Delicate Flower - A Hilda Fanzine

SOMETHING IN YOU
PARCHMINTS
See, this is why Hilda isn’t cut out for battle—her muscles are all achy and
she’s sweated the expensive perfume right off her neck. Which, gross. Sure,
she and her class stopped the Almyran forces from invading Fódlan’s Locket
but Goddess, at what cost? As soon as she speaks to her brother, she’s taking
the longest bath of her life.
Speaking of brothers...Hilda is going to kill hers. What was that idiot thinking,
getting a “sudden illness” in the middle of an invasion? If he’d been there,
she definitely wouldn’t have gotten as icky and sore as she is now. He owes
her. Big time.
She shoos off the attendants that welcome her at the door and heads straight
for Holst’s room, already dreading his incessant babying.
And ugh, of course his stupid room is guarded by soldiers.
“Lady Hilda!” one guard says, red and flustered under his helmet. Hilda has
that effect on people. “Master Holst is resting right now so…”
“I’m sure my brother won’t mind if I bother him for a few minutes. I did fill
in for him at Fódlan’s Locket, after all,” Hilda says. If she whips out her trusty
“get-what-I-want” smile, well, that’s between her and the Goddess.
The guard goes even redder and looks to his partner, who shrugs.
“I, er...well, yes. I’m sure Master Holst is anxious to see you.” He reaches for the
door’s handle. “The healer said he should get plenty of rest so…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t overdo it,” Hilda says. Normally, you
wouldn’t have to worry about such a thing but Holst, genius general that he
is, has a tendency to overexert himself even in conversation.
The guard opens the door for her, stiffening as she goes past, then shuts the
door quickly. He isn’t quite Hilda’s type (hers is more...feminine) but it’s a nice
confidence boost all the same.
The snoring is the first thing she notices. Holst is so loud she’s surprised it
didn’t interrupt her conversation with the guard. It’s been months since she’s
been in here, but it’s still a cluttered mess of weapons, crumpled up letters,
and discarded parchment with scribblings of battle plans. The maids are
never allowed to touch the clutter since Holst has—what he calls—a system,
but you can’t argue with his results. The windows are huge, stretching from
ceiling to floor, so at least the natural lighting is nice. Currently, they’re all
covered by heavy curtains to block out the sun—Hilda’s going to have to do
something about that.
She goes to the middle window, the one that’s sure to send a bright beam
directly into Holst’s field of vision, and swiftly pulls back the curtain. It results
in a satisfying and overdramatic groan from the bed behind her.
“Mm, hold on,” Holst says, tossing the covers over his head. “Baltie, not there.”
And, whoa, okay that’s enough of that. Hilda crosses to the bed and gives
Holst’s shoulder a hard shake. “Up and at ‘em, dummy.”
Holst jolts awake, sitting up straight and whipping his head from left to right
like he’s under attack, but he stops when his pink eyes land on Hilda. She
stares back at him with her hands on her hips and a glare that she hopes
conveys “you’re in big trouble, mister.”
“Hilda?” he says and his stupidly big arms extend their full wingspan out for a
hug. Hilda sighs. It’s true that Holst can’t deny her anything, but it’s also true
Hilda can’t deny him much either. She gives him a hug.
“A brute as always,” she says, pushing him off. Does every hug have to be the
rib-cracking kind?
Holst combs his pink hair with his fingers. It’s longer than the last time Hilda
saw him, nearly reaching his shoulders. “Aw, c’mon, Hildy. Hurts my feelings
when you say that.”
“Well, it hurts my back when you crush me like that.”
Holst grins. “Sorry, sorry. I was just worried about you. Tell me everything. Is
the Locket alright? My men?”
“Hmph,” Hilda says, crossing her arms. “You’ll be happy to know that your
baby sister handled the situation perfectly and all your men are fine. Well,
they might need a couple days in the infirmary, but no losses.”
Holst looks like he’s about to hug her again, but instead, he just beams.
“Hilda, you’re amazing!”
“I know.”
Holst stands, looking weak and uneasy on his feet. “No, you don’t get it. The
Locket is one of the most contentious parts of Fódlan. The fact that you led
a defense against the Almyrans without any casualties...I always knew you
were special, Hilda, but this is beyond even my expectations.” He gesticulates
wildly as he heads over to a desk covered in papers by the window. “Incredible.
You’re not even out of Garreg Mach yet. The will that takes, the strategic
brilliance! I have to tell Baltie. He’s going to be so impressed.”
Hilda feels heat rise to her cheeks. She loves getting her fair share of praise
but this is too much! “Holst, stop. I don’t need you bragging about me to your
boyfriend.”