Cross Conviction

Magnolia's eyes traced the printed lines of an old, intricately bound novel, illuminated by the dim light of her desk lamp. With the blinds shut and curtains drawn, the incandescent beam kept the girl transfixed on the book's aged pages. She was so immersed in her reading that the creak of the connecting door edging open melded into the unimportant chirping of birds just outside the window.

"Hey... you okay?"

In an instant, Magnolia stiffened up in her chair, slammed the cover on her book, and stuffed it into the desk drawer. She then pivoted in the seat to find Sturm, violin case in hand, with a puzzled look on his face.

"W-what do you want?!" she stammered, visibly flustered, "Were you not taught to knock?!"

Sturm slowly raised his hands in gentle defense, mindful that he had failed to announce his intent to enter properly. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Did I interrupt something?"

"As a matter of fact-"

The girl paused, glancing toward the drawer, before closing her eyes and exhaling deeply. "No, you didn't. I'm just tired."

"Alright..." Sturm continued, taking Magnolia's response to mean she had nothing to hide, "What were you reading?"

As the edges of her lips dropped to a frown, Magnolia crossed her legs and looked toward the covered window. "It's nothing important. Are we not to study in our spare time?"

"I was just curious, that's all," answered Sturm, lifting the violin case to his waist. "Anyway, this came for you. Where should I leave it?"

Magnolia gave the case a glance out of the corner of her eye before looking away once more. "I don't care, put it anywhere."

Finding this response unexpected, Sturm placed the instrument down beside him before leaning against the nearby bedframe. Despite Max's assertions, the swordsman knew that it would take more than a violin to raise the girl's spirits. Still, he didn't expect this level of disinterest.

"You know, my mom used to read all sorts of stories to me when I was a kid. Sometimes I want to find the time for novels again, but it just never really works out."

"I don't recall asking," Magnolia replied coldly.

After that response, Sturm had heard enough. He pushed up off the bedframe and started toward the door with haste. The boy's written test was yet unfinished and he wasn't about to let his arrogant teammate get under his skin enough to interrupt his productivity.

"Wait, turkey- er... Arthur," Magnolia called out, "I apologize, that was rude."

Sturm looked back over his shoulder at this girl with some surprise. An apology? From Magnolia? Some semblance of her nurturing side might have shown through during Sturm's short stint in the infirmary, but he had always assumed that the temperamental blonde had only assisted him under their captain's orders. For her to offer an apology unprompted was quite the development...

One that left Sturm somewhat suspicious.

Taking a deep breath, Magnolia mulled her next words. "I... Well... Do you hate me?"

The young swordsman was visibly taken back. "W-what? I mean... it isn't like-"

"No, that's quite enough. When one asks such a question of their peers, the lack of an immediate answer is an answer all the same," said Magnolia as she continued gazing into the curtains.

Troubled, Sturm walked back over to the girl and leaned on the wall next to her desk. "Well, however you take it, I definitely don't hate you. Is that what you're so upset about?"

Magnolia mumbled something inaudible in response, cracking a faint smirk as she spoke under her breath.

"What?" Sturm inquired, "I didn't catch that."

"I said that you must think awfully highly of yourself to believe that your opinion of me would hold enough influence to impact my mood."

As could be expected, it seemed that Magnolia was back to her usual self. Shaking his head, Sturm moved to exit the room a second time when he was stopped by the girl suddenly latching onto his wrist. He looked down, prepared to protest the intrusion, but found Magnolia's tear-laden emerald eyes looking up at him.

"No... I'm above the opinion of any individual," she wept, "Yet... it isn't an individual that hates me... It's everyone."

"That's not-"

"Stop it right now," Magnolia sobbed, digging her nails into the boy's wrist, "Do not patronize me, Arthur Sturm. Moreover, don't you dare insult my intelligence."

Feeling the sting of her chemical nail polish piercing his skin, Sturm fought the urge to wrench his arm from his teammate's grasp. Magnolia's horrible attitude had been a thorn in the collective side of the Third Hunter Team since its formation. It was difficult to feel sorry for the young woman who frequently referred to their dismembered captain as a "cripple" and regularly directed bigoted insults at the other two members of their team, but Sturm did his best to withhold judgment. Though they might have shared a common living space, the reality was that Sturm didn't know Magnolia on any significant level. Certainly, he believed, there had to be a reason for the girl's abrasive behavior.

Perhaps this was an opportunity to get Magnolia to open up about her background while simultaneously addressing her poor treatment of their allies.

Seizing the initiative, Sturm placed his free hand atop the desk. "Okay. Let go, please. I want to sit down if that's alright with you."

Through wet eyes, Magnolia silently challenged his intentions. Finding honesty in his expression, she finally relented, releasing his wrist and dropping her hand limply at her side. She then watched as Sturm slowly walked to the unused bed and sat down.

"You're hard to read, you know. It's kind of funny, in a way."

Magnolia sniffled and wiped the tears from her red cheeks with her sleeve. When her eyes reopened, they flickered with a hint of animosity. "What about that is funny to you?"

"I guess funny isn't the right word..." Sturm elaborated, careful not to antagonize her further. "What I mean is, you're the most expressive person I know, but still... it's just hard to know how you're feeling when your emotions seem to change too quickly."

A charge ran up Magnolia's spine. She had finally found it within herself to open up to another person and, predictively, was met with criticism. Was her attempt at outreach to end in nothing but further embarrassment?

No, Magnolia thought to herself, I've taken the chance and, truly, there's nothing left to lose. I can remain composed. I can listen.

As she steadied her breath to a slow draw, the girl felt the warmness in her face subside. Her shoulders then relaxed and the tension in her back began to fade away. For the moment, Magnolia was calm. She stood up, walked over to Sturm, and sat to his left before folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"Truth be told, Arthur, my emotions change quickly because I simply have no control over them. I'm aware that's hardly the most ladylike thing to admit, but that is indeed my reality. Sometimes I'm exposed to things that make me quite angry. Even if I manage to suppress an outburst, that anger still manifests in the brand of cruelty you have become all too familiar with."

Sturm faced his teammate and tilted his head, confused. "If you're aware of it, then why don't you do something about it? At the very least, you could avoid the things that make you feel that way, right?"

"You don't understand, Arthur..." she continued, looking down at the floor. "Everything makes me feel that way. The captain, Gustavo, Max, you- slightly less so, that spineless girl- Emmy, the flowers, the birds, the damned sky... It all makes me so angry."

Slightly less-so?

Sturm repeated internally before quickly pushing the thought from his mind.

"Flowers?" he inquired. "I've never met a woman who disliked them, let alone one who got angry looking at them."

Magnolia cracked a slight smile- an uncanny contrast to the reddened puffiness of her eyelids. "I know. Ironic, given my name."

"Oh, right. Your name sounds just like the flower," said Sturm.

"Not 'sounds like', it's the English spelling," she corrected, exhibiting a brief jolt of energy. "I thought that to be obvious. Come now, surely you aren't that oblivious. It's one letter off."

With a shrug, Sturm replied, "Never really thought about it, I suppose."

"My word, Max must be rubbing off on you..." she chuckled weakly, winding back down.

However unsure of the timing, Sturm knew that this was a rare chance to learn more about a normally-defensive ally. If he didn't push now, it could be some time before he got another chance.

"You speak English too, don't you? Is one of your parents from Britain?"

"I do, but no," Magnolia denied. "I'm a Wald. Is our pedigree not common knowledge? Like many of my family members, my parents are cousins."

Sturm blinked awkwardly, unsure how to respond. "That's... strange. It doesn't explain why you speak English, though."

Sighing, Magnolia rested her cheek on her hand. "What are you suggesting? That a lady can't dabble in a foreign language?"

"Not at all. But I am suggesting that 'the lady' probably didn't name herself in English."

Magnolia forced a half-hearted giggle, still somewhat distraught. "Yes, you're right. The truth is that my destiny is to be married off to London's aristocracy only a month after my eighteenth birthday. It's how my family has built international alliances for centuries."

Visibly shocked, Sturm attempted to brush the notion off as a twisted jest. "You're kidding, right? That's not funny, Magnolia."

"How I wish it were a joke, Arthur," the girl replied as she began to break down once more. "I haven't controlled a single aspect of my life- not from the day I was born. Everything, from the color of my dress to the man I marry, is decided for me. It's..."

Sobbing into her hands, Magnolia managed to collect herself just long enough to finish her thought. "It's awful..."

Sturm lifted his hand from the bed, prepared to place it on her back in support, but thought better of it. Instead, he chose to act on intuition. "So you ran away, right?"

Immediately, Magnolia stiffened up and turned her head to face him. "The captain told you?"

"No, you did," answered Sturm. "You said that everything has been decided for you and your family is forcing you to get married. Obviously, they wouldn't send you to an Iron Knight academy where you could get killed, if that was the case."

"And how do you know I'm not just lying?" Magnolia challenged, wiping her tears.

Again, Sturm shrugged. "Are you lying?"

"No..."

"Alright, that's good enough for me," he stated matter-of-factly.

For once, Magnolia was at a complete loss for words. After how she had treated him, and all of the deceit that had burdened their team over as of late, Sturm was willing to take her words at face value.

Mouth slightly ajar, Magnolia stared at her comrade in shock. Finally, she asked shakily, "Do... you have faith in me because we're friends, or...?"

"Friends?" Sturm repeated back to her, considering the proposition. "Well, yeah, sure. I mean, why wouldn't we be?"

From an early age, Magnolia's every decision was dictated to her by her mother. The clothes she wore, the skills she honed, and the people she interacted with were all carefully selected to mold the girl into a tool for political gain. As a child, she was seldom allowed to interact with other youths. Even when she was, those meetings were purely developmental in gain, usually taking the form of chaperoned tea parties where proper manners were strictly enforced.

It was only now, sixteen years into life and after fleeing to a military-run school for the cultivation of super-soldiers, that she had finally managed to make a friend of her own choosing.