#[flayn....soft...i care her]

[deliverred]

"There you are! You shielded me from an attack during our patrol, did you not?"

Flayn approaches him, recognizing his face even outside of battle. She had witnessed him take several blows, so she had expected to encounter him here in the infirmary, but to see him in his cot, injured and exhausted... it does still twist at her heart. He is strong, as he said he was, but humans are only ever strong enough. Just as the ocean's waters would erode the stone foundation of a grand seaside castle, the wear of battle would eventually bring even the hardiest men down.

It is the duty of those like her to maintain that foundation. She learned this during her first war and she relearns this now as history repeats itself. Flayn pulls out a chair, its legs skidding across the cobblestone, and seats herself by his side.

"I am grateful for your protection. I do not know how we would have returned here without it." she clasps her hands together, "Please, allow me to tend to your wounds. It is the least I can do for you."

Lukas glances up at the gentle voice, recognizing the girl's face as one of the others that had stepped in from another patrol to help out his group. Just as with her companion, he's struck by how young she appears, though he's quick to school away the frown that pulls at his face at the grim fact of their situation: that, try as he might, he could not keep these children out of this conflict, these dangers.

"And you are the brave young lady that came to our aid," he responds with a nod in confirmation, resting a hand over his heart and giving her a slight bow.

"I owe you and your friend much for risking yourselves to save us, so thank you for your quick actions."

Truly, it had been quite the sight to see; the power and desire to aid others, it had shone so clear in blade and magic. They were so young, but they had more than earned Lukas' respect.

"Of course. It was freely given, just as your own aid was to us. It would have been a dark mark on my pride to see you come to harm for stepping in to help," Lukas said, returning to the task of removing his now rather beat up armor. Some of it was dented in awkwardly, but other parts were an issue on account of the heat from their enemy's thunder magic; it superheated and caused the metal to melt or warp as it rapidly cooled again, creating the issue of burnt padding, clothes and flesh beneath it.

"My dear lady, you've done quite a lot for me already, but..." Though he doesn't feel the pain of burnt skin, nor the peel of flesh as he separates it from metal, he's dealt with it enough to know that such wounds were best treated sooner rather than later. "...I would appreciate your help with making this just a bit more manageable. Just enough, though; I'm sure you're tired yourself, and there may yet be others who need your healing more than I."

[bouwrites]

Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 16

Trust of the Beast

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

Veery has the seven hearts lined up on his desk. He’s almost never in this room. It’s his, technically, or loaned to him, anyway, but he’s almost never in here. He just throws what few possessions he has in here and comes and goes to retrieve them if he has reason to. He doesn’t even sleep here, because he much prefers sleeping under the stars than in a room.

But now he’s sitting here, with seven agell hearts lined up neatly on his desk, wondering what in the world he’s supposed to do with them.

The dragon one is largest, the size of a Crest Stone. It’s perhaps a little smaller than the Crest Stone in the Lance of Ruin. The two hawk hearts next to it are half the size, max. The four wolf hearts are about the same size as those. It’s… disturbing and awkward just staring at these things, but Veery doesn’t know what to do.

Maybe he can have Mercedes give them some funeral rites and pawn them off on Hanneman and Linhardt, say he’s donating them to science or something. It’s a good cause. Probably. They’ll have a field day with these things.

Still, it feels kind of wrong to hand agell hearts over to humans, no matter how little he himself wants them around. He should have just left them in Zanado.

Speaking of. Professor Byleth calls the whole trip a training exercise. Veery is surprised that Rhea buys that, and that it seems like no one is spreading word of what exactly happens there. Professor Byleth and Veery and the students going to Zanado is common knowledge now, but the details of what happens in the canyon are kept mum.

Lysithea demands all the details, and Veery lets Claude fill her in, for the most part. All he really needs to do for the explanations is talk about his suspicions about the language in the rubbings they take and confirm that the wolves and hawks are the wolf and hawk agell equivalent to the demonic beasts and the dragon agell Crest Stones.

Lysithea is… quite upset about being left out of the loop for so long, but clearly understands why they are secretive about it, so she doesn’t push it. The rest of the Deer know now, too, about his Crest. Including Sylvain, but not including Flayn. Flayn can’t sneak away to Zanado, and no one is sure how or if they should fill her in. It seems like it’s supposed to be Veery’s decision.

She can tell that something is up, especially because no one will tell her the details about their trip, so Veery knows he’ll have to tell her. He just… thinks maybe he should talk to Seteth about it first. If only to avoid an angry, overprotective brother on his tail.

But he can’t do that until he decides what to do with these hearts, because he’s not sure the church will allow him to do what he likes with them if he tells them about the things. Rather, he’s positive that they will at least attempt to take possession of the hearts. How much they push to do so remains to be seen, but he’s positive they’ll try to take them.

He does not trust Rhea with the hearts of his people. He doesn’t care how ancient and dead these warriors are; he won’t entrust their remains to Rhea. It’s Rhea’s church, her direct forebears, who are likely the ones who kill these agell in the first place.

So, that’s at least one course of action ruled out. What will he do, though?

There’s a soft, timid knock on his door. That’s odd. He’s surprised anyone even thinks to look for him here, honestly. “Come in,��� he calls.

The door opens and Marianne slips inside. That’s interesting. Veery smiles, legitimately happy to see Marianne. “Hi there! Did you need something?”

Marianne nods and closes the door behind her. “I…” she starts, voice already wavering. She bites her lip and looks down at the ground, and then eventually finds her eyes on the hearts lined up on his desk. “Are those… are those really…”

Veery smiles sadly. “Agell hearts? Yes.”

Marianne bows her head, muttering what sounds like a quick prayer. “I’m- I’m sorry to bother you,” she says.

“It’s no bother,” Veery says honestly. “What did you need?”

Marianne takes a deep breath. “I- I wanted to… to ask you something.” Veery tilts his head, ready to listen. “But… for you to understand, I need to explain something to you. Something I… don’t want to talk about. I’m not- not supposed to talk about it.”

“I understand,” Veery says. He’s familiar with the feeling. He has a lot of questions himself, after all, and often needs to explain why he’s asking to humans who don’t understand where he’s coming from. Not everything is nice to explain. “Take your time. Take a seat.”

Marianne hesitates for a moment, then sits quickly on the bed, as if she’s afraid that if she doesn’t move immediately that she’ll chicken out and flee instead. She holds her hands clasped together in prayer, and keeps her head bowed. “I… I try not to let anyone know, but… I bear a Crest.”

A Crest? Well, they’re all over the place with these students, and Veery still doesn’t really get the emphasis on the things, so that doesn’t mean much to him. It’s a long moment of silence before Veery thinks maybe she’s waiting for him to react. “…Okay?”

Marianne takes another bracing breath. “It’s… not a normal Crest. It’s called… M-Maurice’s Crest. The Crest of the Beast.”

…Okay? This is obviously very difficult for Marianne, so he doesn’t say anything, but Veery is well and truly lost. The way Marianne says the name of her Crest makes it sound like he should know it. He doesn’t even know half the Crests his friends use daily. Honestly, he barely remembers the ones that are literally just his friends’ surnames.

“It’s said there were once twelve heroes who saved Fódlan. But most only know eleven. There was the King of Liberation, Nemesis…the 10 Elites, and finally… Maurice. One day, Maurice suddenly transformed into a hideous beast and slaughtered innocent people. It was like when Miklan of House Gautier turned into a Black Beast. The negative energy dwelling within his Crest turned Maurice into a monster. The people of Fódlan grew to despise him, and he was stripped of his honor. His whole clan was conquered, and it was believed that his bloodline had vanished… But even now, there exist a few descendants who have inherited Maurice’s Crest, and his curse. My family line… is one of them. Maurice’s Crest is a symbol of disaster. Anyone who comes in contact with it is met with great misfortune. Those who carry the Crest became beasts at night and slaughter innocent people.”

…Okay. That’s a lot of information all at once. First and foremost: how in the world does Veery not notice that only eleven of the twelve heroes are named?!! That’s utterly ridiculous, and Veery feels like an idiot for not figuring that out a lot sooner. Especially because he distinctly remembers references to the twelve heroes. Why not just say there’s eleven if they’re striking one from history?

That’s… probably the point of calling them the Ten Elites and not the Heroes, or otherwise just not mention them as the Heroes at all, in the War of Heroes. More obvious obfuscation. Veery thinks this is probably before Rhea’s time but feels the strange urge to blame her for it anyway.

Probably, he just believes it’s something Rhea would do, even if it isn’t actually her.

Oh. Marianne is waiting for him to say something. “So…” he says carefully. “You have a Crest that turns you into a beast?”

Marianne nods solemnly.

“…Are you sure Maurice wasn’t a taguel?”

Marianne blinks up at him, taken aback. “A… taguel?” she asks.

“Yeah.” Veery shrugs. “We have stories about the taguel. They’re… well, they’re like the agell, but they can’t transform without special stones that contain their power. I never pieced it together before, and the stories don’t say, but I actually suspect those stones are these Heart Stones. I haven’t heard of any other Crest bearer shifting into a beast, so if he was taguel, that’d explain both the shifting and the Crest. And the war at the time was with the agell, so we know humans and agell were in contact.” He chuckles a little. “Now I’m imagining Maurice’s mom wooing an enemy general.”

“I- uh…” Marianne’s face is red, flustered clearly, but frustrated, too. The latter expression schools Veery back into seriousness.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking about it. But… I am being serious. Could you be taguel?”

“Taguel…?” Marianne furrows her brow. “I… my Crest is cursed.”

Veery shrugs. “My Crest turns me into a beast. That’s… kind of my thing. What exactly is so terrible about it?”

“It… it hurts people,” Marianne says softly, silent tears streaking her cheeks. “It brings misfortune on everyone I get close to.”

That… doesn’t sound real. Veery doesn’t know nearly enough about Crests to dispute it, but… “Marianne,” he says softly. “I don’t know anything about Crests, so I can’t say if bringing misfortune is something one can do, but… have you talked to Linhardt or Professor Hanneman about it? Even if that’s true, they might be able to help you control it.”

Marianne ducks her head. “Control it… It can’t be controlled.”

“Are you sure?” Veery asks. “It seems like everyone else has at least some control over their Crests. Why is yours an exception?”

Marianne says nothing. She just cries silently.

“Honestly, I find it hard to believe that your Crest brings misfortune. That sounds like… well, like the stories I was told to scare me away from humans. And even if you see it all the time, because you’re looking for it… you mistake every little thing that a human does to hurt you, even accidental things, or unknowing things, for human malice. You might be doing the same with your Crest, so I’d… I’d ask someone who knows more about Crests than me and listen to them.”

Marianne whimpers a little. “I… hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“And, um…” Veery bites his lip. “I know it’s kind of an insane theory, but I am really interested in your Crest’s ability to transform you. I know for a fact that Professor Hanneman told me that human Crests don’t do that – and it seems like he’s right, since that… demonic beast transformation is only supposed to happen to people without Crests, right?”

Marianne eyes him and nods slowly.

Veery smiles. “But the taguel could shift like me! Just like your Crest lets you! You know, I’ve thought about how humans got Crests in the first place before, and I can’t believe that every Crested human has agell blood in them, but this Crest of the Beast sounds a lot like you might. You… you could be taguel!” Veery laughs, in disbelief. “The thought is… amazing!”

“Amazing?” Marianne squeaks.

“Don’t you think so?” Veery asks, looking sincerely to her. “I mean…” He sighs and looks away. “It’s hard, to not belong, but… I think it’s amazing. I always thought the taguel were just a myth. It’s supposed to mean hybrids, after all, and from our stories, agell can’t even breed across subspecies. Nowadays it’s mostly used to refer to agell who get too close to humans. Like… um. Like me. It’s… not actually a positive thing. I doubt it is to humans, too. And given the war against the agell at the time, if humans knew about it, even if Maurice didn’t do anything wrong, those stories would probably be the same. That’s just… how life is for us. But wouldn’t it be so cool if one of your distant ancestors was agell?”

Marianne screws her eyes tightly shut, swallowing down whatever emotions she’s feeling, and, after a long pause, smiles. A watery, wavering smile, but a beautiful one. “If…” she says, “If that is the true meaning of this Crest… then yes. That would be… wonderful.” Quieter, under her breath, she whispers, “Oh, goddess… forgive me. I can’t believe, yet, but could this be the reason…?”

Veery looks over to the hearts on his desk and thinks. If Maurice was taguel… can the taguel shift using any heart, if the hearts are indeed the ‘stones’ referred to in the stories? If they can, then… well, Marianne clearly isn’t in the place to even attempt such shifting, and Veery isn’t eager to try something so experimental after Miklan and the beasts at Zanado anyway, but… it’s a thought.

But if the taguel can only use their Heart Stone… Maurice was a Hero, and thus presumably has a Hero’s Relic. That Relic has the Crest Stone that matches his Crest, which mean… it was probably made from the bones of his own parent. Or grandparent. Ancestor. Somehow, that’s so much worse than Sylvain using the Lance of Ruin.

Veery wonders what life must have been like for Maurice if he was taguel. Did he even know? If the story Marianne tells is more true and less manufactured fright, if Maurice didn’t know, and kept using the power of the Crest Stone… Gods, he must have been so frightened, shifting without knowing how or why.

Marianne will have a better life. Veery is sure of that. If he can’t ensure it himself, the Deer will do it for him.

“Um…” Marianne says, getting Veery’s attention again. “To be honest, I came here to tell you about my Crest because I’d noticed the similarities between my Crest and yours. I hoped… that maybe you could teach me more about it. Maybe even… give me hope that it can be controlled.”

Veery smiles as kindly as he can. “I’m sorry, Marianne, but my Crest doesn’t have any ominous misfortune part to it. That I know of, anyway. I don’t actually understand it very well. But frankly, I’m not convinced yours does either. Will you consider talking to an expert? They’d be able to help you a lot more than me.”

Marianne swallows thickly. “I’ll… I’ll consider it.”

“Great!” Veery grins. “And if you are taguel… eh, you probably don’t want to shift anyway. I won’t ever ask you to try.”

Marianne seems concerned by that, but murmurs thanks all the same.

“Veery? I don’t see you down here much.”

Veery doesn’t look up from the paper in his hands. He identifies this visitor by scent, and the sound of his voice. “Hi, Claude.”

Claude chuckles. “Found something interesting? Mind sharing with the rest of the class?”

Veery finishes the passage, then hums and turns to hand it to Claude. “Sure.”

Claude blinks at the torn scrap of paper and reads aloud, quietly. “As of yet, we are unable to determine the cause, or formulate a cure. Due to the similarity between this sickness and the powers of those beasts…would never share their secrets…may be doomed. Why is it that he is the only one suffering this illness? …have the taguel done to him? Or is it simply a curse? …advise removing him. I know who he is, but we cannot have a beast in our camp while Seiros still hunts us.” Claude frowns. “Huh. What’s this about?”

“Maurice, I think,” Veery says. He remembers the passage from Hubert’s notes, when he has tea with Edelgard. It’s memorable, since it’s the first and only account of the taguel in the War of Heroes. It takes a while to find it in the Abyss library, but he manages.

“Maurice? The Erased Hero?”

Veery doesn’t bother questioning how Claude knows the name of a supposedly erased hero. He’s still kicking himself over not noticing it himself, and Claude is a lot smarter than he is. It’s no surprise that he knows about Maurice. “Mhm.” Veery confirms.

“And the taguel… this is the passage that convinced you the ‘darkness from the north’ was the agell, right?”

“Yep.” Veery nods.

Claude looks at the paper, then at him, then at the paper, then at him. “So, why dig this up again now?”

Veery can’t tell Claude about Marianne’s Crest, but he can tell him about Maurice’s Crest. Half-truths. Claude says they’re the best lies, anyway. Plus, Claude is smart, and Veery is half-convinced his theory is absolutely raving mad, but it just… makes sense. He needs someone to tell him it’s not stupid. Or else knock it out of his mind entirely. “I heard a little about Maurice’s Crest,” Veery says. “It’s supposed to be cursed and transforms its bearers into beasts.”

Claude nods. “Yeah, that’s what I hear- oh. Shit.”

Veery nods. “Mhm.”

“How did I not think about that?”

“Mhm.”

Claude goes quiet for a long time, staring at the scrap of paper that causes this whole thing. After a long, long, tense silence, he says, “Please tell me you’re not thinking what I’m thinking.”

Veery pointedly looks away, to the upper shelves.

“No. No, no, no. I’m going to go insane. This is such a stupid idea!”

“That’s what I said!” Veery hisses, excited but trying to keep quiet. “Maurice was a taguel!”

“Goddess, Maurice was a taguel, wasn’t he?” Claude quickly finds a chair to sit down on. “Veery, what the fuck?”

“If Maurice thought it was a curse like the one who wrote this passage does, he might not have even known,” Veery says, frowning.

“And you said the Crest Stones might be the same thing as the taguel’s stones, right? Then if he had a Relic…”

Veery nods.

Claude lets out a long, disbelieving breath. “Woah, okay. That… sure was a mystery that no one really thought was a mystery, but damn if it didn’t just get solved.”

“I mean.” Veery shifts on his feet uncomfortably. “We can’t be sure.”

“But it makes way too much sense.” Claude complains. “Like, too much sense.”

“I’m not even sure why this is weird, but it feels weird, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Claude nods. “It really does.” He sighs. “It makes me wonder how many important people were written out of history just because of their blood. Maurice can’t be the only one.”

Veery frowns and sits next to Claude. “No, I’m sure he isn’t. It’s sad, isn’t it?”

“Ha, you have… well, you probably do have an idea, don’t you? Yeah. It’s sad.”

Veery sighs, ears drooping as he slouches. “I wish things like this didn’t have to happen,” Veery says. “It shouldn’t be weird to think that one of Fódlan’s Heroes was a taguel, but even I think it’s weird. He shouldn’t have been erased from history just for transforming into a beast. Even if he hurt people, Nemesis wasn’t erased, so… why? It’s so stupid, how people do things like this to each other for such arbitrary reasons.”

Claude smiles gently. “I couldn’t agree more. You still see it all the time. You more than me, I bet. It’s utterly ridiculous how much people judge and hate each other for where they were born or who they were born to, as if people have any control over that.”

“Nobles might like to think they do,” Veery says drily, getting a sharp laugh out of Claude. “It’s frustrating,” he admits, when the laughs settles. “Honestly, it’s… why I’m here in the first place. I want to do something to change it. I still… I still don’t know how, but when I was in Albinea, I lived every day in fear of humans. I’ve seen hunting parties pass so close to me. I’ve been attacked by hunting parties. I just… I want that wall between humans and agell to go away, so that I can live alone in peace.”

Claude is quiet for a while, fiddling idly with his braid. “I want that, too,” he says eventually. “To break down the walls dividing people, including the agell and humans. So, I promise I’m being entirely honest when I say… I support your dream.” Veery can’t help but smile. Knowing a human supports him, believing it is… indescribable. It makes it seem not so impossible. Especially when that human is someone as intelligent as Claude. “But I do want to ask… if you achieve it, if the walls between people break down, will you really just go back to the Albinean mountains to live alone?”

Will he? “Why not?” Veery asks. “That’s the plan. I… I like being alone.”

“You won’t live with people, enjoy the results of your hard work?”

Veery chuckles. “Claude, living alone without fear of being hunted down is the results of my hard work. I don’t need to watch everyone live together; I just want to be left alone.”

“Hm. Interesting motivation for coming to live in one of the most populated places in Fódlan,” he teases.

Veery feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I- I know it seems counterproductive, but… no one’s going to do anything, so… even if it’s hard, even if I don’t like it, if I’m the only one willing to put in the effort to change, then this is all I can do. I can’t just sit around waiting for someone else to solve the problem for me.”

Claude smiles warmly, nudging Veery playfully with his arm. “Who knows? I might just solve it for you.”

Veery raises a brow. “So, you’re saying I can go home, then?”

“Ha! Well, I can’t deny I’d appreciate some help making such a crazy dream come true.”

Veery giggles. “If you need me, I’m here,” he says. “I trust you, and I trust you to help make this insane dream a reality, so I’m here to support you.”

Claude’s lips part and his eyes soften, looking surprisingly touched by Veery’s words. “I’ll need the help,” he says, quietly. “So, I’ll be counting on you.”

Veery nods, grinning, and slips his arm through Claude’s to press their sides against each other. He doesn’t say any more, though. He’s content, then, to simply sit in silence. This… pact between them. Veery closes his eyes and looks inside himself and… of course, he doubts it. Even if Claude doesn’t ask him to stay, he can’t leave and trust Claude will accomplish this dream on his own. Is Claude really dedicated to this, or is he just agreeing with Veery?

It’s impossible to know, but… Claude feels strangely open in this conversation, so Veery wants to trust him. He’s choosing to place that hope and trust in Claude – someone who is far more capable than Veery in making this happen. Veery needs allies, too, and he wants to believe he can follow Claude.

Claude doesn’t lead him wrong up to this point, so he can go a little further.

“…Hey, Veery?” Claude asks quietly. Veery hums to let him know he’s listening. “Do you really dislike living here?”

Veery frowns, looking to the desk for a moment. “I… It’s hard to say,” he says. “I’ve had a lot of fun with you and the others. More than I’ve ever had on my own. But… I’m not really… It’s still uncomfortable, a lot of the time. I don’t like having so many people around me. Even with the agell, I didn’t go to the festivals sometimes because I didn’t want a bunch of people around. It’s not that I don’t like people – I actually really love people – I just… I can’t do this forever. I’m… solitary by nature, I guess. That’s all.”

“…I see,” Claude says. “Then you’ll be going back to Albinea when you can, huh?”

“I plan to. It might take years. I might never achieve this dream. Most likely, I’ll die before I get the chance. But… if I can… I’d like to go home. Be alone again.”

Claude nods slowly, sedately. “I’ll miss you.”

Veery smiles and hugs Claude’s arm tightly. “I’ll miss you, too. But hey, if this dream comes true, I’ll be able to come visit easily, won’t I? So, it’s not like we’ll never see each other again after that.”

Claude chuckles. “Of course. That’s right. I’ll hold you to that, you know. I expect you to come down for winter, so you don’t have to suffer through that horrible-sounding long night of yours.”

Veery snickers. “It’s not that bad. The cold is what’ll kill you. And you have to get creative for food sometimes. And… okay yeah, maybe I’ll come south for winter.”

The two laugh and laugh, and don’t do a very good job of muffling it in the halls of Abyss.

“That’s what we’re dealing with,” Professor Manuela says to the gathering in her infirmary. “Thoughts?”

Dorothea bites her lip. “Restless movements, fits of violence, becoming bedridden or even impossible to wake... are we sure this is a normal disease? I can’t remember hearing about any disease with symptoms like that.”

Professor Manuela smiles proudly. “Very good, Dorothea. I also doubt that it is an infectious disease. With symptoms this varied, it’s far more likely a mixture of poisons, or magic. As a matter of fact, before you all leave for Remire, I think I’ll hold a seminar on the difference between medicine and magical healing, as well as pestilence, poisons, and curses. I’ll use what we know about Remire as an example, so attendance will be mandatory to all you student healers who will be going on this mission. That includes you, Veery.”

Veery purses his lips. “Why am I going, anyway?”

“Because all of you healers should be there,” Professor Manuela says firmly. “If I could just get Lady Rhea to approve a joint mission, Linhardt and I would be there, as well, but morbid as it is to say it this way, this is too valuable a learning experience for anyone hoping to become a healer to pass up.” Veery frowns, so Manuela adds. “And I’m paying you for it.”

Well, yeah, fair enough. Not that Veery needs the money, though. With free meals at the dining hall and his accommodations being free as well, he has more than enough from working at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Especially since he doesn’t need much. Honestly, he’s been going out to Anna’s to buy candy just to keep himself on her good side, not because he actually needs it. (The candy has, by and large, been going to Lysithea, though he does try anything new he finds.)

And, technically, Rhea’s paying him for going, with Manuela as a proxy. It’s the best of both worlds. He gets to take Rhea’s money, and also not technically work directly for her. Though, he is living here at Rhea’s charity, so he’s probably taking more than enough of her money already.

Dorothea giggles. “Look at it this way, Vee. You’re getting paid to do what the rest of us are paying the school to do.”

That… is a very good point. Freelance work is surprisingly good for him. “Fair enough,” he says. It’s still kind of weird that he’s going on another of the Deer’s missions. Maybe he should just expect it at this point. Everyone does just call him a Deer anyway, after all.

“Professor?” Mercedes raises her hand. “If we’re dealing with an illness, why aren’t you being sent to handle it? Professor Byleth is getting very good at healing, but… it seems like something you should be addressing.”

Professor Manuela groans loudly. “That is exactly what I keep telling the Archbishop. And believe me, I am doing everything in my power to be there. Unfortunately, unless a joint mission is approved, I’ll need to stay behind with the bulk of my Eagles.” She shakes her head. “I believe Remire Village has some importance to Professor Byleth and Captain Jeralt. That’s why Lady Rhea is sending them. Still, to prioritize sentimentality over qualifications!”

“It is where Edie and the others first met her…” Dorothea says, frowning a little. “Now I’m worried for her.”

Professor Manuela chuckles. “Oh, you know you don’t need to worry about her. The day that woman breaks is the day the world falls apart.”

“Well… you have a point.” Dorothea giggles.

“But back on topic,” Professor Manuela says, fixing everyone with serious looks. “I’ll go into more detail about how to approach solving the issue during our seminar.” With a glance to the clerics in the room, she adds, “I expect you already know, but we’ll go over it in the official mission briefing again, as well. Everyone, are there any questions?”

A lot, frankly. Ranging generally from questioning what the hell is going on in Remire to Rhea’s questionable choices in dealing with it. Why in the world would she not send Professor Manuela? Something has to be clouding her judgement because Veery refuses to believe someone leading the entire Church of Seiros can be this stupid.

But Veery doesn’t ask. He has a lot of questions, but he’s pretty sure that any that will get answers will be addressed in the seminar soon.

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

That works for Veery. He scurries out of the infirmary with the students and hangs back in the hall as Dorothea and Mercedes smile and say goodbye and walk towards the stairs.

Marianne is staring hard at Professor Hanneman’s office door, and Flayn is staring hard at Veery. One thing before the other. He gives Marianne a gentle nudge and a smile and stands with her until she takes a breath, nods, and knocks on the door.

Meanwhile, Veery has a Flayn to deal with. He marches directly to Seteth’s door, though he hesitates, looking over to Flayn, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. “Will you now tell me what happened in the Red Canyon?” she hisses, pouting. “All my attempts to get answers from my classmates, and even Professor Byleth, are redirected to you! Everyone insists that they will not speak a word of it until you say so. I am getting terribly frustrated being left out of the loop like this!”

Veery clears his throat awkwardly. “That’s… that’s fair,” he admits. “I’m not trying to upset you, I just… wasn’t sure how I wanted to deal with it.”

Flayn sighs. “I do not wish to pressure you into sharing something you are uncomfortable with, but I am part of the Golden Deer, too, and being left out on this secret feels very…”

“I know. I know how it feels to be left out.” Veery kicks at the stone floor in shame. “I’m sorry. But, um… I think I’m going to tell your brother about it. I want… his opinion. So… you could come listen when I do? Maybe?”

Flayn immediately perks up. “Now?”

Veery looks with dread to the office door next to him. “Good a time as any.”

“Then let us do so immediately!” Flayn grins and pushes open the door, not bothering to knock. Veery bites back a protest, both because he’s still unsure about this course of action and the audacity of barging into Seteth’s office, and follows Flayn inside at her insistence.

Seteth gawks at them. “Flayn! How many times do I have to tell you to knock?”

What… is that paper that Seteth has on his desk? When Seteth catches him looking, the paper is quickly snatched up and folded away. “Was that…” Veery asks, because he can’t help himself, “a dragon?”

“A dragon?!” Flayn gasps. “Brother, I insist you show us that paper immediately! Why do you have a depiction of a dragon? Where did it come from?”

Seteth lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Close the door.”

Veery quickly does so and takes a seat opposite Seteth. Flayn joins him in another chair on his side of the desk.

Seteth pulls the paper out, stares at it for a moment, and then sighs. “I suppose there is little point in hiding it from you two,” he mutters. Unfolding the paper and laying it out for them to see, he says, “This is a picture of a being known as the Immaculate One. I just recently confiscated it from Claude in the library.”

“Why take it from Claude?” Veery asks, looking closer at the picture.

“It is… not a part of the library’s collection.”

“You’re censoring it because the church doesn’t want people to know about it,” Veery says plainly. Seteth has no answer. Veery shakes his head. “Why are you trying so hard to erase the agell from history? I really don’t get it.”

Seteth sighs, looking away with what might be shame. “It is a… complicated story that I am not at liberty to share.”

Flayn scowls at her brother, but doesn’t offer up any information herself, so Veery just sighs and sits back in his chair. “Well, you’re having a hard time of it, whatever your reason,” he says. “Especially after what we found in Zanado.”

Seteth’s head shoots up like it’s loosed from a bow. “You found something in Zanado?” he asks sharply. “During your ‘training exercise’ I take it?”

Veery nods. “A couple things, but one more immediately relevant to, uh, this.” He gestures vaguely to the paper with the Immaculate One drawn on it.

“And you are finally going to volunteer that information?” Seteth narrows his eyes. “Your professor and classmates have been extraordinarily tight-lipped on the subject.”

Veery looks away. “They’re… they wanted to give me the chance to decide how I wanted to handle it.”

Seteth sighs gently, and his voice is soft when he asks, “What did you find?”

It takes Veery some time to find his words. He tries a few times to say something but finds nothing will escape his throat. But eventually, he does say, “…Beasts. Like in Conand Tower.”

Seteth furrows his brow. “Miklan was punished by the Goddess for wielding a weapon he was unfit for. You found more beasts like him in the Red Canyon?”

Veery shakes his head. “You know that’s not what it was, Seteth. Miklan was transformed by the shifting power in the Crest Stone of Gautier.” Seteth clenches his jaw tightly but does not interrupt. “At Zanado, we found beasts. One draconic beast, like Miklan. A dragon’s heart caused that one. Plus, four wolves and two hawks. Other subspecies of agell. Their hearts were found somehow, somewhere, and transformed people’s bodies into those beasts, and they ended up in Zanado. I don’t know if Zanado is drawing them in somehow, or if that is those beasts’ home, and is where the hearts were to start with, but there was too many of them to be a coincidence.”

“…I see.”

“Crest Stones are agell hearts?” Flayn gasps dramatically.

Seteth levels a hard look at him. “The Golden Deer are all aware of this, then? The true nature of the Crest Stones?”

Veery nods. “And Sylvain and Dorothea. They also know about my Crest.”

“Crest?” Flayn nearly shouts.

Seteth rubs at his temples, grimacing. “So, you do have a Crest. I had thought that you were going to keep all of that a secret.”

Veery bristles. “I wasn’t going to just leave them there! And there’s not a lot of explanations I can give when I pull a miniature Crest Stone out of a giant wolf!”

Seteth takes a long breath and releases it in a sigh. “I… understand your position. Seeing all of them must have been difficult for you. I am so sorry.”

Veery deflates a little, sinking into his chair.

“I would ask that you tell me everything you know,” says Seteth. “Truthfully, this time.”

Veery bites his lip. That’s… fine. Veery doesn’t see any more reason to lie. Seteth can figure out what Veery knows, even if he doesn’t say it. So, he tells him everything. He goes back to how he could feel the Crest Stone in the Lance of Ruin, then compares it to the beasts in Zanado. He talks about how he’s sure that the Relics are made from the bones and hearts of old dragon agell. He mentions the “darkness from the north” in The Book of Seiros and compares it to his own people’s stories of war and tells Seteth that he knows that war was against the agell. Everything that the Golden Deer as a whole now know, he tells Seteth.

(He keeps his theories about Maurice under lock and key, though. That is Marianne’s to share.)

“We also found a wall in Zanado, with writing on it,” Veery says. “We haven’t figured out what it says yet, but I suspect the writing is in an ancient language. Maybe an agell language, but probably from the time the goddess lived in Fódlan.” Seteth and Flayn’s eyes both go wide at this guess. “Honestly… with everything around the goddess and the Relics, I’m inclined to believe Zanado was home to a tribe of dragon agell. I think Claude and Lysithea agree with me, though I’m not sure if anyone else has heard that theory yet. It came up while we were trying to decipher the rubbings we took from the wall.”

Seteth is tense. Very tense. “I will need to speak with Lady Rhea about this,” he says, not as calmly as he’s trying to look.

“Brother, don’t you think tha-”

“Not- not now, Flayn. I must speak with Rhea first.”

Flayn crosses her arms, pouting.

“Veery.” Seteth drops his scowl in favor of a look that seems much more… pleading. “I have no choice but to trust that you and the Deer will keep this information to yourselves. You have no idea how dangerous that information can be in the wrong hands.”

Veery purses his lips. “The truth is often dangerous,” he says. “I’m not investigating blindly.”

Seteth nods. “I believe you. And I am choosing to trust you. For now, just… allow me to speak with Rhea.”

“Do what you have to,” says Veery. “I’ll do the same.”

“I understand. And… you said you retrieved the hearts?” Seteth asks. “The church can keep them saf-”

“No,” Veery snaps. “I’m not entrusting the hearts of my people to Rhea.”

“Veery. Rhea is-”

“How many times have we had this conversation, Seteth?” Veery sighs. “I don’t trust Rhea. I’m not giving her the hearts. That’s not up for debate.”

Seteth hangs his head. “Then, may I ask, what do you intend to do with them?”

Veery scowls. Honestly… “I haven’t decided yet. That’s why it took so long for me to tell you at all. I knew you’d want to take them and I… honestly don’t know what to do with them. I just know I don’t trust Rhea with them.”

Seteth looks pained as he asks, “Do you honestly believe that Rhea would do something… sinister, with the hearts of the dead?”

“Honestly?” Veery levels his gaze to meet Seteth’s, unflinching. “Yes. If you told me that she made those creatures with the hearts on purpose to guard Zanado, I’d believe it.”

Both Seteth and Flayn pale at the though. “Veery,” Flayn says, “don’t you think that is a little… much?”

“For the woman who slaughters people on a whim? No, I don’t.” Veery shakes his head. “I know you both love her, but I don’t trust her. I refuse to entrust my people’s hearts to her.”

“She does not-” Seteth begins to protest but cuts himself off. “We have had this conversation so many times. I know you will not be convinced.”

“I would if you had good arguments,” Veery mutters.

“Even still, if you are unsure what to do with the hearts, would you consider entrusting them to me? It would put many minds at ease to know that they are safely guarded.”

Veery scowls. “If Rhea orders you to give them to her, would you refuse?” Seteth ducks his head and does not answer. “I’d consider it, Seteth, honestly, but… I don’t believe you’d fight to keep Rhea’s hands off of them. So, no. I will not entrust them to you, either.”

“…I understand. You wish to protect the hearts and souls of your people.” Seteth shakes his head. “Very well. I will trust you to take care of them and ask no more of it.”

“Thank you.” Veery breathes out with relief. He’ll probably face a fiercer resistance after Rhea finds out, but… Seteth gives in surprisingly quickly. Veery really doesn’t want to fight over this.

[cotharach]

It is with great joy that Flayn settles into the kitchen. She romps into the room with puppy-like aplomb, washed hands running their palms over the smooth countertops. Everything within the walls seem immaculate to her. Even the mere action of typing an apron around her waist and setting down bowls, spoons, and dishes brings an impossibly large smile to her face. She has nothing but fond memories of cooking. The smells of her mother's cooking and the feeling of warmth in her belly after a hearty meal are some of the beats that pulse within her heart. She could not stand to think who she would be were she not so well-cared for and fed.

Which is why, now, she is all too eager to begin her task. Though Flayn is in the company of a professor—Matthias, who she knows to be affiliated with her own house—she endeavors to work all on her own. She does not mean to snub him in her pursuit of independence. Her wish to prove something is simply too strong. Vainly, she hopes this will bring her closer to her mother. Realistically, she knows it must not.

On one end of the counter lies an open cookbook. The dog-eared page is of the recipe for Saghert and Cream: one of her favorites. The instructions read simply enough. Combine milk, sugar, and an egg white into a bowl. Mix until it forms stiff peaks. Fold in Noa fruit pieces and juice. Flayn makes an attempt to follow them, performing each task as directed, however…

Roll: 7-3 = 4!

"Erm…"

There is something wrong with the concoction in her bowl. The cream, when she lifts it with her whisk, simply falls back into the bowl in ribbons. Not to mention the chunks of butter that remain floating on the surface of the mixture. Flayn frowns at it, before feeling a sheepish pang strike her from the back. What was it her brother would tell her about overextending? The saintling swallows. Now is not the time for pride.

"Professor Matthias?" she calls to him. The pep that is normally present in her voice is gone, leaving it soft and deflated. She shyly presents the bowl to him. "I fear I have made a terrible mistake… however, I do not know how to go about remedying it. Would you happen to know how to make this look like cream?"

@cielenruine mr matthias..... hep me...

saghurt and scream

⚚ [ dish of the moon, flayn & matthias] ⚚

[fe-fictions]

Hello ! Baby train with Yuri ? In his informations it is said that he loves his family so... ;v;

(Here comes the train!!!!)

Yuri was an absolute trooper through the duration of the pregnancy. Your usually calm, cool and collected husband had been abnormally enthusiastic and attentive, being incredibly involved in every facet of pregnancy.

Anything that other men and women might consider a bit gross or uncomfortable, he didn’t bat an eye at. He was there to help you through the morning sickness, needing help going to the bathroom, giving you massages, making strange foods to sate the cravings, and being wildly generous no matter how intense your mood swings could be.

Yuri was your rock, and he was still there, even in the throes of giving birth. Squeezing his hand to the point of breaking bones? No problem. Feverish and grimacing in pain with every single push? He was right there, coaching you to keep fighting.

Your tears were his, and your pain was his burden to bear as much as he possibly could. It was nothing compared to what you were going through, but he was determined to give you every ounce of support in him.

And thankfully, finally, it all paid off. A beautiful baby boy was born at exactly 2:07 A.M., on the 7th day of the Wyvern Moon.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Yuri was absolutely over said moon the second Flayn announced it. The boy was cleaned and wrapped up, brought to the Archbishop’s bedside so that you might put your hands on him for the very first time.

Yuri’s legs nearly gave out when he spotted a little puff of lavender hair sprouting out of the bundle of woven blankets. He had his Papa’s hair.

“Meet your son, Lady Archbishop. Congratulations!” Flayn beamed at the new parents, gently settling him onto your chest. Yuri pressed into your side, a trembling hand on your shoulder as you pulled back the blankets.

The baby was still whimpering, still confused and unsure as to why everything had gotten so bright and cold, all of a sudden. When your hand fell onto his little back, though, he quieted and wondered what to think.

“Good morning, dear one…it’s so nice to finally meet you.” Your whisper earned a curious noise, bright green eyes suddenly opening at the sound of your voice. Yuri’s heart skipped a beat.

“He knows you.” He could hear the wobble in his own voice, but he genuinely did not care. “Little boy, you know your mother- do you know my voice, too?”

The baby blinked them open once, twice, three times, before hiding his face in your chest, squeezing tiny hands into fists on your skin. You giggled, petting his soft, purple hair.

“Don’t forget, you sang to him more often than spoke- I’m sure he’d recognize you easier if you did that much.”

“Perhaps I will…once the three of us are alone.” Yuri smiled, glancing back to the team of monastery clerics, all of which watching over the sweet new family’s display quietly and smiling just as brightly as the new parents were.

“He seems to be quite healthy, milady. I think we can leave you all alone for a little while until we need to check back in.” Manuela motioned to Flayn and the others to follow suit, “We’ll return with some medicine and food for you, Archbishop. For now, enjoy your time together.”

She seemed just as elated as the rest, ushering them out with a wink.

“Congratulations, you two. You’re a beautiful family.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Yuri nodded to her; as wild and strange as Manuela could be, she was an expert in her field, and they couldn’t have asked for a better woman to help deliver their son.

“Would you come a little closer?” You ask your husband, “I think there’s enough room.”

“I’ll make room.” He gingerly helps you shift just slightly, enough so that he can squeeze himself onto the edge of the bed and lay down next to you. The warmth that surrounded you both was wildly comforting, the baby nuzzling into you at the sound of another person beside him.

It did sound fairly familiar, Yuri’s voice, even if the little one couldn’t quite place who it was just yet. Your husband was smiling softly, gently patting the baby’s back as he nuzzled into your chest.

“Don’t worry, little one. You’ll get more familiar with me soon enough. Perhaps once I start singing more, you’ll remember me properly.”

“I’m looking forward to your private concerts. You do have a way with nursery rhymes.” You grinned, making him roll his eyes.

“Those aren’t for you to listen to, you know- you mustn’t eavesdrop on your child’s personal musician.”

“He was inside of my body. Was I supposed to plug my ears?” You laughed, making Yuri feign annoyance.

“You should! It is only right you respect mine and my son’s privacy.”

“Hush.” You gently knocked your head against his, making him snicker. He leaned into you, resting his head in the space between your neck and shoulder, resting fully into you.

Despite his teasing, it was obvious that Yuri was utterly floored, enamored and over the moon with the newest addition to his family. He could not have been happier, getting to see and hold his son for the very first time. He was perfect in every way; he could only hope that the baby would grow up to become a capable and excellent individual; someone he could support without hesitation, just like his wife.

For now, though, he could be patient and simply enjoy the present. Which in this case meant snoozing the exhausting morning away with a baby safely tucked away in his parent’s arms.

[imaginethreehouses]

Hi! I just found your blog and I love it! I was wondering if I could send you a seteth request! In which the female reader sprains her ankle, so he carries her back? I know he would worry even if it's just a little sprained ankle. And I'm just sure flayn sees them and is like yep she'll be my mother.

OMG hi! I'm so happy you enjoy my Seteth content! 🥺💙 Of course you can request this, Anon! I'm so happy to see more Seteth fans! Please request all the Seteth prompts that you have. I'll do headcanons because I never finish the full one shots I start, I hope that's okay... 😅

You sprained your ankle while you were training with your students, but you insisted on finishing the lesson and even stayed after they'd left to tidy up the training grounds.

It was there that Seteth caught a glimpse of you, awkwardly jumping around on one leg as you tried to finish your task.

The first thing he'd do is scold you, of course. Do you realise the example you are setting for your students, if you push yourself to work through an injury like that? Do you realise how much worse it can get if you delay seeking medical attention?

Not wanting to concede the point, you'd want to prove you're not actually hurt at all, and try to walk past him to leave after you've put the last wooden lance back in its place.

As soon as you put your full weight on your injured ankle, however, you'd predictably yelp in pain and then trip. Thankfully, Seteth has quick reflexes and is able to catch you.

It would be frankly embarrassing for him to reveal how many times he's wondered what holding you might feel like. Now that he knows, the memory of the moment will live rent-free in his mind.

Seeing that you're about to cry from the pain would make him feel bad, and refrain from scolding you further.

"Um, Seteth...?"

"You have my apologies. I was simply worried." He would say, breaking the eye contact and readjusting his grip on you to lift you off the ground. "I did not mean to stare."

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You were glad you couldn't see yourself, because you were certain you had to be blushing red an unnatural amount.

"That's fine." You'd awkardly tell him, avoiding eye contact in panic and holding tighter on to him as to not fall. "T-Thank you for helping me."

"It's nothing." He'd say as he starts to walk, just as awkwardly and stiffly, still trying not to let it show that he feels any sort of way about the situation. "Let's go. It... it won't take long."

Flayn could not help but to giggle at the sight of both your awfully embarrassed faces as Seteth walks into the infirmary with you. The sheer delight in both her and Manuela's faces lets Seteth know that he's doomed — he will never know peace again.

They'd both insist that he stays after he's carefully helped you sit on a stretcher. He'd agree, under the pretext that he'd like to make sure you'll see the whole intervention through.

Once you're both alone again —Flayn and Manuela would make sure that you are— Seteth would offer a more genuine, heartfelt apology for making such a big deal of the whole thing.

There were few things you enjoyed more than having Seteth fret over you. But if it made him actually feel bad, then it was no longer fun.

You'd take his hand and tell him that you all know he only does it because he cares. Frankly, that was all that he needed to hear.

He'd show you the most sincere, soft smile that you'd seen from him yet.

You would be tempted to ask him to lean down so you could kiss him then and there, but before you had the chance, he'd be stiffening up again, and giving some excuse to quickly make his leave.

"Not today", Flayn and Manuela would frown in disappointment from their hiding place. But surely, soon? We can all only hope it will be the case 🤭

[miraclelevellan]

You know what? Screw it. 4 supports I wanna see per Wolf. I did something like this when they came out in Houses and I'm gonna do it again. Just warning this is gonna be long

Yuri:He needs one with Caspar. Caspar had that whole thing with the scorpion gang and Yuri did to and it never got resolved so I wanna see Hopes redo that. He also needs one with Ashe becuase Ashe actually regonizes him and that whole thing goes nowhere. For the Deer I'm thinking Raphael is the best for Yuri,Raphy is very caring and protective of sister and I think that would hit something soft in Yuri becuase he is like that with his mother. Finally for the Church is Seteth,becuase Yuri knows to much and Seteth doesn't know nearly enough. But Yuri makes the accidentally of playfully threatening Flayn for their secrets and its immediately meet with a very,very,VERY,scary Seteth.

Balthus: For the Eagles I'm thinking Dorothea,similar reason to why he should have one with Manuela. Except while Manuela's support is light hearted and fun,Dorothea's would be more serious and Balthus actually being offended when she compares him to 'Just another noble doing whatever he wants becuase he can'.. For the Lions I think Sylvain,bros bonding over shitty parents and hitting on girls and randomly having deep talks. Another Deer I'd like to see Balthus support with is Ignatz,with Iggy reminding Balthus a lot of his younger brother and he immediately takes on a big bro role our fav artist.

Hapi:For the Lions Dedue. I wanna see them both be tired and done with the Lions craziness and having entire conversations just by looking at each other. I want Hapi to sigh one time and Dedue immediately bashing the monsters skull in with his shield and she just like "Huh.....hot.". For Eagles I think Petra. I want the girls to talk about literally anything,the stars,the spirits if Hapi's village was into that too,I want Hapi to get mad about Petra's situation to the point she summons a monster by accident becuase she is worked up(she then immediately blows it up herself with anger charged magic). I just think the girls should talk. For the Deer Marianne I think. Hapi has powers she hates,Marianne has a Crest she hates. Both have abilities that involve animals,maybe Marianne could teach Hapi how to control monsters. Church would be Flayn. Flayn knows how it feels to be hidden away from the world becuase of someone else's fear,and she wants Hapi to be well happy.

Constance:Eagles is Hubert,becuaee I think Hubert would be like "You are lying." And she is just sets him on fire while laughing. Lions support would be Annette,who is 100% on board with helping Constance get her house back. She has so much energy and is so willing to help and Constance is at a complete loss becuase she only asked her what tea she liked. For the Deer I'm thinking Lorenz,simply becuawe I want the noblest of noble trio to all have supports together. That and I think she wouldn't bother giving him the time of day becuase he is Lorenz and makes terrible first impressions. Church is Shamir. House Nuvelle was wiped out by Dagda. Constance doesn't hold Shamir accountable,but I think the two would talk about the war. What they lost,how they move on,and at the end Shamir offers her services to Constance,admiring how the girl works tirelessly to reclaim what is hers.

[resident-cake-anon]

catherine blurbs that occupy my brain <3

i needed to share these all with you, they ended up being kinda church centric bc i don’t talk about that aspect of her enough. i hope you like these kinds of gush posts they’re v fun!

❀. from the age of 9, she lived closely to the church and the academy’s staff and while she cared for them she grew to have certain reservations & suspicions about them

❀. the church provided her with her own private tutor to help her practice her fódlani since she barely knew any of it

❀. her tutor was absolutely awful, something i don’t know when or how is the best way of going into depth about, but something i still consider important

❀. through the academy she was also able to receive a formal education in the history of fodlán, necessary for an emerging heir

❀. because the language was taught to her by both mecalían texts & the academy, her fódlani is fairly formal compared to the others, probably not as much as flayn’s but it’s a noticeable difference when talking to the other golden deer, she’s a bit self-conscious about this

❀. seteth has a soft spot for her since she and flayn spent time together after catherine’s tutoring lessons

❀. i consider her to be v similar to zelda botw & sonia nevermind! you may see some references to zelda in her character such as her favorite flower being a reference to the silent princess flower from botw

❀. catherine has doe eyes! (do you get it? doe? budum tsss) not that important but i like the idea of catherine and claude both having an emphasis on their eyes

❀. she covers her face with her front hanging pieces of hair when she’s embarrassed, flusters, etc.

❀. her father takes a lot of inspo from tony stark, he’s the closest character i have to a parental f/o so that’s why haha + i thought it was fitting for the character i wanted to build up for catherine

[writingissues]

Chapter two of this fic. Just a wip/draft I have so far, any constructive, kind thoughts are nice. Thank you

Words so far 1,201

__________________

Byleth slammed the inn room door shut, not caring who heard it. She ripped her coat from her shoulders, throwing the wet garment onto the floor as her hands quickly tore her collar and medallion off and then her armored corset revealing the black top she wore under it; only her shorts and stockings remained as well.

She grimaced as she kicked her boots off, stopping to close her eyes and breathe in and out as her hands clenched into fists, her blunt nails digging into her calloused palms.

What was she doing?

She was following him to this way-off village outside Deidru. The kind of village one would have to know precisely where it is to get to it. With a sigh, Byleth ran her hand through her wet blue hair as she examined the choices of her life that led her to stalk a man that wanted nothing to do with her.

So why?

What did she want? What would she even say to Seteth and Flayn?

Did she want to apologize?

Apologize for what?

She grimaced as she looked to the wood floor at her stocking-clad feet. Her nails bit into her palms, her mind whirling with different scenarios.

And all ended with them gone and Byleth alone, knowing nothing more than she did the day before. With a sigh, she turned towards a vanity in the corner of the room next to the window, the rain pounding against the glass in a lulling sense.

She leaned down slightly, taking in her features; it was strange how she barely had the green hair and eyes for less than a year. Byleth frowned, but losing them gave her a greater sense of loss than when it first changed from blue to green.

Maybe, a thought entered her mind because the colors reminded her of her first friend, Sothis; she sighed as she brushed her hair behind her ear. Then her eyes traveled down to her chest to the opened area of her top, revealing her cleavage.

A barely there scar was between her breasts and down her chest. It was faded and white, something you would see if you knew it was there. Byketh lifted her hand and placed her finger on the top, tracing down until she hit the fabric of her shirt.

Rhea did do something. She tilted her head before moving and taking her shirt off and then unwrapping the cloth she wore to keep her breasts in place. That was certain since whatever she did end when Byleth and Edelgard killed her.

The memory made her heart pound against her chest, and it was a little more challenging to breathe.

Her lips tightened, and she stared at herself in the mirror. Her mind went over the memory of that day.

<i> The heat of the fire as the city around them burned, she could hear Edelgard yell something, but it was like something was pounding into her head, blood rushing in her ears and face. Hands tightening on the hilt of that disgusting sword.

And then Rhea is dead, with a soft, or as soft as a dragon can be, murmur of "Mother."

And the world goes black, and she then awakes to pain in her chest, and Edelgard crying and holding her.

Blue hair and a heart are what remain. Byleth knows she should be happy, to be human in every way, but her mind is fuzzy as her arms wrap around her former student, while her eyes stare at the sword in the former archbishop's head, and blood pools around her.

And she wonders if it had to be this way. </i>

There was no use in guilt over what happened, Byleth rationalized, swallowing as she turned from the mirror and looked up to the ceiling.

She chose her path; it would be an insult to have regret for those she killed in the war. She looked down and held her hands before her, eyes studying them. They were calloused and scarred, a lifetime of blood on them.

Blood of those she cared for all because they wanted to protect their homes from invasion. Byleth was still unsure that even needed to happen, but none of that mattered now.

Guilt was useless in this new world.

Byleth hesitated as she began wrapping the cloth around her chest. Maybe that is why she felt a need to see Seteth and Flayn.

Closure? Byleth took a deep breath through her nose as she tightened the cloth, maybe to see if they could give her the answers she wanted.

Byleth turned towards the window, watching as the rain hit the window. She wondered when she began lying to herself.

She wondered if she even wanted to stop at this point.

__________

Byleth stands by the window, it is early morning, and the storm clouds are gone. Birds are chirping, the sun is rising with a red and orange glow, and her fingers are touching the glass, and it's cool as her breath hits it causing it to fog up.

It was an impulse that led her to this village; she should've just taken the hint and let him leave her life like he wanted to and for her to go on and fulfill her destiny and kill those that were the blame for everything if Edelgard and Hubert say is true.

And Byleth had no reason not to believe them.

She moved her hand and lifted the window open, and closed her eyes. Byleth takes in the crisp spring morning, the coldness biting her, making the ex-mercenary feel refreshed.

It is fate; she tells herself later when she opens her eyes to see a small figure pass by the inn and causing Byleths usually passive expression to disappear as her mouth falls open and eyes widen.

Green hair in braids barely peaking out of a bonnet., in a simple plain blue dress as she holds a basket in her hand, well swinging it at her side—just a simple girl on her morning chores, most likely.

Byleths blood stills as she feels the wet pressure build-up behind her eyes.

<i>Flayn</i>

But she pushes any feelings aside, turning and running out of her room. Not caring for the yells she gets from moving past others without any thought towards them as her mind fills with the last moment, she saw Flayn, covered in dirt and blood, hiding behind her father, her small hands holding onto his armor tightly, green eyes red, wet and sad.

Nothing like the anger her father displays at that moment.

Byketh swallows the lump in her throat painfully at the memory, but it doesn't slow her down; if anything, it is fuel for her feet to move faster.

All Byleth knows is she needs to see them again, her heart pounding painfully in her chest as she rushed towards the direction Flayn went.

Her mind replayed the last moments before they entered the Holy Mausoleum, how his large hands felt around her, his lips against her hairline, and the feel of Flayns small arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly.

So, this time, Byleth runs after her.

----------

[bi-leth-eisner]

I posted 1,814 times in 2022

That's 1,713 more posts than 2021!

745 posts created (41%)

1,069 posts reblogged (59%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sevarix-blogs

@wild-moss-art

@onyxedskies

@bi-leth-eisner

@some-kind-of-twisted-joke

I tagged 1,519 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#fave - 171 posts

#my beloved - 119 posts

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd - 116 posts

#asks - 113 posts

#annette fantine dominic - 75 posts

#byleth eisner - 71 posts

#yuri leclerc - 44 posts

#felix hugo fraldarius - 42 posts

#icons - 39 posts

#edelgard von hresvelg - 38 posts

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

i cannot stand Nabatean hate.

i am an indigenous person. i see some of myself in Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn for this reason. Rhea was born and raised in Fódlan and someone wanted to drive her out of it because she is a “beast.” that isn’t something i’m going to tolerate or let slide. she is human, too. she isn’t some monstrous, heartless being, even with the events of CF because she was pushed into mental deterioration because someone tries to drive her out of her home and has repeatedly called her inhuman. this isn’t to say she is in the right for burning a city full of innocent people, but the person calling her a cruel beast has done inexcusable things as well, and on a much larger scale than the capital city of a single country.

113 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

#4

CANNOT BELIEVE THEY STARTED THE DIRECT WITH THE NEW MAINLINE FE GAME ONLY TO FIND OUT THE “FAKE LEAKS” OF TOOTHPASTE-CHAN WERE REAL AND WE ALSO HAVE TOOTHEPASTE-KUN

178 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

#3

thinking about soft Dimitri. about him calling everyone “his beloved friend.” about him going all quiet because he’s busy thinking about how cute everyone looks. about him holding someone so close that they can only feel him, drowning out the world around them and slowly falling asleep. “you truly mean the world to me. you know that?”

thinking about angry Dimitri. his hair is disheveled and his eyes are daggers. his hands grip tightly around his reinforced lance. he’s about to snap. “if you’re so persistent on not using your head, then why don’t I keep it for you?”

thinking about tired Dimitri. he’s breathing slower and his head is spinning. he’s so close to crying and he doesn’t know why. his mind is foggy and he isn’t paying attention to the world around him. he yawns. it doesn’t feel right. he’s sad.

thinking about delighted Dimitri, and how his laugh bounces happily around the room he’s in. his smile is contagious. he’s a tad bit louder than usual. he giggles! his friends can’t help but join in. it’s a good day today, he thinks.

thinking a lot about Dimitri. i love him so much.

207 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

#2

i actually think Lysithea deserves to be just as mad as Dimitri was when she finds out that a certain emperor, who has been working with the people who greatly shortened her lifespan, wanted Lysithea to walk by her side. i think it would've been neat if she stormed the Imperial palace to take out the emperor and her lapdog with all of her might and rage and then some, before tracking down Shambhala to give the 'people' there the same treatment. let Lysithea be angry 2k22.

209 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hey shout the fuck out to Lady Rhea who still tries to be kind to everyone in the monastery. she's so strong to be doing so after everything she has been through. her mother, her siblings, her home, everyone she loved was taken away and she was forced to hide her identity and the truth of the Relics so she wouldn't be next. she's seen war ravaged lands for centuries longer than other humans. she's seen so many horrors of mankind and otherwise. yet she still deeply cares about other humans, hell she runs a monastery that takes in orphans after tragedies like Remire. she risks her identity being found out and her very life to protect the students and people at the monastery not once, but twice, and on two seperate occasions.

this woman, this woman. she has so, so much grief in her heart, has witnessed traumatizing event after traumatizing event, yet she still wants to make other humans happy or at least provide comfort to those who may not have it.

shoutout to Lady Rhea and how strong she is.

222 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[greengroove]

rushed fe3h thoughts from verdant wind:

manuela with dorothea and yuri to rebuild the operahouse...

maybe even a poly between them? i do ship dorothea with basically everyone

ex: dorothea/sylvain and dorothea/yuri are sweet. i can see her and yuri being more of a business partnership-friendship also

felix having a moment to grieve dimitri's death was so soft

raphael's supports with flayn are so cute

flayn is too adorable with her screaming oh my god kill me

it is a crime claude can't be with all byleths, he really opens up with byleth beyond the initial "show me ur sword brah can i hold it ;)"

put shamir and catherine in the stable duty work when they're at A+ to hear catherine lament the idea that they might not see each other again soon. that homo is only thinking of how much time she has left with shamir and shamir just goes "ur such a dork omg guess we'll have to find out ;)" coy fucker

i'm gonna get gay married to everyone i don't even care

AAAAAAAA I KILLED CONSTANCE ON ACCIDENT

sally forth

[frozenartscapes]

What kind of bond do you think edelgard and rhea would have had if the hresvelgs and rhea hadn’t split? Edelgard mentoring under her?

I kind of think it would be a lot like my Heart of a Dragon story. I feel like Rhea would absolutely spoil the Hresvelg kids, and would definitely have a soft spot for the little spitfire that was child!Edelgard.

Now where things would differ is how the story progresses. If nothing changes, and the Hresvelg kids end up subject to the same torture and experiments they were in the game, then that could drive a pretty big wedge between Rhea and Edelgard. Especially if Rhea's still speaking in flowery "the Goddess will watch over you" language. I think a big part of Edelgard's issue with the Church stems from the disillusionment she would have gotten after spending so long underground. To hear someone say "the Goddess works in mysterious ways" or "the Goddess cares for all" after watching her entire family die in the most horrific way possible would definitely come as a slap to the face. So I highly doubt Edelgard would tolerate much of that language from Rhea. Doubly so if she knows Rhea is Saint Seiros, and was fed all that symbolism of "Saint Seiros" personally watching over the Hresvelg family. She'd likely demand why Rhea never tried to save them when they needed her most.

Now on the flip side of that - if Rhea had a stronger connection with the Hresvelgs, she would have definitely noticed when they suddenly go missing. Or maybe Ionius felt it would be worth notifying her. So, if Rhea did have a closer connection with them, she might have been able to actually save them from the experiments.

At the end of the day, Rhea is a kind and fiercely protective person. Especially of those she considers family. I think if her bond with the Hresvelgs was stronger, she'd absolutely be just as protective of them as she is with Seteth and Flayn. Edelgard and Rhea would make a very interesting dynamic, as I am exploring in my fic. These are two people who lost a lot and are deeply longing for a closer connection with someone. They could greatly help each other if only they could see eye to eye.

[comfort-questing]

likeness

*note: FE:3H characters -> TW whump of a minor (teen)*

-

"... She's going to be all right, Teach." Claude's hand rested for an instant on my shoulder, his cheerful steady voice unmarred even by the fright we'd all had in the last hours. "I'm leading the attack on the dining hall with everyone who's up to it - I'll bring you back something, okay? Raphael would never let you hear the last of it if you don't eat." I looked up and tried to smile, imitating whatever I thought my face had done earlier, the expression all foreign and stiff. But it would make Claude happy, and the others, so I had to do my best under the circumstances. "Thanks, Claude. I'll be sure not to worry him any. You go along, I'll stay here with the others."

Hilda wanted to go, of course, but Marianne (bruised and scraped up enough herself) was still working on the stitches in her arm, so Claude and Ignatz and Raphael and Leonie had to leave without her in the end. I'd done the rounds over and over among the infirmary beds, where more than most of my patched-up students had spent some time that afternoon and evening; and in the stillness after their going I settled once more at the foot of Lysithea's. My little ghost, I had called her in my head; never aloud, of course, because I knew how well she'd hate it. And it seemed unlucky to think it now, as she lay there among the pillows on the infirmary cot. The monks had cared for her and settled her there, bandaging the wounds left by the strange Flame Emperor's soldiers, and assured me she would wake soon as the healing magic took hold and her body began to recover. It was still frightening, seeing her like this, though it wasn't the first time; I'd carried her slung across my back most of the way through Zanado, after the bandit's sword had caught her.

The soft creaking of the bed-slats did not wake her as I leaned forward. I reached a hand out to pet her hair the way she would never let me in waking, and give her the comfort I guessed fairly well that she would scorn. Her strange red eyes were closed now, pale lashes whiter than her skin, and the mussed cornsilk of her hair was soft under my fingers.

"Shh, shh," I said, as I dimly remembered Jeralt telling me now and again, when I had been the one all undone and motionless, and him the adult sitting by my side waiting for me to wake. "Shh. It's all right."

Lysithea tilted her head ever so slightly towards my hand, to rest her forehead in my palm, lips shaping a word silently.

"You'll be all right," I said. "We won. We're home now, and so is Flayn, and Manuela, and... that other girl." I'd forgotten her name already, the red-haired student now lying several beds away from us. "Sleep as long as you need to."

Perhaps I'd spoken too soon, or too late, because her eyelids fluttered at my voice, stuttering against the faint light of the lamps now being lit in the room. She recoiled away from my hand, twisting her head on the pillows, wincing at the tug on her bandaged shoulder.

"...not a baby." Her voice was hoarse, small. "I'm fine. Go... away."

From across the room, Marianne darted a glance over, with a healer's instinctual impulse, and raised an eyebrow; I put up a hand, not wanting to disturb her from her brief rest now that Hilda's arm was bandaged.

"It's Professor, Lysithea." I forced my face again into my best approximation of a smile, hoping it would convince her. She was probably a harder sell than Claude. "I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, remember?"

Now her eyes opened, pupils blown, almost swallowing the color up.

"I'm ... perfectly capable of... taking care of myself," she said.

I leaned forward, elbow to my knee, the scabbard at my back knocking on the bedpost. "Look," I said. "Which one of us is in a bed in the infirmary right now?"

She didn't answer, only twisted her mouth sullenly and tried to sit up, slipping back down despite her efforts.

"Whatever you're trying to prove," I said, "I'm not the one you need to convince."

Lysithea flinched, whether from the pain or from my words I didn't know. I held back, careful, waiting for her to raise her eyes again.

"Lysithea, really. What do you think I was doing when I was your age?"

That brought her face upward, brows suddenly quizzical. "You were... oh."

"Jeralt's kid, working in the family business." She was watching me, so I went on, softly enough that only she and I could hear. "Rolling bandages. Arrow fletching. Guarding the supplies. Then archery from cover, and a dagger at my belt, and then a sword of my own when I was strong enough to hold one. D'you think I'm going to try to send you back home or something? D'you think I'm somebody who's got to have it proven that you're a big girl?"

For a moment we stared at each other, across the rumpled span of the bedcover. I was the first one who looked away, but I always had hated staring at people. I could still feel Lysithea's gaze on me, though.

"So you don't have to worry," I said. "You can be as strong around me as you like, or as - as tired. I don't care. Get it?"

Marianne was still watching us, but I saw her smile and turn away, then. I didn't know why until I felt a touch on my hand, where I'd left it on the bedcover; then I looked down, and Lysithea had rolled over to grasp it.

"Then if it's... all right," she said, with more than a touch of her usual stiffness, "I think I'll sleep... some more."

I don't think she was asleep again when I put my free hand on her hair to smooth it back once more, but this time she didn't pull away.

[argent-vulpine]

Where are we Going?

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: M

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

It was her prerogative as Archbishop of the Church of Seiros to make decisions regarding the church, its function in society, and its functions within its own halls.

This was what he had to keep telling himself, staring at her open-mouthed as she delivered the news to him. It took him a long moment before her words really caught up with him, and he finally snapped his mouth closed, teeth clicking together. “You cannot possibly be serious,” he finally mustered, staring at her as if to see whether it was still her.

Byleth smiled at him, sly and scheming. He didn’t trust that smile on the best of days - it meant she was up to something. And no doubt that smile had been learned and copied from her good friend Claude… or Khalid, now, King of Almyra. Those two could get into so much trouble when they were together, even now.

“I assure you, Seteth, I am quite serious. Who better to perform the ceremony for Saint Cichol day than you?” she added with a knowing look.

Who better, indeed, than Cichol himself. He could almost hear her thinking the words.

Seteth would not win this argument. It wasn’t even worth trying to argue.

So he simply sighed, and nodded, and went to prepare for the service.

————

Archbishop Byleth did not get out of attending the service. She had to be there, after all, and she sat upon the seat meant for her, presiding over all who’d come to Garreg Mach for this.

But true to her word, she did not lead it, and instead watched as Seteth performed in her stead. And though he felt immensely uncomfortable, he had to admit some small part of him enjoyed it. They were making corrections to the story that Fódlan had been given, a little bit at a time.

Who the saints really were. Who the elites were, and how Nemesis had not been the king that people had thought him to be. It was taking time, but they had agreed early on that the church would be moving forward in truth.

There was a lot to correct, after a thousand years of Rhea and her machinations, keeping Fódlan at bay, stifled, in an uneasy peace of her own design, and locked away from the rest of the world.

Things were already changing for the better, or at least they thought.

Still, he was relieved when the service was over, and he was able to step away from the forefront, accepting the quiet compliments paid him by those of their friends who had been able to attend.

He waited with the congregation as Byleth made her way out of the cathedral, leaving through the doors and no doubt heading across the bridge and back to their suite. When he was certain that his own duties were fulfilled, he followed at a leisurely pace, for once taking time to enjoy the clear skies, the crisp chill in the wind.

By the time he returned to their suite, she had already changed out of her regalia and into something simpler and - she claimed - infinitely more comfortable. She looked up from her book when he entered, giving him a faint smirk.

“I knew you would do well,” she said simply, setting the book down after carefully marking her place. “But now you really know how I feel, in front of all those people.”

Neither of them had been made for the kinds of crowds that they had found themselves dealing with. Mercenary turned professor turned archbishop least of all. He knew it was difficult for her; he had never really appreciated how much until today.

“I hope you do not intend for me to take over all of these services,” he finally replied, moving to join her on the sofa and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “But perhaps it is not such a terrible idea, to find others who can be trusted to give services appropriately.”

“Of course not. We have others for other purposes. I just thought it would be fitting, having you give a service in honor of yourself.” She tilted her head up, pressing a teasing kiss to his lips. “But now that’s over with, we can celebrate your birthday properly.”

They hadn’t discussed doing anything special. In fact, she’d very pointedly avoided talking about it at all, and he knew the day itself had a great deal of things church-related surrounding it. So mention of any celebration now was something of a surprise, and he told her as much.

“I wouldn’t leave you to do such an important service on your birthday and not have something to reward you with, Seteth,” she said plainly, shaking her head. “But first, Flayn sent you a letter. It’s on the desk.”

His eyes lit up and he had to force himself to calmly stand and walk over so that he could read the letter from his daughter. She wrote to tell him that she was doing well, and still traveling; that the world outside of Fódlan was quite interesting, and she was learning a great deal. She remarked that her speech pattern had begun to catch up to the times, thanks in some ways to her time as a student, but especially from her travels and listening to all sorts of people.

He was glad to hear from her, to know that she was doing well. And she wished him a happy birthday, and called him Father in her letters.

The day was already perfect from the letter alone. He struggled to find his voice for a long moment. “She told us where to send a letter to for a response. It seems she will be there for some time, so proper correspondence will be much easier for a while,” he finally said, smiling fondly at the letter in his hands.

“We’ll have to write something suitable in reply. I received one from her as well, but I haven’t read it yet. I wanted you to have the first opportunity.”

Seteth returned to where Byleth sat, settling down and pulling her into his lap, holding her close. “Thank you, my love,” he said, voice soft and thick with emotion. “It means so much to me that you did so.”

She leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Of course, now I feel like anything else I do today will be greatly overshadowed by Flayn’s letter,” she teased.

His arms tightened around her. “That is very much untrue.” She had his heart, after all, and though he loved his daughter and missed her greatly, Byleth was here with him now. Sharing her life with him, as much as they were able to do for the time being.

“Well, in that case, you should definitely change into something less… stuffy.” She tilted her head slightly, pressing a series of quick, soft kisses to his jaw. “There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

She managed to wriggle out of his grasp, giving him a knowing look when he made a sound of protest, but of course he caved to her request, going and changing into a simple shirt and pants, comfortable and… less ‘stuffy’. Byleth gave him an appraising look, one eyebrow raising slightly before she gave him a sharp nod of acceptance.

Bemused, he followed her as she led him out of the suite, down the stairs and out into the monastery. It took him a moment, but he eventually recognized that she was leading him to Abyss, and he couldn’t stop the look of confusion from creeping onto his face.

Byleth almost laughed at him. Almost. But since he was following willingly, she took him down into the underground town, greeting those they came across as they wound through the tunnels. It looked… brighter, happier, and much more well-kept than it had all those years ago when he’d first followed her into the darkness.

He wondered, briefly, if she missed her former students, those who had been known as the Ashen Wolves. If perhaps she’d had a hand in the restoration of these catacombs. Judging from the warm reception they were receiving, he imagined it must be so.

So lost in thought was he that he almost hadn’t realized they’d left the normal paths and were now in darker corridors winding through the ground. It was oddly warmer here, the stones damp and moss-covered, more and more the further they went, until finally she pulled him through a small tunnel which opened into a large cavern, steam rising in idle wisps from the thermal springs that they housed. Sunlight filtered in from far above.

Byleth had clearly done some preparation, though, as she sent out a stream of magic, lighting small lamps that littered the cave: lounging on natural ledges, resting on the ground, even a few hanging from what he could see were stakes driven into the rock itself. The light cast a cozy, comfortable glow around the cavern, allowing them to see more clearly.

There was no one around but the two of them, not another living soul in sight.

“I thought you might like to relax away from prying eyes for once,” she finally said, oddly shy. “I knew of this place from… before.” Before the war, he heard.

“A certain underground lord told you about it, no doubt,” he remarked, though there was no jealousy in his tone. He knew they were close friends, even to this day.

She laughed, the sound echoing oddly in the cavern, skittering across the water and warping. Still, he loved her laugh, on the rare occasions she gave in to the impulse. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t.” She grinned at him then, mischievous and bright. “So what say you, Seteth? Care to take some time to yourself for once?”

“Not for myself, no,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her softly. “But for us, yes, I would do that.”

There was heat in her gaze as she nodded understanding, her fingers moving to help him out of his clothes, fingertips grazing his skin, mapping the planes of his body, the smooth muscle cording along his arms, his chest, his stomach. She allowed him to perform the same treatment of her, carefully removing clothing, folding them, setting them on a rock ledge away from the water.

They entered the thermal pool together, hands on each other, touching and grasping, exploring. She led him to a submerged ledge that could act as a seat, and he sank onto it, pulling her down to straddle him, letting the warm water swirl around them.

For a time all they did was sit, and touch, and kiss, until he grew hard beneath her, his breath coming in gasps at the deluge of sensation. Smirking, she shifted her position just slightly, guiding him into her and causing a sharp groan to spill from his lips.

She teased him with agonizing slowness, rocking her hips and grinding against him, driving him deep into her at a leisurely pace. Her lips found his neck, licking, sucking, nipping at the skin, drawing out pleasured moans from him.

It was sweet torture, and he allowed it to go until it was too much. When he could stand no more, he lifted her, standing and turning, setting her on a higher ledge and thrusting into her, watching as her nipples turned into hard peaks from the chill of air. They were enticing, and he leaned forward to draw one into his mouth, tongue flicking as he pushed into her.

He moved a hand to cover her other breast, massaging, thumb rubbing until she was melting beneath him, her own moans joining his and filling the cavern.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him against her as he pumped, picking up speed as her walls tightened around him in increasing pleasure. He felt her hand reach down, fingers rubbing her clit while his hands were otherwise occupied, and knowing that she was pleasuring herself with himself sheathed so deeply inside her only made him harder, made him want to push faster.

Faster, harder, deeper until she was coming apart beneath him, her cries of ecstasy bouncing around the rock walls, the splashing of water as he thrust into her and his groans the only other sounds in the cavern, until finally he too climaxed, throbbing inside her as her walls clamped around him, as her legs tightened and held him close, so close he found it difficult to discern where his own body ended and hers began.

He continued to thrust into her, drawing out her orgasm until she passed the peak and hit a new one, her body shaking with aftershocks of pleasure. Seteth held her through them, waiting until their breath stopped coming in ragged gasps, until his own heart had slowed to a more reasonable pace, before he finally withdrew, helping her back into the water and carefully helping to clean her as her shuddering slowed.

When they were finally recovered from their quick and intense lovemaking, she gave him another sly smile, pulling him to her for a slow, deep kiss. “Happy birthday, Cichol,” she murmured against his lips.

Something about the way she said it, her tone of voice, had him aroused all over again.

It was quite a long time before they finally returned aboveground, but he had to admit… it had turned out to be quite an enjoyable birthday after all.

[patricia-von-arundel]

The Happiest Place in Fódlan

@lysissisyl and I decided to try writing something together - kind of. We decided to take the same prompt, and see what each of us would do with it. Almost immediately after, @frozenartscapes wrote about her AU where Silver Snow!Edelgard unexpectedly appears in modern Fódlan (where Byleth is still alive), and I realized it would work perfectly for the prompt (which was randomly generated): 

Edelgard and Byleth go to a fair/amusement park and Edelgard wants to go on the roller coaster and Byleth agrees. Later, Byleth regrets their decision and ends up clinging onto Edelgard for dear life. (Or reversed. Either would be funny!)

So… here’s my take on it! (I reversed it, for the record.) Let’s just assume that Walt Disney lived in Fódlan… 

Rating: G (this is fluff on top of fluff)

-

A befuddling world. They called it “Fódlan,” but it might as well have been a different planet. She felt horribly unmoored, all control lost - and there were few things Edelgard despised more than losing control. Months had passed, and still the feeling lingered. More than lingered: at times, it seemed to throb like an infected tooth. 

But worse still - not a throb, but a deep, constant ache - was that she had no understanding now, it seemed, of Byleth. Byleth was the same person, but also somehow, radically, painfully not. She had become another alien, part of this alien world. For her, enough time had passed that the wounds of battle - both physical and emotional - had been able to heal, and even the scars they left had faded. But for Edelgard… Physically, she had healed. But no healer could repair the turmoil within her skull. 

Though Byleth claimed there were people now who could. “Therapists,” she said they were called - “like healers, but for your brain.” She had even offered to take Edelgard to one. But Edelgard had balked at the idea, quickly insisting there was no need. 

Need, however, was ultimately irrelevant. The shameful truth - one which she tried to keep carefully hidden - was that in this new Fódlan, she found herself more and more terrified of leaving the confines of Byleth’s small apartment in Enbarr. Even it was filled with strange, frightening things, but at least there was a feeling there of a semblance of control. No cars barreling unexpectedly around a corner - and better still, no vans or trucks. No crash of boxes of cans being unloaded at a grocery store. No card-only payments signs, or men’s restroom versus women’s restroom, or a thousand different variants of coffee with strange, confusing names like latte and espresso. 

But even the apartment could be strange and confusing. Beds and chairs seemed too soft, but tables - covered in lacquer, apparently - and other wooden things seemed much too hard, their surfaces unnaturally slick. The lights, at night, were far too bright and uniform: no dancing shadows cast by candle or fireplace. There was no fireplace at all!

The worse times, especially at the start, were when Byleth was not there. Edelgard said nothing of her fears, but she certainly had them. Then, she was left alone with a microwave, which could safely cook in some things, but not others. (As Edelgard had found out the first time she worked up the courage to try to use it, and was caught by Byleth just before putting one of those infernal cans inside - why wasn’t the point of them to also have a ready-to-use dish? It was the most obviously-practical thing about them!) She was left with a million strange buttons on a remote control that could turn on a television (which had fascinated her in concept, but not, in the end, in practice). She was left with a thermostat, which controlled the air conditioner. (Byleth insisted it was not magic, though it certainly still seemed like magic. Much appreciated magic; Enbarr had seemed hot to her as a child, but somehow was even more so now. Byleth had words for that, too: climate change.)

Edelgard had known great sorrows - most of her life had been filled with them. What she felt now, though, after all of the initial confusion, was sad. Sad in the obvious ways she would always have expected to be, after so many years of war and loss, but also, perhaps even more so, in a confusing, complicated, overwhelming kind of way. Everything about this world, and about herself in it… it all just felt wrong. She was the true alien, here. An alien in a land she had once ruled…

There was no empire now, and thus no emperor. There was only Edelgard. 

A person she no longer remembered how to be. 

Living with someone she no longer knew. 

She who so prided herself on her ability to control her mind and body, so careful of all that she said, had caught herself frequently almost letting slip the words “my teacher” when speaking to Byleth. But Byleth was not - she never would be again. And it was ridiculous to wish it could be otherwise, ridiculous and selfish, and yet, knowing also she would likely never be as happy again a she had been at that time… it was hard. 

Because she had been happy, as curious as it was to consider it. The strain of all she was forced to balance, the burden of secrets and lies: yes, all those things had been a part of her life then. But for the first time in a very long time, she had felt as if she was wresting back control of her own life - taking it from those who had destroyed so many, and so much, and claimed it had all been for her benefit. Her life would be hers again - and all of Fódlan a more peaceful, egalitarian land.

Then Byleth came. 

There had been times, then, when she had not only been happy - she had been absolutely, utterly euphoric. Something about Byleth simply called to her heart, in some deep, beautiful, timeless way: whatever connected them had always been there, she had simply not yet been able to feel it. She could almost allow herself to believe Byleth, too, could feel it -

- Until it snapped. 

She still had not asked Byleth about her decision, that day in the Holy Tomb. She knew it could not be avoided forever - and Byleth had already hinted at discussing it - but Edelgard was not yet ready for some truths. Again, she had to remind herself this was not unexpected: it had not been 850 years for her, as it had been for Byleth. It had not even been six months. 

All of this turmoil and uncertainty and sadness swirled constantly within her, like some endless storm, but she kept it to herself, locked once more behind a mask - an invisible one, perhaps, but a mask of a sort nonetheless. 

Except she had never been good at keeping her mask in place around Byleth. 

“You’re sad, El.” She said it abruptly, over a shared breakfast of toasted scones and jam. Byleth was not as blunt as she had once been - nor as outwardly difficult to read - but traces of her old self still appeared. “Why?”

Normally, such moments were almost reassuring - echoes of a world Edelgard would never see again, proof that that world had existed, that she had not always been just an unmoored alien - but this one left her heart beating more quickly and her appetite abruptly vanished. Still, she spoke steadily: “I’m afraid I don’t know of what you speak. I feel no unusual sadness, my - Byleth.” Not an outright lie: this sadness was no longer unusual. It had hung over her for a very long time. 

She wasn’t the only one aware of that, either: “I know. Because you’re sad all the time.”

Edelgard looked down, at her half-finished plate. “You’ve not lost the talent for looking right through people, have you?”

“Maybe not. But it’s important. Especially with you.”

“Especially with - ?” She couldn’t stop the surprise in her voice, nor the sudden, almost painful leap in her chest - even as she immediately fought it. It was because of her strange situation, not because Byleth shared the feelings Edelgard had fought for so long. The feelings she was fighting again now, when five years ago - centuries ago - she had believed she had finally bested them…

“I really want you to see a therapist when we get back, El. I’ll ask Flayn who she’d recommend. Please, El. Things are different now. They can help you.”

“Did you say… Flayn?”

“She’s a pediatric psychologist specializing in childhood trauma and PTSD. Uh - that’s post-traumatic stress disorder. Which you also almost certainly have…”

More new words, though these Edelgard rather doubted she would remember. “That is… not something that I had considered. Perhaps because I had also not considered that Flayn is now an adult…”

“She’s not so different, for all the time that’s passed. Still very kind. Still has to stop Seteth hovering. Still loves fish - I wish you’d been here to see her when the first sushi restaurant opened in Enbarr!”

“…Sushi?”

“I’ll take you for it sometime - it’s a little hard to describe.”

Edelgard nodded - most of the food of this new age was quite good. She liked pizza in particular, with the little round meats whose name she could never recall, and also veggie wraps and tacos. Her opinion on chicken nuggets was still indeterminate, but most of what Byleth had offered had been quite palatable. 

Moving away from food - and Flayn - she said, “My tea- Byleth - you said… when we get back?”

Byleth grinned - still such a strange thing to see her do! “El,” she said, “we’re going on a little trip.”

“A… trip?”

“A trip. To the happiest place in Fódlan.”

-

The “happiest place in Fódlan” was also, happiest or not, somehow even more confusing than all the very confusing things Edelgard had had to face for the last few equally-confusing months. 

She blinked. And blinked again - trying to process all that was before her now that they had finally gotten past the mob at the gates. (And past Byleth gently correcting her when she called the people in uniform “gatekeepers.” They were called ticket takers, except here, where they were cast members. Why had the name changed, Edelgard wondered, when they performed exactly the same function?)

“That’s a castle,” she finally said. 

Byleth laughed. “Yes. It is a castle.”

“But I thought you said castle are no longer built? There certainly was not a castle like that here… before. I would remember a castle as curious as that one.”

“This is an exception. It’s not a real castle. Well - it is and it isn’t. It’s called Cinderella Castle. We’re having lunch there later, but we can go see it now, if you like.”

“What's a Cinderella?”

For a moment, Byleth looked pained. “Okay, that’s on me. I really should have thought to watch a whole lot of movies before booking this trip…”

Movies was a word Edelgard knew. She liked some of them, too. “Cinderella is a movie?”

“Several movies. It’s based on a fairytale - that’s, uh, a story that pops up again and again all over the world. Kind of like all the different versions of what happened with Nemesis and Seiros, only not about anything that actually happened. Does that make sense?”

Edelgard considered this, then nodded. “Is the Cinderella movie anything like Star Wars?” She had enjoyed Star Wars enough to watch it several times, though she understood very little of it. Ships simply could not fly in space, even if Byleeth said they actually could, albeit not in that manner. They also did not look anything like ships. And Byleth said lightsabers didn’t truly exist either, which was a disappointment. Still, though, Edelgard did like those movies. She disliked comedies. Comedies confused her. 

“Uh… not very much, no,” Byleth said. “There’s a ton of Star Wars stuff here, though. We’ll see it later this week. If you want space, though…” Suddenly - unexpectedly - her face lit up. “You’ve never been on a rollercoaster!”

“A roller… what?”

“Hurry, before the line gets long! We’ll see the castle later. Come on!”

To Edelgard’s surprise - and embarrassment - and heart-pounding shock - Byleth grabbed her hand, hauling her off down what seemed to be a street of shops (you could shop here?), towards the castle from a movie, not the ancient past. Such casual intimacy was very common now, as Edelgard had noticed very quickly, surprised at first by handshakes, hugs, people only kissing one another, but that didn’t mean it was any less of a shock to have it from Byleth. From a woman that, in her mind, had been preparing to execute her only months before. From a woman whose hand she once had longed more than any other to hold…

They turned before the castle - and the whole world once more transformed. There was no time to process it, but no matter - she was still struggling with trying to process Byleth’s hand, the warm softness of her skin. To process any of this. 

“Only a 20 minute line - I’m glad we got here early!”

“20 minute line…?”

“For Space Mountain!”

“Space…. Mountain? I don’t - “

“Of course you don’t. You will soon! Hurry!”

What could she do but as told? She wouldn’t survive an hour in this curious place without Byleth. She could barely handle the street outside Byleth’s apartment in Enbarr without Byleth… And she wanted Byleth to keep holding her hand. 

Life generally was now overwhelming. “I confess,” she said - voice raised and shaky from the gait of their jog - “I feel rather foolishly like a child right now, like this.”

“That’s the point, El. And look - we’re here!”

It did not resemble a mountain. It did not resemble… anything Edelgard had ever seen. Though this was approximately the hundredth time she might have claimed the same simply in the last hour. Something about it almost reminded her of the technology - the weapons - employed by the evil beings Byleth said history now called Agarthans, rather than the more-cumbersome name by which she had known them. But Byleth would surely never take her somewhere like that? Still, it was the first thing that came to mind, looking up at this strangely-shaped, spiky, silvery… something. 

The sign certainly said “Space Mountain.” Maybe the definition of “mountain” had changed? Some words had, like kid and - as she had thought earlier - ship, like the spaceships. She would ask later, when she could properly concentrate on the answer. 

Byleth, meanwhile, had a very strange smile on her face. “Your first time going into space,” she said. “Just like in Star Wars.”

“Going into space?” Edelgard looked at the strange-something again, then back at Byleth. “I’m confused again, I’m afraid, my teach- Byleth.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Though the smug look on your face leads me to believe you are continuing to be deliberately obtuse. Is this going to exasperate me the entire week that we are here?”

That earned her a shrug, but no less of that very self-satisfied smirk. “You’re not allowed to be exasperated at Disney World, El. It’s against the rules.”

“Then perhaps don’t go out of your way to be exasperating?”

“We’ll see. Are you ready to go in?”

Edelgard took a third glance at the strange-something. “This might be an absurd question, but… does it truly somehow go into space?”

Her breath caught - briefly, thankfully - when Byleth’s hand squeezed around hers. But while that she could hope Byleth didn’t notice, there was no possibility the flush in her cheeks would be missed. She looked down, to concentrate on Byleths’s words rather than whatever expression might be on her face. There were things she was still not ready to see. 

“Not really into space. It just uses speed and lights - or rather, lack thereof - to make it feel as if you’re in space. It’s a simulation.”

“…Simulation?”

“Using senses to make you feel like you’re seeing or feeling something you’re not.”

Another strange new word. That was the true mountain, whatever the current definition might be: the mountain of words and meanings and lost words she truly felt she might spend the rest of her life attempting to scale. She couldn’t escape it even here, in the “happiest place in Fódlan.”

“Like television?” She felt even more absurd at this question, even knowing perfectly well Byleth was - and had assured Edelgard repeatedly she always would be - happy to answer questions as long as it took for Edelgard to understand. She might deliberately exasperate at times, but was still, truly, as patient with Edelgard’s questions as she had been when they were teacher and student at the Officers Academy. And that was appreciated - no matter how ridiculous Edeglard felt, at times. 

“A… little like television,” Byleth said now. “But… like you’re actually in the scene with the actors. When there are actors. There aren’t any here. Just movement and lights and sound. And usually screaming. Lots of screaming.”

“You sound curiously cheerful about the prospect.”

The strange smile was back when Edelgard forced her eyes up once more. Byleth’s hand tugged hers. “I don’t want to spoil it too much. But I think you’ll like it. Ready to go?”

“As… ready as as I’ll likely ever be. I suppose.”

They were going inside the strange-something. The mountain-that-wasn’t-a-mountain. It was cooler inside - air conditioner again - and there was a line of people that moved in fits and starts, seeming to go gradually upward. They were climbing the mountain - in a sense? But it didn’t feel like being in space. Not that Edelgard had been in space. But it was not how she imagined it would be like to be in space. Maybe it was a simulation of climbing into space? But there was no speed, none of the lights and sounds Byleth had made sound like they were unusual in some way. Unusual by the standards of a world with lightbulbs and radios. If this was a radio.  Sometimes, Edelgard still was confused by how far to extend a new concept - she had confused movie and television for weeks, after learning of them for the first time together. 

After some time had passed - Byleth had said the line would take 20 minutes, but Edelgard had yet to master measuring time in such a manner - there were peculiar sounds, but they did not seem like those that would come from a radio, or a spaceship. Odd, mechanical sounds, like movement - and, very faintly, those screams she had half-wondered if Byleth might be joking about. She leaned a little, in case she could catch a glimpse of anything, but all she saw was an impenetrable wall of people in t-shirts and sunglasses and the curiious hats Byleth had told her about, the ones with balls on them intended to make people look like enormous mice. (Byleth had briefly attempted to explain why. It still made no sense to Edelgard.)

The screaming got louder - but there was an echo-y, muffled quality to it. As if it were coming from inside a cave, or the other side of a closed door. And mixed with it was what sounded like cheering, and… laughter?

Byleth’s hand once more squeezed. 

(Why was Byleth still holding her hand?)

“You look concerned, El.”

She managed a smile, if only a tight one. “Perhaps a bit. It’s more that I am… now very, very curious. On a day when everything I see seems more curious than the last.”

Byleth laughed. “Even by modern standards, El, no one would ever call Disney World ‘normal’.”

The smile felt a little more natural, now. “I’m relieved to hear that. Though… I do think I’ll leave rather fond of this place.”

Another hand squeeze.

(Another caught breath.)

“Let’s see how you feel after this, okay?”

The end of the line - and more of the not-gatekeepers. But there were no tickets here, so what were they called? She would have to ask Byleth.

But later - one more hand squeeze (a… slightly longer one? It felt so…), then they had to part. The not-gatekeepers were moving everyone to separate, smaller lines. She leaned again at the strange mechanical sound she had heard earlier, now much closer and clearer. Everyone ahead was still taller than she was - Byleth said she wasn’t just imagining it, people really were taller now - but she could still see: rows of cars. Or were they called cars? This morning they had ridden -

She leaned closer to Byleth. “Is that a car or a monorail?”

“Neither. It’s a cart.”

Edelgard looked again, not bothering to hide in her expression the disdain she now felt. That thing was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a “cart” of any kind. It didn’t even have wheels!

Regardless, she was about to get in one. She glanced at Byleth, who met her gaze and grinned. She looked excited. 

The screams suddenly felt much more urgent. 

Then she was being ushered into her seat on the “cart,” a mysterious metal bar coming down over her lap. She knew seatbelts - was this just some variant, or did it serve a different purpose?

She supposed she was about to find out. 

There truly was an alarming amount of screaming, somewhere ahead of them…

“Hang on!” Byleth said. 

There was a startling little jerk as the cart began to move, but it smoothed out quickly. They were going slowly - into darkness. Complete darkness.

They stopped. 

Lights - a sign? But while Edelgard could tell there were letters on it, she still struggled with the strange way things were written now, and the cart was moving again before she could make out what it said. 

More lights - bright ones. Almost painfully bright. And peculiar, discordant sounds. Radio? It didn’t sound like radio. Or like any other sound she had ever heard, in this world or in her own. They were going up. surrounded by the too-bright lights and strange sounds, and Edelgard felt a curious, indeterminate dread building within her gut. 

She leaned forward, to be heard over the sound. “My teacher, what - “

“Hang on, El.”

“Hang…?”

“The bar, El! Grab the bar!”

There was no more warning than that. There was no time for it. 

The cart went hurtling into darkness.

Edelgard shrieked and grabbed before she was thrown off. The closest thing. 

Not the bar. 

Byleth.

Byleth’s arms wrapped around her own, holding her there. Was she laughing…?

There was no chance to wonder. They were still being thrown around in that pitch-black darkness, up and down and around. Edelgard might have continued to scream - as so many others were doing - but the first drop had knocked the breath out of her, and she had yet to manage to get it back. 

It lasted for a small infinity - and almost no time at all. Then, they were abruptly back into a world of sunlight, of voices instead of screams, and of Edelgard quickly pulling back from her hold on Byleth. 

Much as some part of her desperately fought as she did so…

Byleth had wrapped her arms around Edelgard’s. Byleth had held her hand - and for far longer than was necessary. 

But this was not the time to dwell on it. She stood on shaky legs when the bar raised to allow it - and found a hand, reaching to offer help stepping out of the cart. 

And again, Byleth did not let go. Instead, as they walked, she swung their hands casually, and smiled, and said, “What did you think?”

Edelgard considered this, trying hard to focus, despite the curious hand-swinging. “I… do rather wish you had warned me.”

Byleth laughed. “I told you three times to hold onto something.”

She felt the flush rise in her cheeks. “That is not what I meant, as you well know. But I…” She looked to Byleth, and allowed herself a rare open smile. “I quite liked it! Could we… perhaps go again?”

Byleth smiled back - filling Edelgard with a rush of warmth both strange and very pleasant. “Sure we can. We can go right now, if you like. You can even hold onto me again, if you want to.”

Edelgard looked quickly away. “Yes. Well. The… offer is appreciated.”

Another laugh - and another squeeze of her hand. “Do you want to go now?”

“If you’re sure that you don’t mind… then yes. I would quite like to go again. But my tea- Byleth, I’m… rather confused?”

“About what?”

“Why are we… How did we get inside a shop?”

[indigowallbreaker]

only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely — for Bernadetta, Caspar, and Ferdinand? C:

(you told me via DM to pick to to take this so I’m gonna go ahead and make this a platonic prompt! thanks for the permission :3)

Bernadetta had practically begged Professor Byleth to let her join the Blue Lions. They were so much more comfortable to be around than Professor Manuela. As much as Bernadetta might miss a few of the Eagles, this would be better. It had to be better. Right?

With that in mind, Bernadetta opened her door. 

“Good morning!” Ferdinand greeted brightly.

Bernadetta slammed her door shut. 

She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to leave the Black Eagles! Now Ferdinand was here to drag her back! “I’m sorry but I want to be with Professor Byleth!” She called through the door. “You can’t make me be an Eagle again! I- I’ll stay in here forever if I have to!”

“B-Bernadetta! That was not my intention at all!” There was a soft tap at the door. “Please come out? I simply wanted to escort you to class!”

“But I’m not in your class anymore!”

“I believe you are.”

Confused, Bernadetta opened the door ever so slightly. Ferdinand was there with an understanding smile on his face-- and a Blue Lion’s patch on his uniform. “O-Oh...” Bernadetta opened the door wider. 

Ferdinand pat his chest proudly. “As you can see, Professor Byleth recognized my talents and asked for me to join as well. They told me you would be starting today too, so I thought...” He faltered a moment before holding out his hand. “I thought we could go together?”

Bernadetta stared at the hand. Then at Ferdinand. Could it be he was just as nervous as she was? If it was his first day too...

“O-Okay.” Bernadetta took his hand. “Um. Let’s go!”

He beamed and began leading them towards the classrooms. “I am excited to learn under the Professor!” He said as they walked. “I heard great things of their fight underground to rescue Flayn last month. The Blue Lions must work hard!”

Nodding absently, Bernadetta kept a careful eye on their surroundings. Ferdinand might be on her side-- but there were still other Eagles out there who might want to kidnap Bernadetta and force her to rejoin. The sooner they got to the classroom the better.

“Felix’s fighting technique is especially interesting. As quick as Petra is, I think he outmatches her in strength. However-- Caspar!”

With a squeak, Bernadetta hid behind Ferdinand. This put his arm at a strange angle, as she was still holding his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Caspar had one foot inside the training grounds and whipped his head around to look at Ferdinand. He grinned. “Oh, good, it’s just you. I thought it was Seteth coming to yell at me again!”

“You cannot possibly be going to train right now!” Ferdinand snapped. “Professor Byleth said you were joining the Blue Lions today. You will be late for class!” Bernadetta peeked out from behind Ferdinand. If that were true, then Caspar was nothing to be afraid of. 

“The Professor’ll understand if I’m late because of a little training.”

“I-I don’t think you should upset the Professor on our first day, Caspar,” Bernadetta pipped up. “We need to make a good first impression.”

Caspar seemed to notice her for the first time. “You’re joining too?!” When she nodded, his grin widened. “That’s great! Oh, you probably want a seat in the back, right?” He shut the training hall doors. “We should get going then!”

His sudden change in priority surprised Bernadetta and Ferdinand both, and neither reacted until Caspar grabbed Ferdinand’s other hand and started half dragging them away. They walked three abreast with Ferdinand in the middle. The boys were content to talk about what they were eager to study; and Bernadetta felt much safer with them by her side, only tensing as they passed the Black Eagle’s classroom instead of bolting back to her dorm like she really wanted.

They stopped outside the Blue Lion’s classroom. “Here we are,” Ferdinand announced redundantly, voice devoid of its usual bravado. His grip on her hand loosened slightly. She slipped her hand away but couldn’t bring herself to let go entirely, instead leaving their pinkies linked. On Ferdinand’s other side, she could see Caspar do something similar, eyes on the door. 

Bernadetta cleared her throat. “A-Are we ready?”

Caspar took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah! Of course we are!”

“Agreed.” But Ferdinand had yet to move.

Summoning bravery she didn’t know she had, Bernadetta stepped forward, opened the doors, and took Ferdinand’s hand again. “Come on!” She commanded.

That put a grin on Ferdinand’s face. Following her lead, Caspar took Ferdinand other hand once more-- and the three entered their new classroom together. 

(send me a ship or platonic pair and a type of hand hold!)

[cavalierious-whim]

All or Nothing (FE3H)

Sylvix | Canon-Compliant | War Phase | General Sylvain hopes that Felix likes flowers, even if he's a few days late.

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A/N: There's an adorable art that goes with this by the amazing Satodee, which can be found here! Read this fic here on AO3 for better quality, and you can follow me here on Twitter!

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Sylvain doesn’t usually think much of calendar dates, but the Pegasus Moon brings two things: Valentine’s Day and Felix’s Birthday.

The former never meant much in the past, usually full of empty promises and swooning women. Tangled limbs that don’t mean anything other than a night of trying to forget. The latter, though, is something that’s been seared into Sylvain’s brain, impossible to overlook. Some years are easier than others because Felix is within reach. It’s the separation that makes it difficult, so having Felix nearby for the first time in years has all but fried his brain.

Neither of them will admit it; this thing, they’ve been dancing around it for years. This go-around, Sylvain's made the decision to finally do something about it. Five years is a long time to feel empty and war kind does things to a man’s brain. Like, give you a sense of urgency.

Ironic, considering that Sylvain’s the kind of person to care for himself last.

He’d gone and fucked it up the last battle, getting injured. Byleth looked none-too-happy, lips pulled into a sour frown. Then he’d waved at Mercedes and turned away. Mercedes at least, bless her fucking soul, was kind. She’d helped him to his tent with soft words, soothed over his wounds with warm hands, and suddenly, Sylvain wasn’t kind of dying anymore.

Felix has visited every night, but only to yell at him. Sylvain will take any crumb of attention that he can because Felix so rarely bestows it of his own regard. Usually, it’s like pulling teeth or backing him into a corner. For some reason, Felix has been going out of his way more and more lately.

Sylvain’s doing better. It’d taken a few days but he’s right as rain now, able to stand without much pain and stretch one side and then the other without busting a stitch. Mercedes always helps, but she doesn’t make it easy. She says that healing the old-fashioned way is good for the soul, even if she speeds up the pace.

Because he’s finally on his feet, Sylvain has an errand to run. He sneaks out of his tent, doing his best to keep a low profile.

#

“It’s going to cost you,” says Anna, tapping her finger against her chin as she gives Sylvain a wide smirk.

“Anna,” says Sylvain, “Darling, dear, peddler of mine. Undoubtedly the best smuggler around--”

“Fancy words and compliments don’t pay for more goods.” Anna crosses her arms over her chest. “Though, it’s not a bad start.”

Sylvain leans forward and whispers in a low voice. “Two day’s pay and I’ll throw in a grilled golden trout.”

“A week’s pay, fuck the trout, I want beast meat teppanyaki instead. You’re the only one dumb enough to go out and fight one on your own.”

“That’s not much of a bargain,” says Sylvain, trying to strike a deal.

“They’re out of season.”

Well, she’s got him there. “The Goddess will smite you one day,” says Sylvain, mouth twisting into a frown.

Anna smiles at him and gives him a wink. “Nah, I think the Goddess would enjoy a hard bargain. Hard work and all that.”

“Five day’s pay,” Sylvain counters. “I’ll still get you the beast meat though.”

Anna taps her finger against her chin as she thinks, and then smiles. “Alright, Red. You’ve got yourself a deal.” She reaches out and he shakes her hand, feeling like he’s just made a deal with a devil. Working with Anna is often like that.

Still, worth it. He grabs the goods and is on his way.

#

When Sylvain finds Felix, he’s cutting firewood for Flayn. Sylvain watches as he gathers it in his arms and figuring that Flayn is likely to keep his secret, he chooses that moment to go up. When she sees Sylvain, she flashes him a smile and wink and slips away to leave them alone.

“Flayn,” says Felix, his back turned. “Where--” He stops dead at the sight of Sylvain, mouth floundering as he tries to figure out what to say.

“Hey, Felix,” says Sylvain.

“Sylvain,” says Felix in a low hiss. “What on earth are you doing here? You’re supposed to be back in your tent. Resting. Not moving. Healing up.” Sylvain can hear the implied dolt in his words.

“I’m fine. Look? I can move--”

“Not the point, you absolute dolt.” Ah, there it is .

Sylvain pouts. “Felix, I came here too--”

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” says Felix.

“I mean, yeah, it could. But I don’t want to wait.”

“For what?” asks Felix.

Sylvain falters for a moment, biting his lip. This definitely isn’t the way that he expects this to happen, but as far as confessions go it can definitely be worse. Besides, Felix isn’t an idiot, he’s probably figured out a thing or two. Hopefully. Otherwise, all of this will be entirely out of the blue.

“Felix, I--”

“OH, MERCEDES, FANCY SEEING YOU HERE!” Flayn suddenly yells from around the corner, just a little bit too loud. Sylvain winces but he knows a warning when he hears it. He’s got about a minute to get this done before Mercedes appears, sees them, and rips him a new one.

Mercedes is the kindest healer when warranted, but she can be absolutely brutal when it comes to punishment. Oh, Bless your heart, she’d say before pulling the bandage just a little bit too tight for comfort.

“Okay, so here’s the jig, Felix. Happy late Valentine’s and Birthday, and also, I love you.” Sylvain shoves the bouquet of flowers towards him and Felix has to drop the armful of firewood to grab them.

Felix gapes at him, looking like a fish out of water. And then he says dumbly, “These are sunflowers. And tulips.”

“Yep.”

“These are out of season.”

“Also yep.”

Felix’s face turns a delightful shade of pink as he looks anywhere other than Sylvain’s face. “Idiot,” he says. “You fool, get out of here before Mercedes murders you.” There’s a pause. “We’ll… talk about this tonight.”

Sylvain’s heart doesn’t just flutter, it flips upside-down entirely, but in a good way, not that dread in the pit of your chest way. “Yeah? Tonight?”

“Yes! That’s what I said!”

Sylvain impulsively leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of his forehead, much to Felix’s horror and embarrassment. But, he doesn’t pull away.

“Sylvain,” snaps Felix in that beloved, incredibly vexed tone of his.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” says Sylvain. “Tonight though. My tent.” Then he winks.

Felix scowls and shoots him a rude gesture, but then cradles the flowers close to his chest, carefully. Good sign. Sylvain does as he’s told and backs away, managing to make it to the tent before Mercedes sees him.

When she comes to the tent later to check his stitches, she’s a little rougher than usual and Sylvain knows that he’s been caught. But she doesn’t say anything, only pats his bandage gently before she sends Felix in.

He’s a contradiction, saying both kind and not-so-kind words. But that’s what Sylvain loves most about him; he’s a man of many sides. Never boring. And, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

In the end, Felix stays and for once in his damn life, Sylvain’s happy.