#{ bladeoffraldarius—dorothea }

[macuilsung]

17th of the Wyvern Moon, 1185

for @blade-of-fraldarius​​​!

How long was it since he first began this laborious trek? Forwin shuddered to put a number to the amount of time spent just walking. After his little farewell tour—just to see old friends he had made abroad one last time—took longer than he thought it would, it was meant to be a straight shot through the Dragon’s Gate and back home! But of course, it just had to take several attempts before he knew for certain he landed back in Fódlan after all these years.

Since he emerged from Lake Teutates with one hell of a fright, the wandering bard set his sights for the Oghma Mountains. Certainly, Duke Gerth’s twice-vanished only heir could travel west instead, yet ultimately he thought against it. Nerves were one reason, with Forwin having last seen his father five years ago over that business with Myson and those Dagdan fetters. That will be one awkward reunion he will have to prepare for, and right then he felt anything but prepared!

Plus, from his pitstop in the fortress city Arianrhod, he found further reason to be dissuaded from taking a detour. The musician learned that the border between the Adrestian Empire and the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was since closed and heavily militarized. Plus? Dimitri of the Blue Lions became king, then granted the Church of Seiros asylum after his ascent.

Shit, so that war is definitely still ongoing... but alas, Forwin realized it was already too late for him to lose heart and turn back for Cyrkensia. No more running, not anymore, especially not after already coming this far. Besides, his ears burned at one crucial piece of intel: the Imperial Army had been occupying Garreg Mach Monastery since the battle. Not wanting to risk getting recognized by an old Academy student or a Knight of Seiros in Faerghus, he hotfooted it south with renewed vigour.

Two months remained before the promised time of the would-have-been Millennium Festival, so the former nobleman was relieved to know he made it with several weeks to spare, in spite of the odds stacked against him! However... he did not feel ready to celebrate just yet.

The Eagles and Wolves... they should all be up there by then. Did they think him dead, after that cave-in in Abyss and his unintended otherworldly exeunt, or believe that he abandoned them all? How much has everyone changed since war was declared by the Empire? Would they still want him around after he just shows up out of the blue without explanation, after so long?

More importantly, how would Dorothea react to seeing him again...? To have disappeared on her right after finally telling her and the others everything, right before war split them up, he did not know whether to long for their reunion all the harder... or dread it.

“Right... I forgot about this last stretch,” Forwin muttered as he brought down his digits from pressing his lips, focusing on the present rather than reminiscing over an old memory involving hers. Whatever happens up in the old stomping grounds, he will only find out once he reaches the monastery proper. With only a long walk under the canopy and up the lengthy trail keeping him and the old abbey apart, excitement and anxiety both took hold of his chest once he saw the imposingly familiar structures atop the mountain range.

Heartbeat? Ringing loud and clear in his ears. Legs? Like lead trudging through molasses. His lute and travel pack? Weighing him down like never before. Goddess? Please be merciful.

[macuilsung]

@blade-of-fraldarius​ liked this post for a little starter, as a treat! { 2/5 – Open! } Muse choice: Dorothea!

“...though red blood stains her story... heavy as her crown may be, she will lead us all to glory...”

His eyes scanned each line that had been meticulously written into one page of parchment after the next. All the while, a smile grew and persisted as his head bobbed along to mental melody; already he could hear this piece being played out by the imperial orchestra back in Enbarr.

Forwin felt plenty honoured that she allowed him the privilege to read her very own songwriting, and to think she was planning for a whole opera after the war is over... But, it pained him to see that this was a work-in-progress, given the army and strike force are still living out this story with a definitive ending yet to be written down.

Still, growing awareness of one’s own frail mortality aside, this made him want to run back underground to Abyss just to fetch his lute and play some of these songs all out himself right here. He was enthralled! The battles they’ve fought thus far, Edelgard’s wish for a new world, hints of romance bubbling up between the Emperor herself and their dear old professor... Dorothea captured it all beautifully!

“Did she read any of this yet, or am I the first...?”

[macuilsung]

@blade-of-fraldarius​​​ said via 2-6 Word Starters (open!):

[ “What is this place?” ] Dorothea (in Abyss, perhaps?)

Hand stayed from strumming the strings of his lute as the slack-jawed Forwin found himself momentarily starstruck. The last time he felt like this was when he first saw Manuela here at the monastery, back in his heyday at the Officers Academy. Meeting Linhardt again earlier on made for one blast from the past he wasn’t expecting, but he didn’t count on there being two!

The flustered bard knows her. He knows he has seen her many times, on-stage in Enbarr, as early as years before he ran away from home. Her voice was just as he remembered it, and she was more beautiful than last he had seen her...! That’s Dorothea! The Mittelfrank Opera Company’s Dorothea Arnault, who is standing right in front of him! Dorothea, the Mystical Songstress, wearing the Officers Academy uniform—oh Goddess, she’s attending this year?!

Seiros, pinch me.

Oh. Shit. He’s been quiet for too long. Say something!

“Y-you’re, uh, in Abyss, Miss?” ...okay, something a little more substantial than that, Forwin.

[macuilsung]

@blade-of-fraldarius​​​ said via Send a 💞 and my Muse will say something about one of their romantic interests (open!):

💞👀👀 You know you want to

"Arnault?”

That that name was spoken in this land shook the court musician to his core for a brief instant. Against all reason, Forwin feared that the war that began to rock Fódlan somehow followed him to Nohr... and, with that fear came hope that she found her way to Windmire, just as he did.

But no, the bright-eyed Princess Elise spoke it when she simply read the title of the composition he had laid out, sheet music spread clear as moonlight on his writing desk. With the relief that Castle Krakenburg would be spared the violence of that faraway war came soul-crushing disappointment, and the lutist berated himself mentally for having ever even made such a stupid wish in that split second of irrationality.

“With all due respect, that song... is not one meant for the entertainment of you and your family, Your Highness. “‘Arnault’ is... was... a personal project of mine.” Forwin finally answered with a polite bow from his figure, pausing in speech only to blink away the tears that threatened to well in his eyes. However, passive as he tried to remain before the youngest of Garon’s children, his evident melancholy was impossible for him to try and conceal from her.

She sensed he was avoiding the topic. Under normal circumstances, he would find himself annoyed at others prying into his works-in-progress, but despite Elise pushing on with the insistence of a curious child, the concern shining from her expression laid bare the many thoughts and feelings eating away at his throat over the topic.

Dorothea Arnault. Kind, beautiful, wonderful Dorothea Arnault. The Mystical Songstress with whom he shared his first kiss, on the night he finally owned up for being the father’s son he truly was. The woman for whom he actually began considering returning to reclaim his birthright, to swallow his own pride, just to ensure that her every happiness and need would be fulfilled.

Several months had already passed since the Battle of Garreg Mach, since the dejected lutist last embraced her, since he played songs just for her enjoyment. Once, the thought of her warmed his chest to no end, but now it felt only sorrow and grief at recalling even the melodious sound of her voice. So many questions swirling in his mind, from how she is faring to whether she even survived, that he feared he would never know the answers.

Forwin feared he would never see Dorothea again.

He gave her the love she truly wanted and deserved, like the kind one would read about in fairytales from worn books, and prepared to promise her the world. Then what happened? He disappeared on her when it meant either the Outrealm Gate he found in the crumbling catacombs, or certain death beneath tons of rubble and bedrock. He took a gamble on survival with a force he only just barely understood, only to now fear he may never return home. In comparison, death almost seemed kind and welcome, ever since he’d been left to stew over the songstress-shaped hole left in his heart.

All Forwin wished he could do was apologize for having had her waste her affections on an unworthy man like himself, because Goddess only knows how much pain he’s brought on her for having her fall in love with him at all.

“‘Arnault’ was originally meant to be a present I composed just for her, but she’s... worlds away from me now. Now, it only serves as a reminder for what I’ve lost.” With the truth shared aloud for Elise’s ears alone, the morose musician withdrew himself deeper into his room, aiming to pick up the Nohrian music theory book he meant to read from his private library before he had a guest.

“So... please, Princess, pay that draft no further mind. You need not trouble yourself over it.”

[macuilsung]

@blade-of-fraldarius​​​ replied to this post:

Dorothea would admire Wyndell*! (*'s coin purse)

“That’s... not all though, right?”

[macuilsung]

@blade-of-fraldarius​​​ said via FIRE EMBLEM : THREE HOUSES, special prompt edition (closed!):

Let's go for...

🍴 ( fork and knife ) / our muses’ mealtime conversations ! for Dorothea,

🪁 ( kite ) / our muses’ sky watch conversation ! for Petra, and...

📔 ( book ) our muses’ paired ending ! ;; for Dorothea again BUT THIS TIME WITH THEIR CHILDREN'S NAMES AAAAAAAA

AIGHT WE ROLLIN’ LATE BUT WHO CARES, LET’S GO-

🍴 (Dorothea)

C+ Support

Dorothea: Eyes on your plate, Forte! I know I’m pretty, but I’m just another student here.

Forwin: Right, sorry Dorothea, I didn’t mean to star—w-wait... did you just call me Forte?

B Support

Dorothea: Hey, Forte... Are you sure you’re feeling up for lunch with me and the Professor?

Forwin: It’s okay, I want to be out and about right now. Thanks for keeping an eye out for me though, Thea.

A Support

Forwin: Hey, Thea... If it’s alright with you, perhaps we could eat together again tonight? Maybe talk music, just the two of us?

Dorothea: How bold, asking me out on a date in front of company! ...but I won’t say no if you’re asking, Forte~

————————————————

🪁 (Petra)

C Support

Forwin: “Petra, I-I don’t think I can do this... Goddess, I feel my lunch coming up again-”

Petra: “Forwin, breathe and stay calm. Do not worry, I will not let you fall.”

B Support

Petra: “If you have distress—are distressed, I mean—then your mount will feel it, Forwin. Trust your wyvern, and keep focus on the horizon.”

Forwin: “Keep focus... Keep focus... Trust my wyvern. O-okay, I think I can do that.”

A Support

Petra: “You are more comfortable in the sky than I remember, Forwin! I am delighted.”

Forwin: “Don’t be mistaken Petra, I’m just... hiding my terror better. Please fly close.”

————————————————

Forwin, Modest Noble and Dorothea, Mystical Songstress (Crimson Flower)

After the war, Wyndell retired his longtime alias to lead House Gerth in his late father’s stead, and the Emperor appointed him as Adrestia’s first Minister of Culture. Before accepting the position and moving to Enbarr, however, he stole away to his former territory with Dorothea as his only company.

The couple returned to the capital engaged, and the nobleman avidly supported his wife’s return to lead the Mittelfrank Opera Company. Little time passed before they were blessed with children, as Allegra, Aubade, and Manuela von Gerth each took to the arts like their parents.

Forwin and Dorothea live on through scores of love songs they wrote for each other, sung by romantics across the land for centuries to come.

[macuilsung]

"Papa!" The girl makes grabbing motions with her hands, reaching up for Wyndell and clutching onto the front of his jacket. Allegra is only a few years old, but already she's showing that she'd inherited her parents' ear for music. "Song?" she asks, more a demand than a request. Huge green eyes stare up at him. "Song please! Please, please, please Papa?"

@blade-of-fraldarius via Send me Anons as my muse's child(ren) – Bonus if you hint the other parent! (open)

“What, is it that time of night already?!”

A tired, albeit amused grin spread on the nobleman’s face over Allegra von Gerth’s insistence for song. Eager as he was to join Dorothea in their chambers, especially with another little one already on the way, Wyndell had a feeling the soon-to-be big sister would refuse to let him pass her door without some musical stimuli.

Apologies, my love, I will be busy for just a little bit longer.

“Ah, goodness me! What ever will I sing for you tonight! What to sing, I wonder...!” he mulled aloud without a hint of subtlety in his volume. He hummed and hawed with such theatrical over-exaggeration that he would potentially embarrass trained actors, but he still seemed to amuse Allegra well to the point of giggles! Rather than leave her to cling at his jacket forever, he knelt down so that he may scoop his daughter up into his arms, and then carry her into her bedroom.

It warmed his heart to no end that she took music to heart so strongly, that even bedtime would excite her... however, with himself and Dorothea both raising her, he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised by the end result. Still, he wondered: would it simply remain as entertainment for Allegra, or might she pursue it someday just as her parents did? Her father could not wait.

For the time being though, a lullaby. Or just “song,” as she made a habit of calling it.

“Say, you know what? I think I do know a song!” the former showman teased, already poised to rile the child up with expositional buildup, mystical intrigue, and a quick boop on the tip of her little nose! “Now then. This one comes from a faraway distant land, passed down to a princess of a long forgotten kingdom! It is a very special song that, depending on who sings it, contains all sorts of magical powers... though right here in Fódlan, the only real power it will ever have is to send you off to dreamland, sweetie.”

Perhaps Allegra believed he simply made all of that up for her sake, but very soon, Wyndell would indulge her with tales from his few years spent... abroad. Now that he thought about it, that whole adventure might be fun to recall again through a series of bedtime stories for his children! But for now, while he strove to recall those old lyrics, he gingerly set his daughter down on her bed after pulling the blankets aside.

With a tuck-tuck here and a tuck-tuck there, a plush black eagle here and a lingering kiss to her forehead there, Wyndell came to sit by her on her mattress while he combed slowly through sandy tresses with his fingers. All this was done with the intent to coax his little girl to sleep at long last, but not before the promised pièce de résistance would come into play. So, with a tenderness to his smile and a fondness in his eyes towards the result of his and Dorothea’s love for one another, he cleared his throat and sang softly...

♪ “You are the ocean’s grey waves, destined to seek Life beyond the shore, just out of reach...~” ♪

[macuilsung]

"I want the K!" for Dorothea c:

via Send me 'I want the K' and I'll generate a number (closed!):

Result: 7: Romantic kiss!

He couldn’t believe he went and finally said it. Despite the heart-to-heart with Byleth and the few rounds of liquid courage he indulged in before the professor cut him off, he still couldn’t believe he went and told them all the very next day. The Abyssian thought for certain that he would have chickened out of his decision come morning, but no, he followed through, much to his own surprise.

Whether it was the best call in the long run, he could not yet know, but after what happened with Monica and Jeralt? Blurring the lines between “Forwin Tyrell” and “Wyndell von Gerth” felt like the right thing to do in the present, and now there were no more secrets between himself and the others. For better or worse... now the Black Eagles and Ashen Wolves knew everything. His name, background, and Crest. Not one stone was left unturned where it could be helped.

With all of that madness out of the way, the bard simply opted to retire for today. Give his brain some much-needed rest after answering question after question. Ruminate on some of the reactions he received, bracing on how his relationships might change now that all the Eagles know he’s a fellow blue-blood. Nurse his sore cheek with some vulnerary after a robust slap from an upset Constance, which wasn’t unexpected, given their families’ shared history.

Have some needed peace and quiet to himself after sundown.

It was just him and his lute behind the greenhouse, the moon high above in a clear sky reflecting on the fishing pond, and the crickets singing their tune in the grass.

“...what the hell am I even doing?” Forwin groaned in self-admonishment, his hand stilling from strumming so that he may reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose hard. Did he only just wind up ruining everything for himself, and alienate everyone he’s befriended in Garreg Mach in the process? Much weighed on his mind yet.

For one... it concerned him that Dorothea didn’t say anything to him, standing there today in the classroom like a number of thoughts were crashing in on her all at once. No, that’s not quite it—it actually frightened him deep down, to the point he can’t commit to playing his instrument so that he can even relax at all. After all, she was many things to him now: his first real crush ever since he saw her perform onstage in Enbarr as the Mystical Songstress; a close friend among a house full of elites; someone with whom he could hold day-long conversations about their shared craft, let alone sing and play with; a woman he’s come to pine for all over again the closer they became with time.

Yet he kept mum while she tried to find a decent man to care for her in the future, as much as it pained him to see her continue her romantic pursuits. Besides, he knew it too well: what lifetime comforts can an Abyssian provide from an underground hovel for someone like her? Someone whom he felt is entitled to the world at her feet and the stars above, if he could will it?

No, it was far worse than that. He was an Abyssian whose real identity made for the very sort of person she despised most: a noble. Not that she begrudged her own housemates, save an unfortunate Ferdinand von Aegir, but she once confided in the bard some of her hatred towards the uppermost class and Forwin completely agreed with her at that, even validated it! Hell, who knows better the cruelties of nobility than a noble?

An honest one at least, but honest was the last thing he’s been with her all year round.

With enough regret to make his own chest feel heavier with sorrow than it healthily should, he set his lute aside so he could simply lean forward from his cobblestone seat, stare into the water, and be miserable. Hah, a miserable bard! Such a tale would be worth a good comedy production on its own.

“I’m... so sorry, Dorothea,” he murmured mournfully to none but his moonlit reflection in the pond, and hers. “There... There’s still so much I want to tell you I didn’t want to say in front of the others. Stories I want you to hear first, so you could understand why I’m...”

The pang in his chest only grew deeper, to the point he fell silent as he watched their images ripple in the water from the wind’s late night chill.

“...and not... just those. I also want you to know how painfully my heart burned for you all this time too, but... hey, not that I think I deserve your friendship at this point, anyway.” ‘It’s probably for the best.’ Those last words, he would keep to himself behind a sad smile and a long, tired sigh, as his eyes kept staring into those of her persisting like...ness... in... the water...?

...wait just a Sothis-damned second-

“DOROTHEA-?!”

With renewed vigour, the wide-eyed musician finally snapped to attention, scrambling up on his feet and turning to face the genuine article in question. Had he shouted any louder, he would’ve risked waking up the students in the dorms! What was with that look on the woman’s face right now? It’s almost like the one from this morning—wait, how long has she been there? She didn’t really hear all that just now, did she?!

...

...

...

OH GODDESS SHE HEARD IT ALL!!!

Mouth hung agape in belated realization, leaving an embarrassed Forwin to unravel at the seams! At this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be buried six feet under with growing panic. Tears weren’t welling up in his eyes now of all times, were they?! Saints above, this was mortifying-!!! How could this get any worse?!

“L...look, I, I know you have every possible reason to be upset with me, because I lied to you about everything, but please, j...just know that I-I never wanted to hurt y-”

“—MHFF?!”

So caught up he was in his own head that he failed to see her coming, as the former starlet practically threw herself onto the Ashen Wolf and pushed her lips against his own so that he may finally shut up. Suddenly, Forwin found himself acutely aware of sensations he never expected to have the privilege of feeling: the intoxicating beat of her breath against his skin with warmth; the full weight of her body onto his engraving itself into his mind; her fingers gripping tightly onto the aged white fabric of his facsimile Academy uniform...

All of it and more overwhelmed enough to melt into the kiss and almost forget the basic human instinct of breathing. Still, it took little time for him to gather his wits anew, and so did one arm wrap itself taut around Dorothea’s waistline while his other brought his cool palm up to her cheek.

Relief within him blossomed into sheer bliss and his worries waned as though they’ve already passed innumerable eons ago. Why, his heart felt so full to bursting that he could sing whole ballads of their first kiss alone, for never in his wildest dreams could he ever imagine she would...

[macuilsung]

@blade-of-fraldarius​​ said via FIRE EMBLEM : THREE HOUSES, special prompt edition (open!):

📔 ( book ) our muses’ paired ending ! ;; For Dorothea? Route of your choice 😊

Forwin, Modest Noble and Dorothea, Mystical Songstress (Crimson Flower)

After the war, Forwin returned to lead House Gerth, but asked Emperor Edelgard if she would consider him for her minister of culture instead of minister of foreign affairs. Once granted, he moved to Enbarr, where he quickly worked to promote the arts in Fódlan and abroad during the rebuilding efforts.

Wyndell stayed close by Dorothea’s side, avidly supporting her return to the stage with the Mittelfrank Opera Company. Little time passed before the impatient lovers announced their marriage and raised many happy children together.

They live on through scores of love songs they wrote for each other, sung by romantics across the land even to this day.