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Salty Tea I	By : PiddleyFangs Category: +A through F > Fire Emblem (all) > Fire Emblem (all) Views: 4800 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Fire Emblem. No money is made off of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 1: Hexed

Hefty battle gear recoiled against the wide stride of the marching Shepards. The freelance enforcers were a significant stature on any road they traversed, and this time was no exception, though their haste was of more significance than usual. Ahead of the initial groupings was the outlier with ferocious speed. Cradled in the arms of this urgent man was an ailing Lissa. Chrom carried her with clenched hands compressed down against her frail form, the usually pale girl took on a grim pallor, her eyes closed and her eye lids that covered them discolored a slight blue. She looked as sick as death, and Chrom was struggling to think of a time he was ever more worried. Few moments came to mind, the adrenaline so fierce that the sides of his heads throbbed like a thousand pounding timpani’s.
The urgent prince arrived at camp, and made haste to give Lissa to the arms of Libra who had stayed at camp whilst the returning war party made mince of the calamitous Risen who had threatened the local village. Not a step was misplaced, and Lissa was placed urgently onto her bed for immediate treatment. Libra touched the back of his palm to her snow white forehead. “She’s completely frigid!” His explanation was a bit too loud, and the weary Frederick was already delivering all the blankets in camp to Lissa’s tent when only one or two would suffice.
Chrom stood outside the tent, paying mind over his sister when a stern slap from a heavy satchel to his face made him attentive to the fact that Maribelle caught wind of Lissa’s illness, and was beyond furious. “Great heavens, what happened to my dear Lissa?!!!” Chrom made haste to help diffuse the situation, waving his figures down to gesticulate they must keep their volume down.
“Lissa got caught in the range of a sorcerer and has received some sort of hex-“
“A hex?! Then go get Henry to rattle some goat bones and fix her already!” She was as boisterous as ever, and was letting her attitude do all the piloting.
“Henry already took a look at her; whatever is leftover is just a sickness. He says the hex already passed through her system and all that is left to do is make sure she recovers.”
“Hmmph! Libra and I shall attend to her. You better keep a path open for us while we tend to her. Goodness, this is why I insisted I be allowed to accompany you all. Now poor Lissa has gotten the blunt end of some craven’s flux!” Maribelle’s rage went to fuel her dedication to see Lissa return to them healthy anew.
The camp became a bit more permanent as time passed. Frederick made dedicated supply trips to town to bring back anything Maribelle interpreted to be Lissa’s desire. The poor ailed girl had awoken a day ago, and the whole while has been stooped in a fever of legends. So sickly she was, she reported at times her legs are but phantoms, and her arm muscles tighten so she can hardly move. Her nose is constantly blushed and runny, and her head was a constant ache.
Maribelle had a new force of dedication, the likes of which no one had ever seen. She slaved over any stove that could carry a pot for boiling soup or tea or some remedy Donnel swore helped his ma get over a bad case of the flu. Lissa received the finest treatment a refined woman like Maribelle could allow, the girl even at once demanding of Chrom that a finer resort be rented out for Lissa’s betterment. At last, after a week of ceaseless treatment, Lissa was capable of coherent speech, and even more, she was walking by the afternoon. She insisted upon joining the army for their usual dinner instead of the triple purified chicken soup and citrus tea she had survived on for a while now. While her stomach wasn’t quite strong enough yet for the wild game baked into a thick broth, or for the stream water, she was capable of handling the walking around the mess hall part. “At this rate, I should be all hunky dory by next week!” Lissa ecstatically proclaimed, a hint of levity at her situation.
Rumors around the camp were moths to the lantern in swarming frequency. Such as the fact for the first week Maribelle did not return to her tent and had slept by Lissa’s bed on the floor. Or that Maribelle had been bathing Lissa, either with a damp towel at her bed, or when Lissa regained mobility by way of private washings with her. Far-fetched talk said Maribelle chewed up Lissa’s food and spits it into her mouth, though Nowi swears on her life this was how it happened. Preposterous enough to be a lie, but this hyperbole captures how much Maribelle adores Lissa, and needs nothing more in her life than to keep the shining gem alive and healthy. The refined woman lived and dedicated herself to Lissa, and may have found something of a thrilling fulfillment in caring for her. She pampered to Lissa beyond the dedication of a most loyal worker, but one could tell Lissa was never truly ‘work’ to Maribelle. You could catch her smiles post-soup gathering, or find her with dreamy eyes pondering the nature of her scenario whenever she wrung out the towels from the last scrub down. She never felt closer to anyone in her life, and she could only pray that even a healthy Lissa might return to continue depending on her. Maribelle was thrilled to learn the answer was yes.
Before they were best of friends, but now the two were joined at the hip. A much healthier Lissa still coughed once in a while in an un-combat-ready manner, but found everlasting comfort and care in the luxurious lap of Maribelle. Lissa was dangerously close to spoiled, and one could tell in her tomboyish grin she was devilishly aware of her actions, but she was not exploiting Maribelle. Lissa would never dare do such an action. This was what Maribelle seemed to want, so Lissa found it hard not to allow. Of course, anything too caring was immediately scraped. Lissa was getting her own food, and her own tea, and running her own errands, but any insignificant task found assurance in the helping hand of her drill hair caretaker.
Lissa gagged at lunch half way through devouring a pork sandwich. Her stomach stirred like a blade stirred in stretching dough. It twisted and contorted around until the pain became unbearable. Her stomach was lit aflame with the symbols of a hex, though these aesthetics did not show through her clothing. Maribelle’s gloved hand fell to her shoulder. “Are you okay dear?!”
Lissa’s eyes shimmering and her cursed marking engrained deeper into the bottom of her stomach before fading back to her pale skin tone. She replies with rekindled strength, “Yeah, I’m fine… Feeling better already…”
…
After Lissa’s mishap at lunch, Maribelle was plagued, contrite she allowed for Lissa to be so unwell under her supervision. Her efforts in keeping watch over Lissa did not cease. Baths remained a consistent thing, as well did Lissa’s lunches being combed through by Maribelle for any offending materials. If so much as a suspicious grain found a way into her bread, the whole sandwich would be disregarded and some new food would be found to better care for Lissa.
Lissa was fed up with it after another day past the last, and pouted about all day how she was growing sick of being treated like a delicate pot. Before they had found such a precise balance, where Lissa could thrive in her princess fantasies whilst her dear friend felt as though she contributed enough to her safety, but now the magic was being too far pressed. Lissa felt bundled up and protected for the sake she may one day break, a bird shimmied back inside the nest on account of a cough. She was getting sick of it all, and she was even sicker of getting left behind. She counted the times Chrom and company had went out to do battle with the Risen that too close to the camp, and it reached the point she could no longer record the tally on both hands.
To top it all off, she was also developing this nasty rash. It starts as usual as ever, when then the very air feels like an irritating inferno on her stomach. Rustling ants of spice and prickly sensations hover like phantoms over her stomach, leaving behind their ghastly sensations of intense itch. Lissa would then have to find a place to wrestle with her corset and dress, and undo her petticoat, and then lift her tight stockings to get at the itch under petticoat pants. Her lowers stomach was irritated and red, and there was little Lissa could do but scratch. So she brought her finger nails to the same spot each day, scratching, her fingers little red marking tallies against the spot of how many times she’s scratched at it. It’s gotten out of hand, and she now avoids baths with Maribelle in fear it will come up in conversation and lead her friend to invest in heavy armor lined with bubble wrap and mattresses.
So she resigned to the acts of scratching in secrecy. She made sure no one was nearby who could report, and at last after a day of pent up urges to ravage her stomach with the sharpest thing on hand, she would lift aside any obstructing clothing, and at last vanquish the daily curse of the meddlesome rash. In all honesty, at first it was a nuisance, but now it was routine. Scratching was satisfying, and this particular demanding itch was only skin level, so she didn't need to dig too deep to derive satisfaction from it. The only hard part was avoiding any sort of situation where Maribelle could spot it. This brought Lissa to the conclusion that she is removing belly blocking clothing with her friend far too often, for the amount of situations she had to dance around became staggering. Of course all these provisions were only recently added.
It was all for the sake of Lissa’s health, to check the afflicted blushing areas that were scattered across her body. All for the sake of her. Lissa hated how time was making her really start to hate those words. Maribelle had taken a liking to stamping all her deeds with those words. “For you Lissa.” She would always say, no matter what the example. “Lissa, I know I've become a tad overbearing, but I do this extravagance for you, less we risk some awful disease to make a meal of you! And I will personally never see that happen to my dear Lissa.” It was flattering, really! Lissa appreciated all Maribelle meant, but it was to the point it was extraneous! Lissa was not some bed ridden girl starting to count her days left. She was making an incredible recovery, and besides a rash she wouldn't let a soul know about she was completely fine! All blemishes aside, her health record was an impressive feat, and yet she could not get Maribelle to pay attention to this statistic. Instead she was stuck with Maribelle with napkin in hand, wiping away excess mush from the suspiciously pure soup Maribelle could conjure up with Libra in the kitchen. “A lady mustn't let her face become like the lap of some vandal who wipes his hands on his slacks.” Lissa hated how she heard that exact phrasing at least twice.
She shot her hips forward into her scratching at her lower stomach that evening. She felt beads of sweat make salty snail trails down her pale face. She rolled her eyes lightly as the scratch faded away. Each evening it seemed to become more and more a passionate affair to make away with her itch. At this rate, it was to become something of an important affair. The euphoria was rating higher and higher, and anticipation to the event gave way to pure excitement. Lissa could place a finger on why this itch felt so particularly incredible. One thing for certain, this particular issue would prove auspicious soon for poor Lissa. Lissa itches a bit nearer her loins every evening, until the one where heats met from the fires in stirred loins to fires upon her stomach. She lost track of events that occurred.
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Salty Tea I