altair could resemble Louis XVI.
"Ahaha! I understand your shock," Marie laughed. "Even though I loved my husband, he was indecisive, with a weak personality, completely the opposite of Altair. But the two share something rare: the desire to learn new things. Would you believe that my husband, the King of France, decided to study locksmithing just because he found it interesting?" Marie leaned back, her hands behind her, her eyes sparkling with sweet nostalgia.
Jeanne let out a faint smile. "It's hard to believe, but I can totally picture my Master learning something completely new just out of curiosity." Without realizing it, the smile on her delicate face grew a little wider.
Marie noticed, but simply smiled silently, saying nothing.
"But…" Jeanne snapped out of her daydream and hesitantly opened her mouth. "If your husband was the second person you fell in love with, who was the first?" By now, she was completely engrossed in the conversation.
"The first was…" Marie paused, a playful smile on her lips, creating a moment of suspense. "A young Amadeus."
"Really!?" Jeanne exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with interest.
"Yes! At the time, we were just children. I was seven, and he was six. A young musical genius named Amadeus, invited as a musician to perform at the palace in Vienna. He took my hand in a chivalrous gesture… I think it was love at first sight, both for me and for him. So much so that he proposed marriage to me on the spot." Marie recalled the scene vividly: the young musician, full of youthful passion, declaring his love.
"And what was your answer?" asked Jeanne, curious.
"I refused, of course," answered Marie with a light smile, no trace of regret in her voice.
"But didn't you love him too?" Jeanne tilted her head, puzzled.
"I was already engaged to Louis XVI at the time, so it was impossible. Still, it's a sweet memory… but only a memory." Marie smiled gently, her eyes serene.
"I don't understand," murmured Jeanne, looking down at her hands, lost in thought.
"Love is complicated and, at the same time, simple," said Marie, her voice calm. "For example, dear Jeanne, would you protect your Master?" She asked the question with a perceptive look.
"Yes, of course," Jeanne replied, giving the Queen of France a puzzled look, not understanding where she was going with this.
"And right now, at this very moment, would you like to spend time with him, even if it was simply to look at him?" Marie asked, tilting her head. "Did you enjoy every second he spent in your lap?"
"Hmm…" Jeanne murmured, beginning to grasp the direction of the conversation. "Yes." A faint blush once again colored her cheeks.
"And what did you, Jeanne, the Maiden of Orleans, feel when you saw me kissing him? Or when he's surrounded by other girls, like now, lying between his two Servants?"
Immersed in the moment, Jeanne opened her mouth, trying to find words, but quickly closed it again. It was as though something inside her was struggling to break free. Silence hung in the air for a few seconds until, finally, the saint spoke.
"I… I don't know. It felt strange seeing him being kissed… and it's not just that. I also feel something weird when I see him so at ease, laughing and talking with other girls." Realizing what she had just said, she raised her hands, waving them from side to side. "It's not that I think it's wrong or anything like that… I think. It's just that…" Jeanne hesitated, nervously intertwining her fingers, avoiding Marie's gaze. "I feel a tightness, a discomfort, as if something's out of place. I can't quite explain it. I just know I don't like feeling this way."
Marie gave her a gentle smile. It was jealousy, clear as day, written in every syllable. But Jeanne, who had never experienced such a feeling, didn't even recognize the little demon lurking in her heart. Marie, for her part, kept it to herself. Although jealousy might seem like a mischievous little monster, it was also an inevitable part of love.
"Wonderful!" Marie exclaimed, making Jeanne turn her face toward her. "Dear Jeanne, I want you to promise me something: when you discover whether what you feel is love or just a strong friendship, don't forget to tell me." With a graceful gesture, Marie lifted her slender hand, offering her pinky to the saint.
Jeanne stared at the extended finger for a few seconds in silence, until a faint smile bloomed on her lips. "I promise," she said, raising her own pinky and hooking it with Marie's, sealing the promise with the last Queen of France.
At the exact moment the pact was made, both French Servants felt a surge of magical energy spreading through the forest.
"An enemy attack," announced Mash, emerging from the vegetation where she'd been patrolling. "I'll wake up the Master and Altair-senpai…"
"There's no need," interrupted Altair, rubbing his eyes as he appeared beside Okita. "The five of us are more than enough." He flashed a confident smile.
Jeanne watched her Master. Even freshly woken, he looked impeccable: his long black hair fell over his back, and his magnetic eyes met hers for an instant. Remembering Marie's words, she looked away, trying to hide the blush rising on her face.
"Little Mash, let Fujimaru rest. She'll be fine. Artoria is with her, and Nobunaga is keeping watch over the camp," said Altair.
"But, Altair-senpai, who's going to command me?" asked Mash, blinking uncertainly.
Altair stepped closer to her and stopped in front of her. "Little Mash, you don't need to be commanded," he replied, giving her forehead a gentle flick. "It's time for you to start making your own decisions in the heat of battle." With a gentle gesture, he ruffled her hair. "Let our little redhead get some rest. She deserves a good night's sleep, right?" He stepped back and flashed a warm smile.
"R-right," replied Mash, clenching her fists with renewed determination.
"Excellent. Now, let's give our unwelcome visitors a proper welcome," Altair said, stretching his arms and flashing a wild grin.
••• ••• •••
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