#FE3H x reader

[thatanimewriter]

CAT'S OUTTA THE BAG.

➳ request: i can see you've almost hit the 20 request limit, so i hope this one still gets in in time 👀 can i request claude von riegan, dimitri alexandre blaiddyd, dedue molinaro, felix fraldarius and ashe ubert (seperately) sneaking out at night to meet up with the reader (preferably genderneutral), who they are secretly dating and getting caught by their friends/a friend? hope you have a lovely day and take care! <3

➳ character/s: claude von riegan, dimitri alexandre blaiddyd, dude molinaro, felix fraldarius, ashe ubert

➳ warnings: kissing and cringe love stuff, implied aftercare (dedue), use of darling (ashe)

➳ notes: SLAYYYY i love this request ;v; some of them don't technically catch y'all, they just figure it out

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐄 𝐕𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍.

hilda caught you guys because she was sus of you guys for ages and claude wasn't giving her anything

ended up staying up late to 'do work' and heard you guys talking in hushed voices

desperately tried to open her door without it making that giant ass creak

claude didn't really care if she caught you guys, he wasn't ashamed of you

he just didn't want to make it super public so you'd both get bothered by people

"i knew it!" hilda whisper screamed, pointing at you both with the utmost betrayal. "ah, you got us," claude said, shrugging casually and draping an arm around your waist to pull you close. "can't tell anyone though, i'll make a courtyard announcement about that one time at the ball-" "fine, fine," hilda sighed. "how long have you guys been dating?" you glanced at claude to ask if it was ok to tell and he squeezed your side lightly for permission. "nearly a year," you admitted. "WHAT?!" "shush, people are trying to sleep," claude tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly.

── 𝐃𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐈 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐘𝐃.

he's not slick, he's too awkward that dedue figured it out ages ago but decided not to say anything

he got asked about it while weeding the lawns and turned bright red the whole time

dedue really didn't care, he just wanted to know if there was a second person he needed to look out for

on behalf of his king, he might have to protect you as well

dimitri would appreciate it but he likes being your saviour :))

"you're dating [name], right?" dedue asked monotonously as he carded through the grass looking for weeds. "what? no... we're not together- not that i would hate it, but-" "i saw you both last night," he interrupted. "under the stars." dimitri's face burned at the notion of getting caught with his partner on a date, but he continued to work on his weeding. "don't tell anyone, please..." dedue smirked at dimitri's embarrassment and nodded. "looks like i'll be needing to protect someone else as well." "that'd be appreciated, but i'd like it if they didn't need such protection if i'm around," dimitri admitted, covering his face with his hand.

── 𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐎.

it was ashe who caught him actually

dedue was cooking something for you that night cause you pestered him to stay the night

ashe came in for a late night snack and saw dedue cooking and was confused because dedue doesn't like the thing he's making

turns out he's making it for youuu

ashe doesn't get it entirely but honestly doesn't want to know do he gets his snack, says goodnight and goes to bed

"dedue?" ashe called softly, holding a candlelit lamp in his hand. dedue turned from his work to look at the smaller boy with a gentle smile. "ah, what are you doing this late?" ashe laughed awkwardly as he made his way to the cabinets. "i could ask you the same thing," he responded. "i just wanted a midnight snack." dedue hummed at ashe's answer as he dished your food into a bowl and moved to quickly wash the pans. "isn't that [name]'s favourite?" ashe wondered, staring at the bowl. "indeed. they wanted something to eat, so i took it upon myself to get them their favourite," dedue explained. ashe nodded slowly as he processed the information. "so... are you guys dating?" he wondered. the silver-haired man simply smiled in response.

── 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒.

he will skin sylvain alive if he ever blabs to anyone about your relationship

he can't be caught being soft, even just a little bit-

y'all are hanging in the markets n he saw you looking at a necklace one of the merchants was selling

he went back to buy it for you, but not without sylvain coming along and ruining it

mans isn't happy about being discovered

"hey man, didn't you already come to the markets earlier today with [name]?" sylvain asked, following behind felix as they mulled about the stalls. "does it matter?" felix bit back, shoving the red-head by the shoulder. he stopped in front of the stall you'd found the necklace at and forced himself to suppress a relieved sigh. "oh, that's the necklace they were telling me about at lunch today," sylvain commented. his jaw dropped as felix picked it up and handed the money to the merchant. "wait, are you guys a thing? is that why you've been staying out late?" "shut up." "dang," sylvain ran a hand through his hair with disappointment. "i was gonna ask them to dance with me at the ball, too- OW!" the man doesn't think his arm will ever feel the same way again.

── 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓.

he's so in love with you, you're obligated to marry this man because i said so

he's meeting up with you to have night time picnics, but oops-

ignatz is there painting the scenery, but IT'S OK

you'll get a cool cute painting of yourselves made by ignatz himself by the end of the night

he won't ever tell on you guys though, so your secret is safe and you get free art

"hello darling," ashe greeted, pulling you in for a hug after he set the picnic basket down. "are you ok?" you nodded and leaned in to give him a chaste kiss. "mhmm. did you make dinner tonight? it smells nice." he smiled at your compliment and laid the picnic blanket down for you to sit. "i did, i tried to get here as fast as possible so it'd still be warm enough," he said, settling in beside you. as the night passed and you began finishing your date, you both froze at the sound of footsteps. looking to the source, you awkwardly smiled as ignatz emerged from the trees. "i'm so sorry for not announcing myself, but i came out here to paint and ended up with this..." ignatz shyly handed you his fresh painting, warning you about the wet paint. you and ashe smiled softly at the image and thanked him for the painting. "i won't tell anyone, i promise!"

[5iyoomi]

3H Leaders With an Overworked S/O

characters: Dimitri, Edelgard, Claude

warnings: none! just fluff

A/N: this kinda bled into an idea I had for them with an insomniac reader so these are sort of a mix of the two things! written for them pre-timeskip and with a gn reader (with one use of dear, darling & sweetheart, but otherwise nothing pointing towards a specific gender). I haven't written for fe3h in forever hopefully they aren't too ooc

Word Count: 1,770

‎

Dimitri

Like you, he's probably overworked as well

Being a royal and a leader has its merits, yes, even though he doesn't really like all the formalities that come with it, but that doesn't mean it's always easy

He's used to pushing through it, protecting his people and doing anything if it gets pushed onto him. That's his role, after all, and if he can take the pressure off of others then he'll gladly accept it

With you, though, he understands that's not the kind of advice you need. It's not uncommon for him to find you in the Monastery's Library hours after everyone had gone to sleep for the night, hunched over one of the large, elegant tables with stacks of papers and notebooks splayed out around you

He'll sit down with you when he catches the single, dim light on in the otherwise dark room, waving off your questions of how he knew you'd be there as 'just a feeling'

He's realistic, helping you with your workload even if you insist otherwise, that you need to get it done yourself before your deadlines hit. But he'll also hold you to it if you mutter out a 'just one more', his eyes looking between you and the clock mounted on the wall

"Here should be a good stopping point for now, don't you think? You've already finished most of what you needed to get done," Dimitri says with a soft smile, setting a piece of paper into a stack that you'd deemed the 'completed' section.

You'd been there long enough that he had time to go brew the both of you some chamomile tea, hoping the fragrance and sweet notes would help lower your stress. It seemed to be working, your anxiety lessening as you took small sips and noted the fact that you'd at least gotten the bigger, more important things out of the way.

"But-" you start, tapping your pencil against your head in thought, but your words get cut off with a yawn. "There's only a few more left, wouldn't it be better to just finish them?"

Dimitri shakes his head, reaching over to hold his hand out for you. You take it after a moment, interlocking your fingers and sighing when he gives your hand a squeeze. "They aren't due for another few weeks, right? They can wait until morning, you should really get some rest, dear."

You want to protest, tell him it's not even that late, but you've already thrown out every excuse you can think of to get him to not drag you to bed. He wasn't obligated to do any of this for you, and you knew these nights were something that ate into time that he could be using to get some much-needed sleep. So you finally, albeit hesitantly, give in, your teacup long empty and shoulders drooping in defeat. "I guess so-"

The blonde brightens at that, his thumb stroking over your own with a gentleness you'd grown weak to. It was hard to fight him when ocean blue eyes gazed into yours, his love for you obvious in the simple ways he showed his care. "If it helps, you can stay in my room for tonight. I'm sure one night won't hurt."

You nod, sparing a glance at the once disorganized mess of pages and deciding that you'd take his word for it. "I'd like that."

Edelgard

Similar to Dimitri, she's always dealt with things by trooping through them. As a more private person and a leader, she rarely ever lets appearances fall, so you're one of the few people that's seen what she can be like behind closed doors

Thus, her first instinct when she sees you nodding off in class is to gently nudge you awake and tell you to get to bed earlier. It might sound a bit harsh, but she only wants the best for you, and she thinks to what might happen if you were to fall asleep like that in the middle of a battle, which doesn't exactly help either of you (dramatic much?)

But when you tell her it's because you're swamped with work, trying to keep up with everything while simultaneously doing extra for people that, in her words, couldn't take the hint that you were busy, she gets upset

Not at you, but more at herself for not noticing the signs sooner when you're her partner of all things, and for making a comment that may have come off as insensitive. She still struggles with how to deal with these things, especially when it comes to you, emotionally or otherwise, so there's a chance she'll just ask you exactly what you need from her

She's a bit more lenient when it comes down to you staying up since she tends to do the same, but she'll still suggest taking a day off at one point

She'll take you to the greenhouse if you're up to it so that you aren't cooped up in your room all night with the idea that a change of scenery might help you avoid burning out or getting too frustrated

The Monastery was so quiet at night, most of the student body and staff already long asleep or busy with their own things. You only see a few people as you step outside, fingers interlocked with Edelgard's and a small crease in your brow from looking over the same words for hours.

You'd always thought it was beautiful, but lately you had no time to appreciate it, what with assignment after assignment piling up on you, so it was nice to get out for a while, even if the only things that awaited you when you got back were unfinished documents and half-filled in pages.

Scribbled notes that you took when you could hardly keep your eyes open. A breath of fresh air was almost enough to make you forget why you've been so stressed out. Almost.

The greenhouse was no different, the place always well-kept due to the student's tireless work. It made you feel a bit better, walking side by side with Edelgard as you're greeted by greenery and the like.

Pink and purple flowers bloom in one corner, slowly but surely growing underneath the bright moon visible through the glass, while seeds you assume to be newly planted sit beneath fresh soil on the other.

"Look at this one, it's the same color as your eyes." Edelgard says, grabbing your attention. You turn towards her in time for her to slip a flower behind your ear, her thumb brushing over your skin with a thoughtful grin. "It's good to get out, isn't it? That's why we're out here, so you shouldn't worry so much, darling."

You smile, feeling your cheeks and body start to warm. She was so effortlessly sweet sometimes; you think it's going to be the death of you one of these days. "Yeah, you have a point there."

Claude

He probably notices before you even say anything or notice you're feeling off yourself lol

He's an observant character, but it does still surprise you when he asks you if something's wrong out of the blue

"Huh? No, I'm alright, just a bit tired."

He sees right through it, but he doesn't wanna push you, so he'll just keep an eye on you for a while, making sure that you aren't overdoing it or setting aside your basic needs

If he sees that you are, he'll make it a point to put extra food on his plate for you. He'll come knocking on your dorm door every now and again to check on you, sliding a snack or drink your way and staying if you let him, though he mostly distracts you

It'd be hypocritical of him to tell you to take it easy when he's the same way, so he won't exactly tell you what to do, but he'll find a way to get you away from your work if he notices it's causing you too much trouble. He'll also have a polite word with your professor, maybe tell them that you're sick and need a few days off if he thinks it's bad enough

You might huff at him and say that that wasn't necessary, but he'll insist it was

It's another one of those nights, times when Claude comes knocking with another excuse at the ready for why he's there. You know why, it's become obvious over the last few weeks that it's his backwards way of telling you that he cares. He'll never scold you for your habits, but you know exactly what he wants to say even if he doesn't say it.

"Hey, wanna dance with me?" Claude asks after a comfortable silence had grown like a veil over the both of you. He'd made himself very comfortable on your bed, but you never actually minded. It was endearing in a way, really, even if you had to turn him down when you finish writing out a sentence, looking up at him from your desk.

"I'm busy, Claude, you know that."

"Come now, you can hardly even focus. Just a few minutes, promise." He gives you his signature smile, one that's saved for you but still equally mischievous as all of his other ones. He holds out his pinkie finger, chuckling at your muttered seriously? But he doesn't see you saying no. After a few moments of hesitation, you stand up, taking his finger in yours and shaking.

"Fine, but only a few minutes. I'm serious." You say, yelping when he stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him and taking your hands in his. He kisses your knuckles oh so softly, a glint in his eyes that you realize far too late that you shouldn't trust, but he's already got you right where he wants you, and he doesn't plan on letting go.

"I know, I know. I won't take up too much of your time, sweetheart." He hums.

It isn't just a few minutes, song after song playing on the record as you danced into the night. But you can't find it in yourself to be mad. Not when he twirls you around so carefully, a hand placed on the small of your back with your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders.

And certainly not when he coaxes you to bed, not even bringing up the thesis you had to finish since all of your attention was on him now. He presses a kiss to your forehead, wishing you sweet dreams, and you fall asleep in a matter of seconds with him by your side.

[frickingnerd]

casting a love spell on dimitri

pairing: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd x gn!reader

tags: wholesome & silly fluff, mutual romantic feelings, plot twist (the spell didn't work), tiny bit of angst with a happy ending

you always had an affinity for magic and liked to experiment, but you surprised yourself when you decided to use a love spell on the prince of faerghus

your friends were joking that you should cast a love spell on dimitri, so you knew for sure he'd reciprocate your feeling when you'd confess to him

and while it was just a joke, the thought of it kept bouncing around your head. so much so, that you eventually decided to go through with it!

during a training session with dimitri, you casted the spell on him, covering it up by using regular magic spells as well

yet by the end of the training session, nothing had changed. dimitri was behaving the same way as always and you began to worry that it either failed or needed some time to truly kick in

the next few days, nothing was out of the ordinary. dimitri never acted any different and somehow that began to freak you out

you worried that the spell went wrong and you instead casted a different spell on him! and if that was the case, you might've put him in danger…

your guilt began to overwhelm you, until you eventually confronted dimitri and confessed to him what you had done

but as a response, you just got an awkward laugh from the prince, as he rubbed his nape and glanced away

“i think i understand what went wrong with your spell…” dimitri smiled. “your spell didn't work on me… because i'm already in love with you…”

[randoimago]

Could I request Dimitri and Claude with an s/o who calls them their whole world while holding their face in their hands?

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Character(s): Claude, Dimitri

Note(s): Added some extra fluffiness when I wrote this because I miss writing for these two and they deserve the loving.

Claude

"Hey, what are you- ?" His tone is amused as you stop him and interrupt whatever scheme he was telling you about by holding his face in your hands. He playfully rolls his eyes at the affection, but gladly leans into your touch.

"You're my whole world," you tell him and he hums in response. Your words definitely cause his heart to flutter and his face to heat up a tad, but he's not going to take that compliment without being a bit of a tease.

"Oh? Are you calling me fat? I knew the eating contest with Raphael was a bad idea," he jokes and you let him go. He chuckles at the slight annoyance on your face before taking hold of your chin and delicately kissing your lips.

"If I'm your world then you're my heaven and stars," he murmurs and winks before letting you go and walking off as if he didn't just make you weak in the knees.

Dimitri

"My love-?!" Dimitri is surprised and flustered as you suddenly hold his face in your hands. He hasn't been getting enough sleep recently from studies and he was giving you excuses, only for you to do that.

"You're my whole world and I need you to take care of yourself for me," you tell him and he swears his heart will beat out of his chest at your words.

The back of his neck and tips of his ears go a bright pink from blush and he pulls you into a hug so he can hide his face in the crook of your neck.

"You will put me in an early grave with your sweet words, my love" he murmurs into your skin, still holding you close since he'd be a fool to not want to hold you as long as he can.

"Come, let's take a nap together. Perhaps then I can sleep in peace," he adds once he pulls back to look at your face and gives a gentle smile as he offers his hand to you, more than happy (albeit a bit shy) for you to join him and chase the nightmares away.

Taglist: @unhelpfulnpc

[songsofadelaide]

As a child of one of the Kingdom's noble families, you were subject to your family's many plans to maintain its standing in society. At every tail end of the Lone Moon since you turned six, when winter wraps Faerghus in its tightest and most frigid embrace, you would find yourself in the Dukedom of Fraldarius, under the watchful but caring gaze of Uncle Rodrigue, or that was what he encouraged you to call him. He said his eldest son already had a match, his betrothed a lady of a noble house too. Rodrigue wished Felix to forge the same warm friendship and companionship that Glenn and Ingrid already had... with someone. Someone he would come to love in the future. Rodrigue silently hoped that it would be you.

"...a love match," the older man said, his voice fading in the background as Felix, a boy dressed in the distinct Fraldarius blue, stepped out from behind his mother's skirts at her gentle urging.

"Say hello, cub," the lady of the house said in a tone so dulcet that it made the heat rise to your face. The boy's shy brown eyes met yours and somehow your young heart figured that you two could make things work. From what you remember, your parents were a love match— an extraordinary one, the kind many thought wouldn't work out but eventually did.

"Hello," you broke the silence with a single greeting and a smile that told him, let's work things out. "Shall we make our New Year's resolutions together?"

And every year, by the fireplace, next to his parents' blanketed feet, you and Felix whispered your resolutions for the new year in each other's ears, both of you looking forward to the fresh set of pages in a storybook that was yours to fill out and create.

"I want my swordsmanship to improve..." "I want to read more books..." "I want to get taller still..." "I want to get better at casting magic..."

In 1177, Felix stopped making resolutions, which wasn't all surprising.

Felix had no idea where to put this grief. You coaxed him out of his room at his mother's behest, but he had no words for you. When you held him in your arms as best you could, he barely moved himself.

You were present with House Fraldarius when they held a memorial for Glenn, a true knight of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, or so Rodrigue said, and not even your soothing touch could quell Felix's fist, his entire body seizing in a tempered rage he tried his best to contain. He was not the only one who lost a loved one, after all. And yet, he couldn't stomach how his father glazed over his eldest son's death. No words of embellishment will take away the fact that Glenn was killed horrifically in the Tragedy of Duscur. Felix would resent his father for that.

In 1178, when Prince Dimitri unlocked a certain bloodlust whilst suppressing an insurrection in west Faerghus, you were half-certain Felix might have developed the same grisly instinct, but you were relieved to find out that he was blatantly disgusted by the boar's unhinged behaviour.

In 1180, you entered the Officers Academy along with the other scions of the Kingdom's noble houses. As Felix grew into a swordsman of exceptional skill, he also kept you at an arm's length away, but again, that did not surprise you at all. You were a distraction to him, more or less, and he would appreciate you more if you showed yourself less to him. It was then you realised that he always sought you out at his own pace, that he desired your presence still, but only on his call.

"It's fine. It doesn't have to be me, as long as you're happy, Felix." "No," he hastily grabbed your hand. "It has to be you."

Felix brought you home with him when the Officers Academy closed its doors due to the internal strife simultaneously occurring in Faerghus, Adrestia and Leicester. It was then he became Duke Fraldarius, the Shield of Faerghus, and you, the lady of his house. When the war gong was struck, you stood by your husband rather than shying away from the fighting. Being Felix's assigned healer during your short stay at the Officers Academy granted you certain synchronicity with him. The two of you worked seamlessly beside each other, and he moved in complete confidence that you would have his back if no one else did. 

The war against Adrestia raged on for months, until it converged to a year, and it felt like you were the only one keeping tabs on the days that passed. The calluses in your hands thickened like the snow that usually blanketed Fraldarius this time of the year.

This time of the year...

"What are you doing?"

Your reverie was broken by your husband's query. It was still so odd to think that you two were married now, even though that was exactly what Rodrigue— your father-in-law— wanted from the start.

"Almost lost track of time because of how long this war's been dragging," you shrugged at him. "Happy New Year. Or not. We'll probably be asleep at the turning of the new moon."

Felix caught the quick twinkle in your eyes, his lips softening to a small smile that caught you off-guard. He stepped into your space and slipped his gloved hand in yours, pulling you further into the privacy of his quarters and straight into his arms.

"Felix?..."

"I want to be a better husband to you."

His voice was hushed to a whisper, and you could only blink to yourself as he held you much tighter. His breath was warm against your neck and it was there you noticed just how fast his heart was beating.

"I..." You started, only for a gentle laugh to leave your lips. "I want to be a better lady of the house."

He chuckled in relief when you returned his embrace, his hair coming undone from its ribbon just in time as you pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Happy New Year, Duke Fraldarius."

Felix returned your gesture in kind, his lips stealing the warmth of your breath not long after. He still can't believe he played right into his father's hands the moment the old man introduced you to him— one of the very few things he is truly thankful for. Now he gets to call you his, he gets to protect you as part of his home, and he is yours, too.

"Happy New Year, my wife."

[sencrose]

— FALLING SHORT OF HEAVEN

pairing: sylvain jose gautier x f!reader

tags: dubcon (coercion), sacrilege, religious guilt, virginity loss (reader), semi-public sex, corruption kink (if you squint), overstim, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, pet names (babe, baby, angel), reverential capitalization, takes place during academy days and reader/sylvain (20) are a similar age

wc: 5.7k (do NOT look at me)

summary: Garreg Mach's most infamous skirt chaser seems to have a change of heart. First item on the list: getting closer to the Goddess, and maybe you in the process.

a/n: title from the ashe + catherine paralogue lol. happy belated 5th anniversary to fe3h! and big big thank you to @blueparadis for beta reading this for me! <3 divider by @/adornedwithlight

crossposted to ao3

The cathedral has become a second home to you, an escape from the confines of a stuffy dormitory.

Nothing takes your breath away more than the sight of the moon glowing through the stained glass windows, painting the statue of the Goddess in a soft, holy light. Praying feels much more intimate as if your voice is louder, closer to reaching Her ears. Even if you don’t have much to pray about, you occasionally come here to bask in the calming silence, something you’re unable to experience elsewhere in the monastery. Today is one of those days, admiring the chilly embrace of the ethereal moon.

You’re too lost in thought to notice the steps against the porcelain tile getting closer.

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize someone was here,” a voice echoes throughout the cathedral.

You turn and recognize him, not that you’ve been properly introduced. You’ve been told to be cautious of him, by fellow students and members of the church alike. Garreg Mach’s most infamous flirt in the flesh. And though you’ve been warned, you’re a follower of Seiros first and foremost, quick to welcome anyone who shows interest in the church.

“Oh, you’re fine,” you reply.

“Sylvain, by the way,” he introduces himself, hand against his chest. 

You quietly offer your name back.

“You mind if I sit next to you?” he asks, and you look at him, hesitantly. The cathedral is empty save for the two of you, and there are plenty of other seats he could take.

“S-sure,” you reply, figuring he’ll only be here a moment before leaving.

“I’m kind of new to this whole thing,” he comments before sitting down next to you, a bit too close for comfort.

You scoot a couple of inches away, uncomfortable by the lack of distance. “New? To what?”

“Praying,” he responds.

“We all start somewhere,” you reassure him.

“You think you could help me?”

“Help?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he replies nonchalantly.

“How?”

“Maybe guide me through it.”

“Guide?” you repeat again, sounding like an incredulous parrot.

“Yeah. You know, like how am I supposed to keep my hands? Am I supposed to kneel? Do I speak out loud or keep it to myself? Stuff like that.”

It feels ridiculous. Even if he isn’t a follower of the church, you’d figured he’d at least be aware. You know he’s from Faerghus, whose royal family has always held ties to Seiros. Mercedes is in the same house as him, and you’ve seen her come plenty of times to pray. But he looks at you with a desire for an answer in his eyes, and who are you to deny someone a connection to the Goddess?

“You just press your hands together. You don’t need to kneel and you don’t have to speak out loud if you don’t want to,” you respond, answering each and every one of his questions succinctly.

Sylvain intertwines his fingers together, looking over at you to see if you’ll correct him. You don’t.

“Do you think you can hold on to them while I pray?” he asks gently, “I think my words will get closer to the Goddess if you do.”

You look at him with suspicion, the way a mother looks at a child attempting to weasel themself out of trouble.

It seems like he notices your wary expression, softening his features and voice to ask, “Please?”

It catches you by surprise, making your heart skip a beat when you look at the ginger strands that frame his face, how the moonlight illuminates his soft, hazel eyes.

Sure, he has a reputation as a skirt chaser, but maybe he’s had a change of faith. Why else would he come to the cathedral at the witching hour, when nobody else is around?

So you silently wrap your hands around his, and he closes his eyes to pray. His hands are warm, the opposite of what you were expecting from someone raised by the cold winds that haunt Faerghus. While his eyes are closed, you can’t help but let your eyes wander in the silence. The sliver of his arms that peek over his cuffs, toned muscles from his work in the training grounds. Your eyes trace up his sleeve, then trace down the trail of undone buttons of his dress shirt and feel heat rushing in droves to your face when you see his bare chest. There’s no way he’s abiding by the dress code.

When his eyes open, your gaze darts to the floor, hoping to extinguish any suspicion. Carefully, you let go of his hands, pulling them away as if you just put down a set of fine china on top of a tightrope.

“Wanna know what I prayed for?” he asks, pressing his hands on to the bench and turning his body towards you. 

“It really isn’t any of my concern.”

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah.”

He shrugs before standing up from his seat to leave. “Suit yourself, but I think it’d be of interest to you.”

– 

Another night alone in the cathedral, as is your routine, or so you think.

“Is this seat taken?” Once again, Sylvain sneaks up without you noticing his presence.

“No, go ahead.” You gesture to the spot next to you.

You half expect him to clasp his hands together, pray in silence, and be on his merry way, like any other worshiper. But that’s not how Sylvain works.

“I just wanted to thank you,” he says, sitting down on the pew. The distance isn’t as close as last time, as if he’s conscious of the imaginary boundary you’ve set down between the two of you.

“Thank me for what?” you ask, furrowing a brow.

“For helping me last time,” he replies.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It was nothing.”

“No, seriously, it means a lot.” He scoots an inch closer to you. “I really do feel closer to the Goddess now.”

The unexpected praise lights a fire in your face, and you hope he doesn’t notice how flustered you are. “W-Well, I’m glad I was able to help.”

“I’d like to return the favor, if you’ll let me,” he says, giving you a charming wink. 

You hope you’re not reading too deeply into this. Your voice shakes like a leaf, hoping there isn’t some hidden implication behind his words. “R-return the favor?”

“Here.”

You hesitate when he holds his hands out in front of you.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” he says, nudging his shoulder as a gesture to put your hands in his.

Slowly, you bring your hands over to him, hovering over his. You can’t bring yourself to close the distance so he does it for you, large calloused fingers wrapping around yours. They’re still warm, maybe even warmer than before, on the cusp of consuming you whole. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, delicately, as if he’s worshiping you and the Goddess in tandem.

When you look up at him, you notice his eyes are closed, and you reflexively close yours as well. It’s hard to concentrate on praying, having someone other than the Goddess embrace you. It’s far too distracting. You dare not open your eyes, lest you catch another glance of his chest, of toned muscles, of his hands enveloping yours. Instead, the thought of him plagues you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut harder, a ritual to snuff out all the wicked thoughts, though it does nothing to help. 

You shouldn’t be thinking of him this way, but it’s hard. So you pray, pray with all your might and ask Her what to do – what to do about the fuzzy feeling that consumes you when you think of his hands touching yours, what to do when his smile appears in your head, and takes your breath away? With all your heart, you hope She’s listening, that She can smite away all your worries and confusion with a wave of Her righteous hand. 

When he lets go, you open your eyes and look up towards him, a kind smile painted on his face.

“I hope that helped you as much as it helped me,” he says.

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, squirming in your seat, unable to meet his eyes. It’s all you’re able to get out. You’re sure he hasn’t helped you at all, just made the thoughts swirling through your head grow in intensity, a small gust of wind tumbling into a tornado.

He takes you by surprise, bringing you in for a embrace. Large arms wrap around you and bring your bodies together. Your hands seize, not knowing what to do, before hugging him back. Even though you don’t press any further, you feel his toned physique under the thin layer of his cotton shirt, and an unfamiliar sensation in your stomach. Your eyes find the statue of the Goddess staring down at the two of you, emotionless and unfeeling. Guilt and fear echo throughout your body like a struck bell. 

As if he’s aware of your internal struggle, Sylvain’s hand gently pats your back, delicately tracing down your spine, coming back up before his touch lingers somewhere it shouldn’t. 

“Goddess be with you,” he whispers into your ear before letting go.

You’re not sure you want to feel Her presence right now.

“Goddess be with you,” you murmur back.

–

Your visits to the cathedral have become more frequent, though night time is still your favorite time to stop by. Confusion could be used to describe your state of mind these days. You’ve only met Sylvain in short, fleeting encounters, but that doesn’t stop him from haunting your every waking moment. It doesn’t stop you from thinking about his intoxicating embrace, from wondering if he’s willing to give you another. 

But you’re dedicated to the Goddess, you shouldn’t be having these thoughts about a man, much less a man with Sylvain’s reputation. 

You’d like some guidance, an answer, but so far you’re left empty handed. Yet another part of you wants, hopes a certain someone will show-

“Here again?” Sylvain’s familiar voice rings throughout the room, and your heart jumps, just a little.

“Yes. I’m here most nights.”

“Maybe I should stop by more often.”

You don’t know how to respond, but your body does – a syrupy warmth pooling in your stomach, air catching in your lungs. You take a moment to swat away the feeling, inhaling deeply to recompose yourself. 

‘I think the Goddess would be fond of that.” You don’t want to say the silent part out loud. A portion of your words is crossed out in your head.

“I think I’ve grown fond of something myself.”

And the feeling is back, tenfold. Anticipation courses through your veins, and you hope the answer in your head matches the one on the tip of his tongue.

“Pray tell, Sylvain.”

“She’s right here.”

He kisses you gently, and your nerves are set ablaze. Before you can bask in the softness of his lips, it’s gone. Just like that, it disappears in the blink of an eye and makes you wonder if it even happened. You’re rendered speechless, eyes darting side to side, unable to meet Sylvain’s gaze. 

“Is something wrong?” he asks, eyes widening in concern. Even when he’s concerned he looks as handsome as ever. Goddess have mercy.

Your eyes flit towards the statue of the Goddess, Her silent and smothering gaze, but Sylvain’s eyes stay locked on you. 

“N-no.”

“Then shall we pray?” he asks, as if he didn’t just kiss you, didn’t tip your world onto its side. 

“S-sure.”

He holds his hands out again. This time you don’t hesitate to place yours inside, welcoming his comforting grasp, a shelter from the guilt that threatens to swallow you whole.

–

The Goddess was watching. The thought of Her seeing you so weak to your desires makes you sick.

But kisses are a chaste thing, aren’t they? Surely, She wouldn’t fret over a soft touch of lips. With that, the night devolves into an endless cycle of thoughts – rationalizing Sylvain’s actions and the way they make you feel, and the spiral of shame when you realize you committed these acts in front of the Goddess, in one of Her holiest places, no less. Rinse and repeat.

You hate the guilt that creeps up in your chest, nesting a ball in your throat, but the desire kindling in your stomach grows when you think about him.

You want it again – to feel his soft lips against yours, just for a moment longer. If he had a little more time, what would he do? Would he wrap his arms around you in a romantic embrace, like the ones you’ve only seen on stage during a Mittlefrank Opera? Would he kiss you deeper, stroking your jaw and holding your chin for leverage? Would you allow his hand to wander, tracing the curve of your waist, lower, lower–

The thought of him touching you so sinfully sends a chill down your spine and a heat to your core, but the aching need between your legs only intensifies as your thoughts grow and fester into something beyond your control. 

You squeeze a pillow between your thighs, because while you’re desperate to quell the desire in your core, you’re not sure you hold the courage to bring your hand any lower. Slowly, you roll your hips into it, wishing it was something else. Maybe you’d be able to face Sylvain properly, sit in his lap nice and pretty until he grabs your thighs and encourages you to push yourself harder into him.

What kind of praise would he give you if you were to give him a taste of the forbidden? If his hands unbuckled his slacks, another layer of him gone, and you were one step closer to being skin to skin. What would it feel like if his lips were dangerously close to your ear, whispering his secret desires, breath so close the warmth of it grazes your skin? Your pace amplifies at the thought, desperation ladled in every stroke. 

You feel something growing, a tension close to breaking, your muscles tightening in preparation for the unknown. Your thoughts go wild, thinking of rolling your hips against his, just two thin layers of fabric apart so you can still consider yourself to be in the Goddess’ good graces. It’s too much, just thinking of his large hands running through your hair, grasping your head to bring him closer into you with a kiss that’s far more passionate than what he gave you earlier tonight. Even in your fantasies, you can’t think of crossing the line, but that’s okay. This is enough – or so you tell yourself.

With a dizzying pace, something unfamiliar and electrifying washes over you, and for once, you're chanting a name that doesn’t belong to the Goddess. 

When the sensation fizzles out, you lie in your bed out of breath, staring at the roof of your room. The color of the wooden ceilings remind you of the pew you sit in every day. 

She’s always watching. You’re foolish to think otherwise. 

–

These days, the cathedral feels like home more so than your dormitory. It can be quantified in the countless hours you’ve spent in the pews, persevering through the crowds, hoping they are ignorant to your plight. You pray and pray, in search of an answer, in search of absolution. But even with all your waking hours spent in the cathedral, all you are left with are uncertain feelings whirling in your chest, no closer to an answer than when you started.

The room eventually empties, attendants leaving as the sun sets and the moon takes its place in the sky. Yet you remain. 

“I heard you’ve been spending a lot of time here lately,” Sylvain announces his entrance, further back than he usually would.

You turn around to confirm his presence. And there he is, the moonlight gently caressing his form as if he’s worthy of worship as well.

“And how do you know that?” you ask.

“I have my sources,” he says, sitting down to take his usual spot next to you, “something on your mind?”

“Y-yeah,” you’re barely able to choke out, “I guess you could say that.”

“Well, let it out.” Sylvain stretches, splaying his arms across the bench. His right arm wraps around your shoulder, brings you in much closer to him than you’re used to. His hand brushes against the side of your neck and buries your face in the crook of his neck. The scent of him overwhelms you. Something rich, full, something you don’t recognize. You figure it’s something only the nobility can get their hands on. It’s the first time you’ve gotten a whiff and you’re already intoxicated with him. Merciful Seiros, save you.

“I-I’m not sure if it’s something I can say out loud,” you confess, voice in a hushed whisper, “not here.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve been struggling with something too.”

“R-really?”

“Yup,” he states matter-of-factly, popping the last letter. He lets it hang in the silence, and curiosity gets the better of you.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Where do I start?” he retorts, pausing before continuing. “See, there’s this cute girl I’ve been seeing. Right here in this very cathedral.”

His voice vibrates through your body, a gentle hum.

“The thing is, I’m not sure she likes me back. And Goddess,” he sighs, moving a bit closer to you until your thighs touch,“I want her to like me back.”

When he looks at you like you hold the entire world in your hands, your breath hitches.

His eyes shift towards you, a knowing look. There’s no way he doesn’t notice the effect he has on you, how you breathe so carefully as to keep all your feelings inside, how you can’t meet his gaze for too long before you feel that familiar creeping heat rise up your cheeks.

“Do you think the Goddess is willing to answer my prayers?” he asks, his hand inching towards yours before eclipsing it completely. You attempt to look into his eyes, find any sign of dishonesty, but you find nothing. Even if he was dishonest, you’re not sure you could resist him.

“I’d like to think so,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

And in a rush, his lips find yours again. It’s better than you imagined, there’s so many details you miss when you don’t have the experience to go off of. The hypnotic smell of him, the warmth of his hand touching your neck, how his breath dances and mingles with yours.

When his lips leave yours, something in you breaks. The dam holding back your desire crumbles as you take the initiative to kiss him back, desperate to keep him in the now, to not lose him so soon like the last time. Sylvain doesn’t seem to have any objections, even when your hand tugs on his shirt to bring him closer.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here. There’s no rush,” he reassures you, his hand scratching the back of your head. He pats his lap. “C’mere.”

You maneuver your legs on top of his and sit down. Something presses against you and catches you by surprise. This isn’t a dream, it’s real. The guilt strikes you again, and you swear you can feel the Goddess’ eyes burning a hole into your back. 

But Sylvain brings you back to earth, back to him, lips gentle enough to melt all your worries. A heat grows in your core, and your hips buck into his, desperate for release. When you let out a small whimper, Sylvain’s tongue slips in to find yours. His tongue guides yours, showing you how to follow his rhythm, passionate and slow. When you break from each other, a gossamer of saliva connects you both, glistening in the dim light.

Before you have the chance to take in the moment, he’s already reaching to unfasten his belt and his slacks, without an ounce of shame. You however, still hold a bit of hesitation in your heart. 

“Um, Sylvain.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Sylvain adjusts himself so that the fabric of his slacks covers his boxers, though he does a poor job of it. 

“N-no, it’s not that I don’t want to,” you mutter, “it’s just that I haven’t done anything like this before.” 

The confession seems to light a fire in Sylvain’s eyes. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he whispers, kissing the shell of your ear before continuing, “make you feel real good.”

“You’re really lucky to have me as your first,” he tells you between kisses, “some of these guys are real jerks. Don’t know what to do with a lady.” His hand flips the hem of your skirt and travels up your legs.

“You gotta build up to it, you know?” he asks, his hand ghosting your thigh and you gasp at the sensation.

You don’t, but you’re sure you’ll learn soon enough.

His hand plays with the hem of your underwear, and the anticipation is killing you. 

“No shorts? Were you hoping something would happen tonight?” he asks, a devious grin painted on his face.

“N-No, I just-” you can’t bring yourself to explain.

“You’re cute.” He brings you in for another kiss, soft, gentle. “Doing all this just for me?”

If you couldn’t string words together before, the rope’s been set ablaze now. His fingers find the growing wet patch on your underwear, carefully tracing its shape. He’s so close to giving you what you want, you can’t help but whine.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” he remarks, half in disbelief, half in amazement, “wonder what you’ll sound like when I start.”

His fingers find your clit and your body collapses into him just from the contact. It’s nothing like the guilt-ridden pillow-humping session you had the other night. Even though he’s barely moving, drawing slow, lazy shapes around the bud, it has you moaning so loud it echoes throughout the cathedral. 

“Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?”

All you can do is nod and squeeze your eyes shut from the shame.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he comments while slowly increasing his speed, “I think it’s a blessing, really.”

Your body writhes at the change in pace, and you don’t know what to do. The only thing on your mind is bringing yourself to embrace him as he brings you to the cusp of pleasure, better than you could have ever given yourself. 

“S-Sylvain, I think I’m-” Even in your pleasure-drunk haze, you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“Let it all out for me angel,” he coos, littering your neck in kisses as he focuses on getting you there.

So you do, chanting his name reverently as you rapidly approach your climax, pleasure melting away your senses and fraying your nerves. The intensity is nothing like you’ve felt before, and you’re in disbelief at how he’s able to elicit such a reaction out of you, something you weren’t even able to find for yourself. It crashes into you in waves, your body trembling as it rushes through you, and Sylvain slowly dials it back down until your moans diminish into hushed pants.

“Felt good, right?” he asks, giving you a gentle peck on the lips.

You give him a shy nod.

“You wanna know what would feel better?”

You’re getting greedy, desperate to see what new heights Sylvain can take you, and you give him yet another shy nod.

His finger presses against your hole and you can’t bring yourself to look. While the sensation is new and strange, it’s not completely unwelcome. It takes your breath away when he slips it in further with no resistance from the arousal he coaxed out of you.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he coos, kissing your neck as he starts slowly dragging his finger in and out of you. A strange feeling builds as he explores your insides until he finds a home in a particular spot where you’re sensitive. You can’t hold your voice back, soft cries spilling like a waterfall as he presses into it again and again, just to hear you fall apart for him.

Apparently, he thinks this isn’t enough, slipping another finger in with ease and you gasp at the fullness. His other hand finds your clit again, massaging circles into it. You grip his shirt harder as that tension in your stomach starts to build and build. Something’s coming, something far more intense than what he’s already given you. Your muscles tighten in anticipation of it, and Sylvain pushes his fingers in harder as soon as he feels it. 

“Sylvain, Sylvain, please,” you whine between labored breaths, unsure what else you’re supposed to say. 

“Don’t worry, I’m right here,” he says in a placating tone that makes you melt as soon as it hits your ears, “cum for me, baby.”

The filth he speaks is what sends you over the edge, walls fluttering uncontrollably against his fingers as he continues fucking you through it, keeping his pace instead of showing any signs of stopping. 

“S-Sylvain wait, I just-” You stop yourself short of saying it, still too ashamed of the word, even though you’ve experienced it twice at his hands.

“Yeah? You can say it, I know you can.”

“Say what?” you whine the last word when his fingers press somewhere deep inside you. 

“Tell me how I made you cum.” The candidness of his words strikes you like a whip. 

“I-I don’t think I can,” you whimper.

“Then I’ll keep making you cum ‘til you can say it.”

It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before; determination clouding his eyes, fingers still pistoning inside you to prove his point. 

Sylvain is consistent to say the least. His pace doesn’t falter, both around your clit and your hole. Soon enough you sense the tell-tale signs of a climax, something you’ve quickly become accustomed to despite your inexperience – muscles taut around his fingers, quickening breaths, and a coil that is so, so, close to snapping. 

It happens so fast, ecstasy reverberating throughout your body before going into uncharted territory. Through this, you learn something new – how too many climaxes too close together can wring out your muscles, overstimulation delivering you from pleasure straight into pain. You wince when Sylvain still shows no sign of stopping, much less slowing down. 

“W-wait, Sylvain, please,”

“Then say it,” he commands, teasing lilt as he holds your body hostage. 

Even though your body begs for a break, you can’t bring yourself to say it. He doesn’t seem anywhere close to stopping, starting the cycle over again with constant stimulation to your clit, steadily fingering your pussy. Your clit aches, sensitive and worn out from your previous orgasms. Even so, Sylvain can coax another reaction out of you. Your legs tense so much it hurts, and if Sylvain is a man of his word, you don’t think you can handle more of this. With that, you wave the white flag. 

“Sylvain, I’m cumming, I’m cumming-” you cry, words spoken both from pleasure and fear of the pain to come. 

“See? That’s all you needed to say, baby,” he coos, sending you again over the edge. It feels good and intense for a split second before the numbing ache rolls in and takes its place. All you can afford is screaming his name into his jacket, doing your best to muffle your voice. Finally, you’re afforded respite when his fingers pull away from you. 

“You feeling ok?” he asks, back to the kind and comforting voice you’re used to hearing in the pews. 

“Y-Yeah.”

“You ready for some more?”

“More?”

Sylvain shuffles around the fabric of his slacks until-

Oh.

His cock springs free from his boxers, and it’s a sight to behold. Despite it being your first, you think it’s a respectable size, pretty with the way it flushes at the tip. Thinking about it entering you is overwhelming, considering the reaction you had with just his fingers. 

Even still, this is a step too far. You can reason your way out of the events of tonight, that you haven’t given him something sacred on a technicality. You might have done everything in between, but you’d like to think that you haven’t crossed any lines. This… This would be crossing the line, and there’s no going back.

“Sylvain, I-I’m not so sure about this anymore,” you mumble, a twang of guilt hitting you once again. No matter how many times you feel it, it never gets easier. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” he says with a casual tone that throws you off guard, the way someone might suggest a day of shopping in the town.

“I don’t know…” You can’t look at him, not wanting to see the disappointment written on his face.

“I made you feel good, don’t you think you should return the favor?” he asks, a hint of bite in his voice.

That gets your attention.

“No, I mean, it’s just that-” you stumble over your words.

“You can trust me with this, I swear.”

The silence shared between the two of you is dense and heavy, a cloud of smoke you could choke on. You turn around and look at the statue again, hoping to find guidance from Her, but you find nothing. Not Her presence, not an answer. Distant and apathetic to your turmoil.

But Sylvain sits under you, guidance and presence real and tangible. He might even be the answer, with his eyes full of life and warmth when you turn back to look at him.

For the third time this evening, you give him a shy nod, another first.

He kisses you softly on the cheek before whispering, “you won’t regret this, babe.”

His cock gently presses and glides against your folds, collecting the arousal he’s coaxed out of you. You gasp at the new sensation, warm and wet length prodding at your hole. 

“You ready?”

You nod again. With that, he slowly pushes himself inside of you, savoring the taste of your tight cunt. You’re sure he’s nowhere close to bottoming out, but the way he’s already stretching you out is enough to make you whine.

“S-Sylvain, it’s too much.”

“Don’t worry, we can take it slow,” he says, and he speaks the truth. He takes his time, patient with every inch he pushes into you, carefully taking in your expressions and adjusting as needed. Before you know it, you feel unbelievably full. “See? It’s all in.”

You look down, unable to tear your eyes away from the point where your bodies connect. 

“I’m gonna move now, ok?”

His voice grabs your attention as you look back at him, soft smile there to welcome you.

“Ok,” you mutter.

Even though he keeps his promise to go slow, the first stroke is overwhelming – the way you can feel him drag against your walls, how that warm feeling returns to your stomach once again. You watch his cock go in and out of you, a growing amount of slick arousal painting his length with each pass. 

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” he remarks. It sends a frenzy of blood and heat to your face, embarrassment painting your expression. 

“N-no, it’s not like that.”

“That’s not what your body’s saying.”

You don’t have an answer for that.

Once you’re accustomed to his languid pace, Sylvain tests the waters by gradually increasing his speed. One hand wraps around your waist, another pressing against your sensitive clit. As soon as he touches it, it’s like electricity runs through your body, rushing through to find an escape. He rolls the bud in between his fingers and you squeal at the sensation, your walls tightening around his cock as he does so. 

“You like that?” he asks, hushed into your ear. 

You can’t mutter an answer, he doesn’t let you. His fingers teasingly pinch your clit to get another moan out of you.

“C’mon babe, you can be honest with me.”

“It f-feels good,” you’re barely able to mutter out. 

From there, Sylvain pulls all the stops. His cock reaches a dizzying speed, the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the cathedral and ringing in your ears. If that wasn’t enough, his fingers draw tight circles around your clit until all you’re able to let out are babbling breaths and choked moans. 

The tension you’ve become well-acquainted with builds in your stomach, overwhelming with its intensity. To think, there’s still something he can teach you about your own body. It snowballs so quickly, your breaths becoming shallower as you feel yourself tumbling towards another climax. 

“Sylvain, cumming, cumming again,” you whine into his neck as you grab him for an embrace.

“Cum for me, angel,” he pants, his voice shaky as well. 

With a few more strokes, every muscle in your body tightens as the rush of pleasure overtakes you. It’s different with him fucking you through it, the way your pussy contracts against his cock. You can’t control the lewd noises escaping your lips, the way your nails dig into his back to cope with the intensity. 

It seems like it’s too much for Sylvain as well, as he fucks into you with a desperation you think suits him well, all choked groans and muttered curses. He lets out one loud grunt before digging himself deep into your pussy, hot and sticky ropes of white painting your walls. 

You both attempt to control your breathing as you come down from your respective highs. He removes himself from you, and the feeling of something wet seeping out of you makes you wince. Sylvain kisses your lips again, soft and fleeting. 

It’s beyond your control. You look back even though you know you shouldn’t, your eyes watering when you look up at the statue of the Goddess, and realize the gravity of what you’ve done. Sylvain’s hand presses against the back of your head, and gently guides you to face him.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you. She’s answered my prayers after all.”

[citrus-writing]

"make it hurt" (felix)

your hands grip the bed sheets, clawing desperately against them in search of something to ground yourself. your back arched into his touch as he thrusts his fingers in and out. you toss your head from side to side, desperately crying out. Your fingers dig into the sheets so hard the fabric threatens to tear under your hands. 

He brings his free hand up to brush yours, drawing your attention back to him. “if you want something to tear into,” he taunts, “I want it to be me.” your eyes shoot open in surprise, locking onto his. He slows the movement of his hand, waiting for your response. 

you carefully bring your hands up to his shoulders, and he returns to his ministrations- working you open on his fingers roughly. you moan once again, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescents in his skin. Noticing immediately, you try for an apology. “I’m sorry, i-” 

But the shiver that runs through him is unmistakable- as is the way he speeds up his movements to try for the same reaction. your hands flex and nails dig into him once again, your fingers tearing at him in a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. 

He lets out a soft groan against the skin of your hip, before using the opportunity to press an open mouthed kiss into your skin. 

Still, the scrapes and scratches you deal out are guarded slightly, as if you're trying to avoid inflicting damage. One of your hands claws down his back, leaving reddened marks in its wake, but not breaking the skin. 

His moan is desperate, and he grinds his hips against the bed. “Fuck, make it hurt.”

[fiction-box]

Dimitri x F!Reader: Kidnapped Together

This one turned out longer, but I think I was able to communicate everything from the previous ask a bit better (go check it out if you like this one!). The stakes are a bit higher, I had some fun playing around in my head, and this is what came out for you. Enjoy!

Requests are open. The story will continue under the cut.

Dimitri:

“...-tay away from her…”

Voices faded in and out of your head. Of your ears? You weren’t sure if what you were hearing was even real.

“...-ust trying to get her….-et us throu-”

“You have done enough! Stay back!”

That got you up. Your eyes fluttered open, glancing around the room while you shifted into a seated position. The walls were made of brick, but you couldn’t see the door from the three people crowding into the small room. Prince Dimitri stood between you and the strangers.

You moved to stand, but were held down by the chains keeping your wrists close to the floor.

At the rattling you made, Dimitri turned his head ever so slightly to check on you, “Stay down. You mustn't strain yourself.”

“...what?”

“She won’t need to if you just let us tend to-”

“You caused this,” he growled. “I am not so delusional as to allow you to make it worse.”

“Can I please know what’s going on?” you worried, realizing all this directly concerned you.

“Just…stay close to the ground,” he softened his voice a bit to address you. “They hit you on the back of the head while we were hunting in the woods, then used you as leverage to get the upper hand on me.”

A woman in armor gripping a lance approached, trying to take advantage of the apparent distraction. Catching on quickly, Dimitri squared up to her. The lancer’s brows lowered as she backed down again.

“If she bleeds out, know it will only be because you allowed her to.”

You gasped, bringing a hand toward the back of your head before the chains restricted you from doing so, “W-Wait, I’m bleeding out?”

“No, it will be because you chose to attack us. Look at yourselves; you can’t even control your prisoners.”

“We never meant-”

Your classmate cut her off, “But you did. And the only way you could make it right is to either heal her or let us go.”

“You’re not letting us heal her,” the fortress knight closest to the door barked.

“I wonder what option that leaves for you.”

Dimitri was holding himself with all the power and authority of a royal despite the circumstances. It would normally have you in awe, but you were struggling to focus on anything except the possibility that you were a sitting duck in critical condition.

The good news was that he was clearly getting under their skin. Your captors seemed to value both of your lives for some reason; not just the prince’s.

Unfortunately, yours was the life being gambled, and you were on a strict time limit. Dimitri could only call their bluff for so long before they’d have to make a decision. While the daughter of a noble was a decent bargaining chip, you weren’t quite sure how far your captors would be willing to go to keep you upright.

Maybe they’d wait for you to pass out, forcing Dimitri into a final decision.

Perhaps your fate would be decided only after you fell unconscious.

But for now, you said nothing. If you let these…rogues…in on how much you wanted help, they would certainly use your words against Dimitri. Then what would you have to keep yourself safe? No doubt they’d separate you.

“Step. Aside.”

“Then what? You two can’t escape while she’s chained to the floor.”

“That never stopped me.”

Indeed, the cuffs of a different set of chains were still bound to Dimitri’s wrists. He must have broken his own at some point before you woke up.

The fortress knight stepped forward this time, holding out his lance as the witch next to him primed her magic. Fire, from the looks of it.

“Pathetic. Do you really think you can stop me?”

You had never seen this side of Dimitri before. He was acting a bit more…well, scary wasn’t the proper word. Authoritarian wasn’t either. In all honesty, you weren’t quite sure how you felt about it.

Not that it mattered. At the end of the day, he was getting you out of here.

Suddenly the world spun. You were caught by surprise, but you couldn’t steady your head with your hands. The most you could make of the skirmish in front of you was bright colors and blurred lines. You wanted to throw up, yet you felt like there was nothing to get rid of. Plus, it would only worsen your headache.

On instinct, you tried to balance yourself; to stop yourself from falling over. Since you weren’t actually off-centered, the endeavor didn’t go so well, and you struggled to regain control of your body before you could hit the floor.

When you set your hand on the ground beside you to steady yourself, blood dripped onto it.

Was this a good time to ask for help?

…more help?

Looking up as your sight came back to you, you realized you had no idea where you were. There were bodies on the ground, drops of blood spattered around them. They matched the beads trickling down your hand.

Prince Dimitri was at your side, tearing through the chains at your wrists.

“Where are we?” you asked him, glancing back at the people motionless on the floor. “D-Did I do this?”

“What? No, you’ve been stuck here on the fl-” his voice quieted, “By the Goddess, no…”

His hand moved to your face, angling it toward him until you had nowhere else to look but into his eyes. After a moment, the action had made you somewhat dizzy.

You recoiled a bit, “Wh- You’re acting strange…”

He turned his head away, sighing lightly as he broke your other shackle off. Arms now free, you moved to stand before he stopped you.

“Your eyes…we need to get you out of here.”

“Okay, so let’s go.”

“No,” he again prevented you from getting up. “No large movements…I need to find a way to get you out of here safely.”

Glancing around the room once again, you couldn’t identify any living threats to your survival, “There must be something I’m not getting. Where are we? It doesn’t look like we’re in any direct danger; nothing is stopping us from leaving.”

He rose to his feet, watching to make sure you stayed down, “I don’t know where we are…some ruffian camp by the monastery- but I know the way back. They kept me conscious during the walk.”

“...that’s an odd way of phrasing it…”

“Yes, well. I won’t be doing much more of that. The important thing is getting you out of here as efficiently as possible. That means without you…moving…y……d…t…m…ch.”

You ducked your head as you felt it throb, staring at the floor and trying even just to breathe. In and out. You were in trouble, you knew that much, but you just couldn’t…

…if…if you could just…focus…

Vaguely, you registered hands at your arms. They shifted; one to your waist, one to your back, an arm to your head, and you suddenly couldn’t feel the ground anymore.

“...I…”

“Please, try not to move. I’m going to get you out of here.”

…out…of here…?

“Put your head down. I will keep you safe.”

That voice…it sounded so familiar…

They sounded so calm and comforting, so easy to trust, you found it hard to think of disobeying. How easy it was to rest, to ignore everything and rest your head.

But the feeling of dread wouldn’t go away.

“...I feel…bad…”

“I know,” he said. The voice was male, “Just hang on a bit longer. Does that sound manageable?”

It wasn’t. It sounded easy enough, but the darkness that engulfed you afterward said otherwise.

~~~~

“Dimitri!”

His head shot up from the side of your medical bed as he startled awake.

“What? Is something the matter?”

But once his eyes adjusted, it didn’t look like there was much on your mind except confusion; as though you had called out to him from some dream you had, or perhaps you had been reliving past events. You were just staring at the bookshelf across from you, dumbfounded.

“How…? But I thought-”

“Easy,” he lightly set his hand atop yours. “We’re safe now. This is Manuela’s study.”

“Oh…” you commented. “I only remember a few things, I think. I was hit on the head…there was blood and a prison of sorts…and then nothing.”

“We were attacked by some band of scum after we left to hunt for the monastery,” Dimitri frowned. “They tried to hold you over my head and capture us both…and I’ll admit they got away with it for longer than I’m proud of.”

You looked worried, though he assured you everything turned out fine. The two of you had returned to safety, after all, and you looked relieved to hear it.

“I managed to bring you back without running into trouble, but…”

He felt his face begin to warm, his eyes finding a spot on the far wall; anything to keep himself from making eye contact with you.

“...you said a few things on the way.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“You kept fading in and out- surely, some of it was coming out of your head. I…I don’t want it to-”

“Your Highness, what did I say?”

“Ah, erm…” the hand he was resting on yours flew to the back of his neck. His face was burning now, but he’d only be more embarrassed if he tried to hide it, “Please, don’t call me that right now…”

At least you seemed to be back in good health. Manuela had gathered quite the posse to care for you, but he had pulled rank and refused to leave until you were awake. This was his fault, at least partially, and he would see it through.

His position as the Kingdom’s heir certainly had its uses.

“...you’re scaring me. Please, just tell me what I said,” you looked down at the thin white sheet covering your legs, your body rigid and still, “I hope it wasn’t a mean thing.”

“N-No,” he rushed to assure you. Goddess, why was this so difficult to say when you were the one that said it in the first place?

He felt your eyes trying to connect with his own, “Then…what?”

“You…said you loved me.”

One of your hands flew to cover your face as it tinted scarlet, prompting his own face to turn a similar hue, he was sure.

“And I know! I knew you had suffered head trauma- I wouldn’t have even given a second thought to it…but you began saying all these other things. You called me kind and courageous, chivalrous and determined…”

With each of his words, you seemed to grow more and more…well, whatever it was your eyes were expressing through your fingers, it was making him grow nervous.

“I…If it is okay with you, that is…I would like to know if you truly thought those things about myself…?”

Please say yes. Please say yes. If only you were to say yes, maybe I-

“Of course,” you muttered, letting your hand lower as your gaze directed toward it, “How could I not? Especially after the tendrils of what little I could remember coming back to me, I…”

He said nothing, hoping you would find it in you to continue your praise of him. Perhaps it was a little underhanded, but he found he liked hearing you speak of him in such a way.

“You’re brave- you protected me when I couldn’t defend myself. I remember you were patient with me when…when my condition worsened-“

You cut yourself off after accidentally meeting his eyes, as though you had just begun to realize what it was you were saying.

Should he say something too? To make it less awkward?

“I find you attractive too.”

Wait.

“What?”

What?!

“N-No, that’s not what I meant. I, well, I do find you attractive, but I was trying to refer to your actions and your personality. Not that I…don’t find you physically attractive as well, but-“

“Just…say whatever it is you need and leave? I think I’ve had enough of everything, today.”

His heart clenched a little, at that. That wasn’t what he had meant to say at all, and now it sounded like you didn’t even want to look at him.

Why was it that he had to ruin this when it was so close to going right?

“That came out wrong,” the leader of the Blue Lions sighed, “It’s because of your determination and strength that I have come to understand the only limitations of life are the ones I place upon myself. You are loyal, honest, and true to yourself; even if that means going against those around you.”

There. That was closer to what he truly felt. He wasn’t sure he could manage to say much more without messing everything up again, so he opted to just close his mouth and wait.

You looked brighter though; almost like Dimitri hadn’t just ruined whatever your relationship was not but two minutes ago. That was what truly mattered, he supposed. You had gone through hell today, and the least he could do was try to make the end of your day better.

“I…perhaps you had better get more rest. I will retrieve Professor Manuela for you,” he stood, turning back to you one last time, “Get well soon, and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

You responded with a simple wave.

Dimitri shut the door behind him, taking a few steps down the hall before leaning against the wall. He covered his face with one hand. His heart was racing too fast. The prince took a deep breath only to let it out a moment later.

Honestly, today had made him feel sick with the amount of emotions swirling around in his chest. There was so much fear- both of you would have been ransomed or worse if your captors had been a little smarter, and you had nearly…

The blond shook his head. He knew fear, and that was definitely part of what he felt, but for some reason it had created an amalgamation with his…well…attraction to you. The words you had exchanged mere moments ago certainly didn’t help, and he had held you so close on the way back to the monastery that it was a miracle he was still functioning.

Shifting off the wall, he rushed out of the hallway and down the stairs to find Professor Manuela. You needed help first, even if he didn’t want to wait to talk to you again.

He’d see you when you were better, and though maybe you’d forget your conversation, at least now he knew something about how you felt.

Perhaps there existed some hope for him after all.

[glowingbadger]

Which of the Three Houses guys will watch their beloved go off on an enemy and have the reaction of "Well mark me down as scared AND horny", do you think?

Ahh, see my dear Friend Anon, this is a nuanced spectrum- but I'll do my best to break it down as I see it:

Scared and Horny:

Claude - has enough common sense to be scared, but definitely hot-blooded enough to be horny about it. A beautiful balance, frankly, though he may tease you about how wild you were.

Raphael - soooo close to qualifying for the "just horny" category, but he is a sweet boy and still wants to check to be sure you're alright (mentally, emotionally, physically) after the battle.

Ignatz - soooo close to qualifying for the "just scared" category lmao. However, as you all know, I see our boy Ignatz as very repressed and very kinky, and seeing you be so powerful and passionate definitely stirs some part of him.

Ferdinand - practically the poster-boy for "scared and horny" tbh; he feels sheepish about it, but he just can't help how your strength and force of will arouse him.

Seteth - also strangely close to the "just horny" category, not that he wants to admit it; seeing you like this really awakens something primal in him from far in his past. Still, his concern for you is ever-present and ultimately pushes aside how entrancing you look conquering your foes so thoroughly.

Sylvain - I almost don't know how to elaborate on this one because, I mean, of course, right? Of course Sylvain is worried, but also just burning inside watching you flushed in the face, damp with sweat, muscles tight, hair wild.......

Just Scared:

Lorenz - oscillating wildly between worried for you and worried for every person around you. Definitely impressed, don't get me wrong- he appreciates battle prowess. But if you're really going berserk, he's worried.

Dedue - while he's likely right there beside you in the fight, he worries about seeing you get particularly aggressive. He's seen what bloodlust has done to the other most valued person in his life, and never wants to see you go too far down that path.

Ashe - it's not as though he can't stomach violence, he just feels that there's a certain responsibility and necessity for rules of engagement when it comes to combat, hence his proclivity for chivalry. Seeing you completely lose yourself worries him, and he'll want to be with you and hold you and make sure you're okay as soon as he can.

Just Horny:

Hubert - I feel like this is more or less self explanatory lmao. Though he does still hope you'll be rational and not do anything unnecessarily risky while eviscerating your foes.

Caspar - again, an obvious choice. Honestly, I think Caspar wants to fuck after just about every battle you two come back from, provided neither of you is hurt too badly.

Jeritza - this is the most obvious one so far lol. Though, when he's more 'himself,' he does silently worry about you sharing in his bloodshed and provoking the Death Knight part of him.

Felix - honestly, it's probably even fiercer than Hubert or Caspar; the lust he feels for you in the heat of battle is both primal and nearly spiritual. This is about his whole life philosophy, after all. After a particularly tough and gruesome fight, he wants nothing more than to absolutely ravage you (and might need to be talked down if he has wounds to attend to first)

Outliers:

Linhardt - ideally, he is not present, as the sight of you "going off" on an enemy is likely to involve waaaaay more blood than he's comfy with. He'll definitely tend to you afterward, and wryly scold you for going overboard (secretly, he was super worried when he heard from your comrades of how ferocious you were out there)

Dimitri - he's in different categories depending on where he's at in his arc tbh. Feral Dimitri is obviously just horny about you diving into the bloodshed with him, while "redeemed" Dimitri has some measure of restraint about it

Yuri - it's more like "amused/impressed and horny," tbh. Though he never looses his head about it- he's still keeping a close eye on you to make sure nothing goes awry. But he won't deny that he enjoys watching, nonetheless.

[dark-konohagakure2]

hiii I saw that u write for fire emblem that got me SO excited!!!! can u write something for dimitri? lots of misogyny and him being really mean :3

tw: noncon, FE3H spoilers, kidnapping, black eagles!reader, abuse, misogyny, size difference, enslavement, power imbalance, mirror sex, abuse of power

All characters depicted are 18+

Dimitri is no longer the kind young man he used to be, even those outside of his inner circle know this, ever since Edelgard betrayed him in an absolutely unforgivable way, he has completely forgone showing any mercy towards her or anyone who opposes him, even those who aren't explicitly on Edelgard's side in the ongoing way, which means that Dimitri won't take kindly to any Black Eagle students he might encounter by chance in the midst battle.

The old Dimitri, the sane Dimitri, wouldn't be so quick to attack a former schoolmate, someone who he might have even once considered a friendly acquaintance or even a friend, but that version of Dimitri is dead and buried, killed by the very woman this little gnat is defending. The girl's loyalty to Edelgard is infuriating to Dimitri, his savage side wants to kill this loyal mutt where she stands, but his cold and calculated side wins out and he decides to prolong the torment.

Dimitri is the future king of Faerghus and a feared leader of a powerful faction, so he can do nearly anything he wants with little to no consequence, nobody will bat an eye when Dimitri brings in a 'prisoner' from the Adrestain Empire for him to 'interrogate' alone, even Felix, who is usually quick to antagonize the Boar King, doesn't even blink at Dimitri's incredibly out of character decision.

As soon as the doors to his vast personal chambers are closed, Dimitri's intentions towards her become clear as day, torture would have been a preferable fate compared to what he's going to do to her. She's a woman, he's a man, an important, strong, powerful man with a bone to pick, its only logical that she'd be forced to become his slave until further notice, until he gets Edelgard's head on a sphere at the very earliest.

"Filthy empire wench. Did you truly believe that you could side with that woman and get away with it? Perhaps bringing your holes to ruin will teach you some humility..."

Dimitri is savage in battle, and that will also carry over into bed, or at least it would if he deigned to fuck a filthy empire whore like her in his lavish bed, he's not going to sully his fine bedding with her mere presence, instead he'll fuck her right up against the nearest surface he can find, which just so happens to be a mirror.

He'll pound into her hard and fast, his pace and might nearly cracking the mirror, Dimitri will offer no reprieve whatsoever, one gloves hand tangled in her hair and the other gripping her hip tightly enough to draw blood as he takes all his anger out on her pussy, her breasts and face forcibly pressed against the cold glass of the mirror as his much larger, muscular body crowds her's.

Dimitri has never had sex before prior to this brutal session, he's too preoccupied with his royal duties and his revenge for such base desires, but now that he has a convenient and unwilling receptacle for his desires and his frustrations, he's starting to see why silly skirt chasers like Sylvain enjoy plundering some tight cunts so much.

Dimitri won't cum inside of her, he'll be damned if he lets some vile Adrestain harlot taint his revered bloodline with her horrid commoner blood and even more abhorrent allegiances, instead he'll cum on her, blowing his load all over her now red backside. He's disgusted with her for forcing him to waste his seed on her whorish body, but he'll have plenty of time to force her to make up for her apparent misdeeds.

"You disgust me, commoner bitch. There are plenty more worthy women out there who are far more deserving of my seed than you, and you just forced me to waste it. This won't go unpunished. On your knees."

Dimitri isn't sure whether he's going to keep her as his slave permanently, or if he's going to dispose of her once he kills Edelgard and finds a proper woman to marry. But then again, even if he does eventually marry, he might still keep her around anyway as an entertaining little house pet.

[thatanimewriter]

RETROUVAILLES.

➳ synopsis: v. to meet again, especially after a long time apart

➳ character/s: hayama akira, tsukasa eishi, riku dola, morinozuka takashi, lie ren, winter schnee, qrow branwen, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, jirou kyoka, shinsou hitoshi, togata mirio, dedue molinaro, felix fraldarius, shamir nevrand, vi, ekko, dan heng, blade, gepard landau, fushiguro megumi, zen'in maki, nanami kento + any of your faves

➳ warnings: fantasy!au (character is a knight, you are the royal they serve), medieval shit, major character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of injury, childhood friends to almost lovers, accidental murder lol, intentional murder, reader described as beautiful, hurt/no comfort, angst, gn!reader (as always)

➳ word count: 2k

➳ notes: the thing got graded finally, so you can now have it. sorry for any hurt feelings (not really, that was the whole point of the story-). character list is just some characters i DO write for that i think work for this story. also this won't be tagged properly, but it's fine

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

to them, the weight of their golden armour is equal to that of guilt and grief. the castle they swore to protect is a permanent reminder of their shortcomings, though they never expected to return so soon. their metal-clad figure decorates the deteriorating structure in flecks of fragmented sunshine along the sandstone hallways. the kaleidoscope of light is no longer disrupted by the servants’ shadows. instead, the faux sun lurks on the walls as they drag their feet along the floor. the scraping of metal along stone replaces the low murmurs of maids and the light footsteps of staff as they flitted around the castle. the echo is deafening, and they realise they despise silence. it isn’t true silence with the clanking of their armour, but it makes them painfully aware that they are a survivor. the rattling of metal causes them to be uncomfortably conscious of their isolated existence. glancing through ajar doors that line the walls, they longs for a semblance of home, yet they are met by blood-stained tile and mangled corpses littering the floor in unappealing heaps of sunken cheeks and open wounds. 

anita yasmine rosie luka penny william-

they step around them, gaze flickering to each of the faces paralysed by a still heart and wishes to lay with them, to feel the sticky black blood seep through their clothes and be held by the icy arms of death. they steel themselves against the pungent scent of rotting flesh, waving off the flies lingering around their head but failing to break through the helmet that conceals their shame and anguish.

the squeal of rusty hinges makes them close his eyes as they shakily exhale. their eyes flutter open at the quiet groan of the floorboards, and their breath hitches in their throat. it is as if colour returns to their vision, and they are several years younger, free of the faint crow’s feet stemming from the corners of their eyes and the dull ache in their chest.

it’s… the same. but you're not here.

silk sheets lay neatly atop the mattress, and the pillows remain meticulously arranged. they think if they sleep under the covers, they might smell your floral perfume on the pillowcases. they don’t entertain that idea. the sunlight filters through the translucent curtains, highlighting the blanket of dust that settles on the furniture and floor. the room hasn’t changed much since childhood; though it was sporadic, they were permitted inside. nonetheless, it was timeless. throughout all the phases of your life, it still felt like you.

they eye the vanity, clear of clutter but filled with nostalgia. the hairbrush is likely unusable – at least not without lacing dust and bugs through one’s hair – but it looked the same as when they originally gifted it. strands of hair weave between the bristles, and they wonder if their own locks are hidden away in the forest of DNA. 

the maids would have cleaned the hairbrush since I was a child.

they don’t touch anything; they knows what is tucked away in the drawers and boxes. there is one thing they allows themselves to taint with their touch. they pry a brick from the wall, reaching into the pocket of secrecy they’d made with you. a matted velvet box graces their armoured fingertips. they don’t feel the texture, but the box size is familiar. they carefully pluck it from the treasure trove of memories and broken promises, sliding the brick back into place. gently unclasping the box, they smile softly at the two rings that lay side by side. 

“one day, i’ll marry you!” they proclaim as you sit on the floor of your balcony. you giggle at their proposal and inquire about the rings you would wear if you married. “rings?” “you have to give me a ring to tell everyone that we’re getting married.” their little shoulders slump, and a pout forms on their lips. they sheepishly scuff their foot along the ground and tries to ignore the tears in their eyes. “...i don’t have one.” you sigh but give them a hopeful look. “but eventually you will?” they quickly brighten and grin through their tears as they lift their head to look at you. “yes! it’s gonna be like no other ring in the whole kingdom!”

they pocket the box and glance at the balcony. they kneel and bow their head, resting their right hand on their heart. when they rise, they look at the room before gently closing the door behind them as if you has retired for the night, and they don’t want to wake you. a practised method that hasn’t entirely left their bones.

as they descend the stairs to the ballroom, they nearly smile at the memory of the ball before the tragedy that befell the castle. they don't let it break through the perfectly crafted mask of neutrality. not when the ballroom floor is occupied by more lifeless bodies and darkened blood smears. they look to their side, wishing they could relive the memory of the ball and hoping they can look into your eyes as they escort you down the stairs, hoping you can share one last dance. 

but you're not here…

they raise their arms, supporting the memory of everything they long to return to, and waltz. there is no music, yet their timing is precise, and despite having no dance partner, their form persists. they ponder the events of the tragedy as they glide along the bloody floor and skirt around the dozens of corpses, each bearing a face they'd seen a million times and maybe even a little more. 

they can almost feel the weight of the spear they carried that day as they dance. they could hear your deafening scream as you were pulled into the crossfire. the sound follows them into their unconscious, a horrifying alarm. they never forgot the ache in their heart as their spear pierced through you. a human shield is a cowardly move in their mind, but the culprit had succeeded if the goal was to leave them with insurmountable guilt.

they come to a halt, bowing to the ghost of you. recalling your morning together beneath the gazebo, they gravitate to the imaginary scent of tea and pastries. the winter sun doesn’t fully reach them through the armour, and they attempt to resist the welcoming rays of warmth that beckon them to stay longer. they sit on the concrete bench they had called dibs on when they were twelve, ignoring the dull pain in their chest. slowly, they remove their armour. the metal feels warm despite the thin layer of ice along the lake the gazebo resided by. 

the metal plates rest neatly on the bench, and they shiver at the fresh, cool air that tickles their skin. they sigh and roll their shoulders free of lingering tension, allowing themselves a moment of tranquility. their eyes – drops of sunshine that had fallen from the heavens according to you – scanned the garden that built their childhood and adolescence. the twitch of their fingers goes unnoticed as they reminisce about their training to become a knight. the tightness in their throat is unacknowledged when they see the statue of you standing tall, proud and beautiful atop a marble pedestal. they wonder if the sculptor had taken a cast of you rather than building beauty with a reference. they clench their fist, imagining your fingers laced between theirs. they've memorised the sensation, embedding it into their brain each time your hands embraced over the years. flicking the box open, they let the rings fall into the palm of their hand.

“like no other in the kingdom”. heh… what an understatement.

they chuckle at their craftsmanship. it is what is expected when an eight-year-old finds wire to make a ring. they observe the jagged circle – if you could even call it that – and the haphazardly hidden wire ends that made them feel like an ant had bitten them. it was irritating beneath their little armoured hand, often coated in a thin layer of sweat, but now they crave the sharp sting that fades to a dull ache. perhaps the discomfort has travelled from their calloused and scarred skin to their weary bones and heavy heart.

they mindlessly hum a tune from their childhood as they unwind the wires, straightening them as best they can. their nimble fingers falter as their vision blurs, but they intertwine the wire into a band of love as the soft melody cracks and fades away. in their tunic, they shed responsibility and don youth while they recraft the rings as if they could rewrite history. the art of creating jewellery didn’t embed itself in their flesh and bones like combat did, despite their parents teaching them before they left the village.

a cold wind kisses their skin, and they wet their lips, gazing at their workshopped rings with a smile you claimed could warm even the most hostile souls. they rise with a newfound energy, standing before the ethereal marble effigy. their breath crystallises as they stare into the stony eyes of the statue, slipping a halo onto their ring finger. they don’t dare to tear their gaze away and finds their vision joining the misty gardens again. a short apology escapes them as they climb onto the plinth, slide the accompanying token onto your marble finger, and lay a chaste kiss on your icy forehead. they dismount the pedestal at the sound of shouting and is struck with a familiar paralysing experience. they can hear their pulse in their eardrums over the voices, and their limbs itch with the desire to escape.

no. i stay.

the faces that emerge from the tall grass aren’t familiar, but the old, blood-stained uniform brings ease. they don’t hear what the intruders declare over their heartbeat, but they focus on the sword shared between the looters. a sudden movement breaks their concentration, followed by a new ache in their abdomen, and they are acutely aware of the sword skewering their organs and poking through their tunic. the sturdy marble pedestal makes an ugly screech against the metal before meeting their back. they hiss when it’s pulled from its temporary sheath, dripping with red and shreds of tissue. the blood that coats the blade slides down the statue’s base, gathering in their hair and absorbing into their shirt. as they slump against the surface, they let their eyes flutter shut, and they faintly hear the footsteps of the intruders grow distant.

they frown as they lay on the lawn, ripping dry skin from their lips with their teeth. “can i ask you a question?” “you just did,” you respond with an ounce of playfulness.  “what if i fail?” you turn to face them with narrow eyes as if you dared them to elaborate. “what if i can’t protect you?” you stare for a moment as you debate your answer. they gaze into your eyes and look for a hint of uncertainty but is met with their insecurities as they reflect their image.  you flash a gentle smile and pick a blade of grass from their messy mop of hair. “i’ll see you soon, won’t i?”

a final smile tugs at their lips, and they exhale, weakly lifting their hand to look at the ring that failed to shine in the sliver of sunset light. the warmth disappears beneath the horizon, permitting the stars to adorn the navy skies, and their hand falls to the ground.

see you soon. i missed you. in our next life, maybe…

[aces-sweetheart]

How about some headcanons where Sylvain Felix and Dimitri are feeling shy around a female reader?

aaaaa three of my fav boys💖 the hcs are a bit short so i did some drabbles with them. thank you for your patience, i hope you like them! i did a gn!reader since there was nothing in the scenarios that would specify them as a fem!reader.

cw: gn!reader, sfw

sylvain

i can't really imagine sylvain getting shy around anyone lol

but he will get flustered around you if he truly likes you (and isn’t just physically attracted to you)

if you compliment him he'll be a bit thrown off but will quickly recover and compliment you back/flirt back with you

rather than getting shy, he gets nervous and tries to hide it shows this by being overly enthusiastic 

((think his s-support scene with byleth where he says he’ll go blind if he doesn’t want him to look at other girls))

sometimes it can be too much but you know he means well

“I love your hair.” Sylvain paused at your words, leaving you to walk forward without him. You turned around in confusion to see him standing still for a moment before catching up with you. He tried to play off his reaction but you could tell he was flustered. 

“I love your hair and your eyes and your outfit and your-” You cut him off with a laugh that caused him to smile sheepishly. 

“Ok I get it!”

felix

it’s hard to tell when he’s shy around you since he can be very stand offish to begin with

he won’t make an effort to speak to you if he can avoid it

if he sees you, he may go as far as to turn the other way or hide at the training grounds or in his room

he’ll ignore you but you catch him very obviously staring at you a lot before he “casually” turns around like nothing happened

For once, Felix wasn’t focusing on his training. He should have been practicing the new move he learned from Byleth before the next battle but how could he when you were mere feet from him, practicing magic? Despite the fact that you two had only had a handful of conversations, he was smitten and seeing your body move and your eyes narrow in concentration as you cast spells certainly didn’t help. His brown eyes burned holes into your back. Knowing he was watching you so intensely made you so nervous your spell completely missed the target. You instinctively turned around to see if he saw the embarrassing moment but as soon as your eyes met his, he was suddenly very interested in his sword.

dimitri

dima is painfully shy around you

he really can’t hide it if he wanted too lmao

he'll be a bit awkward around you but it’s endearing 

as much as he wants to talk to you and get to know you, he becomes too timid to try

so he ends up talking about mundane topics like the weather

save yourself the pain and lead the conversation/take charge please

Dimitri silently pleaded with the rest of the war council to stay in the room so he wouldn’t have to be alone with you. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you; it was actually the complete opposite. He liked you so much that he seemed to forget how to act and every potentially interesting conversation topic exited his mind until he was only left with subjects like the weather or what the dining hall was serving. Sylvain was the last to leave the room, throwing the blonde a wink and knowing smile over his shoulder as he walked out.  Finally it was just the two of you alone in the meeting room. You shot him a grin and he returned it with a strained tight lipped smile. 

“I hear they’re serving onion gratin soup today.” He fought the urge to cringe at his own awkwardness. It was an extremely lame attempt at small talk but judging your interested expression, you didn’t mind. You answered him by lacing your fingers with his and you leading him out the door. Pink dusted his cheeks and his eyes were wide at the sudden contact and forwardness, especially when you finally spoke.

“Why don’t we go eat together?”

[frickingnerd]

clinging to a promise

pairing: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd x gn!reader

summary: when the war broke out, you got kidnapped and locked away in fhirdiad. for years you clung to the hope that dimitri would one day save you. and that day finally came…

tags: kidnapped!reader (by cornelia), brief mention of torture/experiments on reader, angst to wholesome fluff, all blue lions are here, dimitri & reader are childhood friends, set during azure moon

“i promise, i'll keep you safe. always.”

for years, those were the words you clung to. that promise between two childhood friends, that you hoped hasn't been forgotten. the promise dimitri made to you all those years ago. the only hope you had, while captured and experimented on. the only thing to keep you going, even in your darkest hour.

it's been years now that you had spent in the captivity of cornelia, locked away in a prison in fhirdiad. rumors of dimitri's death had spread even within the prison, yet you still held onto the hope that dimitri had managed to escape his execution. and that one day, the two of you would reunite again.

and that day was rapidly approaching.

“what's going on–!?”

“they infiltrated the capitol–!”

“surrender! there's no use fighting them”

most of your mornings were quiet and lonesome, but when you woke up with people screaming and panicking outside, you knew something was different. whether fhirdiad was being invaded by outsiders or your savior didn't quite matter to you at that moment. things couldn't really get worse for you either way.

“everyone, step away from the bars–!”

a familiar voice suddenly echoed through the halls of the underground prison. a voice of your former classmate and vassal to dimitri. and if he was here, then surely…

“are you in here? please, answer me��!”

your heart skipped a beat when you heard dimitri's voice. footsteps soon echoed through the halls of the prison, as people started running around, looking for a certain cell.

“i found them–!”

it was felix who got to your cell first, rattling on the bars that kept you separated from everyone else. soon, the rest of the blue lions followed, with dimitri pushing his way to the front, busting open the cell door, as if it was nothing.

“dimi–” before you could finish his name, dimitri had swept you off your feet and pulled you into a tight hug that made the other blue lions panic.

“not so rough–!”

“you'll squeeze them to death, boar–!”

“careful, your highness…”

dimitri's grip on you loosened a little, enough to allow you to stand on your own two feet again. but aside from that, he paid no mind to the others and still held onto you, worrying that if he let go of you, you'd slip away from him once more.

“after all these years… i finally found you” dimitri's face was nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his words coming out as mumbles that only you could hear. “i promised i'd keep you safe, always. but i couldn't do anything, all those years. can you… ever forgive me…?”

you held on tight to dimitri for another moment, not wanting this warm embrace to be cut short. when you finally did slip away, your hands had cupped his cheeks gently and you made the taller man look down at you, gently caressing his cheek.

“there's nothing to forgive you for, dimitri. you saved me, just like i knew you would. all those years, i've waited for you, knowing that, one day, you'd find me. and now that you're here, i harbor no ill feelings towards you. all i feel is delight, that we are once again reunited…”

[randoimago]

Could I request Mercedes, Dimitri, Yuri, and Sylvain getting surprised (more like jumpscared) by their s/o who made them an entire feast for their birthday?

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Character(s): Mercedes, Dimitri, Yuri, and Sylvain

Note(s): You got it!

Dimitri

He's definitely taken aback when he sees the amount of food you prepared for him. He really hopes you had Dedue or someone help because it's just so much. At hearing that you made it all yourself, well he promises to make sure there is nothing left.

And he makes good on that progress. He's praising the food that you made while also eating it all. He still keeps his manners as he's eating though.

Dimitri does pause and ask if you should invite some others to eat with you. While he could probably eat the whole feast himself (his crest helps his metabolism a good bit), he would also like to have his friends join as well. Honestly, this becomes the best birthday he's had in a long time.

Mercedes

She's definitely surprised when she walks into the dining room and sees the amount of food you've made her. When you had teased her about a birthday surprise, this isn't what she was expecting, but she loves it.

Absolutely invites the other Blue Lions as well as other students in other houses to eat with you both. She thinks the best way to celebrate her birthday is dining with her loved ones, after all.

You can bet that she is already planning a way to thank you for all the work you put in for her birthday. You think you made her a feast? She's going to bake so many sweets for you!

Sylvain

His usual birthday celebrations had just been him hooking up with someone. But now that he has you, he actually had been hopeful for something good to happen. Not that he would pressure you into doing something for his birthday.

When he walks into the dining hall, he expects something. What he doesn't expect is to see how much food has been made. And it's all his favorite things. You're also there looking extremely proud of yourself and he can't help a chuckle.

Sylvain definitely can't eat it all himself so he suggests inviting the others. You all can eat together, some of them can have food comas, and then he and you can sneak off so he can properly thank you.

Yuri

Yuri knew you were sneaking around and planning something for his birthday. Honestly, if he wanted to, he could've found out what it is easily. But he decides to let you have your fun while he continues to be intrigued.

When the time does come and he's led to the dining hall, he can't help raising an eyebrow at the amount of food you made. And all of it is for him. He really hopes that you know he can't eat all of this.

Yuri does his best, and he thanks you for each dish, teasing you about messing up on the seasoning (and then reassuring you that it tastes fantastic). He does suggest taking what he can't eat back to the Abyss since the residents there hardly get any good food as is. But you can help him do that after he's properly thanked you for the meal.

Taglist: @unhelpfulnpc

[songsofadelaide]

Race Against the Sunset

cw/tw: Duke Fraldarius Felix x Princess reader, Azure Gleam route spoilers, no use of yn, childhood friends to lovers, family drama and trauma, long flashback, swordsmanship references, mentions of the deaths of loved ones, marriage of convenience turned loving marriage. wc: 16k (I am going to cry again) ୨୧ This fic will not use 'yn' and instead follow my usual naming convention. Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. The name isn't mentioned often and is just for my preferences since I find it jarring to write 'yn' frequently. Thank you for understanding!

For a moment, he remembered that week you spent in their estate at Fraldarius territory many years ago. He recalled the singing of the young women employed in their estate's kitchen and how you sang along as you helped in meal preparation, even though you weren't supposed to be there because you were a guest. Those were hymns to the Goddess even he was unfamiliar with.

"Blessed are they who bask in the splendour of Gloriana's unreachable, empyrean domain!"

Felix had never been a pious child even from the beginning, even though the Kingdom of Faerghus' roots were so deeply intertwined with that of the Church of Seiros. Yet here was a girl who made him worship the very ground she walked on. 

The succession crisis between the two princes of House Blaiddyd was played out like a melodrama. Birth order meant little in the Kingdom, where a singular truth prevailed time and again: those born with Crests were destined for greatness, and the Crestless would have to settle for what would be handed to them. 

You were born to your parents on the fifth day of the Harpstring Moon in Imperial Year 1163, four months after the birth of your cousin, who would become the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Dimitri's birth overshadowed yours, a fate your father believed you shared, given his position as a king who never became. 

Much to everyone's amazement, Prince Rufus doted on you immensely, so much that he seemed more human than the decrepit stand-in many thought him to be. Your father loved you dearly. How could he not? When you were born with the very thing he lacked, the blessed blood that made him so different from his younger brother, the sole reason he fell so short of becoming the king himself. Rufus cared not that you were born from a mistress mother. You were his blood— and his salvation. 

…But mistress was hardly the correct term to refer to your mother. She hailed from a cadet branch of House Charon and was a distant relative of the current head of the ancient house. That must explain the auspicious mixing of blood between the descendants of Blaiddyd and Charon, which resulted in you being born with a Minor Crest of Blaiddyd— the very same one your cousin possessed. 

When the plague swept through Faerghus, not only did it claim the life of the Kingdom's beloved Queen Consort, but your mother's as well, leaving your father and Grand Duchy household to care for you as you grew older. Rufus had no time to mourn his muse, and it was only after an exchange of condolences between the brothers that the king caught wind of the one thing that kept his older brother sane.  

King Lambert was only made aware of his niece's existence when she turned five years old, a time in which he also searched for appropriate companions for the crown prince. On your fifth birthday, your uncle sent you many an exquisite gift from the capital— a lovely dress the colour of Blaiddyd azure, a tailored coat made of the finest winter fox pelts, a box of delectable sweets from the city's best pastry shop, an ornamental dagger with a mindfully crafted leather hilt— a kind that fit your little hands perfectly— and a letter of invitation to Fhirdiad. While it was addressed to you, it was clear from the tone that it was meant to be read by your father, who only looked at the gifts in disdain. 

Rufus knew the truth behind the gifts and what you symbolised to the nobles of the Kingdom, especially those in the capital. Your existence was a threat to the current state of things and perhaps this invitation was Lambert's way of ascertaining his brother's allegiance to the Crown.

Yet he could not deny the truth of the matter, too. You were part of the Royal Family as much as he was… And the fact that your governess suggested a higher form of education for you only compounded his thoughts. 

"Papa, look! It's so beautiful!" 

Lifting his tired blue eyes from the letter sent by his younger brother, a smile lit his dire face when he saw you don the pristine white coat and twirl around at his feet, your sweet laughter of delight ringing in his ears. 

The coat was of exquisite quality, its paleness further highlighting the features you inherited from your mother— and it pulled at your father's heart so. Many thought him incapable of loving anyone other than himself, but it was clear from the way he tenderly spun you around as you danced that he cherished you. 

"And how beautiful you are, my little star." 

And there was no way that he would let you out of his sight, not even at the king's command.

"The Grand Duke of Itha, Prince Rufus Thierry Blaiddyd, and his daughter, Princess Imogene Aislinn Blaiddyd."

In Imperial Year 1168, Rufus was astounded by the fanfare and celebration that marked his daughter's first visit to the Kingdom capital, and among those who received you at the castle town were the king himself and the crown prince. He had his watchful eye on you as you gracefully curtsied in obeisance to your uncle the king and your cousin the crown prince. The look on Lambert's face softened as he bent down on his knee to receive your little gloved hand in his. "The honour is all ours, my little niece. I know you must be rather tired from your travels, but Dimitri insists on introducing you to his friends…"

"Oh! You're wearing the coat I chose for you! I'm so happy you like it!" Dimitri remarked with a smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes. His face was framed with the same golden hair as your father. "Did you… like our gifts for you?"

"Yes, I did! Even the little cakes were so delicious!" You beamed at the boy dressed in the same Blaiddyd azure as you were, happily recalling the afternoon you shared the said sweets with your father and your governess. The castle at Itha Plains had been your home all your short life, with your father, your governess, and the household staff the only people you've known so far…

"Come with me. I would like to introduce you to my friends," the boy said with an outstretched hand. You hesitated and turned to your father, who only gave you a short yet apprehensive nod of assent. 

"Very well, Your Highness. I—" You stated as you placed your gloved hand in his open palm, and he grasped you with a tremor that called your attention to his face once more. 

"You need not call me that, mine cousin. You and I are family. We are cousins— and you are the only one I have in the world."

Your astonished eyes met his wide blue ones, the weight of his statement still settling in your mind. Dimitri was your cousin, bound by the shared blood of your fathers, and just as he was the crown prince, you were a princess of this country, too. "Very well, Dimitri. I would very much like to meet these friends of yours."

"Such a pretty girl can only take after her mother. Caitlin must be pleased," Lambert remarked as he eyed the children's retreating figures. While you had a semblance of your father, it was your mother's soft features that stood out more when you first came face to face with your uncle. "It does my heart good to see you well, brother." 

Rufus was quiet in his place as he eyed the city alight with merriment. The plague that ravaged the country struck Fhirdiad at its heart, but here it was, beating once more, the castle town so full of life that you'd mistake it for another place or another time. 

"The change is marvellous, wouldn't you agree? All of this was possible with the help of the talented Court Mage…"

He wondered how Lambert's grief did not blind him to the fact that so much had to be done in Fhirdiad if he wished for it to be a dignified place worthy of its glory as the capital of the Kingdom. He had to admit that this was a feat he could not have achieved without losing his mind in the process. 

Rufus nodded at his younger brother, the two of them in their similar signature Blaiddyd azure regalia, yet still different sides of the same shining coin. "It is good to see you, brother."

There was a warmth in the king's face that unsettled his older brother, but it might have been the fact that Lambert was truly happy to host his niece and Rufus in Fhirdiad after many years. "You must tell me all about her. I doubt I'll have the time to speak with my niece myself now that she's with Dimitri. He was most excited to meet her…"

Dimitri's excitement was indeed obvious by the way he led you to his friends, most of whose names and stations you couldn't remember yet, but it was clear from the delighted looks on their faces that they were pleased to have finally met you, the Princess of Itha, and the crown prince's only known living cousin. 

But you heard the whispers as well— men who called you a "usurper"— and only understood the meaning of it all when you were reunited with your father later that day. Rufus did well to politely decline Lambert's later invitation to remain at the capital for the remainder of the week, citing your "homesickness" as the reason for your departure to Itha. 

He couldn't have you hearing those things. You were innocent… until he said otherwise. 

On the carriage ride back to your home, your father held your hand in his. "Did you enjoy your time at the capital, my little star?" 

You happily nodded your assent to his query. "Yes, papa! I had such a fun time with Dimitri and his friends! They were all so nice to me!"

A dark-haired boy was particularly awestruck by your presence, evidently surprised to see the resemblance between you and your cousin firsthand. The nameless boy shyly yet quickly stuffed his present into your small hands, and you held onto it for the rest of the day, the pretty wrapping paper crinkling in your grip. You were only able to ascertain what it was when the ribbons eventually came undone— a little decorative dagger with a blunt blade made of Mythril, the hilt delicately crafted with precious aquamarine stones.

"Will we come back again? To Fhirdiad? Dimitri said that I would always be welcome there… That we would always be welcome there. Because we are a family," you wondered aloud, the ornate dagger still in your hands. "I know that some of the people there hate me… but I would never take what isn't mine, papa. Madam Liadan told me that I shouldn't do it because it's bad… and the Goddess would punish me…"

Rufus was evidently surprised by your statement, which was far too forward for your age. He lamented the fact that he wasn't able to shield your ears from the mindless prattle of the Kingdom nobles under Lambert's file. 

Had he been the one… you would be his heir. The crown princess. He offered you no more words, but simply hoisted you on his lap and held you in his arms until you fell asleep, the exhaustion and excitement of the day finally settling in your little bones. You clung onto the gifted dagger until you arrived back at Itha, refusing to part ways with it even as your father tucked you into bed. 

That night, you dreamed of a dark-haired boy in aquamarine, his hazel eyes disappearing into his smile as he held out a gloved hand to you. 

Following your first meeting, Dimitri often requested your presence at the capital. The boy only spent a day with you but already considered you one of the most important people in his life. Rufus received countless letters of inquiry and invitation and eventually relented— allowing you to visit every once in a while, especially since it was at the crown prince's behest. 

Your visits to Fhirdiad were often short but memorable. While you spoke of the trivialities of your life in Itha, Dimitri often talked about how wonderful it would be to have your constant support and presence with him at the capital. It almost sounded like he was asking you to move there. 

"It's nice to visit every once in a while… But papa has stressed the importance of my presence at home. As your future Grand Duke of Itha, I still have much to learn, and as do you, as our future King," you told him from across your table, laden with a spread of sweet tea and pastries for your tea party for two that afternoon. "Speaking of which, where is Uncle Lambert? I have not seen him since this morning."

"Father is on a campaign further north," the young prince replied to your query. "In Sreng."

"I pray to the Goddess for his safety…" You said rather quietly. "Surely they did not send him there unprepared…"

"You need not worry. Father has the finest men in the Kingdom riding by his side," Dimitri smiled at you. "Even I am not troubled in the least bit. Those men are his closest friends."

Friends. Your memory was jogged. 

"That reminds me… When I first visited Fhirdiad, one of your friends presented me with this lovely dagger," you started, carefully pulling out the tiny ornamental blade from your floral embroidered satchel. "I never got around to asking his name. Your friend with the pretty black hair, I mean."

Dimitri inspected the dagger and easily recognised who it was from by the colour of the gemstones that dotted the hilt. "You must be talking about Felix. He is the second son of Rodrigue, who serves as my father's right hand at present."

"Felix…" 

"If you'd like, mine cousin, I can ask Felix to come here as well on your next visit," Dimitri stated as he returned the dagger to you. "That way, you can thank him for his present."

"I would like that!"

"Your Highness," one of the house's older female servants arrived at the garden where your tea party was being held and gave a quick bow to your cousin. "Your weapons instructor is here. It is time for your lessons."

"Is that so?" Said the boy with a frown. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut our tea time short…"

"Weapons instructor? You mean you study how to use weapons?" You asked rather curiously. 

"Yes. I will have to learn how to properly wield Areadbhar, the Hero's Relic entrusted to our family, though I am still not allowed to hold it, of course…" he replied, catching the curious yet crestfallen expression on your face. "You are to be the Grand Duke of Itha in the future. I believe you should at least know the basics of wielding a weapon. Would you… like to come with me, mine cousin?" 

Dimitri saw the shine of wonder that lit your eyes this time, your excitement clearly uncontainable as you leaped off your chair. "Oh, can I really?!" 

"Of course you can. I will have someone prepare a change of clothes for you," he said with the same warm smile as he beckoned the elderly servant to do as he had told. "But I must warn you. Gustave is a strict teacher. Just as he does not take it easy on me, he will not take it easy on you, too."

And not only was he strict, but an incredibly effective teacher. Despite his apprehension, Gustave was able to drill down the first principles of swordsmanship into you, even as you struggled in the lengthy trousers lent to you by your cousin. He sensed the same potent strength within you so akin to the king— and the crown prince… the blessedness of your blood. 

The power of a Crest. 

The feel of a sword was so different from holding but a mere dagger. You felt its weight in its entirety, dragging your shoulders down unless you put your back into lifting it. As you practised your swings with a blunted iron sword, Dimitri held an iron lance in his slightly larger hands, watching you sweat at your diligent efforts.

"Why did you teach her the sword, Gustave? Aren't axes and lances your specialty?" 

"The sword is easy to teach to a beginner, Your Highness. It seems she has taken a shine to it, too," the older man stated, his tired blue eyes drawn to the corner where you stood, cutting through the air with the dull weapon he chose for you. "I do not want to cause any trouble by teaching her the lance. The princess, she… She must not get the idea that she, too, can wield your family's Hero's Relic. Not only is it a weapon of old, it is a symbol of your sovereignty. She must never aspire to even just hold it in her hands." 

As your visits to the capital grew more frequent, the time you spent with your father grew less. Rufus always made time for you whenever you asked, but it was clear that he was busy with the affairs of Itha and many other discussions that required his attention more and more. Contrary to your initial thought that he would get angry at the swordsmanship lessons you had with Gustave at Fhirdiad, your father was amazed at your skill and the progress you have made so far. 

In fact, Rufus was so pleased with your efforts that he purchased a rapier of excellent quality for you. You and Dimitri only admired it from inside its sheath and leather case as you continued your lessons with the red-haired knight, who marvelled at your shared strength and skill, which was clearly a family trait. 

Gustave no longer looked at you with unease and trepidation whenever he instructed you but with a newfound admiration, especially on the rare occasions when he permitted you and the prince to spar against each other. You declared outright, after all, that you wielded your blade in the service of your king and your crown prince. 

The skirmish between the two young royals would often draw the attention of many knights and squires in the training grounds, who watched in awe at the sight of your shared exerted effort. Many have learned to watch out for stray sparks and splinters whenever your weapons broke apart from yours and the crown prince's sheer strength.

Dimitri was a fierce opponent even at your young age. He never went easy on you but did his best to match your ferocity. You possessed similar Crests which meant you stood on equal ground, even though you were a girl. You didn't see any shame in losing to each other, either, but often considered each loss a learning curve. Your hands— now callused after how many moons of arduous training with the blade— no longer shook as your training sword clashed against your cousin's training lance. 

It was during that sparring match that you encountered the boy who gifted you the aquamarine dagger once more, his present now one of your most prized possessions. 

"So the rumours were true. You have been training the Princess of Itha as well, Sir Gustave. I can only imagine the number of weapons they've already broken," said an older boy with the same long and dark hair as Felix. He eyed the bout between the royal cousins and was both amazed and troubled at how well you could hold yourself against the prince. "It seems His Highness has found himself a stimulating training partner. That saves me some of the exhaustion, at least."

"Well met, Glenn. The princess has proven to be a keen student herself," the older knight stated as he acknowledged the presence of the two brothers. "She will be an asset to the Kingdom in time of need." 

An asset is what many wished you'd be, but there was no denying the disquieting possibility that you may be used against the Royal Family— even though you were part of it, too. 

"Well, here she is, Felix. A far cry from when you last saw her, huh?" The older boy, Glenn, chuckled as he placed a hand on his younger brother's head of dark hair. "You should join them. I'm sure Sir Gustave wouldn't mind another head to look after."

"You're free to join them, Felix. I know you've sparred with His Highness before, but I must warn you that the princess is not someone to be underestimated," Gustave said as he walked over to the centre of the castle training ground to call for a truce between the sparring cousins. 

Felix stood there, his warm hazel eyes following the length of the prince's spear as its blunt pointed end met with the dull edge of your training blade. Dimitri lowered his weapon as his blue eyes fell to your face, a look of concern washing over him when he saw a small scratch on your cheek. He quickly reached out to cup your grazed cheek, but you only laughed as you gently swatted his hand away.

"Are you hurt anywhere else? I must have not noticed…" 

"I'm fine, Dimitri! I swear!"  

It was only when Gustave gestured towards the direction of the spectating young noble that you noticed him, another smile lighting up your face as you and your cousin made your approach. 

"Felix! It's good to see you!" Said Dimitri as he held you by your hand. "My cousin had been looking forward to seeing you again."

"Your Highness," came Felix's rather distant and embarrassed greeting to his friend. He echoed the same sentiment as he finally came face to face with you this time. "Your Highness."

"H-Hello," came your nervous salutation. "I-I wanted to say thank you f-for your present when we first met."

"You're welcome, Your Hig—" 

"You can call me by my name," you stated a bit more confidently this time. "A-Are you here because Dimitri said I wanted to see you again?" 

"I— I am, my lady," the dark-haired boy sputtered as he shifted his gaze from you to the prince, who had a pleased smile on his face that slowly shifted into a chuckle. 

"She said she did not need such formality, Felix. Just as you and I are friends, so are the two of you now," said Dimitri as he reached for his friend's gloved hand. He then brought your hand forward and engaged in a three-way handshake. "Now then, shall we call it a day? I believe you and Felix have a lot of catching up to do." 

"W-We do?" Came your sheepish query. A soft laugh left your lips as you placed a warm hand on the back of your neck. "Well, if… If Felix i—"  

"A-Actually, I would like to c…" Felix stepped up with a more determined expression on his face. "I would like to challenge you to a sparring match, Princess." 

"I—"

"I-If you're amenable to that, of course!" 

"I'd like that very much! I'm sure Dimitri is bored stiff having to spar with me all the time."

"I'm pretty sure you're talking about yourself," the young prince said with a smile and a small sigh of defeat. "Well then, carry on, my dear cousin. If Felix is here, then I'm certain Glenn is as well. He shall be my training partner."

Dimitri approached Gustave and gestured in your direction, clearly advising the older knight of your intention to spar with the second son of House Fraldarius. You adjusted your training clothes and trousers, picked up your sword once more and took a deep breath. 

From your lessons with your governess, you knew that House Fraldarius is a family of warriors. Rodrigue earned his title as the Shield of Faerghus for defending the king in their last military excursion to Sreng. His eldest son, Glenn, was a knight in the making and Dimitri's preferred training partner, seeing as the older boy could keep up with the prince's stamina. 

It was clear from his movements that Felix had the build and stride of a child at ease in battle. Such was their family's claim to success, apart from the fact that they, too, were the progeny of one of the Ten Elites. Your opponent shed his winter coat, a striking aquamarine blue with a collar made of the same fine winter fox pelts his family could afford. In his hands was a similar training sword, and in his eyes was a spark— an obvious exhilaration at having to do battle with an unfamiliar adversary. 

"I won't go easy on you just because you're a princess," he said as he raised his blade and assumed his battle stance. "Just because you're my friend."

His statement was bold yet bright, compelling you to step up to the occasion with the same excitement filling your chest up to your throat. You steadied your feet and raised your blade in response to his declaration. "I welcome the challenge! Come at me, then!"

In Imperial Year 1171, the Saintess, Cornelia, welcomed an Imperial lady to her home, and the King was so besotted by her that he married her in the shadows. Lady Patricia was a kind woman who raised the prince as her own, and yet… There was a certain sadness to her that you couldn't quite put a finger on. It was during one of your visits to Fhirdiad that you were introduced to each other, and the older woman warmed to the idea of having you around as her company.  

That same year, a girl from the Empire arrived in Fhirdiad, too— and there were whispers about her being a princess, too. You saw the delight that lit your cousin's face whenever he spent time with her, a girl whose air of precocious maturity matched the rumoured title she held. The girl, who simply introduced herself as El, taught you and Dimitri how to dance, and took pleasure in gently commanding your movements. 

"You need to learn how to dance, too, Immie. You're a princess, after all!" 

The young prince could only laugh and smile to himself whenever you blundered a step as El's partner. He cherished this memory— of you and him dancing with the girl who wore Adrestian crimson amid the pale blue cold of Faerghus.

There was a sadness in her you couldn't quite comprehend as well, so akin and similar to that of your new aunt. You tried your best to make them feel welcome in the capital, Dimitri even more so, but you both lamented being unable to do anything to ease the burden of their loneliness. 

You could relate to them in a way, especially since you've been seeing your father less and less. The day you last saw him was on the annual New Year's hunt at the Itha Plains, which did not go as planned since Rufus was inebriated from the festivities the previous night. He, along with his counsel and companions, most of whom were family members of the Kingdom's western lords, rode deep into the thicket in the heart of the plains, closely followed by you and your attendants on horseback. 

While it didn't please you to see your father drunk beyond his wits, the very thing you couldn't stand back then was the sight of several noble-born women flocking around him. They lauded his missed strikes, the sound of their shrill voices nothing but grating to your ears. And it annoyed you even more that he relished the attention.

You took the minibow you were equipped with and released a single arrow that struck a startled forest fox, much to the surprise of your father and his counsel and companions. 

"Th… The first ki—" 

You did not even wait for the knight to finish his declaration and rode towards your father with an indignant expression before lowering your head in exaggerated, mock reverence. 

"May you have a blessed and bountiful hunt, Grand Duke," you coldly stated before riding off to the castle, leaving him behind with the rest of his men. You made your way to Fhirdiad not long after, not a single response from your father even after you sent word that you arrived there safely. 

Part of you wanted to return home to Itha to see him. To reconcile with him. But part of you also wanted him to suffer in silence. 

Your seemingly short visits to the capital soon turned into moons. And before you knew it, you were celebrating your birthday with your cousin's family rather than returning home to Itha. Your uncle and aunt were happy to have you there with them, but Lambert understood that you longed for your father, too, though your pride wouldn't allow you to admit it. 

The king presented you with many gifts from his side of the family, but there was one Dimitri did not recognise as theirs— another leather case that contained yet another sheathed blade. "This is from your father. I believe he also has a letter for you."

It was another exquisite sword for you, the Crest of Blaiddyd engraved onto its silver blade. Along with it came a thick fur scarf made of the striking scarlet pelt of forest foxes native to the Itha Plains. You tried to receive the presents without tearing up and only read your father's message in the silence and solitude of your bedchambers after all the festivities celebrated in your name.  

"Happiest Birthday, my little star.  May you use this blade to strike forth and cut a path to your destiny, which I am hard at work to see come to fruition.    Papa misses you so." 

The letter was brief and had little detail, but you could tell from the erratic handwriting that your father was grief-stricken in his attempt at reaching out to you. 

He would have to wait a bit longer. 

The following day was your birthday celebration with your friends, all of whom piled presents upon presents in your arms once more. Despite being Dimitri's friends originally, they welcomed you into the fold as part of their close-knit circle. Sylvain, the heir of House Gautier, gifted you with a classical board game you used to play with your father, while Ingrid, the daughter of Count Galatea, presented you with a pair of fine leather riding boots. 

This year, Felix gifted you yet another dagger, but this time was different, for he had given you a functioning toothed knife rather than another ornamental trinket. 

"The Itha Plains is one of the best hunting grounds in the Kingdom, and perhaps all of Fodlan. As its princess, you're bound to host hunts there sooner or later. I can only hope that this will serve you well," he stated, handing his present to you with a short bow. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Felix. And to everyone, too, for all your lovely presents! While all of these are so precious to me, the mere fact that you're here to celebrate this day with me warms my heart," you beamed at your circle of friends as they sat across from you, your table in the castle garden filled with sweet and savoury snacks and flowering tea. "I'll be going home tomorrow. As always, I'll carry my time here in my heart… And I hope to be back soon. For now, I have to speak to my father."

"Ah, that reminds me. Felix mentioned earlier that he can accompany you on your way back to Itha before he heads back to Fraldarius," Dimitri stated as he lifted his head from his cup of tea. "Have you not told her yet, Felix?"

"How thoughtful of you, Felix. Though I must tell you now that I have no intention of riding by carriage," you replied to your cousin's statement with a smile before eventually turning towards the dark-haired boy. "I will go on horseback, giving me the perfect opportunity to break in these lovely boots Ingrid got for me."

"And that gives us the perfect opportunity to race, too, Princess," Felix said with a small snort of derision. "That is if you're not against getting those new boots dirty, of course."

"Wanna make a bet while we're at it, too?" You said with a laugh. "The loser will do whatever it is the winner wants."

"Deal."

Dimitri could only shake his head in defeat as he listened to your thoughtless wager. By nightfall, he came to visit your bedchambers one last time before you went your way home. He found you packing your belongings, among those the ornate aquamarine dagger Felix first gifted you years ago. It sat on your bedside table on a special wooden stand carved by one of Grand Duchy's household staff. 

You placed the toothed dagger next to the jewelled one and smiled to yourself. "I have so many knives and swords."

"It is a thoughtful gift. I don't know if this has been taught to you, but we from the Kingdom consider such weapons as tools of destiny. I believe Felix wishes for you to cut open a path forward for yourself…" 

For an object to hold such weight… 

"And though it might be purely ornamental, its message doesn't really change," Dimitri stated as he sat down next to you on the edge of your bed. "You are the Princess of Itha, but if there is anything else you wish to be, you… You have only to tell me. So we can discuss it."

"Well, I…" You started, a sheepish grin now on your face. "It might sound like a girlish dream, a-and maybe it is to you, Dimitri, but I…" 

You beckoned him to lean down so that you could whisper your tender dream in his ear. A gentle laugh left his lips as he nodded to himself. "I think we can do something about that."

"But I will continue doing my best… so that he'll like me for who I am."

"I'm pretty sure he already likes you as much, my dearest cousin."

By daybreak the following morning, a retinue from the Grand Duchy Army was prepared to receive you, and they were surprised to see that you'd already mounted your horse, opting away from the carriage they readied for you. 

Riding beside you was the second son of House Fraldarius, his dark hair already tousled by the calm morning breeze. Several Fraldarius soldiers tasked with his protection shuffled into your retinue's line. 

"We'll race when we catch sight of Itha Castle," you declared as you gave your steed a gentle kick, prompting it forward. "For now, we have all the time in the world to talk, Felix. Have you thought of a prize if you win?"

"I have," came the boy's silent but confident response. 

"I suppose I should think of one now, then."

"We have all the time in the world," Felix echoed your sentiment with a small smile on his face. "Consider it carefully, Princess."

From a view of a map, the Itha Plains was but a stone's throw away from Fhirdiad, but travel to and from still took at least half a day. The boy riding next to you asked you questions about your early childhood— from before you knew him— and even went so far as to ask you about your intentions in the future. 

"I know that many still think I am a usurper… And that no matter how much time I spend in the capital, they will still look at me like I would intentionally cause a succession crisis," you said with a defeated chuckle, but not before raising your eyes to meet his gaze, your vision unclouded and clear of any hint of deception. "I've said it before and I will say it again— I've no intention of taking what isn't mine. When the time comes and if the need ever arises, I will fight for the Kingdom as Dimitri's sword. I've no intention of being Queen." 

"That's reassuring to hear." 

"I'm glad to hear you think that, our future Duke Fraldarius."

By the time the afternoon sun had made its way up in the sky, you and Felix had already spoken about nearly everything you could— and you already spotted your castle's first turret from across the horizon. 

"Race you," you declared to him, gathering your horse's reins before giving it a small yet impactful smack on its behind. Your steed picked up its pace as the path towards the castle slowly tapered upward. While you were sure you had a headstart, you caught a flash of aquamarine in the corner of your eye. Your horses were sprinting alongside each other at what seemed to be equal speeds, but you could only laugh out loud as Felix and his steed narrowly edged you out and arrived at the castle courtyard mere seconds before you could. 

"Welcome home, Princess," the dark-haired boy stated with a small smirk on his fine face. "Expect to see me again soon." 

"I eagerly await that day, Felix," you said with a smile and a nod. "Thank you for taking the time to accompany me back to Itha. Please take care on your way home."

"Dearest ■

How fare you, my dearest cousin? Last I heard from you, you arrived at Itha safe and sound. It does my heart well to know that you made it back home safely.

I only heard from Rodrigue the other day that you spent about a week in Fraldarius at Felix's request. I thought your loss would teach you not to make such ill-considered gambles in the future, but it seems you enjoyed your time there with Felix and his family… Are you perhaps grateful for that loss? It sounded like a win either way.

I am more surprised at how you and Felix managed to convince Uncle Rufus to permit you to go on that excursion. The old man watches over you like a hawk, as far as I know. Regardless, I hope you had fun. 

El says she misses you. I do, too. 

I hope to see you again soon. Please tell me all about your trip to Fraldarius. I am pleased to hear that you and Felix are getting along so well. 

Sincerely yours, 

Dee."

"Dearest Dee,

How fare you, my dearest cousin? I have been well and I hope you are, too. I apologise for my lack of communication with you lately… and for the lack of visits to Fhirdiad. Papa and I had a lot of catching up to do. 

Let us just say we have reconciled and leave it at that. Papa apologised for his mindless actions the last we met and I apologised for my impetuousness. 

Can I ask you how you felt when Uncle Lambert remarried? I am not too keen on the idea, but I suppose papa is still a man… I just wished he would choose his companions wisely.  

And as you already know, I spent quite a vacation at the dukedom. It was not so much a vacation, really, but more of a training camp. From sun up to sun down, Felix and I have done nothing but spar, hunt, and maintain weapons. Lord Rodrigue almost sent me home when Felix made out with their family's Hero's Relic without permission. It's a terrifying thing, isn't it? A Hero's Relic. The shield almost seemed alive and breathing to me. I shudder at the thought of having to wield something so… grotesque. But you've been training for that your whole life. 

I miss El terribly, too. And you, too, of course. 

I'll tell you all about my trip to Fraldarius when I visit Fhirdiad again soon. For now, stay warm and stay safe.

Yours truly,

 ■"

In Imperial Year 1176, your uncle the king perished in the Tragedy of Duscur, along with many other knights and vassals of the Kingdom. Duke Fraldarius lost his son Glenn in the clash, too, and you couldn't shake the thought that something more nefarious occurred in what should have been a peaceful diplomatic mission. 

And even as you pleaded in tears to be allowed to go to Fhirdiad to see your cousin, who had just lost his own father, Rufus did not permit you to go. 

"The Grand Duke is right, Princess. There is no need for you to rush," the Saintess, Cornelia, whom your father had taken as one of his closest companions in more recent times, also dissuaded you from heading to the capital. She spoke of the right moment to make your appearance, which was strange since you wanted nothing but to be by Dimitri's side at that time. 

…Something about your father's calmness about the catastrophe unnerved you. His reaction was almost inhuman, but you didn't want to give it too much thought. He could have been shocked, for all you knew…

By the time you were finally allowed to visit Fhirdiad, your father's regency had been finalised, and the nobles of the capital and the castle's household only seemed to look at you with even more contempt. You did not see much of your cousin even though you remained in there for his sake. The lords loyal to the late king evidently did not want you around the crown prince, either. 

You were almost violently rebuffed that one time you tried to help Dimitri when he was having a panic attack. His unfamiliar guardian from a foreign land shoved you away and spoke to you in broken sentences— both in the language of Fodlan and Duscur. It was only when your cousin placed a reassuring hand on the imposing boy's shoulder and explained to him who you were that he was able to quiet down.

"She is my cousin, Dedue. The only one I have in the world."

Dimitri, who was the sole survivor of the tragedy, was inconsolable for the first few moons after the horrific incident, and even you could not pick up your sword to train without being reminded— without imagining the hellscape he endured and survived— and the eerie feeling that clawed at your chest when you recalled your father's unbothered expression when he received the news of his brother's death. 

Whispers of your father's involvement in your uncle's death did not help your reputation in the capital, either, and the fact that Rufus did little to disengage himself from the rumours only compounded the frigid treatment you've been receiving from the nobles and the castle staff. 

The only ally you ever had was gone, too, driven away by his shame. Everyone had the same response when you asked about Gustave's whereabouts— "He's gone."

At Felix's behest, you were present with House Fraldarius when they held a memorial for Glenn, a true knight of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, or so Rodrigue said… But not even your soothing touch could quell Felix's fist, his entire body seizing in a tempered rage he tried his best to contain. He was not the only one who lost a loved one, after all. And yet, he couldn't stomach how his father glazed over his eldest son's death. No words of embellishment will take away the fact that Glenn was killed horrifically in the Tragedy of Duscur. Felix would resent his father for that.

It was Rodrigue who implored you to return to Itha while Dimitri gathered his bearings. He knew of the grievous treatment you endured in the capital, even more so now that Rufus preoccupied himself with the Saintess's company more than anyone else's.  

"His Highness will certainly ask for you once he has figured everything out, Princess. Return home for now. I'm certain you're tired of all the suspicion yourself."

And you did so, only because it was true that you could no longer abide by the royal household's disdain for you. You did not know that it would take Dimitri four years to reach out to you again, the boy you knew changed beyond recognition. 

In Imperial Year 1178, Dimitri, the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and Felix, a knight in the making and the Heir of House Fraldarius, were tasked with suppressing an insurrection in Western Faerghus. Many of the knights who accompanied them attested to seeing the prince roll over the rebels with maniacal bloodlust.  

You were half-certain Felix might have developed the same grisly instinct, but you were relieved to find out that he was blatantly disgusted by the boar's unhinged behaviour. The incident prompted him to step away from his knightly vows, his sole intention now was to become a swordsman of unparalleled skill. 

You spent the past few years handling the affairs of Itha as the acting Grand Duke. As the regent, Rufus spent his days holed up in Fhirdiad under the thrall of the Saintess, Cornelia. He did not bother to manage the Kingdom, let alone reach out to his only daughter. 

…Though you knew for a fact that you may not be your father's only child now. 

You received no word at all from Dimitri, either, and you could only assume that he was busy with his responsibilities and studies as the crown prince. 

Or maybe he wanted nothing to do with you, either. 

Still, you handled the affairs of your home with all the knowledge and grace you possessed thus far. You often received wise counsel from the Head of House Gaspard, Lord Lonato, who once served as your father's retainer in their youth.

"Since it is now the Horsebow Moon, I suppose we should open a portion of the hunting grounds to the public…" You stated as you browsed through the stack of documents piling up on the desk in your father's office, which you have used as your own these last few years. "Oh, and the merchants and craftsmen from the Leicester Alliance should be accompanied by members of the plains' official hunting guilds. Many are unfamiliar with just how dangerous the grounds can be…"

Your elderly governess, Madam Liadan, now stood as your sole attendant and counsel while you were acting in an official capacity as the Grand Duke of Itha. She took pride in your expertise and manner of leadership as you steered your hometown in a direction that would benefit its people. 

"A word, Your Grace," came a knock outside the den. "Lord Felix of House Fraldarius has requested an audience with you."

"…Felix?"

True enough, your dearest childhood friend found his way to your home with only a handful of guards. His dark hair was grown out, now kept in a messy bun. His once warm hazel eyes stared down at you with a fierce coldness as he refused to dismount his horse, riding around you and your courtyard as you came face to face with him after how many years. 

"Ride with me, Princess," he stated with a small scoff. "Or are you content playing house and assuming a title that isn't even yours yet?"

"I—"

"We don't have to race this time," he said. "Just talk."

"Call for a stableboy to fetch Aureolin for me," you motioned to one of the household staff present to receive the heir of House Fraldarius. "And have one of the servants fetch my sword, the one from my father. I'm certain the heir of House Fraldarius did not just come here for a horse ride. Or to just talk."

"We shall have an attendant f—" Madam Liadan stated, only for you to cut her off with a mere wave of your hand. 

"There is no need for that, Madam Liadan," you said with a smile that did not reach your eyes. "Lord Felix is my friend. He and I have much to talk about, none of which is any of your business."

You heard a faint chuckle leave the said friend's lips as he steered his mount to the castle gates once more. 

"Receive his good men instead, please. Give them food and drink and allow their horses to graze," you instructed the household staff as you saddled and mounted your steed, Aureolin. "Shall we be off then, Felix?"

Your ride was quiet but meaningful, and it allowed you to rest your mind from all the noise of having to manage your household and lands. Felix noticed the pleased yet pensive expression on your face as he steadied the pace of his horse to match yours. He only spoke once you were in the heart of the plains, far from your meddling governess and the prying eyes of your father's loyal people. 

"Before everything else…" 

"Did you think I'd shirk my training just because I've been busy with paperwork, Felix?" You said with a low laugh as you swiftly dismounted Aureolin and unsheathed your sword. "Come. It's been a while since I had a worthwhile sparring partner."

The sounds of the grass in the plains crunching under your boots and the steel of your swords clashing quickly dissipated in the air, the open field unable to contain even your heavy breathing and heaving as you steadily held against your opponent. 

"Well, I'm glad all of that bureaucracy didn't dull your skill," Felix stated with a smirk and a small grunt as he parried your blow. Your bladework in your youth was wild and untamed, but your hands were more steady now, your strength measured and concentrated in a way that matched his own. "This cursed strength, though—!"

"You aren't so bad yourself," you said with a huff and a laugh. "Let's put our back into this, Felix!"

For a moment, he remembered that week you spent in their estate at Fraldarius territory many years ago. He recalled the singing of the young women employed in their estate's kitchen and how you sang along as you helped in meal preparation, even though you weren't supposed to be there because you were a guest. Those were hymns to the Goddess even he was unfamiliar with.

"Blessed are they who bask in the splendour of Gloriana's unreachable, empyrean domain!"

Felix had never been a pious child even from the beginning, even though the Kingdom of Faerghus' roots were so deeply intertwined with that of the Church of Seiros. Yet here was a girl who made him worship the very ground she walked on. 

Here was his Gloriana, her sword arm unmatched and her skill unparalleled. 

Not that he would ever admit it.  

It was only after you both broke a sweat that you called in a draw. You sat next to each other on the grass, knees and elbows brushing as you each wiped your swords clean with your cloaks, like when you were children.

There was only the faint sound of a calm breeze and the gentle swaying of the grass and weeds as you worked up the blade of your sword. You ran your thumb over the engraving of the Crest of Blaiddyd before eventually asking, "How is Dimitri?"

"Here," Felix stated, further slicing through the silence that enveloped you. He pulled out a single sealed letter from the inner pocket of his cloak and handed it to you. "The boar… has been trying to reach you for the last four years. Did none of his letters ever reach you?"

Letters? From Dimitri? 

You shook your head. "No. Not at all…"

He sighed. "Figures. He said he sent you countless letters, but I wouldn't be surprised if this was your father's doing." 

"My father?"

"Are you so out of touch with reality that you're in denial about what's going on in the capital? The boar no longer has allies there," he scoffed at your ignorance. "I'm not going to sugarcoat things for you just because he's your father. He's doing a terrible job as the regent and if you're going to pretend to be blind to that fact, then you're just as terrible as he is." 

"Felix… My father hasn't reached out to me ever since he assumed the regency of the Kingdom. Ever since Lord Rodrigue urged me to return to Itha four years ago. I wrote him letters but received nothing in return," you stated with furrowed brows after hearing everything for the first time. "And Lord Rodrigue told me that Dimitri would call for me once he's figured things out. The last I heard about him was after the Western Kingdom rebellion. You were there with him. He… must have figured things out by then, but…"

You pursed your lips as you held the unopened letter in your hands. "Part of me thought he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Many of the nobles of the capital have made it clear that they hold nothing but disdain for me, after all."

"That's not true. The boar could never hate you."

"I feel so foolish," you said, swallowing a sob before it could escape your lips. "I should have stayed there with him."

Felix reached out and wiped away your tears with a callused finger. "No use crying over that now. And trust me— the boar— Dimitri doesn't hate you. He wouldn't have bothered with that letter if he did." 

"Dearest ■

How fare you, my dearest cousin? It certainly has been a while. I can only assume that my previous letters never got to you. You would write to me as soon as you received one, after all. How can I be so sure? Because that is how we've always been. You are my only cousin in the world, the closest thing I have to a sister. You are a friend I know I can trust my life with, regardless of what other people think. 

I've been hearing much about your good work at Itha. Many claim that your political acumen is just as good as your father's, but we can do more about that. I know things must have been terribly lonely for you, yet you handled everything with ease and grace. 

I am writing to you once more to let you know that I intend to enroll in the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach next year. Many of our old friends, including Felix, will be attending as well, and nothing would give me greater joy than being reunited with you— and seeing you amongst the rest of the members of the Blue Lions House. 

Believe it or not, Uncle Rufus and I have spoken about your enrollment, too. He did not say much about it but only agreed, which was all the more surprising given that he hasn't spoken to you much these past few years. I would know since he kept no one else close to him but the Saintess. 

I hope you are taking care of yourself and I truly hope to see you again soon. And maybe we can discuss some of the things that happened back then.

Sincerely yours, 

Dee.

PS: Let us celebrate all the birthdays we missed out on because we were apart."

In Imperial Year 1180, you joined the Officers Academy at the same time as all of the other noble children of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, forming the Blue Lions House under Dimitri's leadership. It was there you were reunited with your cousin and childhood friends and heard the truth about his way of life these last four years— and why his letters never reached you.

You didn't want to believe it at first, but every detail made sense. The Tragedy of Duscur, the death of your uncle, the Western Kingdom uprising, and Dimitri's solitary confinement in his own home… Everything pointed to your father and his obsession with possessing the throne that was never meant for him.

"I'm sorry, Dimitri… All the signs were there in front of me, but I never… I never…" You said, your voice cracking as you sat across your cousin, the tea and sweets no longer appetising and inviting after everything you heard from him. And Dedue, who wanted nothing more but to trust you after everything your father has done. He did not believe in blaming children for their father's mistakes, but you had a mountain of doubt to climb and overcome if he and the rest of the house were to trust you completely.

"It is not you who has to apologise," Dedue stated. "His Highness said before that he trusted you with his life. If you are still that person, then you must prove it with your actions."

"I don't care if it's not my fault, either," you sobbed into your hands this time. "I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for what he's done, I swear…"

It was only after you calmed down and had your tea that Felix approached you, a dour expression on his face as he spoke directly to you, ignoring your companions. "Are you finally done with your whining? Spar with me, Princess."

"Spare me, Felix. I'm too spent to even think about picking up my sword. The monastery is huge and the academic year has just started. I'm sure there are many skilled people just as eager to test their mettle against an unknown quantity…" You replied with a hand on your temple. 

"I'll only be warming up with you," the dark-haired young man said with a scoff and a shrug. "You're right, after all. There won't be a lack of people to spar with here."

"Did you just call me a warm-up session, Felix?" You quirked an eyebrow at him. "You know what? I'll have at you. I'm angry and need a way to blow off some steam, anyway."

"Are you calling me a cooldown session, Princess?" He snorted. "On second thought, it's good that you're angry. That means you won't hold back." 

While the peaceful school days gave you a sense of normalcy, those days did not last as long as everyone initially thought. Your latest mission saw the rescue of Baron Ochs's missing daughter Monica, who was found by your new mercenary friend in the bandits' hideout. Her reappearance opened a can of worms that needed to be cleaned out. Following the disappearance of the librarian Tomas, trouble and turmoil brewed in all three cornerstones of Fodlan simultaneously, like a masked puppeteer masterfully pulling strings— and everyone else along with it.

And unsettling as it was, the Blue Lions could only press forward into the truth you long sought, about who was truly running the show in Fhirdiad. 

But your enrollment was swiftly withdrawn following the dangerous revelation about the truth of the identity of the librarian Tomas. And though you protested, everything fell on your father's deaf ears. 

"He is right to be concerned about you, mine cousin," Dimitri told you as you shared a meal during what was supposed to be your last day of schooling. "And it would be wise not to anger him. That way, you can still convince him to return when the issue has died out." 

"But I don't want to go home," you said with a little grumble, absentmindedly poking your food with your fork. "Not after we've only reunited…"

"Scared of missing out on all the fun?" Felix sneered at you, to which you responded by stabbing the remaining teppanyaki in his place and scarfing it down whole. "Wh—! Hey!" 

You reluctantly parted ways with Dimitri and Felix and the rest of the Blue Lions House by order of the regent, your father. Ahead of your trek back home to Itha, you made a quick and unexpected detour to the Kingdom to see how he had been doing. 

"Welcome home, Your Highness!" 

You were welcomed by new Royal staff, all of whom took orders from the regent. Among those who received you at the castle town was a lord you were unfamiliar with by name, but you remembered him as one of your father's companions from the New Year's hunt.  

"Have you been well, Your Highness? Allow me to take you to His Grace." 

"Oh, thank you, uh…" 

"Viscount Kleiman at your service, Princess," the older man gave you a quick bow. "You would do well to remember my name and my face, especially in this coming era." 

This coming era?

You tried not to pay too much mind to the viscount's words and simply focused on who you came there for. "Has my father been well?"

"Perhaps you should see for yourself, Your Highness. I'm certain your presence will lift his spirits."

A strange chill danced up your spine as you were led to the former king's bedchambers, where Rufus paced and lounged these past few days. 

"Papa?" You called out to him as the aged wooden doors harshly creaked open, as though they hadn't been for quite some time. 

"Is that you, my little star?" 

Your father looked worn out, and it was evident from the rubbish that littered the room that he accepted no other company apart from the Saintess, Cornelia, who closely stood next to him. 

"Have you been well, papa? Oh, it's been so long…" You said, your voice cracking from both the joy and despair you felt as you stepped into your father's space. He was crowned with an unfamiliar circlet of precious blue steel, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look even more ragged and unhewn. He could only grasp your wrists in place as you lifted your hands to hold his face, your thumbs tenderly running over his cold cheeks. 

"His Highness h—" Cornelia started, only for you to shoot her a look that could have killed if only possible.

"With all due respect, Saintess. I wasn't talking to you." 

"How lovely you've grown, my little star," Rufus managed a small smile. It was his turn to gently hold your face in his freezing hands, which you tried not to notice. "Fret not. We won't be apart for long. You'll return to me once everything has been settled."

"What do you mean, papa? What will you do? What's going to happen?"

He did not answer your questions but only pressed a soft yet cold kiss on your forehead, the kind you were so used to receiving when you were a child. 

When it was just you and him.  

"Return to Itha, my little star. Stay there until I send for you," he stated as he turned away from you. "Go."

"But papa—!" You tried to reach for him, only to be rebuffed by the Saintess in crimson, barring you from approaching your father once more. 

"His Highness needs his rest, sweet princess. But worry not. It won't be too long until you remain here for good. This is your home, after all."

"The Itha Plains is our home, Saintess. You would do well to remember that."

"The Grand Duke has fought tooth and nail for his house's future. Your future, if we are being more specific, Princess."

The same eerie chill swept up your spine once more as you locked stares with the green-eyed mage. Still, you showed no hint of trepidation as you approached her. "I did not wish for him to fight for me. I wish for nothing but to spend time with my father, not the regent. And once Dimitri is crowned king, he and I will return to our home."

Cornelia smiled at you, her eyes void of emotion but her voice was still saccharine and sultry. It was no wonder your father was so enthralled by her. "Of course, Princess. Believe what you will."

The days blurred altogether as you resumed your management of Itha. You expected your father to send for you sometime soon, but what broke your routine was a lone Kingdom soldier allied with the Crown Prince, riding past your castle security with haste. 

"I have an urgent message for Her Highness, the Princess of Itha! His Highness and his counsel have sent for you!"

"What's going on? What happened?" You asked as you rushed past your household staff, not a care in the world with how undone you looked. 

"It's the regent, Your Highness! The Grand Duke seized complete control of the capital and declared war on House Fraldarius! He is calling for the annihilation of Lord Rodrigue and his family! He claims they are controlling His Highness!"

No. 

You felt your blood run cold at the revelation that was sent to you. All the signs yet again point to your father— and his fanatical, maniacal obsession with the throne. With killing Dimitri.   

"This conflict will only end with one of them dead," you said, your lip quivering in terror at the thought. "I… I will ride to Fhirdiad!"

"You will not, Your Grace! His Majesty will send for you once he has put the usurper to rout!" Madam Liadan declared as she barred your way to the stables. "Such is the price of peace—"

"There is no peace and there will be no peace even with one of them dead!" You shouted, swallowing the lump in your throat as you flung her out of your way. "Get out of my way, Madam Liadan. I will plead for my father's life if I have to."

"Y-You forget yourself, Princess! Everything he's done, he did for you! You would disrespect him by begging for his life— for leniency?! From a usurper?!" 

You once dreamed of officially inheriting the Itha Plains from your father. You dreamed of him accepting your choice of a husband. You dreamed of him as a grandfather, carrying your children— dark-haired, with eyes as warm as hazel and sunrise— and you dreamed of caring for him in his old age. You dreamed of a long life for him, far from all the melodrama he was initially born into… and a gentle death befitting the gentle father that he was to you. 

But no matter how good of a father he was to you, the weight of his sins to his family and the Kingdom hung heavy and low in the scale. He would pay the ultimate price for it. 

In your shock upon your arrival to Fhirdiad, in the aftermath of the succession crisis and Dimitri's resolution, you fell to your knees in tears of agony, crying and cursing yourself for arriving far too late— for never being enough for him to disregard the indignities of his youth.

"Hey!—"

The last thing you saw before blacking out entirely was Felix hurriedly reaching out to you. 

Finally, you dreamed of your father holding you in his arms as you made your way back to Itha following your very first visit to the capital, blissfully joyful and unaware of all that has yet to transpire. 

In the days that followed in the aftermath of the succession crisis, it was revealed that the Houses Elidure, Mateus, Kleiman, Rowe, Duval, and many other minor western lords played a part in the assassination of the late king. Dimitri's counsel worked swiftly to ensure your father's part in the ploy was also unveiled and made known to everyone in the Kingdom. You accepted that as the truth now. 

Your interrogation was conducted by Margrave Gautier, who accepted your statement as fact. Even if you had known anything, you would have related it to your cousin as soon as you could.

"The Princess of Itha has made it clear that she had no involvement in the matter and knew nothing about the coup," the older man related to the young king and the rest of his counsel. 

It made sense that you knew nothing of your father's scheme, for your role would come to pass in the future. For the pieces of his plan to fall into place seamlessly, you had to be blameless and unblemished. He kept you as far away as he could so he could present you as his faultless heir. Rufus would deal with the fallout in the years that followed. 

But your father was dead, and you were nothing else but a misplaced pawn. 

"I know," Dimitri stated. "How is she?"

"The princess is of sound mind if that is what you wish to know, Your Highness. I believe she is waiting for a chance to speak to you if you will permit it."

You remained confined under guard in your childhood bedchambers in the capital. This place was once filled with happy, joyful memories of your youth, but now it served as your prison cell. 

More of your father's misdeeds came to light when you last spoke to the Margrave, and though he does not blame you, he also made it clear that your presence would mean contention for Dimitri. For once, you found yourself cursing the very blood that flowed through your veins. You cursed the Crest you were born with that made your father aspire for things beyond his grasp. 

The indignities of your cousin's youth had yet to be repaid, and you swore to him that you would do so in kind for as long as he wished.

When Dimitri finally came to see you, you could only grasp his hands, unable to look him in the eye. "You've known where my heart and my loyalties lie ever since we were children, mine cousin. I swear to the Goddess. To our dead fathers… I no longer care what you wish to do with me, but believe me when I say not even once did I aspire to be Queen."

"I've known from the very beginning," he stated as he held your hands and quelled their shaking. "I believe in you. And I cannot cast you aside, even if you wish. You are the only family I have left… And I do not want for us to become like our fathers…" 

"We will never be like them," you strongly declared through your tears. "Never."

Dimitri and his counsel worked tirelessly to restore order to the capital before eventually extending their reach to the rest of the Kingdom. You assisted with implementing many of the reforms after being proven innocent of the regent's attempts at usurping the throne. 

You were used to the mistrust of the people, so much that you wished your cousin would delegate you tasks that required others to watch you carefully— just so you could prove that you meant him no harm. That your heart was nothing like your father's. 

Your fate, as the elephant in the room, was the topic of discussion in one of their recent councils, where they burned their candles at both ends to come to a resolution. While some of them voted to banish you from the Kingdom, others argued your possible usefulness to the king's cause, including Felix, who attested to your skill with the sword, which you previously pledged to Dimitri's service, whenever he asked for it.

As it stood, you remained a political prisoner granted remarkable leeway— so much so that you were still permitted to eat, train, and spend time with the prince and your friends, much like when you were children. 

"The matter with the princess is rather complicated. We simply cannot allow her to walk away from all of this," Margrave Gautier stated. "We cannot allow her to return to Itha, either, lest she be taken away by the remaining forces of the western lords—"

"—and be used as a symbol. A weapon against His Majesty," Rodrigue remarked.

"You're right. But she is no political prisoner. She is my family," Dimitri stated this time. "And she will be treated as such by everyone else while she is here."

Margrave Gautier turned to the young king. "If I may, Your Majesty. You said you trusted the princess. How can you be so sure that she will not betray you?" 

"Because she spoke the truth. She never wanted to be Queen, even when we were children. The highest thing she ever hoped to be was…"

A ghost of a smile made its way to the young king's face, only for it to disappear following several puzzled looks from his counsel. Felix was equally perplexed by the sight. 

"Unlike her father, she supports my claim to the throne and never once contested me for it. I'm certain that caused some kind of rift between them, but my uncle's desperation and determination to keep her away from the infighting only showed how much he cherished his daughter still…" Dimitri said with a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Since we're on the topic of what should be done with her, I may as well give you the best option. A way to ensure her loyalty to our cause… though I know we do not need such methods. It will require your approval, Rodrigue. But, ah… I suppose it would be more appropriate for the new Duke Fraldarius to have a say in it, since he is also part of this plan."

"What do you mean, boar?" Came Felix's incredulous quip, to which his liege only responded with a small but knowing smile. 

"All she's ever wanted to be is your wife, after all."

For Dimitri, there was no turning back anymore from what had already been done. The Kingdom called for his ascension and he cannot put it off any further, no matter how he tried to avoid it. A mountain of tasks lay at his feet ahead of his coronation and you were there to carve open that path for him, at least that was what you endeavoured to do after everything that transpired. When word reached you that Felix would soon become the next Duke Fraldarius, you pondered where your place would be in all of this. 

The Itha Plains, its surrounding lands, properties and territories have been consolidated under Kingdom rule in the meantime and all of the dealings you and your father previously signed off on have been effectively frozen. The new king will figure out what to do with the Grand Duchy once the more important issues have been resolved. 

While you were initially part of Dedue and Rodrigue's reconciliation campaign to Duscur, Dimitri has made indications that he will need you elsewhere, and that your father's sins are not yours to bear. But until he speaks to you about it, you will continue your work as a basic weapons instructor in the Kingdom, alongside the mysterious mercenary from your academy days, the one who possessed a power so eerily similar to that of "Tomas" and the "Saintess", Cornelia. 

It gave you no pleasure to put the knights in place, especially when they were loyal to your father, the regent. Some would declare their fealty to you, their blade under your command should you want it, but it was evident that they were misguided and led away by the false promises made by an irresponsible king who never was.

You missed Rufus, but it was clear to you that the Kingdom would fare better without him at the helm. And you would want nothing to do with ruling even in the future. 

When the evening came and training sessions came to a close, it was only you and your mercenary friend left in the castle training grounds to round up and conduct an inventory on the weapons used throughout the day.

"For a princess, you're surprisingly diligent," they remarked as they gathered the used swords in place. "Whenever I think of princesses, I'm always reminded of how… delicate they must be." 

"I'm a far cry from delicate, even when Dimitri and I were children, Commander. When Gustave taught me how to wield a sword, I fell in love with it at the first instance. And I suppose it's only fitting even for a girl like me born into the Kingdom, which values strength and our heroic bloodlines over everything else," you replied with a low chuckle as you carefully lined up the spears and lances in their racks. "My Crest made me stronger than the average person, too… So surely there was something I could do to support my cousin, too…" 

"You know, Dimitri told me something before the incident… when I was questioning this… gift I had. I thought you ought to hear it, too. You both have the same kind of strength. He believed his power was given to him so he could protect others. Your cousin has always believed in the innate goodness of a person more than anything. That explains why he chose to trust me despite everything. I know for a fact that he believes in you and greatly trusts you, too," they stated with a firm resolution, a spark of hope in their amethyst eyes. "I'm only able to stand here before you because of Dimitri, who believes my gift can be used for the greater good. Do you think the same way as I do? The only thing left for you to do is to prove that you are worthy of his trust. Of our trust."

"I… I'll prove it. I wield my blade in the service of my king. There is nothing more I could want."

Your conversation was cut short when you heard approaching footsteps followed by your cousin's wide shadow spilling on the ground. "There you are, mine cousin. Gustave said I'd find you here." 

"Well, we're just about done here anyway, so I'll leave you two to it," your mercenary friend said with a smile. Dimitri gently patted their shoulder as they passed by him. "I'm gonna help myself to some dinner now!"

"Oh, thanks for the help, Commander!" You managed to holler at them as they disappeared into the castle. 

"I was hoping we could share a meal ourselves, mine cousin," the young king started as he offered his elbow to you. "You know, we never really got around to talking about your time in Fraldarius lands."

"That week I spent there was one of the most unforgettable moments in my life," you chuckled as you linked your arm in his. "Felix… still smiled a lot back then."

"That is true. I suppose we will see less and less of that once is officially named the new Duke Fraldarius," Dimitri stated as he led you through the castle halls, specifically through the Hall of Kings, where portraits of the members of the Royal Family hung. You paused between the portraits of your father and your uncle, the late king, the brothers in their similar signature Blaiddyd azure regalia, yet still different sides of the same shining coin. "My counsel and I have come to a decision regarding your fate. There were some who wished to banish you from the Kingdom, but I would not have that. I could not agree to that… out of my great love for you and my respect to my uncle, who was nothing but a good father to you, I believe. You are my only family left in this world." 

"And you are mine," you solemnly nodded at him.

"I know the Itha Plains is your birthright, but we have decided against granting it to you. There are still some who fear the contention you pose and think you will not be so different from your father. There are still some who will not think twice to herald you as the rightful heir to the throne."

"Perish the thought," you said, your brows furrowed as you shook your head in dismissal of the notion. 

"I wish to keep you close, for I know that I can still trust you with my life, but in order for that to happen, you will have to renounce your royal title."

It was an unexpectedly lenient consequence, but not entirely surprising to you. You had no right to be begging for anything after everything that has happened, and to prove your worth and compliance to the Kingdom's cause, you agreed. "That is something I can do. Perhaps something I deserve, too."

"And marry Felix."

???

You looked up at Dimitri with eyes as wide as saucers. He did not just say that, did he? "Wh— Wait, what did you say?!"

"You will marry Felix and become his wife as your way of ensuring your loyalty to the Kingdom's cause."

"I— I would have renounced my title either way, Dimitri!" You attempted to disentangle yourself from him, only for him to hold you hostage with his grip. "A-And what did Felix have to say about this?! He must be seething in anger at having such an important thing be decided for him—"

Your bickering drew yet another set of footsteps this time, followed by the familiar, cynical voice of your childhood friend, who just happened to be your topic of discussion. 

"You ought to stop putting words in other people's mouths, Princess," Felix stated as he made his approach. "Are you done talking with her, boar?"

"Since he's here, you may as well ask him yourself," your cousin said with a smile as he placed your hand in the other young man's open palm. "I suppose I'll have dinner with our mercenary friend while you're at it."

"D-Dimitri! W—" You groaned to yourself as you watched the young king's figure walk away from you, as though he successfully led you into a harmless trap. 

"What's this I heard about you wanting to marry me ever since we were children?" 

Felix was never one to mince words, so you weren't at all surprised that he didn't evade the issue. 

It was embarrassing to hear him talk about it upfront, though.

"Th-That's—! Th-That was supposed to be a secret between me and Dimitri!" You squeaked at him. "I-I didn't expect him to actually find it usef—"

He squeezed your hand, reminding you of where you were and the decisions that had to be made. "And you'd rather it remain a secret than find out what I think about it?"

"I…"

"Hmph. Will marriage to me be such a chore for you?" He scoffed as he slowly released you, only for you to grasp his sleeve.

"N-No! I— It's true that I've always wanted to marry you, Felix! But I… I would never want for you to marry me out of obligation! Doesn't it sound like a punishment to you? I-I'm practically a traitor's daughter to everyone else, more or less… B-But this—! This… is such an important matter! This is marriage! I-If we agree to this, you'll be spending the rest of your life with me, of all people…! A-And—"

Oh, you were rambling at this point, your words strung together and incoherent as you attempted to explain your side to no avail. It was only when Felix held your hands in his once more that your mind was silenced from the thoughts that crowded it. 

"Princess," he said, his low and steady voice slicing through the noise of your thoughts. "I'm not marrying you out of obligation. This is not a punishment and you are not defined by your father's sins. Only fools refuse to accept the fact of your innocence. I agreed to that decision because I want to marry you."

"I… I—"

"And we're only having this difficult conversation because the boar beat me to it," he grumbled this time, his embarrassment evident by the blush that crept up his neck to the tips of his ears. "S-So what's it gonna be, princess?! Are you going to marry me or what?!" 

"Y-You want to m-marry me?! S-Since when?!"

"Wh— Why does it even matter?! Just say yes so we can be done with this!" 

"O-Of course I'll marry you, Felix! Th-This is like a dream come true! B-B—"

"I—"

"I-I've liked you f-from the start!" You sputtered at him, your hands burning in embarrassment as you squeezed him right back. "A-At first you were the boy with the pretty black hair, b-but when I started training with the sword and we started training together, I— I've been thinking of so many ways to grab your attention!"

You only realised now that you didn't have to try so hard.  

It is now 1182. Two years have passed since Dimitri's ascension as the King of Faerghus. As part of his reforms to the Kingdom, he established his private army spearheaded by none other than the not-so-mysterious mercenary from your academy days, who proved to be a reliable and trustworthy person. They grew to be a well-respected commander by both the nobles and the commoners who banded under the banner of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

As agreed upon by the king's counsel, Rodrigue stepped down from his position as Duke Fraldarius and passed his title to his named heir, Felix. After renouncing your royal title, the two of you were wed in a simple yet elegant celebration in Fraldarius lands, the snowscape becoming the perfect backdrop of your union. 

The promise was sealed with a pretty ring he inherited from his mother. For all his austerity, Felix was a good husband and he was exceptionally kind to you, even though it was mostly him growing and maturing into his role— both as the Duke Fraldarius and as your spouse. 

For your efforts in aiding Dimitri in his reforms, you were officially appointed a Kingdom General. The title couldn't come any sooner, with Adrestia's declaration of war against the Central Church. That same church is now knocking at the Kingdom's doorstep and to deny it assistance would be denying Dimitri's ascent to the throne. As a member of the Kingdom vanguard, you understood that the declaration wasn't just a mere threat, but a promise that the Empire would do whatever it could to accomplish what it set out to do.

But the deeper into Imperial territory you step into, the looser the lid on the can of worms becomes— that can pertaining to the cloud of mysteries left in the wake of the Tragedy of Duscur. The string of deceit will unravel by the King's hand, and many of your allies who lost someone dear to them in that incident will receive the closure they deserve. 

You don't speak much about it, but Rufus sometimes visits you in your dreams, sometimes in unpleasant ways that rock you awake. When Dimitri was held hostage in Fhirdiad after being captured by the witch Cornelia, you hardly had a wink of sleep because of the image of your father's headless corpse standing at the foot of your bed. 

The exhaustion you felt deep in your bones was forgotten in the rage that nearly consumed you in the battle to liberate Fhirdiad. You backed your husband and the commander as they made their way into the castle before eventually safeguarding Rodrigue, who was tired but thankful. In a moment of respite, he spoke of how their captors brought them to heel by means of manipulating the king's heart for his people. Dimitri, who was once consumed by the throes of vengeance for the dead, was so concerned about the living and breathing that he willingly surrendered Areadbhar in exchange for a fragile peace in the city. 

There is no peace, you told yourself as you angrily charged at the enemy soldiers that attempted to attack your father-in-law. No peace for me, either.

Cornelia had nothing but a haughty look of derision as you brought her to heel. "Well, if it isn't the Princess of Itha. Ah, but you're no longer that person, are you? To see you reduced to a wife of a mere lord. Your father must be turning in his grave."

"Silence, witch. You're fortunate Dimitri still requires answers from you. I would have struck you down without a second thought if I could," you stated, pressing the pointed end of your silver sword to her throat. "Don't speak of my father. Don't speak as though you knew him. You only corrupted him. And for all it's worth, you were the one who killed him."

That night, you dreamed of your father's decapitated corpse once again, only to find him holding your head in his hands this time.

Ahead of the decisive skirmish against the Western Coalition, Dimitri beseeched you to step away from the fighting for only this instance. He said he couldn't risk you being taken hostage by the western lords and be heralded as a symbol— be used as a weapon against him. Felix agreed with him, surprisingly, but only because your husband noticed your severe lack of sleep.

"Felix is right, mine cousin. We can't have you collapsing on the battlefield because you didn't get enough rest," Dimitri said as you spoke ahead of your war council. "But more importantly, I know the western lords aren't above using atrocious tactics to upend the battle, even more so if they find out that you will be fighting in it."

"For once, I agree with His Majesty," your husband remarked. "Royal title or no, it doesn't change the fact that you are a princess of Faerghus and the daughter of the dead Grand Duke who started this all." 

"But don't you see? All the more I should be in this battle. To teach those western lords the error of their ways. To show them once and for all that they will gain nothing from putting me on a pedestal."

Your declaration would have been perfect if you weren't nearly captured in the ensuing battle. It was a misstep you attributed to your exhaustion, your sound decision-making crippled by the fatigue that enveloped your head. 

Your head. In your dead father's hands. 

No. 

When word reached Felix that you were overwhelmed by the opposing forces, he raced through the battlefield in a fit of rage and fury and a flash of aquamarine, nearly razing the enemies to the ground in lightning and ashes. 

"Get your hands off my wife!"

You were awakened by the golden glow of the setting sun that peeked through the opening of your lodging. As you moved slowly, you were surprised to find yourself encased in an embrace as your husband slept soundly and calmly on your warmed bed. You were out of your battle regalia and in a comfortable sleeping tunic. There were clear signs of your injuries having been cleaned recently and you couldn't help but think of how much of a burden you were to your allies after having made that thoughtless declaration of strength, too. 

Felix mumbled in his sleep, his brows furrowed as he buried his face further into your chest. As you settled into his arms, you noticed the crimson ribbon holding his ponytail slightly coming loose, so you decided to untie it, allowing his silky hair to fall behind him. You caught a lock of his hair and gently toyed with it, curling it around your finger until it eventually came loose. 

"Are we… actually a love match?" You quietly mused to yourself. You didn't mind not getting an answer. You cherished these quiet, tender moments where he was nothing but a husband to you. Not Duke Fraldarius. Not a general of this army. Just Felix. Your Felix.

"You're not one for words, I know that much. You've saved me countless times. I don't even know what to say…" You started, your voice hushed to a whisper. He smelt of your favourite tea blend, too. "And for a man who values strength above all else, I still can't help but wonder what it was you liked about me."

"Mm…" You felt his low grumble reverberate in your chest. 

The colour of the sunset was lovely, casting a warm glow over your entangled figures, illuminating the space until it prompted Felix to wake. 

"How're you feeling?" Came his gentle inquiry. 

"I'm well, thanks…"

"That's good to know," he started, slowly releasing you and sitting up. "Because you're going to get an earful from me! This recklessness of yours really runs in the blood, huh? You and your beastly cousin are cut from the same tough cloth!"

Here comes his tirade, you thought to yourself with a small sigh. But it's only right, I suppose… 

"I'm sorry, Felix," you said apologetically, your hands gently reaching for his own. "I have no excuse for being caught unaware back then."

"What is going on with you, anyway? You haven't been eating. Your bladework has been sloppy," he sharply replied. "And you've been having trouble sleeping?"

You didn't want to conjure it in your head— the image that's been keeping you awake. 

"Hey," he called out to you as your mind wandered, your lashes lowered to your quivering hands. "Tell me what's going on."

"I…" You started, eventually prompted to continue by the way your husband squeezed your hands reassuringly. "I see him in my dreams, Felix. My father. I see his headless corpse holding my severed head in his hands. Maybe I am as guilty as he is."

"You're not."  

"Then why? Why does he visit my dreams in that form?!" You sobbed at him, warm tears filling the corners of your eyes. "I…"

"That's not him," he stated. "Those are just your regrets. You regret not being enough. Not being able to save him. So much that you wish you were dead as well."

Instead of lashing out at his realisation, Felix simply encased you in yet another warm embrace. "The truth hurts but it is the truth, regardless. There was no saving your old man after how far he'd gone. And you have to understand that his sins don't define you. How many times must you hear it from me and your cousin?"

You blinked away your tears and gently coiled your arms around your husband's neck. "Does he ever visit you in your dreams, too? Your big brother, I mean…"

"I can't count the times he did," he replied with a low hum. "Perhaps not as grotesque as your father's appearances, but it was still jarring all the same to me."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence before Felix posed another question to you. "Do you remember the jewelled dagger I gave you on your fifth birthday?" 

"I do. It is one of my most prized possessions."

"It was Glenn who suggested I give you a dagger. I thought it was strange at first because we hardly knew each other back then… But he told me, regardless of whether or not we knew each other, I should wish for you to carve open a path for yourself. And that's exactly what you did."

"Did I really?…"

"You carved open a path for yourself the moment you chose to follow Dimitri rather than fight him like everyone else around you expected you to do."

"Oh, yes. I think I did that," you said with a soft laugh. "I never wanted to be Queen, anyway. I wanted to be the Grand Duke Itha and your wife, though I knew I could only be one of those."

"Hmph. Well, I'm sorry if the Fraldarius Dukedom is all I can offer, Princess," Felix replied with a teasing scoff. He gently released you from his embrace and reached for a carefully wrapped parcel on the floor. "Speaking of which, I have something for you. My mother had it delivered to us."

"What could this be?" You wondered aloud as your fingers nimbly tore through the thick parchment. "Oh!"  

You couldn't take your eyes off the finely made mantle the moment you unwrapped it. 

Aquamarine, with cream white fur lining the collar and hem to protect your neck from the elements. You ran your gloved fingers over the Crest of Fraldarius that was embroidered on the cape with sturdy yet delicate-looking silver thread. 

"Beautiful…" You murmured in tears yet again. 

"I know the Itha Plains is your home, but it's likely that it will go to one of His Majesty's children in the future," Felix stated as he unfurled the cape to its full length before draping it over your shoulders and fastening the clasp on your chest. "This is to remind you that you still have a home. With me."

It was heavy— both the weight of the mantle and the duty tethered to its creation. You would never be the Grand Duke of Itha, but you were the Lady of House Fraldarius and wife of the Shield of Faerghus. 

But first and foremost, you were Felix's wife. A dream made manifest the moment you whispered it in your cousin's ear long ago.

You've faced the shadows of your past and supported each other through the most pitch black of moments. Your love, once a quiet promise made in the innocence of your youth, has blossomed into something profound and enduring. 

That night, you dreamed of your father in your youth, nary a trace of all his exhaustion, but only a calm smile on his face as he finally bade you farewell, your figure cloaked in Fraldarius aquamarine this time, your husband's gloved hand in yours as you marched ever onward, racing against the setting sun. 

୨୧ The images used here are from the lovely webtoon All Colors of Snow by Ah Ai Maria. 💛

[owlespresso]

If you’re still accepting prompts, may I humbly submit : “You don’t have to leave, you know” with Yuri!

“You can stay, you know,” Yuri murmurs. You look over at him. Dawn’s first light nudges through the curtains, paints the room eggshell blue, touches the strands of his hair with pearlescent light. You feel newly hatched. Clumsy, clueless little heartbeat beating wings against your ribcage. The blanket is pooled at his waist. He’s all pale and lean, comfy as a cat under the spot of sun.

You’re in the middle of shoving your trousers back on when he beseeches you. Caught red-handed. His cheek is smooshed against the downy pillow, eyelids low and voice soft with slip. But he’s still smiling. A drowsy kind of smile. He’s like an old painting, pale brushstrokes capturing the foggy, ethereal feel of the hour. The last stars twinkle in the milky periwinkle skies. 

You drop your pants for the second time, and march back to the bed like the lucky fool you are, thunking dead onto your side of the mattress.

“I know I can stay. It’s my bedroom. In my house.”

“Yet you’re always so eager to scuttle away the moment I take my eyes off you,” Yuri replies, just as easily. He reaches over, idly runs slender hands up and down your arm. That tender touch ventures to your back, bleeding the tension out of you. “I think I spend more time in here than you do.”

“I’m not running away,” you mumble, cross at his teasing. You settle onto your side. The haze of sleep still clings to his expression, glassy eyes blinking slow as he takes you in.

“Mhm,” he sounds horribly unconvinced. “Sorry. I’m not sure what else to call it when you wait until you think I’m asleep to sneak out of bed.”

“I just thought—” you splutter, suddenly mortified. How many times has he pretended to be asleep? How many times has he witnessed you stumble around the room like a newborn foal, plucking your clothes off the floor and off the bedpost and off the chair by the window? “I just though you might want some space.” You shove your face into the sheets. Your hand rests palm flat on the space between you.

“Mmh. Did I say or do anything to give you that impression?” he asks, suddenly thoughtful.

“No. I just—I mean, you see me almost every day. It’s probably good to give you a break, y’know? So you don’t get sick of me,” you say, as wryly as you possibly can. Better a half-truth than outright admitting your own insecurities, admitting just how much stock you put into his opinion of you.

“I’ve spent the past two years following you around like a lost mutt. Do you really think I would do that for someone I could ever possibly get sick of?” he looks at you incredulously. “Saint Seiros, you’re dense.” He sounds utterly bemused, but his hand settles atop of yours to pin it to the mattress. He interlaces your fingers. You smother your face into the sheets.

“Well, sorry! It’s not like I can read your mind!” you grumble, increasingly mumbled.

“Then c’mere and read my lips,” Yuri yoinks you from your hiding spot with a hand between your shoulder blades. He nudges you onto your back with devastating ease, smooth as silk in the way he slots a thigh between your legs. “I’m obsessed with you. Have been ever since you fell face-first into the Abyss.”

You grimace at the reminder of the incident. The loose, rotting floorboards of a particularly disused shed gave way. You would have wound up a splatter on the floor of the Abyss’s arena had Balthus not been there to catch you. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Yuri presses his lips to your chin, and then to your cheeks, retaining your attention with practiced finesse. Not that he ever has to try very hard. “And listen really close, because I’m not good at saying this kind of thing.”

“I need you. I want you. I don’t know what I would do if you ever left me,” Yuri smoothes himself atop of your prone form, palms sliding up your forearms to pin both hands to the sheets. “Do you understand?” he murmurs against your jaw, placing kisses there too. Lips warm and smooth.

You manage a scandalized squawk, heat flooding your cheeks. That seems to mollify him.