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When Nowi thought about it (truly, sincerely thought), her love story was one of whirlwinds and fire.
Sure, off the battlefield, her husband was a tame man. A smart, unbelievably shy and happy man that could enjoy training out on hot desert terrains just as much as listening to Nowi blab on and on and on about her wild adventures as a hundred old infant. His smile would grow as her exploits became more outlandish and embellished, and he’d even encourage her with a thoughtful question every five minutes or so. And Nowi especially liked that after a long day of travel, she could snuggle into his lap and wrap his large arms around her petite frame.
But while Gregor was a kindhearted man (a wonderful man) in their daily ventures, that Gregor was not necessarily the one Nowi fell in love with.
She fell for a merciless blade that cut through their enemies in a single sweep – that would do anything to protect the dragon girl he found alone and terrified, memories of sneered cackling and steel cages continuously looping through her ears and over her eyes.
She had ran from him at first, afraid his words were nothing more than a trick to lure her back into a cage. So he could return her chained, forced to transform and perform tricks for her former masters’ unnerving pleasure.
When she couldn’t continue any further, the combination of desert heat and an empty stomach dizzying her head and weakening her knees, she lashed out at the mercenary instead, frustrated tears blurring his approaching form, “Get away! Everyone just leave me alone!”
He halted and drew his hands in front of his chest in an attempt to calm her, and it wasn’t until much later did Nowi realize his weapon was sheathed, “Please, be keeping down of the voice! You give away position – very bad!”
Nowi did not understand what he meant at the time – his accent was thick and she didn’t like it and she didn’t like him, and she most certainly didn’t care if he thought she was being loud. It was all a trick to use her, maybe to even kill her. Just the thought made the whole of her skin throb, her eyes solidly shut as she continued to cry and holler more, “My throat is dry, my shoes are full of sand, and some big weirdo is trying to kill me!”
She couldn’t see his face, but his voice lowered and his tone shifted at her remark, sounding like a blend of sadness and shame, “Oy, you break Gregor’s heart! Why you treat like villain?”
But Nowi didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, too weak from hunger and exhaustion to manage another word. She could barely register the group of soldiers that came to her aid, demanding what the mercenary’s intentions were with the girl collapsed against the sand. The only thing she could really remember of the conversation was Gregor’s escalating desperation, his voice angry and coming off as a growl, “Gregor is not enemy! You must believe!”
She opened her eyes then, the leader of the traveling soldiers shaking his head and looking out into the endless desert, “This is making my head hurt. We’ll sort him out later. Right now, we need to protect the girl.”
Nowi’s ears perked up at that, and she had just enough strength to crook her head in the leader’s direction, a sliver of hope pitter-pattering against her chest, “…You’re going to help me?”
She didn’t remember what he had said after that, but she did recall being picked up by a pair of strong, burly arms and being hoisted onto a firm back. She remembered constant words of encouragement as the mercenary slaughtered tens of hundreds of men, all for her sake and her sake alone. She remembered his vicious cries and enthusiastic laughs, his heavy breaths and damp hair. It almost felt like a dream, the way he effortlessly gave his all while her arms were locked tight around his neck. He asked nothing of her, and she gave him nothing in return.
When the battle was over (and after Nowi had dived headfirst into a nearby oasis), she came to Gregor soaking wet with raw hawk meat spilling from her mouth. She hadn’t seen him since he handed her over to the camp's medics. His clothes were covered in sand and blood, and it was the first time she received a clear, tearless view of his face.
Honestly, she hadn’t thought he’d be handsome. Or his eyes to be so unguarded and soft.
“Ah, it is wee one,” he said, “did medics treat you well? Because if not, Gregor will have word with them.”
Nowi blinked, surprised that he appeared unreserved. Didn’t he recall her running away, spitting in his face, almost getting him killed?
He…doesn’t care? she thought, and a bubble of something floated across her stomach as she plopped down beside him and let out a huge groan, “That was – the worst day – ever!”
Gregor smiled and cocked his head to the side, seemingly reflecting on the previous battle, “It is not so bad now, is it? Wee one no longer crying, and the evil people are now dead people. This is good, no?”
Nowi giggled, and took another bite of raw meat before replying, “You’re right! Totally better than it could have been.”
“Then Gregor is glad you feel better,” his smile faded, however, when he took in her wet clothes and naked shoulders, “Wee one should find dry clothes. Desert freezing at night – you might catch cold.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that too,” she faked a pout, but she knew his intentions to be sincere. At least, she knew that now. She stood up, hoping to find the cute girl named Lissa, or even that haughty Maribelle. Maybe they would have clothes she could fit in…
“Oh! I almost forgot!” she bopped her head and swerved around, catching the mercenary off guard. The bubble in her stomach swarmed up into her chest, and she felt her cheeks reddened as her next words stumbled out, “Th-thank you for everything you did for me today. And…sorry I was so mean to you earlier. I just get really nervous around people out…outside of my age group.”
Gregor cocked a brow, and his lips stretched into a smirk, “Your age group? Ha! Gregor much closer to your age than others here!”
Nowi gasped, almost dropping the rest of her hawk meat onto the sand beneath her, “Wha – you know how old I am?”
“Of course!” Gregor exclaimed, “Former employers very precise when come to girl of dragons. Wee one may look like girl, but really she is old crone, correct?”
Her cheeks turned hot, and the bubble in her chest burst, “Hey, I’m not a crone! You’re the one who looks like someone’s gramps, anyway!”
The mercenary frowned as he stood up, and Nowi almost gawked as his bulky figure loomed over hers, “Well if Gregor this gramps, than little girl is great-great-great-great-granny!”
But instead of thinking of a snappy comeback, Nowi remembered laughing and taking his coarse hand into her own, “Haha, I like you, Gregs! You’re going to my playmate forever!”
And though Gregor insisted that ‘Gregor’s name is Gregor’ for the next hour or so, he made no objection to her latter demand.
Because, either in the barracks or out on the battlefield, Nowi practically stitched herself to Gregor’s side. They ate together and trained together, slept underneath trees and stargazed whenever the night was clear enough. He would tell her stories about his dead brother, and she would ramble on about all the cool people she had met before she was captured and auctioned off. Gregor was one of the best companions she had had in such a long time...could she even recall a time like this one? When she could laugh with someone so genuinely, or mooch off their plate if she was still hungry? Someone who didn’t look to her as a silly little dragon girl, but thought of her as, well, a woman?
Then, when it came to battle…that was where her feelings were tested. Where she realized he was much more than some trivial human playmate.
Gregor kept up with the manakete with natural ease, able to read any and all of her moves with both poise and expertise. He protected her back and killed by the hundreds, hollering in excitement as he witnessed her green flames scorch the soldiers beneath her. They were a team of unparalleled success, rivaled only by the newlyweds Virion and Miriel (and maybe Chrom and his faithful childhood friend).
When people would comment on the peculiarity of their circumstance, of Gregor’s worn looks and Nowi’s constant attachment, the mercenary would shrug and ward them off.
“Nowi is Nowi to Gregor,” the mercenary insisted, “She is not little girl you can pamper. She is woman and she is great friend.”
With her thoughts and his words, Nowi started to wonder: could she…could they be in love with each other? Sure, she had had crushes before, but they were always on kids that looked as old as she did, or teenaged boys that doted on her like a little sister. Gregor was neither of those things – a tall, hulking man that could make her feel both small and safe. A man who played along with her antics, who made juvenile promises of protection and devotion in exchange for a handmade sweater. Someone who wanted to watch her grow and become strong, so that no one else could overpower and imprison her again.
Oh, Nowi blinked one afternoon, her daily training session with Gregor just minutes away, he does love me.
It was oddly wonderful, the way her vision blurred at the mere thought of Gregor being in love with her. Of spending the rest of his years by his side, hearing him laugh and watching him smile every day. Playing and training, swapping stories and watching stars…
So of course, when he presented a ring to her an hour later, its one large emerald glittering in the sunset, she wanted confirmation.
“You love me and want to get married, right?” Nowi winked, doing her best to restrain the giggles threatening to spill out of her throat. Gregor was already a blushing mess, and he practically jumped out his skin when she took his hand into hers, “So just come out and say it!”
“But…it is difficult!” Gregor exclaimed, and he chewed at his lip, eyes glued to the grass, “Gregor is…very shy man.”
Nowi faked a pout and turned away from Gregor, crossing her arms in mock annoyance. She couldn’t help it, really. It was fun to watch this man, who killed hundreds for her and with her, squirm and sputter at such things like love confessions and marriage proposals. She could only hope he would stay this way after they were married, “So are you sure you love me? Because if you don’t –”
The man behind her gasped and rushed to her side, spinning her around and clasping his hands onto her small shoulders, “No, no! Gregor’s heart is true! He seeks solemn bond as man and wife! Okay then, Gregor proves this to you!”
Nowi took a quick breath as Gregor stilled himself, holding back a cough. He licked his lips and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to her forehead, “…Gregor love you, Nowi.”
The very gesture, cute and sweet and oh-so-totally-Gregor soon had Nowi’s cheeks matching his, and she burst into a fit of giggles, “That wasn’t so hard, was it? And I accept! But you have to promise to live as long as you can, okay?”
Upon her acceptance, Gregor laughed along with her, plopping several kisses onto her rosy cheeks, “Gregor will be doing his best!”
“Good!” Nowi exclaimed as she clasped onto his hands, reveling the feel of his lips and skin against her face, “Now let’s go find a tree where no one can see us!”
Gregor cocked a brow, confused, “What for?”
Nowi smirked and lunged forward, sloppily meeting his lips with her own, “To make out! Duh!”
“Not if Nowi to be kissing future husband like that,” Gregor emphasized, pulling back, “But…if you insist, you come with Gregor and we find place.”
“You’ll just have to teach me a little bit, then!” Nowi nodded and scooted out of his grasp while keeping a hold of one of his hands, “It’ll be like training, right?”
The mercenary grinned and followed along, “Gregor hope Nowi finds it a bit more enjoyable and relaxing than training.”
“Silly Gregor – everything’s fun when I’m with you!”