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fire-lady-ilah · 3 years ago

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More good dad! Ozai AU? Even if you didn’t ask for it, you’re getting it and I’m picking up right where I left off. This is my reminder that, while Ozai is a good and non-abusive dad and husband in this, he is still very much an imperialist and a cruel person in general.

Parts [1] and [2] if you’d like. This is part 3. Here’s part [4]

The siblings venture into the capital, although they make it known that no one should inform their parents that they are nearby. The moment they step off the ship, Captain Jee sends a letter to the Fire Lady. He was loyal to the Prince and Princess above all, but he did not feel like being executed or exiled that day when Lady Ursa inevitably finds out.

In a large house just outside Caldera City, Lord Ukano lives with his wife, Michi, his daughter and heir, Mai, and his newborn son Tom-Tom. The Dragon Emperor and the Blue Spirit sneak into the bedroom of the heiress and steal her away.

In that I mean, Mai leaps at the opportunity to escape her home with her best friends, who she’s seen wearing the same theatre masks dozens of times, and follows willingly. It takes an hour longer than the siblings had expected, if only because Mai has far more knives than they had truly expected and they get caught up in the palace kitchens stealing Azula’s favourite mochi and some bags of fire flakes.

Then they are caught by Fire Lady Ursa, who is gathering a late night cup of cocoa after a nice night with her husband, not that her children need to know that part. Her children, who are wearing her theatre masks that had very recently gone missing from her collection, stare at her innocently. Her daughter carries two entire boxes she knows are full of mochi. Her son carries the fire flake bag they use for festivals. Her one day daughter-in-law is making a cup of cocoa and the Fire Lady calmly requests one for herself from the girl.

That night, the fire Prince and Princess sleep in their own rooms, with Lady Mai in one of the many available. In the morning, they take breakfast with the Fire Lord and Lady, discussing trivial matters of politics and domestic affairs.

Mai leaves on the request of the Fire Lord, bringing everything they took from her home and the palace (along with what Ursa and Ozai insisted they take) to the ship with the help of some soldiers.

Azula and Zuko sit with their parents. Ursa gives them each two potent bottles of poison. Ozai’s voice has a worry that only his family knows how to detect through the facade of boredom as he inquires how their firebending and blades practice has been, as to the state of their weaponry. They try to soothe their parents worries with assurances: their practice has been going well in both bending and blades, Azula has achieved perfection in lightningbending and Zuko has achieved lightning, their blades are sharp and well maintained, they weren’t harmed when the temple blew up—

It slips through Zuko’s lips. He was never the actor like his mother and sister. For their part, his parents do not react overly beyond a flickering of the flame and a long sip of tea.

“Your mission has changed.”

Ozai is smart. Everything he does is to serve his goals the best they can. In canon, the premier of those goals is to gain more power for himself. In this world, that goal is to secure the ideal outcome for his family. (Of course, his second goal is as much power as possible. But it is only considered after his first goal).

Allying themselves with the Avatar, at least in appearances, will secure the best outcome for his children. And he has no doubt that his brother (so weak after the death of his son. And yet, Ozai cannot find it within him to scorn him overly. He knows that were he to be left childless, he would break. It is merely that Ozai would break in an explosion, whereas Iroh’s flame fizzled into embers.) would eagerly help his children betray him. Even if it was just in appearances.

His children are loyal and dutiful. They protest, but only out of a desire to maintain that loyalty. He wishes the Avatar had remained hidden, at least until they were both adults. They are prodigal, yes, but they are just siblings.

“You have our permission to reveal your mother’s ancestry. Use it wisely.”

The children know their lineage for at least five generations on each side. That, of course, is in addition to their knowledge of every Fire Lord that has reigned since the unification of the Fire Nation. They are well aware that their Grandmother Rina (who feeds them chocolate and tells them stories whenever she visits) ‘s father was Avatar Roku. Just as they knew of the friendship between Fire Lord Sozin and Avatar Roku.

It is necessary for the people of their nation to hear pretty lies. It is not their responsibility to worry about the nuance and complexity of life. It is one of their responsibilities as Angi’s heirs in the mortal world. To worry of such things is a burden they should not have to bear. It is necessary for the people to believe the Avatar hated the Fire Lord.

The siblings don’t know everything, of course. They are just children after all. But they understand the nuance, the conflicting beliefs. They were told the truth (and carefully kept from necessary propaganda before then) when they were old enough to look critically at the situation. It was their duty to bring the Fire Nation’s good to the other nations, to liberate their populations, the siblings decided.

The Avatar is just a child, but he seemed able to connect with his past lives. And he had pointedly not hurt them, at least as Avatar Roku.

If nothing else, they have the Dragon Emperor and Blue Spirit on their side.

“Zhao has asked for permission to launch an invasion on the Northern Water Tribe. He is a fool, but he claims he has knowledge that will ensure his victory. Tomorrow, I will send him a letter approving his asinine idea. You will stop him— kill him, if you must— and use that act of perceived treason to ally yourselves with the Avatar.”

Ozai wants power, but he is no fool. The invasion is risky at best. He cannot find it within himself to care for the tens of thousands that would doubtlessly die in it, the Northern Water Tribe had the advantage in multiple ways. It would serve its purpose to get his children at the Avatar’s side.

The tone lightens after his orders and Ozai steps back from his role as Father Lord into just being a father. He teases his son on his interactions with his betrothed. He teases his daughter and asks if she would be visiting the circus soon, taking note of how she had learned to prevent a blush but not the squeak in her voice. They are not infallible, they are children.

As they see their children for the last time in the foreseeable future, the Fire Lord and Lady both think as to how much they will miss them. Ursa blinks back tears as she hugs them both, smiling as they react identically, burying their faces into her chest to hide them and breathing in the scent of fire lily perfume.

Ozai is not usually physically affectionate with his children. He had never received it from his father and was much more competent in other ways. That being said, no one commented on the kiss he pressed to the top of Zuko’s head (still shorter than him by quite a bit. Sometimes he acted so adult, but he was so clearly still a child) before repeating the action with Azula.

“I am so proud of you. Both of you.”

I’m just now realizing Blue Spirit is supposed to be after the whole Roku thing. Oh well.

For appearances’ sake, the siblings and Mai continue to chase the Avatar. Zhao attacks the Avatar while he trains under the Deserter. Princess Azula ensures the forest doesn’t burn while Prince Zuko uses all the bottled up anger at both Zhao himself and Azulon (really, what is with grown men trying to kill 11/12 year olds?) to yell at Zhao for acting so recklessly.

And if, perhaps, he manages to endear himself to others by knocking Zhao’s feet out from under him, all the better.

The Avatar and his friends escape and the siblings celebrate another success as Zhao nurses his bruised ass and ego.

(“Hey, did the Deserter look like that dude in Master Piandao’s painting in his main hall to you?”

“Admiral Jeong Jeong and Master Piandao were married, Zuko. Obviously that was him.”)

Zhao attempts to order their crew away from them, citing his rank as admiral as above prince and princess.

Azula’s sharp tongue reminds Admiral Zhao that Zuko is not only a prince, but the Crown Prince, and thus he is equal in rank to Zhao. As was their uncle a general, retired or not.

Behind the royalty of the ship stands Captain Jee, his eyes locked with Zhao’s. His eyes promise mutiny even if he were to somehow take them. His eyes swear loyalty to the Crown Prince, to his sister, above all else.

Zhao turns to leave.

“Of course, that is not to say we will not join your invasion.” Zuko sounds like his father sometimes, and never more than when his voice holds a hint of smug satisfaction. “Merely, do not presume to think you can order us in any way. We out rank you, and our crew is the best our Nation has to offer.”

Their ship joins, at least in appearance, Zhao’s fleet. That being said, they obey no orders from the Admiral and only allow his “inspections” of the ship and their crew once. For all intents and purposes, they are just there to observe.

And observe they do. The siblings watch the way Zhao treats his subordinates and twin righteous flames burns in their chests. The truth of being raised by a loving father means that Zuko and Azula are both rather sheltered in comparison to their canon selves. They are raised on ideals of honour and the divine responsibility of a monarch, rather than on the truths of war and practicality of rule. It only results in a hotter fire and more questions as to if Sozin’s way was truly the one to follow.

They still have absolute faith in their father. After all, he is the one that raised them, that taught them of honour and the ideals of a monarch. He is the one that sheltered them. He is the one that suggested they befriend the Avatar to keep them safe.

On the ship, only three people know the entire plan. The first two are the siblings, of course. The third is Captain Jee. He is the one that will keep their ship away from the invasion itself so there is no risk of their crew being harmed in the doomed attack. He is the one that will direct the ship to the colonies once the siblings are with the Avatar. Captain Jee has no qualms about technically commuting treason.

Mai knows some of the plan. In that, Mai knows exactly what Zuko and Azula tell her and then what she observes. She sees the way they stick together, now more than ever. Sees the way that Azula trains her non-lethal lightning (because even she, a nonbender, knows it’s far harder to bend lightning that doesn’t kill than that that does). She hears the way they drop the title of Fire Lord when speaking of their royal great grandfather. She catches whispers about Fire Lord Roku. About the Avatar.

Mai, in a way, knows more than the siblings themselves. She knows that they are genuinely sympathetic toward the Avatar in a way that they don’t yet realize. She begins to keep all her knives on her person, along with an easily grab-able bag for travelling in her room. There was no way she’d be letting her best friends turn traitor without her. This is the most exciting thing she’s done in years.

Iroh knows less than he believes. Oh, he gets the dropped title just as well as Mai, but he does not know the intricacies of Zuko and Azula the way Mai does. He sees Azula’s practice and writes it off as her ever-present search for perfection. He catches the tail end of a conversation between siblings and does not stop to consider who exactly “great grandfather” may be referring to. It would be unthinkable for his brother to tell the children of their heritage.

Despite this, Iroh also knows more than most. He knows from conversation exactly what Zhao intends to do in the Northern Water Tribe and it turns his blood to boil.

They reach the Northern Water Tribe. The siblings sneak off the ship in an emergency boat. Mai enters at the last moment and neither send her away.

Iroh has already left the ship, though he is currently in one last meeting with Zhao in an attempt to convince him not to continue with his plan. He will not check back with his niece and nephew, believing them to be safe on the ship.

In the Northern Water Tribe, the three Fire Nation teens remain tucked into the shadows. They, unfortunately, have no idea where the Avatar is and wander through the city. However, they reach the Avatar’s friends before Zhao does.

(“Is he... alive?”

“He’s just meditating.”)

It goes far better than they could have expected. The siblings’ act of releasing Sokka and Katara from Zhao’s bindings results in a part of water tribe siblings being quite willing to hear them out. Princess Yue gives them an odd look but remains quiet.

Zhao shows up. Iroh shows up. Azula and Zuko denounce him (though they cannot bring themselves to denounce their father, even though they know they should). Zhao declares them all traitors, a koi fish in a bag in his hand.

A bolt of lightning hits Zhao straight in the back. Both he and the koi fish fall into the pool of water. He does not emerge.

Azula’s face is carefully blank, even as she watches the water. She cannot stop to consider whether it is her or the water that just killed the admiral, or if he was even dead at all. She could not even see his body in its depths. She used non-lethal strength.

Despite Princess Yue’s backing, the Northern Water Tribe wants to take the siblings prisoner (hostage, everyone knows). After all, everyone knows of the devotion they show to the Fire Lord and vice versa. If nothing else, they would be excellent bargaining pieces in a more formal treaty.

They had not factored this into their plan. Admittedly, they had not factored the Northern Water Tribe into their plan at all.

The three Fire Nation teens are thrown into a prison cell. A rather comfortable prison cell, but still a prison cell. Iroh is taken somewhere else.

Within five hours, they sit on the back of a flying bison, Sokka handing them food he had smuggled out of the meal as Katara was smuggling them out of prison.

(“We tried to get your Uncle too,” the Avatar says in a remorseful tone, “but we couldn’t find him.”

“Uncle will be fine.” Azula declares, her mind set only on the future as she tries not to think about the way Zhao sunk beneath the still surface of the pond.

Zuko nods in agreement and clutches her hand in a comforting way.)

The Gaang now consists of six people:

Aang, a twelve year old Avatar with a mastery in air and a decent proficiency in water. He looks at the Fire Nation teens and sees his friend Kuzon, sees a time from before the war when an Air Nomad could wander freely through the Fire Nation. He attempts to use Fire Nation slang with them but it’s a century old and results in only laughter.

Katara, a master waterbender and healer (a concept that intrigues Azula to no end, although she tries to keep her questions polite). She tends to have a short temper when it comes to matters of the Fire Nation, but even she can be coaxed into trying a few sweets that Zuko has stored in his bag.

Sokka, a hunter and warrior who may or may not be engaged to the NWT princess (Zuko says he is, Azula says he isn’t). Azula laments that her jokes are even worse than Zuko’s, to which Mai agrees. It is that comment that leads Sokka and Zuko to start bonding, having nothing better to do on the bison’s back than exchange bad jokes.

Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, who Sokka would insist is walking Fire Nation propaganda as he goes on at least one rant about Fire Nation culture and technology a day. Who surprisingly helps Katara with the cooking because it was one of the things Fire Lady Ursa carried over from before she was Fire Lady and taught to her children.

Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, who has a sharp tongue and a sharper pair of twin daggers that she seems to enjoy threatening her brother with for any inconvenience, even though they both just laugh at it. (Katara and Sokka have to be assured by them both that they truly love each other and that threatening each other with weapons carried over from the theatre scrolls they used to act out as children).

Lady Mai talks the least, seemingly content just to talk to Zuko and Azula. Aang makes it his mission to get her to warm up to him and spends a good portion of his time trying to talk to her. He succeeds when he brings up air ball, of all things. Mai’s parents had discouraged her from sport, believing it to be unfitting of a young lady just as they had discouraged her interest in knives until Zuko and Azula had ganged up on them. Partially for that reason, Mai enjoyed sports quite a bit, a shock to even Zuko (though Azula knew). After that, she talks mainly to Zuko, Azula, and Aang.

Captain Jee guides his ship to the Fire Nation colonies, unable to confirm that his Prince and Princess were okay. He hadn’t expected the worry he feels now, but he knows he will be awaiting a letter at Yu Dao if they are safe.

Prince Iroh is startled to discover that, while meeting with Master Pakku, the Avatar, his friends, his nephew and niece, and Mai had all disappeared.

As had his ship.

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17wishbones · 4 years ago

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“Mugen Train” was such a treat that I HAD to write some short stories with the infamous, focused, and amazing Flame Pillar, Rengoku Kyōjurō. Easily one of my favorite characters. His handsome, flamboyant self needed juuust a smidge of more screen time and it would have been perfect.

S/N: Majority of my fanfics will be written towards women of color. Big FYI. Otherwise, enjoy.

- - - - - - - - ______________________________________

Kimetsu no Yaiba: Flame Eternal

Chapter I: OVERWHELMING CONFESSION

“Good morning, Sunflower!”

“Kyōjurō, please!” You whispered through clenched teeth, “You can’t be scaring me this early in the morning.” The Fire Hashira, Rengoku Kyōjurō, surprised you with a greeting by hanging his head down from the rooftop of the Butterfly Estate.

“My apologies! I wanted to see you as soon as I could.” He jumped down with one hand behind his back. “Congratulations on becoming a Hashira! You have worked hard to get where you are, and that you should be proud of yourself!”

The fire in his eyes burned bright as always. He didn’t know it yet, but he was a driving force in you making it to the ranks, and it wasn’t easy. At all. You were a rare sight in Japan. Everyone still thought of you as a foreigner. No matter how good your Japanese was, not many could understand the concept that people of different colors could be a native to this country.

You have fought for acceptance for a long time, and with the rise of demons, that put unneeded targets on your back. Just like the others, you lost your family to them, and it was but the anger in your heart that brought you here - to avenge those who were killed by demons. You didn’t know if you really had what it took.

Kind and supportive words from Rengoku Kyōjurō had changed a couple of the most important minds, but others were not so keen on the idea. You pushed yourself every day, working and training day in and day out until your body shook with aches. You honestly wanted to give up many times, and tried, but there was someone always pulling you back and helping you to your feet.

“That’s because of you, Kyōjurō.”

He shook his head. “It’s because of you, Sunflower! With perseverance and vigor, you made it through Final Selection and achieved your goals in order to be a Hashira! Therefore, I wanted to be one of the first to congratulate you!”

The confidence and support of his words always made you get “butterflies” in your stomach and your cheeks warm beneath your brown skin. “Stop! You’re making me blush but,” you bowed, “Thank you, Kyōjurō, for everything.”

You had locked your hair months before you trained for the Final Selection. Your hair had been on as much of a journey as you had. It reached down to the shoulder blades. And with these locs, you were in need of a floral decoration to commemorate this special day as you donned your uniform.

“Now, to get a sunflower-”

“Right!” He handed a small bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite flower that he nicknamed you back during those harsh training days. “For you, _____!”

“Ah!” You received his early morning gift with glee. “Kyōjurō, you shouldn’t have!” One smell and you were hooked. “Thank you so much!” You set them down in the room Shinobu offered you to stay in. You clipped one off and wrapped it up on the left side of your head. “How do I look?”

He looked at you, surprised at first, and then with an ear-to-ear smile. “As beautiful as always, _____!”

You felt your heart thumping throughout your chest. His words of sincerity always made you feel like you belonged. Not to mention, his fiery gaze upon you held true when he spoke to and of you. “You’re much too kind, Kyōjurō.” Before you attended to your face, Kyōjurō was already before you, wiping away your falling tears.

“You’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Whenever your world began crumbling, he was there and ready to help you get through any self-doubt. He ended up being a shoulder to cry on when you least expected it. He rose to Hashira-dom before you, and yet didn’t leave you behind. You owed him something in return. “N-nothing! I’m happy.” You took hold of his wrists, lowering his hands. “Though I wonder how I’ll ever be able to show you my gratitude.”

“Hmph!” He clasped your hands in one swift motion and stared longingly into your coffee-colored eyes. “Marry me, _____!”

You deadpanned.

Nature filled in the silence.

“I said, “Marry me, _____!”

Your mouth dropped wide open, “MARRY YOU!?”

“Yes! Do you accept?”

“Wait, wait, wait!” You drew back your hands and stepped back. You rubbed your temples, momentarily confused. Stumped. Dumbfounded. “This is a test of some sort, right? A little bit of an early morning joke to keep me on my toes?”

He laughed heartily. “Not at all!” He locked his gaze on you as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know that you will make a great wife!”

“Kyōjurō, I’m not like you or the others, as clear as they have made it in the past. I wouldn’t want to hinder you or mess up your reputation.”

“Our Master has allowed you to apply to become a Hashira; you worked hard to become a Hashira; and you have become more than a great friend to me. No matter what anyone else says, I have accepted you.” He closed in and held your hands once more. “I knew since training, to which you promised me your hand in marriage.”

“Eh!? You remembered that!?” You questioned.

“When I saw you at training for the first time. I knew that I had to make you mine! I have waited for this day for a long time. So, I will ask you again. _____.”

You gulped. “Yes, Kyōjurō?”

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“I-I,” your hands were clammy and your world started to spin. ‘What are you going to say? He asked you to marry him! Look, look! So what if you fed him a sweet potato every Friday and fell into his arms a few times? You need to let him down softly. Yeah! That’s it! Just refuse his proposal! He’ll understand-” Your mouth opened before you could finish. “Yes…?” You paused. ‘Bitch, did you just--?’

His aura suddenly grew hot around you both. “Then I promise to make you happy, to protect you, to guide you, and to love you until death!” With overwhelming confessions like this, how could you refuse?

“That’s great! But shouldn’t we--” You made a fatal mistake. “Kyōjurō?” You blinked. “Oh no!” He was gone in a flash! “Kyōjurō, wait!” You shouted as you dashed out of the Butterfly Estate. You only got a quick glimpse of his flaming haori, but he was still so fast! You thought you possibly had him when you ran into the other Hashira, assembled for the Pillar Meeting.

“Ah, _____! I was just about to come and get you for the meeting.” Shinobu came before you with her usually endearing smile. “Congratulations on becoming a Hashira. It’s been a long time since we’ve had anyone enter into the ranks, and for it to be someone as unique as you says something.”

“As if! You were only able to join because of Rengoku, and nothing else.” Obanai hissed from atop a tree branch. You really hated his guts.

“But you can’t deny her strength. She did kill fifty demons in a year and a half. That’s at least impressive, right?” Tengen remarked. He was a nice guy, in a way, so you liked him.

Shinazugawa pointed his sword at you. “As long as she doesn’t get in the way of me killing demons, I could care less.”

‘And I could care less myself.’ You thought with a frown on your lips.

Mitsuri was at least nice enough to give you a smile and a wave. “You look so pretty in your uniform, _____!” You liked her the most, along with Shinobu.

Giyuu and Muichiro didn’t speak on the matter.

“Thank you to those most kind, and to the others, you’ll just have to get used to seeing me like I have to get used to seeing you. Anyways, I came here looking for Rengoku. Did he pass by yet?”

“By pass by, do you mean standing at the top of the roof behind you?” Tengen pointed out.

You looked confused as you turned around and felt your face just fall into shock as you saw him proudly standing on the rooftop - again - with a wide smile on his lips. “Kyōjurō!”

He gently took hold of you at the waist when you landed in front of him. “I’ve got you, Sunflower!” His eyes burned brighter than they ever had before, and the aura he exuded could be felt from miles away. “Everyone!” He turned to the Hashira below. “Let us welcome _____, our new Hashira, and my soon-to-be wife, to the team!” Everyone’s face cracked. “Treat her like she’s one of our own!”

Really, what would you do without this flamboyant Hashira?

- - - - - - - -

Chapter: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny reader insert #demon slayer #kimetsu rengoku #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kny x you #kny x reader #kny fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #rengoku x reader

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prvtbugsbuggins · 3 years ago

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Caboose and his ungodly amount of sisters.

A post for both my reference and for you all to enjoy.

The idea of Military Alphabet being used as names was inspired by Red Battalion, Blue Regiment by @tinfoil-jones. It's a great fic u guys plz.

More stuff under the cut.

Caboose and his sisters were all taken from a pool of war orphans during the great war. All of them had their homes glassed and barely escaped with their lives. The oldest at the time was little more than a small kid, so many of them don't remember having parents or a life before they were taken into the SPARTAN III program. For all they know, this was all normal to them.

Indiana was the oldest and was the one to remember what parental love was all about, so she was the one who kept an eye on everyone else and did her best to be sure that they had love while growing up. Their training was extremely harsh and she made sure it was as fair as it could be.

Here are the siblings, from oldest to youngest. Once they were old enough to leave the program, all of them chose their own names. Caboose was chosen as the last name, and all of them keep it as a sign of solidarity.

Name: Indiana ‘Indy’ Carnation Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant General

Armor Color: Dark brown and tan

Designation: INDIA

Description: Freckled pale skin with green eyes and red hair that she keeps short. Absolutely stacked. 9Ft tall even. Is missing a leg but has a cool cyborg one to replace it. Defacto ‘leader’ of the Spartan Siblings and tends to call the shots. Is high enough rank to make sure her siblings are treated well no matter where they end up.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works mostly with Holly.

---

Name: Holiday ‘Holly’ Yuletide Caboose

Rank: Major General

Armor Color: Green and Red

Designation: HOTEL

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and black hair that she keeps long. 8’11’’ tall. Is built more slender but can still break your neck. Is the one who usually keeps track of all the siblings and makes sure they are okay. Organizes the yearly get together.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works mostly with Indiana.

---

Name: Winter Solstice Caboose

Rank: Chief Warrant Officer 5

Armor Color: White and Winter-mint Green

Designation: WHISKEY

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and white-blonde hair that she keeps short. 7’9’’ tall. Is built more slender and is stupidly flexible, giving her a rep as an escape artist.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works as a battlefield tactician and invents war-games for training purposes.

---

Name: Tango Rio Caboose

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Armor Color: Black and White

Designation: TANGO

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and blonde hair that was kept short. Was more short and squat but absolutely stacked. 8 ft tall even. Used to bench press actual benches with people on it.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Vicky Ableton Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Teal and Pink

Designation: VICTOR

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and hair that’s always in a different color done in a ‘fluff hawk’ hairstyle. 8Ft tall even and built more slender. Is faster than the other siblings in terms of speed.

Currently: Alive and retired. Currently works as a DJ and plays for raves while making her own music.

---

Name: Sierra Nevada Caboose

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Armor Color: Tan and Gold

Designation: SIERRA

Description: Rust colored skin with black eyes and black hair kept long. 8’5’’ tall and was more focused on martial arts, so she was rather slender. Could one inch punch people across a room.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Charlie Beatrix Caboose

Rank: Sergeant Major

Armor Color: Green and Brown

Designation: CHARLIE

Description: Warm dark skin with brown eyes and black hair kept short. Built more chubby and squat at 8’6’’ tall. Can hug you to death though, so be careful. Used to be able to pick up cars so the wheels could get changed faster.

Currently: Alive and retired. Writes and illustrates children's books based off stories she told Caboose when he was little.

---

Name: Luna Moonbeam Caboose

Rank: Sergeant Major

Armor Color: Black and Blue

Designation: LIMA

Description: Pale skin with pale blue eyes and pale blonde hair kept long. Just pale, lol. 7’11’’ tall and built slender and trim. Is really good at psychology and has a knack for motivating people without them realizing it. Takes active interest in troop morale and writes papers on how to improve it.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Works as a drill sergeant and her teams perform better because she gives them all lollipops when they do a good job.

---

Name: Juliet Romeo Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Yellow and Green

Designation: JULIET

Description: Freckled pale skin with brown eyes and blonde hair kept long. Built like a muscular country farm-girl at 8’7’’ tall. Can pick up fully grown cattle and move them where they need to go.

Currently: Alive and retired. Works on a farm where she raises various livestock with her wife. Caboose gets to name all the baby animals born on said farm.

---

Name: Fox (Foxy) Trot Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Orange and Black

Designation: FOXTROT

Description: Tan skin with blue eyes and red hair kept short. More wiry and slender than most other sisters and stuck more to stealth tactics than outright assault. 7’10’’ tall.

Currently: MIA. Last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Echo Echo Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Dark Blue and light Blue

Designation: ECHO

Description: Dark skin with brown eyes and black hair kept short. Quite muscular and built at 8’6’’ tall. Usually specialized in hand to hand combat and liked to use knives and other bladed weapons.

Currently: MIA. Last seen scouting uncharted territory.

---

Name: Ollie Oxenfree Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Pink and White

Designation: OSCAR

Description: Pale skin with brown eyes and black hair, kept short. Is more slender and built more for stealth and misdirection type of combat. 8’4’’ tall and can pluck your heart out of your rib-cage if need be.

Currently: Alive and retired. Works as a therapist and specializes in PTSD traumas.

---

Name: November Showers Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant Colonel

Armor Color: Dark Red and Orange

Designation: NOVEMBER

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and orange hair kept short. Is built like a bruiser at a good 8’10’’ tall and a body to put bodybuilders to shame. Likes to count how many teeth she can knock out of someone’s head with one punch.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Kiki Piña Colada Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Light Pink and Light Yellow

Designation: KILO

Description: The smallest sister at 7’8’’ tall and slender. Pale skin with blue eyes and pink/blonde hair kept long. Enjoys looking pretty but is scarily good at assassinations. Likes to use her unassuming looks against people. Has beaten up selfish lovers.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Trains special forces troops.

---

Name: Bravo Blue Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant General

Armor Color: Blue and Black

Designation: BRAVO

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and brown hair kept short in a buzz cut. Likes piercings and body mods. Has an unbelievable pain tolerance and likes to freak out her recruits using it. 8’10’’ tall and built like a linebacker. Sometimes will stand there and let people attack her and laugh at their attempts to hurt her. Will kill you if you make her siblings cry.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Works on top secret things that are secret. It’s mostly boring stuff, like paperwork. She hates it.

---

Name: Quinn Sable Caboose

Rank: Captain

Armor Color: Grey and Purple

Designation: QUEBEC

Description: Tan skin with green eyes and brown hair kept short. Tends to dye tips of hair purple. Is covered in tattoos. Is very muscular and big at 8’7’’ tall and can pop someone’s head off their body like a grape. Makes a newsletter for all her siblings so they know what’s going on with each other.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Trains forces in how to work together as a team and not die.

---

Name: Zelda Triforce Caboose

Rank: Captain

Armor Color: Dark green and Light Blue.

Designation: ZULU

Description: Dark skin with brown eyes and long dreads dyed in a wide range of colors. Built to be trim and slender. Could choke you out with her legs. Is 8ft tall even. Probably has ADHD and is very excitable.

Currently: Alive and retired. Currently makes VR video games and programs for a living.

---

Name: Michael Jaybird Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Blue (the best blue)

Designation: MIKE

Description: It’s Caboose, our boy. 7Ft tall even with brown hair, blue eyes, and is built like a brick house. Gives the softest hugs, though.

Currently: Alive and in a mix of active duty and ‘retired’. Pets dinosaurs and plays ‘games’ with his squad.

---

If possible they all try to meet up together at least once a year and they actively send letters to each other. They will call if close enough, but since everyone is doing something different, it's unlikely that two siblings would be on a planet together at the same time. All of them are extremely protective over each other, especially to Caboose since he is the baby. Despite some being retired, they still have and wear their armor because it's so ingrained in themselves. Eventually many more will decide to retire and pursue other interests once they figure out what they like.

Also all of them have a barcode tattooed on them somewhere. Not for evil purposes, but because it's easier to scan a code that can't be removed and make sure you aren't going to kill your Spartan by accidently giving them a medication they are allergic to.

Feel free to use if you like as well. I will be using this as a reference for my own works, lol.

#rvb #red vs blue #caboose #Michael j caboose #caboose's 17 sisters #spartan!caboose #best siblings #for me and other people #mostly so i don't fuck up when I write #caboose is the literal baby #all of them are eccentric in their own ways #you can't help to be that when you've been raised from toddler stage to be warriors #the yearly get together is a real fun party tho #it goes on for days

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tessaliagrey · 3 years ago

Text

Day 3 - Bo and Ursa are besties

Author’s note: I actually planned on writing something like a girls’ night out… Well, you know me… I wrote something else.

Summary: Bo and Ursa talk after Carlac.

Tagging: @bokatanweek

You can eiter read here on AO3 or below the cut.

03 - Bo and Ursa are besties

Setting up a new camp was always exhausting, but Bo never minded. And besides, it was their own fault they had to leave. Not that Bo would ever say that out loud, she wasn’t stupid. She trusted Pre Vizsla, but the man had been too impatient lately and she had seen how he treated people who spoke out against his decisions. Not that Bo never did, but she was smart enough to do it when only Vizsla could hear.

But anyway, the situation was like it was, and there was no use complaining about it now. And besides, Carlac had been too cold for her liking anyways. Not that Zanbar was more to her taste, but at least it wasn’t freezing.

With the camp set up, people were going about their business again. Vizsla was in his tent, and Bo contemplated whether or not to go talk to him. She hadn’t said anything about what happened so far, and maybe it was better to leave him be for another few days. And besides, she wasn’t done yet.

Bo certainly wasn’t the oldest one in Vizsla’s ranks, but for sure one of the warriors with the most experience. She had fought in the Civil War, even though many had thought her too young. But she had prevailed.

She had learned much during that time. A lot of the warriors that flocked to Vizsla wanted to fight, and that was fine with Bo. But they never quite seemed to grasp that victory was not based on numbers and fire power alone. Sure, those things helped. But intel, preparation, supply lines,… The intricacies of strategic planning went over most people’s heads, really. And so it was Bo-Katan who stood in one of the supply tents, inventorying everything they still had in stock.

She just made a note to get more power packs when she heard the tent flap open and close.

“Still at it?”

Bo’s head whipped around.

“Ursa!”, she exclaimed, and walked over to hug her friend. “I thought you were staying on Krownest for another few weeks at least. Everything alright?”

Ursa chuckled, hugging her friend back.

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“How are Alrich and Sabine?”

Ursa smiled fondly. “They’re both good. You know them, they make a good team.”

Bo nodded, and yet she thought she had detected a hint of sorrow in Ursa’s last words.

“Want a drink?” Bo asked. “Someone managed to store the tihaar next to the vibro blades.”

“Ouch,” Ursa said, shaking her head. “Makes you wonder where people keep their heads sometimes. But yeah, I’d take a sip.”

Bo got a bottle out of one of the boxes, and the two women settled on the floor, backs against an obliging crate.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, passing the bottle back and forth. Then, Ursa began to talk.

“You know,” she began, a frown on her face, like she was trying to find fitting words for what she wanted to say. “I feel torn, sometimes.”

Bo looked over to her friend and just nodded, encouraging Ursa to go on.

“On the one hand, I want to be here. I want to be in this fight, not just watching from the sidelines. I’m a warrior, it’s my duty. And yet…”, she trailed off, letting out a long, low sigh.

“And yet, you also want to be home,” Bo-Katan said.

Ursa nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“And why wouldn’t you,” Bo continued softly. “You have a lovely daughter, and a husband who dotes on you. You are very lucky in that regard. It’s okay to not want to miss out on that.”

Ursa smiled a tired smile at Bo-Katan, then grabbed the bottle from her hands and took a swing.

“You know,” Ursa kept on saying, the alcohol slowly seeming to have an effect on her infliction, “I love my husband and I love Sabine. I actually like being a mother, you know. And you know what bugs me about it sometimes?”

Bo shook her head.

“That Alrich is so much better at it than I am.”

“Ursa!”

“What? It’s true! He has it all down. The diapers, the feeding, the sleeping… I’m an amateur next to Alrich.”

Bo wanted to interject, but Ursa was on a roll. “And it’s my own fault! Because I can’t just sit at home and let others fight this war while I take care of my family.”

“Ursa, stop!”, Bo finally managed to get in. “You make it sound like that is wrong, and it just isn’t!”

“It isn’t. It isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t”, Bo confirmed. “Whatever works best for you and your family isn’t wrong, but the right thing to do. Imagine if you and Alrich were to switch roles. Imagine you’d be on Krownest all the time. I mean, yeah, sure, you’d see a lot more of Sabine, and you do deserve to. But would it make you happier that the arrangement you have right now? To watch Alrich go off to war while you change the diapers?”

Ursa was eerily silent for a moment.

“Because if it would make you happier, Ursa, then you should go home.” In an afterthought she added “I wouldn’t blame you for it.”

Ursa took another swallow from the bottle and let out another long sigh.

“No,” she admits. “I wouldn’t be happier. Not really. I just miss them.”

“As you should,” Bo said.

She then put her arm around Ursa’s shoulder and pulled her into her side.

“It’ll be alright,” she told her, rubbing her friend’s arm.

They kept sitting in silence for a little while longer. Then, Ursa began to talk again.

“And here?”, she inquired. “What happened on Carlac?”

Bo shrugged. “Something unexpected.”

“How so?”

Now it was Bo’s turn to sigh. “You know how Vizsla wants to get back at Dooku. Someone reached out to the Death Watch, a young senator’s son called Lux Bonteri. His mother used to be a senator in the Confederacy. She had died unexpectedly, and her son blamed Dooku for it. And from what I could gather, it’s actually not that unlikely. Dooku didn’t admit it, of course. But Bonteri wanted revenge. But one look at that kid will tell you that he alone could never pull it off. He needed someone with strength.”

“Alright,” Ursa said. “But what made Pre enter a deal with him?”

Bo smirked. “Bonteri had figured out a way to locate Dooku. The deal was that Bonteri would find out where Dooku is hiding, and the Death Watch would go and take him out. Win-win.”

“Well,” Ursa said, frowning, “that clearly isn’t what happened.”

“No,” Bo agreed. “Though it did start out promising. The kid showed on Carlac as planned. And he did have Dooku’s coordinates.”

“But?”

“But he wasn’t alone. I don’t think he planned on bringing the girl, though.”

“He brought a girl?”, Ursa asked, disbelief in her voice. “Like a girl friend?”

Bo huffed out a laugh. “If only. They did try to sell that story, though. Bonteri introduced her as his betrothed. I should have known that it was a cover story. I mean one look at her and you’d know that she wasn’t made to be some senator’s wife who would entertain guests while her husband talks politics. She was…feisty…I guess.”

Ursa grinned. “You like her.”

Bo shrugged. “I would like her…under different circumstances. Turned out the girl was a Jedi.”

“What?”

Bo nodded, making an affirmative noise. “Kinda badass. Managed to decapitate four of our warriors in one strike. Very skilled for her age. Gave me a run for my money, that’s for sure.”

“You like her. Jedi or not.”

Bo shrugged again. “Maybe…”

Now it was Bo’s turn to take a sip from the bottle.

“There is something else bothering you,” Ursa said. It was a statement, not a question, as Bo noticed. But she kept silent.

“Bo, come on. If not to me, who are you gonna talk to.”

Bo sighed again. “I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“Vizsla.”

For a few heartbeats, the tent was completely silent. But then, Ursa answered.

“Yes,” Ursa agreed. “So am I.”

“We had a good plan,” Bo-Katan continued. “Slowly escalate until it was clear that Satine had lost the grip on the situation. Until the people felt no longer safe. Vizsla blames that Kenobi guy for his plans to fall through.”

“But you don’t.”

“Well, I do, in a way. But the Jedi would never have been involved if we hadn’t made a deal with Dooku. We would not have sent a saboteur to a republic cruiser on our own, it would not have furthered our plans at all. It was the only reason they sent a Jedi to Mandalore in the first place, not because of the Death Watch. The Jedi were probably completely unaware of us until Kenobi’s arrival.”

Bo took another swig from the bottle and continued.

“It was the right thing after that to call off our deal with Dooku. But it should have ended there. But for Pre, it didn’t. He took it personal. And now he wants revenge. On Dooku, but even more so on Kenobi. And I fear his personal endeavor for vengeance might at one point jeopardize our operation.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t find the right time. And then that Bonteri kid came around and I thought that if it worked and we could get back at Dooku, if Vizsla got his revenge, then we could get back on track with taking over Mandalore.”

“And then, the kid brings yet another Jedi,” Ursa said, groaning. “Great.”

“And again, if we hadn’t involved an outsider, we wouldn’t have had to deal with the Jedi again at all.”

Ursa nodded in agreement.

“So, what now?”, she asked.

“I’ll wait a few more days, then talk to Pre,” Bo answered. “But I need to give him some time to cool off first. I am one of the very few who can actually contradict him in private, but that’s not a free pass to do so. No, I need to choose the moment carefully.”

Ursa nodded again and took the bottle from Bo-Katan.

The two women kept sitting in the supply tent, passing the bottle back and forth. Eventually, their talk went to lighter topics.

#bo katan week #bkw 2021 #Bo-Katan Kryze #bo katan kryze #Bo-katan #Bo Katan #ursa wren #star wars #fanfic

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heyiwrotesomethings · 4 years ago

Text

Stay By My Side

Mitsuri Kanroji x Fem Reader

A/N: Obanai please don’t come for me. She may be your wife, but a girl can dream, alright? As far as warnings go, there is some nudity, but like, no detail about it just chillin’ in the hotspring nothing explicit.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mitsuri giggled, jumping on the tips of her toes rapidly while watching a figure come up over a hill with someone on their back. “I think it is!” She clapped before rushing through the Swordsmith Village to meet the new arrival. “Thanks for the lift.” (Y/n) smiled and removed her blindfold as the Kakushi gently lowered her to the ground. “No prob-“ “(Y/n)! You made it!” Mitsuri made it down the steps in record time and tackled the other girl, nearly sending her to the ground and knocking the air out of her lungs with a bone crushing hug. “Mitsuri, hey!” Although the girl was straining to breathe, she hugged back with just as much force. Mitsuri and (Y/n) first met after their Final Selection when they were picking the ore for their nichirin blades. They had initially reached for the same one, which led to battle of politeness, insisting upon the other that they should take the material. Eventually a game of rock, paper, scissors decided that Mitsuri would take the ore, but she insisted on treating (Y/n) to meal afterwards and they had been friends ever since. Unfortunately, they had grown apart after Mitsuri had became Rengoku’s Tsuguko and then quickly rose through the ranks until she became a full fledged Pillar herself. (Y/n) herself was at rank Hinoe, so she was doing pretty well for herself as well. (Y/n) and Mitsuri still wrote each other and occasionally met up when they would be in the same area for missions, but those meet ups were always much too short for Mitsuri’s liking. Which is why when (Y/n) wrote that she needed to go to the Swordsmith Village for maintenance on her blade, Mitsuri couldn’t have been more excited and since her blade was in need of some maintenance as well, she made plans to meet (Y/n) there. So, that’s how they got here, wrapped in each other’s arms. Mitsuri was so excited she raised (Y/n) a few inches off of the ground and spun her around a bit until they were both breathless from laughing.

“Ahem,” The young women turned in each other’s arms and looked up sheepishly at the Kakushi that they had completely forgotten about upon their reunion. “Someone will return for your pickup a week from today, (L/n)-san. Make sure you are prepared before then,” The Kakushi informed. “Alright, I will. Thank you.” (Y/n) nodded. The Kakushi waved a farewell before disappearing back in the woods, leaving the girls alone. “I’m so excited to see you!” Mitsuri cheered, her tone a bit shrill. Nevertheless, (Y/n) laughed as she parted from the Hashira’s grasp. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” “Hmph!” Mitsuri pouted, lightly shoving (Y/n) away. “What about you, huh? Did you miss me, did you miss me?” “Of course I’ve missed you! I’ve been looking forward to this ever since you told me you would be coming here too.” (Y/n) cheerfully replied. “Awww, you’re too sweet!” Mitsuri blushed. “So, wanna grab lunch? I’ll buy.” “Wahhh no fair, I was gonna treat you!” Mitsuri whined, pouting cutely. “I’ll be here all week, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to try again. How about you? How long will it take for your blade to be back in fighting shape?” “A little less than two weeks. My swordsmith wants to test out some new modifications so it’ll take a bit longer.” “Ooo, I’d like to see what they come up with if they finish before I leave. It sounds exciting.” “Sure, I’d be happy to show you. That won’t be for a while though, we have a whole week ahead of us and I recall someone saying something about lunch?” Mitsuri smiled, cheekily. “Wow, you sure changed your tune quick,” (Y/n) joked. “Do you have a place in mind or do you want to wander?” “I know a great place! You’ll love it!” Mitsuri cheered. She grabbed (Y/n) by the sleeve and tugged her up the steps Mitsuri had descended just a few minutes ago. She pulled (Y/n) through the bustling village, both girls waving at every friendly, masked face they passed. Soon they entered a small shop, the owner of which, greeted Mitsuri like an old friend. “Battle stations everyone, Kanroji-sama is here!” The old man chuckled joyously. “Oh, um, you don’t have to make so much. I’ll be having a light lunch today.” Mitsuri informed, looking a bit bashful as her eyes shifted around the small room. “Nonsense,” (Y/n) interjected. “Eat as much as you’d like Mitsuri. I may not be a Hashira, but I still earn a decent amount of money as a Hinoe. I can afford to pay for you to have a satisfying lunch.” “(Y/n)-“ “Is something on your mind?” (Y/n) questioned, sitting at the low table the masked man gestured to. “We’ve eaten together on numerous occasions, it isn’t like you to say something like that.” “You’re right, I don’t know why... it just sort of... slipped out.” Mitsuri blushed and kept her eyes trained on her hands as she messed with the fabric of her skirt. (Y/n) frowned, concern laced through her features before speaking again, “Hey,” Mitsuri jolted a bit as (Y/n) poked at her forehead from across the table, “You don’t need to put on a front for me. I like you just the way you are and I wouldn’t have it any other way. No matter how much time passes between our meetings, that will never change, got it?” (Y/n) offered a smile that Mitsuri timidly returned. “Thank you, (Y/n). I guess it’s just been so long since I last saw you in person. I think you were still a Tsuchinoe back then. I guess I was just worried you’d grown tired of me,” Mitsuri confessed. “No way!” (Y/n) rose her voice, sheepishly looking about the small restaurant before returning her gaze to Mitsuri, speaking more quietly, “If anything, I don’t know why you still bother with me. I mean, you climbed the ranks so fast. You became a Tsuguko, then you became a Hashira not much longer after that. Meanwhile I’m just - you know?” (Y/n) gestured vaguely, “Ugh, I don’t even want to talk about how long it took me just to go up one rank from Hinoto to Hinoe. The point is, you’re super strong and talented as well as kind, fun, and just all around a good person. Anyone who decides to pick you apart based on appearance or habits is just not worth your time.” “Aw, (Y/n), I’d still hang out with you even if you were still a Mizunoto! I don’t think rank matters that much at all!” Mitsuri smiled, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Is that all you got from that?” (Y/n) let out a breath of laughter, “Just order what you want, okay? I think they’re getting a bit antsy in the kitchen.” “Right,” Mitsuri grinned, “I’ll take two beef udon, two ramen, and some tempura and rice, please!” She yelled enthusiastically. “I’ll have curry and rice, please!” (Y/n) waved with a smile of her own. With that taken care of, Mitsuri was pretty much back to her usual chipper self. She and (Y/n) caught up, talking about missions and random anecdotes that never made it into any of their correspondences. They happily ate their food when it arrived and (Y/n) paid for the meal after they had finished. “Gods, I think I’m going to explode,” (Y/n) groaned while holding her stomach. “Don’t be so over dramatic,” Mitsuri laughed, good naturedly, “I only offered you some of my dessert, you could have said no if you were full.” “But it looked so good.” (Y/n) sighed, “And it was. Really, really good.” “Sounds like you need some rest. We can head to the inn and relax a bit,” Mitsuri suggested. “Oh right, the inn! I still need to get a room,” (Y/n) remarked, giving Mitsuri a double take. “Why are you suddenly so bouncy?” Sure enough, Mitsuri was bouncing on her toes, seemingly really excited about something and when she spoke up, (Y/n) almost didn’t understand what she was saying as she talked super fast and excitedly. “You don’t need to do that because I requested a room we can share!” “Really?” “Yeah! I wanted to maximize our time together, make it really efficient!” (Y/n) laughed, “Wow, how do you get along without me at all if when we’re together we’re basically attached at the hip?” “I read over past letters you’ve written me and think about where you might be and how you are doing,” Mitsuri answered, candidly. “You, my friend, are the sweet one,” (Y/n) smiled, a faint blush crawled up her skin. “Well, no point standing around, lead the way!” She said, playfully poking the Hashira’s side and making her squirm and giggle. Mitsuri led (Y/n) to the small inn near the hot spring and checked them in. She enthusiastically showed (Y/n) the room they’d be sharing and showed her the back door that led to a small deck and a private section of the hot spring. “Isn’t this great?” Mitsuri clapped, “It’s like a vacation!” “This is very nice, this is going to be a fun week,” (Y/n) agreed. They pushed their bed rolls together and lazed around a bit, digesting their meal and continued talking about whatever came to mind. A lull in the conversation made Mitsuri turn in her side to observe (Y/n) who had fallen asleep. She nearly cried she thought it was so cute. She swallowed down any sweet exclamations that threatened to spill out of her mouth and simply smiled at the sleeping girl at her side. Mitsuri reached out and tentatively combed her fingers through (Y/n)’s hair. It was still hard for her to believe that they were together again. It had been nearly seven months since they last met face to face and Mitsuri took this moment to really study (Y/n). (Y/n) appeared a bit taller, more muscular and her hands were callused and a few scars were scattered over her arms and hands. Her face had lost some of its baby fat and she appeared more mature. “What are you looking at?” Mitsuri jolted her hand away and blushed madly. “Ahh!” She squeaked. (Y/n) looked over at Mitsuri with drowsy eyes filled with warmth and laughed, “Sorry, I kind of fell asleep there. You must’ve been bored,” “Not at all. It was nice to just relax for a bit. I was actually just thinking about how much you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” “Hm? Do I really look any different?” “Mhmm. Just a bit, I can tell you’ve been working hard.” “Of course I’ve been working hard. How else am I gonna catch up with you, silly.” (Y/n) grinned. “You aren’t exactly the same girl from the Final Selection yourself.” “Really? How so?” “You were strong before, but now your muscles are more defined. You’re a bit taller too and then of course there’s your hair. I remember when it was still black!” “Do you think it looked better dyed black?” Mitsuri mumbled. “No, you looked cute with black hair, but I think your hair suits you as it is now. I think it’s beautiful.” “You mean it?” “Yeah, I really like your hair,” (Y/n) reached out and stroked the fringe out of Mitsuri’s face. “What else do you want to do today, Mitsuri?” “Hmm?” Mitsuri had been temporarily distracted by the gentle strokes moving her hair, but she quickly shook her head and regained her bearings. “Oh! Yeah, we could go for a walk around the village, see what there is to see. Then I’m paying for dinner and you can’t stop me!” Mitsuri grinned triumphantly. “Alright, you win this round,” (Y/n) hummed and sat up. “You ready to go right now?” “Yeah! Then when we come back we can hop in the hot spring. I can’t wait!” “Ha, yeah, can’t wait...” (Y/n) looked away and scratched the back of her neck nervously. Before Mitsuri could comment on the change in behavior, (Y/n) shot up into a standing position and gave Mitsuri the most sincere smile she could muster. “Let’s get going, we’re burning daylight!”

*** Mitsuri showed (Y/n) all around the village and introduced her to all her favorite spots. They occasionally stopped to rest or look into certain shops and watched masked men and women practice their craft. Eventually Mitsuri led (Y/n) to a restaurant with outdoor seating and they happily enjoyed the sweet breeze while also eating a delicious meal. After Mitsuri had paid, they slowly made their way back to the inn as the sun sank lower in the sky. “Woo! Today was so much fun! I can’t wait to get in the water.” Mitsuri grinned, already dragging (Y/n) toward the bath to rinse off before getting in the hot spring. “Um, you go on ahead, I’ll meet you out there. I wanted to uh, check on something quick.” (Y/n) stumbled over her words. “Oh, okay. I’ll see you out there I guess.” Mitsuri tilted her head and watched (Y/n) disappear down the hall before turning back to the bath. Mitsuri washed off and wrapped a towel around herself before returning to the main room. Still no sign of (Y/n). Mitsuri frowned, her eyes mirroring the concern she felt, but shrugged it off and headed into the hot spring. She dropped her towel on a rock at the side of the water and melted into the steam as she stepped in. She sat with her head resting on top of her arms on the edge of the rocks and sighed pleasantly. “Sorry I took so long.” Mitsuri glanced up and smiled lazily at (Y/n) who had just emerged from the doorway in a fluffy towel of her own. “What did you need to do that was so important, (Y/n)?” “Ahhh, just looking around the inn. Looking to see what’s up.” (Y/n) answered and sat on the pool edge, her towel still tightly wrapped around her. “Aren’t you going to get in?” Mitsuri asked, propping up her head with one hand. “I think I’ll just hang out here. It’s just really warm and I don’t want to get dizzy.” (Y/n) replied. “That’s no fun, you should get in for a few minutes at least,” Mitsuri said, gliding over to the other demon slayer. “Come on, I’ll catch you if you faint.” She singsonged. “My hero,” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’m fine right here, really.” “Aww, that’s a shame,” Mitsuri moved to be right at (Y/n)’s side. “I’m just so lonely in here. I was hoping you’d join me.” “What a drama queen,” (Y/n) huffed. “I’m literally right next to you.” “True... but you could always be closer!” Mitsuri laughed as she pounced on the other girl, scooping her up in her arms and dunking her in the water. (Y/n) was submerged in the water and kicked off the bottom and spluttered for air due to the surprise attack. “Oh my gods, (Y/n)! What happened?” Mitsuri gasped and rushed forward in the waist deep water. “Don’t play innocent with me, you literally just threw me in. And it is really hot in here!” (Y/n) scoffed, a smile tugging at her lips. The smile soon fell however, as Mitsuri’s hand delicately brushed against her now bare side. (Y/n)’s face morphed into one that held a bit of fear and apprehension as she realized she had let go of her towel when Mitsuri had thrown her in. “(Y/n), this scar tissue stretches from your ribs all the way to your hip! How did this happen? Why hadn’t you told me about this?” Mitsuri was almost in tears as she inspected the mark that no doubt came from a very serious injury. “I didn’t want you to worry,” (Y/n) replied softly. “You remember six months ago when I wasn’t writing as often? Well, I was on a mission to defeat a demon that had been snatching children from a mountain village. The reports suggested there was only one demon responsible, but there were two. I killed one, then the other caught me off guard and attacked me from behind. By then it was nearly sunrise so the demon ran off. Another slayer happened to find me and rushed me to a wisteria house for medical attention and well, then the rest is history,” (Y/n) recounted her mission, hyper aware of the fingers that lingered on her scarred skin. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or ask someone to find me? You could have died!” Mitsuri cried. “It’s not exactly an easy thing to write about. I thought I’d tell you when we met face to face again, but then weeks turned to months and I felt that too much time had passed. So I tried to hide it, I’m sorry.” “You don’t have anything to be apologizing for!” Mitsuri wrapped her friend in a strong embrace and rested her tear stained face on (Y/n)‘s shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re alright. You are alright, right?” “Yeah, up and moving again within three months of recovery training. I’m pretty much as good as new,” (Y/n) informed, then cleared her throat. “It is really hot in here though, and as much as I enjoy your hugs, I’m getting a bit light headed.” “Really? Let’s get out then!” Mitsuri panicked a bit before picking up (Y/n) again and trudged over to the edge of the hot spring and set her down briefly before quickly exiting the pool herself and reaching for (Y/n) again. “Mitsuri, I can get back into the room myself. You don’t have to carry me,” (Y/n) said, pushing herself to stand on her feet. “I know I kinda caught you off guard with this nasty scar, but I’m really fine.” “You’re right, it’s just- I feel kind of helpless, you know? Like, I know what happened has long since passed, but I wish I could have been there for you.” “Mitsuri, it’s okay, really. Besides, we’re demon slayers these things tend to happen, and you’re a Hashira, you can’t just drop whatever you’re doing to check up on me,” (Y/n) reasoned, wrapping a fresh towel around herself and offering another to Mitsuri. “It’s just not fair. I don’t know what I’d do if you had... If you were gone,” Mitsuri accepted the towel and used it to dry her eyes rather than cover herself. “Come on, let’s get some clothes on and see if we can get you some snacks. Sound good?” Mitsuri sniffled and nodded her head, following (Y/n) inside. The girls got dressed in silence, any cheer from before seemed to have disappeared. They managed to snag some onigiri from the kitchen, but even when they returned to the room to eat, the mood was still somber and any attempts at conversation died rather quickly. “Mitsuri, please don’t let me being a reckless idiot ruin this break for you. Please stop thinking about what could have been and see that I’m right here with you, I’m okay, you don’t need to be worried about me,” (Y/n) spoke, taking one of Mitsuri’s hands in hers. “I hate it when you’re sad more than anything so please, stop making that face.” “What face?” Mitsuri sniffled, wiping her free hand over her eyes and discovering wetness from fresh tears, “Oh, never mind. I’ve got the idea now.” “What can I do to make you feel better?” (Y/n) asked, tenderly rubbing Mitsuri’s knuckles with a calloused thumb. “What can I do to make you smile again?” “Can you- Could we cuddle tonight? Like we used to when we still got to go on missions together?” Mitsuri asked, timidly. “Sure,” (Y/n) smiled, warmly. “I’m pretty tired anyway. Are you ready for bed now?” Mitsuri nodded, a small smile tugged at her lips as she followed (Y/n) over to the bed rolls after most of the lamps had been extinguished. (Y/n) laid down and spread her arms wide as an invitation that Mitsuri eagerly accepted. She snuggled into the crook of (Y/n)’s neck and wrapped one arm around (Y/n) while the other rested securely between their bodies. She breathed in the familiar scent and her smile grew a fraction wider as (Y/n)’s fingers ran through her loose hair that hung off Mitsuri’s back like an extra blanket, a comforting gesture that calmed her immensely. “Feeling better?” “Mhmm.” “I’m glad. But I think you could be happier.” Mitsuri giggled as the fingers attacked her sides and instead of moving to escape their assault, she wiggled closer to (Y/n) and smiled into her collarbone. Once the fingers resumed stroking her hair, Mitsuri found it harder to keep her eyes open and they eventually shifted close, and she fell into a deep sleep.

*** The rest of the week moved much too quickly for Mitsuri. She was having so much fun with (Y/n) that she never wanted to leave. She had come to think of the hidden village as a haven of safety and every time she saw (Y/n)’s scar, she was reminded of the dangers that lurked just beyond the wisteria blooms. On the sixth day, Mitsuri accompanied (Y/n) on her visit to see her swordsmith and test the quality of her nichirin blade. Mitsuri watched with bated breath as (Y/n) scrutinized the blade and swung it around. Mitsuri found herself hoping that the swordsmith made an error that would require another week to fix, something that would mean (Y/n) wouldn’t have to leave tomorrow. She had to stop herself from physically deflating when (Y/n) smiled and her eyes sparkled with appreciation for the swordsmith’s work. “It’s as good as new, if not better! You really did an amazing job, thank you!” (Y/n) praised the swordsmith. “I’m glad you find it satisfactory. Thank you for your kind words.” The swordsmith mumbled, Mitsuri was sure that if she removed her mask, the smith would be positively red from the praise. “Mitsuri, look at this! Isn’t it awesome?” (Y/n) presented the (f/c) blade to the Love Hashira and Mitsuri had to admit, it looked really good. “Yes, it looks wonderful.” Mitsuri said, a tight smile formed over her lips. “You keep on going like this, and I’m sure you’ll be maintaining blades for Hashira in no time!” She addressed the swordsmith. The masked woman spluttered her gratitude over the statement then quickly made an excuse to leave, absolutely over the moon from being praised by a Hashira. “Looks like I’ll be leaving tomorrow as planned. Too bad, I wanted to see what your swordsmith was doing with your blade,” (Y/n) sighed. “Well, at least we got to spend a whole week together. I had a really good time.” “Me too,” Mitsuri answered, simply. She didn’t quite trust herself to not burst into tears at that moment so she didn’t say more. “Care for a walk?” (Y/n) smiled, sliding her blade into the scabbard on her hip. “Mhmm,” Mitsuri grasped (Y/n)’s hand tightly and steered her into the woods and they followed the scenic path together. “Mitsuri, this has been really nice,” (Y/n) gave a relaxed sigh. “Makes me kind of wish I didn’t have to leave.” “Maybe you don’t,” Mitsuri whispered, tightening her grip over (Y/n)’s hand. “Just stay here with me, they can’t make you leave.” “As much as I would love that, I need to get back out in the field. I need to get out there and help people. I can’t do that if I’m here, besides, I don’t want to be holding up traffic by overstaying my welcome.” Mitsuri had stopped moving, causing (Y/n) to stop as well and observe the Hashira closely. “Oh no, Mitsuri, don’t be sad. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon!” “You don’t know that!” Mitsuri yelled, surprising herself and (Y/n) with her volume. “Before this week, the last time we met face to face was seven months ago. Then I just learned about this,” Mitsuri pressed her hand over (Y/n)’s waist where just under her uniform the scar marred her skin, “You could have died and the only way I’d know, would be because I wouldn’t get anymore letters from you. It would have been like you just disappeared off the face of the planet.” “Mitsuri, I’m sorry I scared you, but it’s just not practical. You know how dangerous our line of work is. I worry about you a lot too, you face much stronger demons than I do, so I just wish for your safety and hope that I’ll catch up to you one day so we can work together again. I can’t do that if I stay a Hinoe forever.” “I want to work together too! To have each other’s backs like when we were Mizunoto.” “Then you have to let me go,” (Y/n) smiled, a bittersweet smile. “Come on, let’s go get dinner, I’ll even let you pay for it.” Mitsuri laughed and wiped at the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, alright.” Dinner was somber. After they ate they headed back to the inn and relaxed in the hot spring, Mitsuri discreetly stared at (Y/n)’s scar as she eased into the water. “(Y/n)?” Mitsuri whispered. “Yes?” “Can we cuddle tonight?” “We’ve kind of been cuddling every night, so yeah, we can cuddle,” (Y/n) laughed. Mitsuri jumped out of the water and draped her towel over her shoulders . “Let’s go then!” “Already? We’ve only just got in,” (Y/n) said, getting out of the water anyway. “I want to get all I can get. I wanted to make the most of our time together, remember?” “Yeah, okay, I’m coming! You don’t need to push,” (Y/n) laughed as Mitsuri guided her back into their room. The girls put on their yukatas and snuggled up to each other, Mitsuri held tight and found sleep despite the emotions swirling within her, but not before a plan started to form in her brain.

*** “(L/n)-san, are you ready to go?” The Kakushi guide asked as (Y/n) came within hearing distance. “As ready as I’ll ever be...” (Y/n) forced a smile. When she had woken this morning, Mitsuri was nowhere to be found. (Y/n) assumed something came up with her blade and she had to go check on it which was fine, but she had hoped that Mitsuri would have at least been able to see her off. As soon as the Kakushi finished tying the blind fold over her eyes, a familiar voice could be heard yelling in the distance. “Wait, wait, wait! Don’t leave yet, please!” (Y/n) turned her head in the direction of the voice and grinned. “Mitsuri, is that you? Where were you this morning?” “Sorry, I had an important letter to send to Oyakata-sama!” Mitsuri huffed as she closed the distance and grabbed onto (Y/n)’s shoulders as she attempted to catch her breath. “I’m so glad I caught you in time!” “I don’t mean to be rude Kanroji-sama, but we really must be going now.” The Kakushi informed. “Um, actually, you’re services are no longer necessary. (Y/n) will be staying here with me until my blade has been finished,” Mitsuri said. “I don’t understand,” the Kakushi’s eyes narrowed. “(L/n)-san must leave today. Her blade has been repaired, there is no reason for her to stay here any longer.” “Mitsuri, what’s going on?” (Y/n) removed the blindfold and gave the Hashira a questioning look. “I’m scouting you!” Mitsuri’s eyes gleamed. “I’m recruiting you to be my Tsuguko!” “Your what!?” (Y/n) looked and the bouncing girl before her absolutely dumbfounded. “What do you think? I mean, I guess I should have asked you first before informing the Master, but I thought about it last night and I was just too excited to wait for you to wake up,” Mitsuri spoke excitedly. “Isn’t this great? This way you’ll always be by my side until you become a Hashira yourself!” “Mitsuri, I don’t know what to say...” (Y/n) rubbed the back of her neck. “Are you sure you want to do this? I may be a competent demon slayer, but I’m nowhere near good enough that you should be taking me on as a Tsuguko.” “Is she your Tsuguko or not, Kanroji-sama? I have a schedule to keep,” the Kakushi asked, losing patience. “What do you say, (Y/n)?” Mitsuri held (Y/n)’s hands in her own. “Will you stay by my side and take me as your mentor?” (Y/n) looked down at their connected hands and closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She looked back up at Mitsuri and smiled. “I’d be honored.” “Is- is that a yes?” Mitsuri squeaked, positively vibrating with hope. “It’s a yes-!” Mitsuri picked (Y/n) up just as she released the last word and spun her around, cheering loudly. Then she turned to the Kakushi with (Y/n) still in her arms. “Sorry for the inconvenience, my blade is still with my smith and as my Tsuguko, (Y/n) must remain here with me until it is completed.” “Understood, Kanroji-sama,” and with that, the Kakushi jumped out of sight, seemingly a bit miffed off. “I can’t believe you did this,” (Y/n) said, still baffled. “I’m going to be training under you, the Love Hashira. This is insane!” “Insane in a good way?” Mitsuri asked, timidly. “You know what? I think so,” (Y/n) booped Mitsuri’s nose, eliciting a giggle from her. “You can put me down now.” “Hmm? Oh, right,” Mitsuri gave a chagrined laugh. “So what’s the plan, Kanroji-sama? Master?” (Y/n) smirked as Mitsuri’s face bloomed red. “Please just call me Mitsuri, it’s too weird to hear you call me either of those names,” Mitsuri squeaked, her voice slightly muffled by her hands as they attempted to cover the burning blush settling in her cheeks. “Let’s start with food since I missed breakfast to write that letter to Oyakata-sama,” she added, just after a loud growl came from her stomach. “Sure thing, Master!” (Y/n) grinned, cheekily. “Stop that!”

*** When the time finally came to leave the Swordsmith Village, the Love Hashira and her Tsuguko left together and she could not have been happier. Despite being blindfolded, she craned her head in the direction of (Y/n)’s voice as she recounted her lessons from their training sessions in the village. Now that both of their blades were in perfect condition, the real training could begin once they returned to Mitsuri’s Estate. They were already on to the fourth change of guides and would soon be left to their own devices. To say Mitsuri was excited was an understatement. “Kanroji-sama, could you please refrain from wiggling so much? I’m worried I’ll lose balance,” The concerned Kakushi spoke, adjusting their hold on the Love Hashira. “Sorry!” Mitsuri apologized and quelled the wiggliness in her limbs to a mild jittering. “Sensei, what are we going to do once we get back?” (Y/n) called from the back of another Kakushi. “It depends on if a mission comes up. I was hoping to start with some breathing and sparring practice... and don’t call me sensei!” Mitsuri shot an accusatory finger in the direction she believed (Y/n) to be in. She was a little off, but it didn’t really matter since (Y/n) wouldn’t have been able to see it anyway. “Kanroji-sama, please stop moving so much!” The exasperated Kakaushi asked once again. “Sorry!” About twenty minutes later, they were dropped off near the edge of the forest and they thanked the Kakushi as they disappeared back into the trees. Mitsuri tested (Y/n)’s memory on the Love breathing techniques as they continued walking on their own feet in the direction of Mitsuri’s home. Once Mitsuri was sure (Y/n) would remember the names and purposes of the techniques, they switched over to more general conversation. “I’m so excited! We’re going to live together, and eat together, train together, go on missions together, bathe together, sleep together-“ “Mitsuri, do you ever think that maybe we spend too much time together?” (Y/n) simpered. Mitsuri thought for a second before shaking her head resolutely, “Nope. I don’t think I could ever spend too much time with you.” “I feel the same,” (Y/n) said softly, heat blooming over her face and chest. “What the hell is this?” The two women jolted and snapped their gaze to a low lying tree. Upon one of the branches sat Obanai, who was observing the interaction with calculating eyes. “Iguro-san, hi!” Mitsuri waved. “What brings you here? Oh! You are not going to believe this! This is (Y/n), you know, the friend I’m always writing to? She’s my Tsuguko now!” Obanai slid silently to the ground and observed (Y/n) closely. The intensity of his gaze making (Y/n) sweat. “Um, it’s an honor to meet you Iguro-sama. Mitsuri spoke very highly of you in her letters,” (Y/n) said with a bow. His eyes seemed to light up at that, but his words were still standoffish and cold. “Yeah, when she gets letters from you she goes on and on about you for days. Now that I’ve finally met you, I don’t see what the big deal is,” he said nonchalantly. “Iguro-san, that’s so rude!” Mitsuri gasped, giving her shell shocked friend a hug as Obanai shrugged indifferently. “Anyway, I came by because I figured you’d forget about the Pillar meeting we are supposed to be having today,” Obanai said, not sparing (Y/n) a second thought. “Oh shoot, I forgot!” Mitsuri suddenly yelled. “There’s still time, but we have to run! (Y/n)!” The girl in question jumped as Mitsuri’s face moved to be only centimeters away from her own. “Make yourself at home and uh, practice Love Breathing stances or something!” “But you haven’t taught me the stances yet?” (Y/n) said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Right! Well, just remember what I’ve already told you and yeah, I’m sure you’ll figure it out! Gotta run, be back later!” (Y/n) stood with her mouth slightly agape as the Love and Serpent Hashira ran out of sight. “What the hell just happened?”

*** “Iguro, forgive me if this is a bit presumptuous of me, but did someone shit in your breakfast this morning? Because you seem more surly than normal today.” Tengen asked as he heard the Serpent Hashira sigh bitterly for the umpteenth time as they waited for the Master to appear. “I said I was sorry, Iguro-san! I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. I just couldn’t believe you’d talk to (Y/n) like that!” Mitsuri apologized for the umpteenth time, the only difference being that it was the first time she had done it since they had gotten to the garden and some of the other Hashira took interest. “(Y/n)? Isn’t that the friend you’re always writing to, they’re here?” Shinobu asked. “Yes! Oh you’ll love her Shinobu, I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s my Tsuguko now so you’ll have plenty of opportunities!” Mitsuri informed excitedly, as Obanai continued to sulk. “A Tsuguko! How grand!” Kyojuro exclaimed, loudly. “It was not long ago when I took you under my wing. I’m sure you’ll soon realize how rewarding it is to be on the mentor side of things! I couldn’t be more proud!” “Thank you, Rengoku-san!” Mitsuri blushed and smiled proudly. “When did you have time to execute this?” Shinobu asked. “Didn’t you just get back from the Swordsmith Village?” “Oh, (Y/n) was at the village too. We spent the whole first week together and then (Y/n)’s sword was done so she was going to have to leave and I kind of panicked and wrote a letter to Oyakata-sama so (Y/n) would be my Tsuguko and not have to leave my side!” Mitsuri explained, speaking animatedly. “Ah, I see,” Shinobu smiled knowingly, a teasing gleam in her eye. “She must be very special, yes? Tell me, how much of your decision was based on skill versus desire?” “D-desire? Desire for what? And skill! (Y/n) is super skilled, she’s already memorized the Love Breathing forms and their purposes, she just needs to put them in motion and she’ll be a Pillar in no time!” Mitsuri replied. “Nah, I think Kochou’s got a point. You tend to fawn over every letter that girl gives you and hang on to every word. I think you’re judgement might’ve been clouded over by your feelings for this girl,” Tengen commented. “What!” Mitsuri’s face heated up. “Come on, do you guys really think I’d choose (Y/n) as my Tsuguko just because we’re friends?” Of the Pillars that were engaged in the conversation, all nodded in agreement except for Obanai. “Friends?” He scoffed. “I may not have many friends-“ “Still have more than Tomioka-san,” Shinobu interrupted, waving over at Giyuu as he stared at her blankly from across the garden. “Anyway,” Obanai continued, “I may not have many friends but even I know people don’t say the kind of lovey dovey crap you were spouting to their friends.” “Ooo, do tell Iguro-san, just what did you hear,” Shinobu smiled as Mitsuri squirmed. “She was basically talking about how they’re going to spend every waking moment together and even all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her need to be together,” Obanai said, his tone was cold but his eyes held mischief. Sure he was disappointed with where Mitsuri’s affections laid, but he had known about (Y/n) for nearly as long as he new Mitsuri and knew he never really had a chance. Right now he just wanted revenge for that punch because his back still hurt like hell. “I never said that!” Mitsuri spluttered. “You’re totally blowing this out of proportion! All I said was how excited I was to be living with her and how I didn’t think we could ever spend too much time together!” “That’s nearly the same as what Iguro-san said!” Kyojuro stated. “But don’t worry, I trust in your decision making abilities, I’m sure you’re girlfriend is a fine demon slayer worthy of your teachings!” “(Y/n) isn’t my girlfriend!” Mitsuri squeaked, her skin felt like it was positively on fire and her heart was beating impossibly fast. “She kind of is, unofficially of course,” Shinobu said, offering Mitsuri a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat from the poor girl. “We’ve all heard you talk about her and how you covet every letter and, well, we’ve kind of read some of them so we know that she really likes you as well.” “You people have been reading my mail!?” Mitsuri yelled. “Eh, it’s kind of hard not to when you leave the letters out in the open,” Tengen shrugged. “Will you all just shut up already! The Master will be here any second and I’m tired of listening to this shit excuse of a conversation! You can sort out your love life at home, Kanroji,” Sanemi growled. Tengen scoffed and Obanai rolled his eyes. Kyojuro continued to smile as he stared into the distance and Shinobu offered a sympathetic pat to Mitsuri’s shoulder before focusing her attention toward the engawa. Mitsuri wasn’t the first to greet the Master when he arrived, she barely registered that he had entered at all. In fact, she hardly paid attention at all during the meeting as her mind raced to process everything that had just occurred and as all the pieces came together she could only repeat the same sentence to herself over and over. Oh my gods, I’m in love with (Y/n)!

***

Once the Master retired to his room and the meeting concluded, Shinobu tugged on Mitsuri’s haori to bring the girl back to reality. “The meeting is over, Mitsuri. We can go home how,” Shinobu smiled when Mitsuri jolted at the unexpected contact. “Oh, cool,” Mitsuri mumbled, wringing her hands nervously. “I certainly hope we haven’t said anything to cause you distress, just keep being yourself Mitsuri, you aren’t going to scare her away by sharing your feelings,” Shinobu reassured. “And if she hurts your feelings in any way you tell me and I’ll take care of it,” Obanai added. “What do you mean by ‘take care of it’?” Mitsuri asked. “Don’t worry about it,” Obanai replied cryptically. “Let the flame in your heart run wild, Kanroji!” Kyojuro cheered. “I’ve got three wives, how hard could it be for someone as flamboyant as you to get one as well?” Tengen said. “Okay! I’m gonna go for it!” Mitsuri shot up and ran to jump over the top of the fence. “Kanroji, be careful.” Obanai chided as she nearly slipped off the ledge. “No time to waste! I need to hurry before I lose my nerve!” Mitsuri called over her shoulder as she ran all the way back home. When Mitsuri got back, she was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. She gave herself a few minutes to catch her breath before looking around the grounds for (Y/n). She finally found her stretching under a tree and she stood watching (Y/n) from a distance. Mitsuri’s heart began beating nearly as hard as it had when she ran home. Her hands trembled and her face grew hot and she nearly decided to back out of her confession, but she took a deep breath and approached (Y/n) to tell her how she felt. As her footsteps neared, (Y/n) swiveled her head, craning it upwards as she stretched. “Mitsuri! Welcome back!” (Y/n) called, her smile making Mitsuri’s heart feel like it was going to explode. “Can you help me stretch a bit further?” “Yes, sure!” Mitsuri squeaked. She knelt behind (Y/n) and pushed her back forward so her stomach was nearly even with the ground. Mitsuri held (Y/n) in position for a few moments then let up, allowing (Y/n) to return to a sitting position. “I don’t think we thought this through very well,” (Y/n) sighed, catching Mitsuri by surprise. “What do you mean?” “Love Breathing was developed by you to maximize the use of your flexibility and strength. Even your whip-like blade is important to your style and how every move is carried out. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think it’s possible for me to properly execute Love Breathing,” (Y/n) explained with a frown. “I’m afraid I won’t make a very good Successor for you Mitsuri.” “That’s not true!” Mitsuri interjected. “I mean, yeah, Love Breathing compliments my skills, but you can still learn something from it. I learned Flame Breathing from Rengoku-san, I don’t really use it anymore, but it heavily influenced my fighting style. We just need to enhance your skills and you can develop a Breath of your own!” Mitsuri encouraged. “I don’t know, Mitsuri...” “You can do it! I know you can because you’re smart, strong, and dedicated and those are just three of the many things I love about you!” Mitsuri said, grasping the sleeve of (Y/n)’s uniform and blushing furiously. “Mitsuri, you’re too good to me,” (Y/n) smiled, placing her hand over Mitsuri’s, nearly sending the pink haired girl to the other side because of the gentle, yet firm contact. “Well, how does pancakes sound for dinner? I was going to see if you had the ingredients but I got lost in there and didn’t know where anything was.” “Pancakes sounds awesome! Great! Can’t wait to make them!” Mitsuri babbled paying more attention to their still connected hands as they walked toward the house. “Are you okay, Mitsuri? You look hot.” “H-hot?!” Mitsuri squeaked. “Yeah, your face is all red and your palm is sweaty. You aren’t getting sick, are you?” “No! I, um, I just realized something and uh, I was going to do something about it, then I didn’t do it right away and now I don’t know if I can do it and-“ “Mitsuri,” (Y/n) faced the Hashira and held Mitsuri by the arms. “What is it, what’s wrong? Whatever it is I’ll help you.” “It’s not that simple,” Mitsuri mumbled flicking her eyes to look anywhere besides (Y/n)’s own eyes. “Okay, just start by saying what the problem is and we can figure it out from there. We can take baby steps.” “The problem is what it is! If I say it, that’s it, there will be nothing left to do!” Mitsuri whined. “Then you should say it!” (Y/n) laughed in spite of the situation. “What’s the worst that could happen?” “You’d hate me,” Mitsuri replied, tears began spilling from her pastel green eyes. “You’d hate me and never want to see me again!” “Mitsuri, I could never hate you!” (Y/n) said, emphatically. She raised a hand up to catch the tears that broke free from Mitsuri’s eyes. “What? Did you change your mind about the whole Tsuguko thing? That’s okay! I’d never resent you for that it’s a lot of work after all and you already do so much-“ “I’m in love with you!” Mitsuri cut (Y/n) off, her eyes filled with a fragile hope as she scanned over (Y/n)’s face for her reaction. “You are?” (Y/n) asked, her expression one of surprise and awe. Mitsuri tried to speak, but her throat was suddenly dry so she settled on furiously nodding her head. Then she gasped as (Y/n) pulled her close to her chest in a tight embrace. “I love you too,” (Y/n) said, smiling brightly. “You do? Why didn’t you say anything before?!” Mitsuri whined, burying her embarrassed face into (Y/n)’s neck. “You always seemed dead set on finding a man that was stronger than you and well, I’m neither of those things,” (Y/n) answered. “To be honest, I’m very surprised you like me as more than a friend. I didn’t think I had a chance.” “Aw, I can’t believe I wasted so much time!” Mitsuri pouted, more tears threatening to spill. “You didn’t waste anything. If I had been a bit braver I could have told you how I felt before now as well. Now, we could focus on the past, or we could focus on the present and maybe even the future. Everything is out in the open now,” (Y/n) smiled, gently pushing Mitsuri off of her chest. “So, what do you want to do?” Mitsuri stared unblinkingly at the girl before her, seemingly lost in thought. Then, she carefully cupped (Y/n)’s face in her hands, causing the other girl’s face to heat up significantly. Mitsuri searched (Y/n)’s face for a moment more before diving in and- their noses bumped almost painfully together. “Stop laughing!” Mitsuri whined as she covered her tender nose with her hand. She could hear (Y/n)’s muffled laughter through their own hand that covered their nose and mouth as well. “I’m sorry!” (Y/n) wheezed, trying to regain her composure. “I love you so much! You’re just so amazingly endearing in every way!” “You say the nicest things, I want to kiss you really bad!” Mitsuri pouted, tugging on (Y/n)’s uniform. “But now my nose hurts and I ruined the moment!” “No, you haven’t,” (Y/n) smiled. She raised herself to kiss the tip of Mitsuri’s nose. She paused for a moment to observe Mitsuri’s reaction before tilting her head and allowing their lips to finally meet in a short but sweet kiss. “Was that okay?” (Y/n) asked, softly. “Do it again!” Mitsuri asked, well, more like commanded, while bouncing eagerly on her heels. “Okay, but you have to stop bouncing first or we’ll knock our teeth out,” (Y/n) laughed. Their lips met again, and again, and again and then when Mitsuri got the hang of it, (Y/n) was sure she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Fortunately for (Y/n)’s lungs, Mitsuri paused her attack on (Y/n)’s lips as a loud growl ripped through her stomach. “Oh right, pancakes! Who knew kissing could make you work up an appetite,” Mitsuri marveled. “Come on, let’s get inside and start cooking! The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get back to kissing!” “What have I gotten myself into?” (Y/n) grinned as Mitsuri pulled her along. “You’re insatiable.” “It’s too late to back out now, the kisses sealed the deal. You have to stay by my side forever now! You know, unless that’s not what you want,” Mitsuri said, getting nervous again. (Y/n) squeezed Mitsuri’s hand and lovingly brought it to her lips and planted a kiss on the skin, making Mitsuri smile radiantly. “There is no place I’d rather be.”

#kny oneshots #demon slayer oneshots #Mitsuri Kanroji #Mitsuri x reader #mitsuri kanroji x reader

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starfirette · 5 years ago

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Every Which Way : Chapter Five

The Way Towards Family

➡️Previously

➡️a/n: this is it. This is the chapter I have been dying to write. After this there’s only one other scene I am on the edge of my seat for, but that comes much later 😈 also, I just realized that I’d been advertising this chapter as chapter four. it’s actually chapter five. fml. I TRIED MY BEST TO EDIT THIS FAST SO I’M SORRY BUT HERE IT IS! LIKE COMMENT SUBSCRIBE SEE YA NEXT TIME GAMERS

➡️ OC page, if you care: chapter includes Wendi and Ryder

Even knowing morning has come, you linger in your bed a while. The silence of the room has become a comfort, and the only noise you ever hear is the occasional cuff of boots by your door.

This morning as you stare into the cracks of the ceiling you hear the soft voices of Mandalorian children murmuring rumors.

“I heard she is so ugly that her planet doesn’t want her anymore,” one voice exclaims in a loud whisper.

Another child hissed a remark: “That’s not true. I heard she’s so beautiful that there was a fight over who could keep her.”

You haven't seen many children around the covert. The tunnels are mostly littered with Mandalorians who sharpen their weapons and keep keen watch.

The time came to rise long after those children had scurried off; you could not hide in your room all day. Dressing slowly in your long sleeved tunic and pants, you became lost in thought; your life would take its final turn in a matter of hours. The wedding would commence, and the court guardian in covert captivity would be sent back to Aniri to spread the news that the infamous, fugitive, servant girl would never come back. She would never be repossessed, no matter how many fits Emelea, the new queen, threw. The servant girl would be Din Djarren’s wife.

The thought did make you tremble. Your belly flipped as you laced up your boots without really looking at them. The confession he gave last night still felt like a dream. He’d departed too quickly after the engagement, his only goodbye being the tender press of his helmet against your forehead. He hadn’t returned all night, though you stayed awake hoping he would. The revelation of his feelings felt fraudulent—you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t lying to you, and you never could be. You had to live on and figure this out as you went through the motions, succumbing to the waves of your brand new Way of life.

Combing the knots from your hair with remarkably still fingers, you found yourself contemplating once more.

Contemplation has proved to be your natural enemy these past days. Forming ideas in your mind is a dangerous thing, for once forged, you couldn’t ever forget them. You will never forget the words Din had just spit out so recently. He doesn’t care about you, he isn’t your friend, he has nothing to give to you. You’d interpreted all of that from the single sentence he’d offered like a rotten fruit.

I do not care about you.

And even after saying this, he’d come to your room and begged for your hand in marriage. You’d agreed because at the time you were swayed into believing him, but given his abrupt departure you couldn’t help but contemplate his words. Sweet words can be said any time, any day, but they would never erase the cruel ones.

And Din had said such sweet words. Some you wanted to believe in so badly.

You slipped your belt around your hips, attaching the buckles at the bone then around your thighs. You carried three total weapons now. The pistol, the beskad, and the besbev. Your beskad weighed heavy on your leg, the curve of the blade wrangling against the angle of your stride a bit awkwardly. The besbev had become your closest friend of all the three. It’s beautiful to look at and more beautiful to play. It is a traditional instrument from the older age of Mandalore, a flute, with a blade sharp enough to split skin by the seams at the opposite end. The pistol is self explanatory. It’s not nearly as easy to use as you’d thought. From yesterday’s squabble in the desert your arm ached so, so badly. The recoil of every shot had done its due diligence.

Sheathing the final weapon on your hip, you take a deep breath that ricochets in a wheeze through your chest. Striding among the Mandalorians like your one of them feels like an epic crime. Compared to even a random woman from any other planet you’re small. You’re weak and unable to do well in battle. Compared to these women, why would Din want you?

You lingered around the furnace entrance for a moment, watching as Gold hammered away at no doubt another weapon. You cleared your throat on the off beat of the rhythm, catching Gold’s attention.

“Good morning,” she greets with a cordial nod of her head.

You don’t reply. You walk into the furnace and stand as close as you can to Gold without being molested by runaway sparks.

“You made that choice for me,” you speak, cutting into Gold’s question. She put down her hammer and gestured for you to continue. Through a clenched breath, you ranted out: “Din brought my off Aniri so I could have freedom. To earn that freedom, a choice was made, in which I was not involved, or even consulted. You should have told me.”

Gold inclined her head. “I am sorry,” she says simply.

There’s nothing else she can say to ease your anger. You know this, accepting her apology with a short huff. "Where's Din?"

Harboring sparks over her leather apron, Gold shook her head. “Unaware. I would suspect he’s preparing for the ceremony or he’s further interrogating the captive.”

“Curious,” you note. “What else would he need to know?”

Gold looked at you with a blank expression—even through the helmet, you can tell you should know what Din could want from the court guardian.

“You’re to be his wife, child,” Golds says, suddenly gentle. “Do you blame him for wanting to ensure your lifelong safety? You must know by now that he loves you.”

You calculate the chances of Din telling her to say that. As low as they might be, you still can’t bring yourself to truly believe it. Brushing the detail away with your hand, you looked Gold straight in the visor. “The guardian said we had twenty four hours,” you prompt. “Yesterday.”

“Do relax,” Gold eases you. “Everything is being taken care of.”

“I don’t like hearing that,” you say snippingly. “The last time someone said that to me, I was signed into marriage. Please don’t mistake my aggression for sensitivity.”

Gold had nothing to say to that. She exhaled, a half laugh sort of sound. “There will be a wedding tonight. The guardian will bear witness and he can send a transmission first thing after the ceremony. Tomorrow Paz and his brother will escort the man back to his own planet.”

You lifted one of your brows. “Brother?” You repeated.

“Ryder,” Gold clarified.

Your jaw dropped. “Ryder and Paz are brothers?”

You would have never guessed, with Ryder’s harsh attitude and Paz’s gentle way of doing anything. You shook your head.

“What do I have to do?”

“For one, you have to be at the ceremony,” Gold snickered. You didn’t appreciate the humor at the suspenseful moment. Huffing a tiny sigh, Gold shook her head. “Mandalorian marriage is a rather traditional occasion. The entire covert will be watching. The contract will have to be sealed with blood.”

You drew back, looking absolutely startled.

Gold raised her hand. “Not a great deal. It’s a simple prick of your finger. There will be a second contract which you will have to sign. It’s to be recognized by the Anirian council. There will have been two signed contracts, so there will not be any mistakes. I don’t have to tell you what else you’ll be doing,” she then concluded. She tilted her helmet up, as if she were sneaking a glance of you through her hair. “I don’t, do I?”

“What else do I have to do?” You asked, a feeling of nausea overcoming you once again.

“You will have to consummate the marriage.”

“‘Consummate?’” You repeated. A foreign word. Paz hadn’t taught you that one.

“Yes,” Gold said carefully. “That is...well, child, you will have to have sex with Din.”

You nodded, though your face burned with fierce embarrassment. “Thank you for pointing that out to me,” you say sarcastically.

“I won’t lie. I did think that you didn’t know what sex is,” Gold continued.

“I do,” you assure her.

“You do. Well, this is good, because you have to do it.”

“I know,” you grit through your teeth.

“Do you know how?” Gold then asked.

You shut your eyes, wishing this would end already. “I didn’t come here to ask how to give a man a blowjob,” you say loudly. “Trust me when I tell you I am not completely naïve!”

Gold looked down at her feet. She coughed into her leather glove. “Hello, Din.”

You spun on your heels to see that Din has entered the furnace, having just stepped foot past the threshold.

You abruptly seized up in your stance. A stiff thank you to Gold and then you left, making sure not to brush arms with Din’s armor.

You wished now above all other times that you could have seen Din’s face. He probably looked as mortified as you felt.

What a bother this entire day is turning out to be, you think as you retreat back into your room. You sifted through your basket of snacks and proceeded to eat cheese.

You sank into your pillows as you ate your cheese, feeling rather content with the comfort it provided your stomach. You’ve learned that good food can do lots of things. It can brighten a sour day, such as this cheese has done for you. Your final hours of being a single woman would be spent eating cheese. You wouldn't ask for it any other way truth be told. Cheese is a good treat. It’s a comfort. A luxury, even.

Yes, yes, you think as you anxiously bite into your cheese. At least as a married woman you could still eat cheese.

Being completely honest with yourself you had actually forgotten that sex was a necessary detail in a married woman’s life. Your knowledge on sex is...limited.

In the servant ranks you had been often assigned with another girl to clean and dust and polish the upper level of the palace. This happened to have a grandiose library. Because none of the girls could read, Vidia would pick and choose the small amount of books that had photos printed inside. She stole picture books often, distributing them to other girls for the price of their bread rolls or rice balls at dinner time. It was the only joy you could recall from being amongst the ranks. Vidia often brought that feeling, and as she was your usual cleaning partner, you could pick many favorable memories with her. One being huddled in the darker corners of the library, flipping through a book that could only be described as indecent. Vidia giggled while you blushed and frantically shook her arm, trying to convince her to put the book back before she became caught. At that time, she never did. You’d seen the various sexual positions and orientations. Girls could love girls, boys could love boys, and either one could be easily repulsed by anything sexual.

You wished you could read then. The book had several chapters on various topics. You couldn’t decipher anything but the photos.

Still; you’d seen how sex was supposed to work. It never occurred to you that you could enjoy sex in your lifetime. The council’s teachings made anything indecent clearly criminal, hence the reason for the rags and makeup in the first place. You’d long before associated sex with punishment. Real punishment, not the sort of punishment you’d seen painted in the book.

The very type of punishment Vidia received one day.

The thought of a penis being in close proximity to your general body hadn’t been appealing before.

It’s almost naughty of you to be a little bit thrilled at the idea of Din’s naked body flush with yours.

You only could assume that sex was something most people did for fun because the pictures always had everyone smiling.

It’s a shock that the book had even been in the library considering how conservative the council is.

You’d be forever grateful for it. Forever grateful for Vidia and her mischievous ways. In some strangled way she had saved you from eternal embarrassment on your wedding night. Although you couldn’t say confidently that tonight would go well.

You had never even touched yourself before! You didn’t know that was a thing until the book.

Maybe you’re focusing too strongly on the book.

You should be focusing more on earning your freedom rather than your first time being with a person. But as you recalled the images of girls laying in naked rows and giggling as they cuddled close, you felt yourself become sweatier by the minute.

“OW!” You yowled. You’d been preoccupied in thought and had nibbled onto your finger, having finished your block of cheese.

A knock on the door came, and you were eager to fly from your bed to answer it. Anything to distract yourself from sex with Din. And what better distraction would that be besides, surprise, surprise, Din himself.

You stared up at the T of his visor, lips tightly pressed shut.

“I’m here to take your things,” Din says bluntly.

Out of nervous habit you tucked hair behind your ears. “Why can’t I have my things?”

Fearful for the loss of what little items you possessed you tried to lessen the entry way by inching the door closed.

“Wouldn’t you rather have them in my room?” Din asked, stopping the door with the toe of his boot.

A breath of relief sounded off from your chest. Din shook his head. “I wish you would understand,” he says quietly.

“Understand what?”

“Understand that you’re truly free,” he says. “I am…”

He trailed off, looking fumbled and at a loss for words. “I am here to move your things, as I said.”

You couldn’t exactly argue. Considering he’d be your husband, you’d have to share a room with him, although you can’t exactly imagine having the space with rooms like these.

You helped him gather the little amount of possessions you did own. The new clothes he’d gotten for you you gathered in your own arms. Din made busy with gathering up the amount of books you had from Paz. “Do you enjoy reading?” Din asks. He flips through the history book you’d gotten yesterday.

“I’d enjoy it more if I could actually read,” you mutter.

Din snapped the book shut. “If you’d like, I can help you. I could read to you at night.”

Shifting the weight between your legs, all while your face and ears burned, you stuttered, “That sounds very nice.” It did sound nice. It sounded like something a real married couple would do.

You didn’t realize you would be comfortable with anyone else knowing about your illiteracy besides Paz. Din did not make it seem like a burden, or a red flag, or a flaw. He did take advantage of your stunned silence to take your clothes in his arms. “Should I lead the way?” He asks, his voice strangely vivid in your ears. The bass of his words resonated down to your eardrums, making your chest feel warm as melted butter.

You took one last look around at your bedroom, suddenly saddened by the fact you would be leaving it. It is as plain as it had been when you got it. The simple furniture and the low ceiling; despite all of that it had felt like home.

“Mesh’la,” Din says carefully. “I’m sorry.”

Snapping out of your silent goodbye you looked up at Din. “What for?” You pressed. With furrowed brows you took count of everything Din had to be sorry for.

“About the marriage,” he clarifies. “It wasn’t my first choice for you. I tried everything. Even if you moved to some other planet, they could still come for you. This is the only way to keep you truly safe.”

You smiled at the floor. “You talk about my safety a lot,” you point out.

“I care about it,” Din answered in the same knowledgeable tone. You pucker your lips, at a loss for a retort.

Walking side by side with Din, through the tunnel, felt very strange. His pace was never so concise with yours before today. Looking at him you can see he isn’t struggling. He seems natural; human, even, if you could believe it. He didn’t seem to step out of a two feet radius from you at any given time, and if one of you were to fall behind, it would always be him.

As the tunnel and its crowd thinned into a hall of silence, you looked through the walls searching for doors. A few here and there.

“Some of these are classrooms,” Din says, as if he had sensed your questions. “Some house younglings. Foundlings sleep with the younglings to encourage interaction and connection. Those who have been here the longest, with the strongest clan, tend to get the bigger rooms. It’s a bit of a social pyramid.”

Stopping at what had to be the last room in the entire covert, Din gestured for you to open the door to your new home.

The inside isn’t as shocking as you thought it would be. It’s just a bedroom. There’s a bigger bed in the center of the north wall, the quilts in a folded heap at the foot. A wide vanity and a full length mirror sits in the corner to the right of the bed; to the left, a tall wardrobe. A smaller sized bookshelf and two soft cushioned armchairs linger just beside you at the wall of the entrance. It’s not decorated or filled with anything you could use to guess it belongs to Din.

“The quilts are new,” Din explains as he shuts the door behind him. “It’s not much.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “As perfect as a bedroom can be,” you quickly add, ears burning as you realize what he could have interpreted. You hurry to take the set of books from him. Awkwardly hovering over the shelf you look at him for permission.

“You could rearrange the room however you’d like and I wouldn’t say a word,” Din says. You couldn’t muster any response as you pushed the books against his.

“If you want to sleep separately I can get another bed,” Din continues as he strains himself to stand still in the corner. You step in front of him, grabbing your clothes from his arms as you sigh, “And here I thought you wanted to sleep with me.”

“I—That is not what I meant,” Din stresses.

You laughed at his reaction. “I’m teasing you,” you promise him as you journey to the wardrobe.

“I don’t like being teased,” Din grumbles.

“I’m sorry to say that I’m learning that teasing is a great deal of my personality.” You sent him a look over your shoulder, the smallest of smiles preened over your mouth.

“I don’t like being teased,” Din repeated,

Something boiled in your stomach when he said that, but it felt pleasant. Blushing furiously, you got to folding away your tunics and trousers. Din’s own clothes are folded away. You still remember the smell of his soap from the little bed on his ship. Tonight and every night after that smell would linger beside you.

Staring at the mattress, you couldn’t help but wonder how Din slept at night. Sprawled limbs? Curled? On his stomach, maybe, with one arm hooked underneath a pillow.

The bed would be the scene of consummation tonight, and bearing that in mind you quickly looked away from it.

“Thank you for thinking of doing this,” you say as you come back from the reeling dizziness Din had instilled with his words. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you add. “I will never be able to repay you.”

Din lets out a heavy sigh. He hangs his head down, his shoulders shaking as he laughs. “I wish you would understand, mesh’la. There's nothing I ask from you other than to be my wife."

The floor swayed beneath your feet as the words rushed to your ego. You took a tiny breath to ease your conscious before taking a careful seat on the mattress.

You looked to him through loose bits of your hair as you patted a seat beside yourself. The heavy stomping of his boots shake through your toes that point down into the floor. He takes an uneasy seat, the bed creaking underneath his armor.

“You’re very kind,” you say as a natural moment of silence has passed the room. “Will I be able to see your face tonight?”

Din, almost seeming startled, clenched his hands that rested over his thighs. “Yes.”

You chewed your tongue, trying hard not to laugh or smile. He seemed as nervous as you. It is a comfort to know that the world’s most elite warrior’s could be nervous. “I hope you’ve shaved,” you say again in a teasing way.

“Oh, I have,” Din says reassuringly. Your eyes grew wide. “Do you have facial hair?” you asked hopefully, wanting something to look forward to.

A quiet laugh passed through his modulator. “I could. If you liked that, then I’d say yes.”

“And if I don’t like that?” you ask.

“Then I’d shave every day.”

You wrapped your arms around your stomach that ached as you laughed harder than you ever had before. Perhaps you’re just hysterical given the impending wedding that looms a mere few hours away. “You’ll be very agreeable if you do everything I asked of you,” you say.

Din shrugged. “I just might,” he teases. You would have rolled your eyes if you hadn’t felt so watched. You can feel his eyes glued on you, helmet or no helmet.

“If that’s true, would you answer all my questions?” you challenged.

“To the best of my abilities,” Din agreed, albeit hesitantly.

“What is a Mandalorian wedding like?”

He seemed to have not been expecting that question because he became lost in thought. His fingers splayed over his legs as he relaxed at your side. “Not what I think you’re used to. It’s as traditional as anything else we do. Unlike other cultures, we do not usually make up vows. The binding ceremony is generally the same for each couple. The same words and the same contract. We’re not expected to kiss in front of a crowd. The rules don’t change. But tonight, after the contract is signed, it will be expected of me to remove my helmet. Removing the helmets is a custom saved only for the couple.”

You nod. “I see. But I don’t have a helmet.”

“Not to spoil the surprise, but you’ll soon see everything has been arranged. This wedding will be unlike any other. Rather than one Mandalorian vow, you and I will exchange vows set by Anirian standards. It’s important that the council recognizes our marriage as legal.”

You shiver at the idea of Emelea refusing to accept your marriage. You aren’t entirely certain she’ll be quick to disregard you just because you married Din. You aren’t so much focused on the legality of the ceremony, though. You’re fearful for the outcome that may destroy the covert.

“What are you thinking?” Din asks. His soft voice passed over you like a fluffy cloud, shielding you from the burning sun. You basked in the feeling it gave you for a second.

“I’m thinking that I would never forgive myself if your people went to war because of me.” You sounded quiet and sad, something you didn’t want to convey, but you couldn’t help the feeling.

“We’re Mandalorians, mesh’la,” Din says confidently. “I’m sure we’d be fine.”

You cast your future husband a disregarding look. “This is a covert for a reason,” you argued. “The Armorer told me everything. Other Mandalorians may be able to afford a war, but not mine. Not you.”

Din’s heavy hand placed gently over your thigh, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your trousers. “When it comes to you, I am more than capable of taking down entire armies.”

You felt the urge to hold his hands twinge in your fingers. You might have taken the opportunity to kiss him if you could’ve.

Rather than voice this, you opted to put your hand on top of his, squeezing his grip around your leg. “I’m excited to see what you look like,” you beam. “Before, I was nervous. I’m not so nervous anymore.” You bring your hand up to touch the side of his helmet, where the metal contoured like cheek bones. “You sound like your eyes are brown.”

Din took his turn to hold you next, holding your hand in place.

“No hints?” You asked after a moment of intense staring.

“None.”

With a final squeeze to your hand, Din moved you away then took to his feet. “We should get ready. Wendi will be looking for you, soon.”

You frowned deeply, crossing your arms as you remained intent on hiding in your new bedroom. “Why?”

“I told you that Mandalorian weddings are very traditional,” Din points out, the smirk evident in his voice. “You will have to get ready eventually.”

You groaned. Knowing that Wendi doesn’t like you unsurprisingly turns you off from getting her help. Besides, she’s most likely angry at you for getting her yelled at yesterday after the fight with the guardians.

Begrudgingly you followed Din to the furnace. You considered holding his hand, but chose not to, as you weren’t sure just how affectionate he’s ready to be.

Wendi, Paz, Ryder, and the Armorer already lingered around, having a low conversation while two female Mandalorians worked silently in the corner, using rags to polish armor cuffs.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovebirds of the hour,” Ryder snides. He rests up against the lockers, huge arms strapped over his chest. You resisted a loud huff, telling yourself it’s better to let him be than to give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction.

Wendi’s blue helmet juts a nod in your direction as a greeting.

“Here I was hoping you two would just elope,” Wendi says with a sneer in her voice.

So much for the brief moment of indifference.

“I hope you’re both well rested,” Gold says curtly. “Revisions have just been made. The ceremony may commence at any time.”

You and Din looked to each other. You felt the sense of something like camaraderie, but more intimate. It’s not as though the relationship is like anything anyone’s ever had. There are doubts and feelings still unspoken. Despite that, there’s more than what meets the eye.

The agreement became finalized as Din gave a single nod of his head.

“I’m ready if Din is.”

Ryder cackled while he rubbed his oversized hands together. “I’m ready for something finally exciting,” he exclaimed.

He sauntered forward, grabbing Din by the arm. “Time for your bachelor party,” he declared as he led Din out of the furnace. You felt cold without him by your side; cold and aware of the emptiness beside you. You remained tall, pushing your shoulders out and leaving your chin high in the air. “What happens now?”

Paz spoke this time. “The bride and groom should review their vows while they get dressed. The bride wears a special dress underneath armor. It’s common for Mandalorians to marry non-Mandalorians. Even then it’s important to uphold tradition. On their wedding night, the face of the riduur is reserved for their significant other. After today, the helmet will be yours. It’s up to you whether or not you want to uphold the creed, but tonight, you must.”

That was Paz’s kind way of telling you dressing in Mandalorian garb is a necessary effort you cannot and should not decline. Paz clicked his heels together in a quick bow of goodbye. “I will see you at the ceremony.”

“Thank you, Paz,” you said before he could leave the furnace.

The short nod of his head was a silent form of ‘you’re welcome.’

When only the ladies remained in the furnace, the door became shut and locked, which you’d never seen before. The furnace had always been open for everyone.

“Y/n, please meet Genevieve and Nyra,” the Armorer said as she gestured to the two females who had been silent until now.

“Nice to meet you,” they both said softly, which you reciprocated, including the bow of your head.

“They are under my apprenticeship and have been younglings in our covert for many years. They helped make your wedding armor.”

Genevieve stood about 5 feet tall, if not a few inches taller, and her armor is sprayed a deep, almost pastel purple. You can see she scratched in designs on the cuffs and leather, like wildflowers and stars.

Nyra, on the other hand, stood two heads taller than Gen. Her armor was polished to a mirror like glaze and every plate and leather strap in perfect place.

Wendi tapped her foot anxiously as she watched you interact with the younger girls instead of getting dressed. “Not to be a jerk, but the sun’s already going down. If we want to get the guardian off planet by trooper rotation, then Y/n’s gotta be dressed and married by the next hour.”

You grimace. “I suppose we should get on with it,” you agreed.

You undressed to your undergarments, watching as Nyra and Gen took a sheer black dress from a locker. It reached your knees and fit loosely around your body, mostly the waist and shoulders where the straps felt loose.

“It’s meant to be that way,” Gen promises as she makes some adjustments. She sounds kind through her modulator. “It’s only meant to go underneath the armor.”

You looked down at yourself, feeling quite like a widow rather than a bride as the black skirt swished around your knees.

Wendi and Nyra brought over the first pieces of your armor. Wendi straightens your shoulders for you, a bit too forcefully to be kind. You sent her a glowering look as Nyra fit the breast plate against your chest. You held it in place while Gen attached the shoulder plates.

You would then wear knee and shin guards made of the same white gold as your chest plate. You enjoyed getting the new pair of shoes the most, though; heavy boots as bold as any other Mandalorian’s, but velvety black with white laces. The toes had steel inside, as you could tell as you tapped the toe of each boot against the cobblestone floors.

“Wendi,” Gold says tamely, holding out a hair comb. “Can you be trusted with such a task?”

Wendi plucked the comb from her hand. “Why would I not be?” she snubbed.

You flinched when Wendi took a fistful of your hair in her gloved hands. To your surprise, she was gentle as she twisted it up into a knot on the back of your head, using the comb to stick the bun in place.

“You make an agreeable riduur,” Nyra notes from across the furnace.

“Thank you,” you say. “Although, I’m not sure I know what a riduur is.”

“It’s a mando’a, gender neutral term for a spouse,” Gen fills you in. “Bride, groom, wife, husband, or even neither and both.”

You nod. “So, mando’a is the language you all speak?”

“It used to be,” Gold says from her usual place by her stove.

“Before the purge,” you guessed.

“It was our first language as children,” Gold explains. “We are lucky if a youngling can even pick it up these days.”

“Hey! Ner mando’a...it’s...ah, it’s slipped my mind,” Gen said, defeated. “Still, I can at least understand it.”

You wondered what it would be like to understand two languages; you can’t even read your own. Rather than letting that tear you down, you return your focus to your armor and dress. “I won’t have to wear makeup, right?” you asked fearfully.

“Oh, no,” Gen says in a gasp. “Only your husband shall see your face tonight. It is an honor to see a newlywed’s face! We did make you something special.”

Gen and Nyra pressed at Gold to hurry on and show ‘it’ to you, and you watched with anxiety as Gold dug through her cooler. Presenting to you the latest object of her creation, you couldn’t help but gasp.

It was a helmet, of Mandalorian design, sculpted just for you out of rosegold and beskar. The T of the visor rippled like a wavy vine across the front.

Gold set the helmet in your hands.The weight could be balanced perfectly if you held it in your two palms perfectly upright. It’s pretty to look at with the rose gold sheen that glimmers when it hits the light in that certain way.

“There’s a hidden design,” Gen proudly says. She ushers herself over, guiding her hand to the underside of the helmet. At the touch of a button, the visor would roll up, revealing your face through the hollow part of the helmet.

“Amazing,” you guffawed.

“It was my idea,” Gen beamed. “It didn’t feel right to force you to hide your face, again. This way you can at least look like a Mandalorian, but still feel free and safe.”

Her words felt like shocks to your chest. You held onto the helmet with a tight grip, staring into the center of it as you tried to push back tears of sentiment. You would not cry on what should be a happy day. The day you are to earn your freedom has finally come, with new people and a blossom of affection that could bloom into the strongest love if tended.

“It was very thoughtful of all of you to do this,” you say in a brief whisper. “Shall I wear it now?”

Gold gestured for you to do so, looking at you tenderly from behind her own golden helmet.

Yours fit snuggly around your head. It didn’t feel uncomfortable in the least with the padding on the inside of it. You felt around the inside which brushes your cheek, looking for the button that Gen had spoken of.

When you pressed it, the screen shot downward silently, and you could see the world the way other Mandalorians did. The image is crystal clear. Nearly enhanced. You could even hear yourself breathing through the modulator, the sound the very same as everyone else’s.

“This is for you to keep,” Gold says as she waves something at you. You go towards the stove’s counter. The pair of gloves she holds in her hands fit tightly over your fingers. On the inside, over the palm of your dominant hand, is a button. “Each helmet has certain modes for certain environments. Yours is equipped with heat signatures, night vision, and aim.”

Each click of the button took you through the three modes. Aim is by far your favorite. It focused on the item or person you wanted it to through patient staring, the screen highlighting your target.

You pressed the button again, taking you once more to the normal screen.

“Thank you,” you said, breathless. You are at a loss for words. “I’m not sure what to say…”

From her position against the door, Wendi whistled to get your attention. “Say nothing. That’s preferable.”

You exhaled a heavy sigh, which came off as a hiss through the modulator.

“There is one more thing for you to wear,” Nyra says before Wendi can continue the banter. In her hands she weighed back and forth a plain necklace, the charm being a heavy oval of metal. You pulled it over your head, leaving it to rest against your breast plate. “Typically,” Gold explains, “the signet of your spouse is printed on the necklace. However, Din has yet to receive one. Until then your necklace will be blank, but that is no excuse-always wear it with pride.”

“I will,” you swear.

Gen put a hand over your shoulder, looking to you with what you imagined to be excitement. “Would you like to look in the mirror?” she asked.

Breaking out of the furnace in your Mandalorian garb felt unreal. You’d never once imagined this would be your life. Marrying Din, wearing the helmet, the armor.

The full length mirror in an unused room not far from the furnace showed you the image of a young woman who has only known the life of fire and glory. You were not that woman, you know it, and you feel guilt pull your heart down into your stomach as you tell yourself you are unworthy to wear the Mandalorian uniform.

Trembling in your armor you dare to contradict yourself. What you were before does not matter, and it likely won’t ever matter again.

Today, tomorrow, and the next, you will be Din Djarren’s wife-and by legality, a Mandalorian.

No one would want to touch you, then. Who would dare to pick a fight with a Mandalorian? A Jedi, who are but legends and stories?

“Are you ready?” Wendi asked from the doorway.

“I think so,” you say. It’s difficult to catch a steady breath under all of this pressure that’s suddenly coming down on you.

“It’s exhilarating, right?” she asked. “The first time you wear the helmet. You either think you’re not worthy or you become too egotistical about it. Ryder was egotistic. Paz was all depressed. I’m sure you can guess me. But Din? I’ll never know. No one will, besides you. So do me a favor once you two are...official.”

You tilted your head, silently asking her what she meant.

She laughed. “Get that guy to relax a bit.”

The aisle is less of an aisle and more of a general area for you to walk through. There are many Mandalorians in tow, all cast aside to the corners of the room as they watched you appear. You hadn’t realized how many Mandalorians lived in the covert until you were seeing them. Parents held their children by the shoulders; little girls cooed and boys gawked at the armor that plated your body.

Din waited for you at the end of your makeshift aisle. He wore standard armor but bore no weapons; weaponless Din seemed awkward to look at. He probably felt as awkward as you do.

There is no priest or council member standing between you and Din.

“Take off on glove,” Din says softly. You’re certain you’re the only one who can hear him.

Where your hands trembled, his were calm as the sea before a storm. Upon revealing to the audience two bare hands, there was a sudden outcry of happiness; applause. It had made you flinch at first but you could pick out the whoops of victory.

“Just look at me,” Din whispers again. He held his bare hand to you, and you gripped it for dear life. “And now,” he says, “repeat after me.”

His voice declared the Mandalorian vows perfectly. He was born to speak Mando’a, his voice a perfect marble depiction of the words and their value.

“Mhi solus tohme,” Din says clearly.

You did your best. Mando’a is a difficult language, you realized once you were expected to say it loud enough without messing up. “M-Mhi solus tohme.”

“That means, ‘we are one when we are together,’” Din translates. “Mhi solus dar’tohme.”

“Mhi solus dar’tohme.”

“We are one when apart. And now, mhi me'dinui an. Mhi ba'juri verde. We will share everything. We will raise warriors.”

Your affection for Din snapped, releasing it’s full force within your chest as your heart beat painfully. “Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.”

As soon as you’d spoken those words, the crowd went into an uproar of laughter and applause. Music started to play from some corner of the room, Mandalorians playing mandolins and flutes.

You had to reach out for Din to keep steady on your feet. “That was anticlimactic,” you said over the chaos.

He caught you swiftly, holding you upright by your forearms. “We aren’t done just yet, mesh’la.”

Vaguely wondering what that meant you followed after Din as he took you across the room, through the crowd and to a table that had been set for a proper meeting. Paz in one chair, Gold in another-and the court guardian Din hadn’t killed just between them.

Din pulled the chair out for you. “Thank you,” you muttered, unsure if he could even hear it above the party.

Now that you both faced the guardian, you reapplied your gloves.

“I hope that was to your satisifaction,” you snubbed. Something about being face to face with a man who had been in league with your abusers made you very angry. It might be valid, it might not be. You don’t care. You could just remember the feeling of taking one of their lives, and you felt less uneasy.

The guardian gestured his hands carefully; his wrists are bound by thick chains he could not break, but you still felt as if you had to be on guard.

“It was a beautiful ceremony, ma’am,” he promises. “As much,” he continued, in a rapid stutter, “as I wish it was enough, it was not. There is more.”

Paz pushed forward a few papers with lots and lots of words on them. You could sound out one of the pages; one was a Mandalorian paper, with your name and Din’s at the bottom. Gold passed over a dagger. “It must be signed.”

Din sighed, once more pulling off his glove. He pricked his finger over the tip of the dagger and pressed it like a stamp by his name. The blade is then passed to you. You did the same, feeling less confident and wincing, but stamping your bloody fingerprint by your own name.

Din gently took your hand and gestured for you to tick your wounded finger out. He pressed both fingertips together so the blood mixed, and you both stamped again in the very center.

It was poetic, in a way, but it still made you frown.

“And now?” you ask as you nurse your finger with a cloth napkin.

“Marriage vows,” Paz explains. “But they must be written out.”

You looked absolutely floundered. “I thought there wasn’t a need for marriage vows,” you said loudly.

“Not for a Mandalorian wedding,” Gold explains. “But the council wants a marriage by their own terms. This is what they want.”

Din took an ink pen and a blank parchment paper. “I understand,” he murmurs as he leans over the page, starting to write.

You shot Paz a look. What would you do? Could you ask him to write it for you?

Paz shook his head. “I’m sorry, Y/n. Just do your best. It’s not a test or something we are judging you on.”

You took a pen in your hand. It weighed heavy and felt uncomfortable all tugged against the small joints of your fingers.

You put the tip down to the paper, a large blot forming on the page. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do. It’s nerve wracking for a long minute. Under the music you peered at Din’s paper. He had a lot already.

“Kriff,” you swear to yourself. You started writing carefully.

A large “I” in the center of the page. You’d chosen the wrong spot to start with, but you couldn’t go back. You finished up terribly slow, walking yourself through each word many times to ensure you wouldn’t make a spelling mistake. The end product wasn’t much. But it worked:

WILL

LOVE

HIM

You signed your name at the bottom. You passed the page to Gold, quick enough that Din wouldn’t be able to see it.

“We’re done, then,” Gold says confidently once she has Din’s paper. “You are officially married.”

You dropped the pen with a breath of relief. “Thank goodness,” you muttered.

“Ah, ori’jate,” Paz murmurs as he looks through the papers. “Y/n and Din. Congratulations, from the bottom of my heart. Kandosii! I am off to make proper copies of your certificates. Then, we will be sending them, along with our friend, here, back to where he came from. Have a wonderful rest of your evening.”

Paz pulled the guardian up to his feet, dragging him along to wherever they would be going to make their copies. You looked at Gold timidly. “Now, what?”

“Now, I go to my room and have a wonderful night’s sleep,” Gold says. “You’re officially free, Y/n,” she says. “My congratulations. Enjoy the rest of your night, both of you.”

As Gold disappeared into the party, you and Din sat shoulder to shoulder, unbearably still for a long time. You both sat and listened to four songs come and go. He wouldn’t muster the strength to speak up or move, and you simply couldn’t.

As the seventh song started, Din threw down the napkin he’d been using to nurse his finger. He slipped his glove back on and stood. “Would you like dinner?”

You accepted his offered hand, using it to stand to your feet. You agreed, though not hungry at all.

You secretly felt grateful for the visor that separated you from the vivacious party.

At the large table of food, several people congratulated you. You met and shook hands with Mandalorians you would likely never meet again.

Din thanked everyone in that low-key way of his; you might have found it charming if it didn’t intimidate you to your core. He filled up a basket, which he’d grabbed from some other table, with enough food to keep your room stocked for two days.

A little girl tugged at Din’s leg. “Din, Din!” she exclaimed. “Please take some uj! I helped Mam make it, and I even tasted it before her! It’s very delicious.”

Din knelt down to speak to her. “It looks amazing, Aiya. I will make sure to have plenty. Thank you.”

Aiya grabbed at Din’s shoulders to tug him closer so they could touch foreheads. “Have fun, Din,” Aiya’s mother laughed. “You as well, Y/n. Welcome to our family.”

Ah.

Family.

An interesting word. Not the word you would have used too loosely. You suppose Aiya and her mother have the privilege to throw the term around. You, on the other hand, were not a four year old girl; you never had a real family to call your own. Now that you’ve found Din, you were not going to soil the word ‘family’ by addressing any stranger with it.

The hall stretched fearfully beyond you as you and Din set course for the bedroom.

You hoped you weren’t breathing as loud as you think you are. You’d become conscious of it; you manually pumped your lungs out, just to have something to focus on. Your insides just felt like a jumble, like the color grey. You didn’t have a clear input on anything, anymore. Since the ceremony, everything has been vivid to the point it seemed unreal.

The clicking of your boots aligned with Din’s, the paces being set by the rhythm of your heart. It felt like you’d ran from the hall to Din’s bedroom.

Din opened up the door and gestured for you to go in first. It wasn’t as if you could yell “NO” and run away. Besides--that’s not what you want to do.

Din sets the basket down on one of the armchairs.

“Are you alright?” he asks you.

“I am,” you answered.

“Would you like to eat?” Din asked, gesturing his arm to the basket.

With your heart racing, you pulled off your glove and your helmet. “I’m not very hungry,” you admit as you look for a place to set the helmet down.

“I usually leave mine on one of the chairs,” Din murmured. You did that, filled with unease.

“You weren’t kidding about tradition,” you noted. “It was all very...traditional.” “Overwhelming?” Din guessed what you actually meant.

You faltered out a smile. “Honestly, yes. I thought I would die from shame if I ruined the vows bit.”

“You did very good,” Din said, as if he’d been praising your performance. “I was impressed, at least.”

You coughed on a laugh. He really is quite awkward underneath all of that armor and intensity. And speaking of armor, you realized that the next step on this night is to see his face. “Well...are you hungry?” you asked.

Din struggled to find a good place to stand. His overflow of shuddering fear flooded the room to its edges.

He would not come to you, you realized, so you would have to come to him. You unlaced your boots while he watched. Numb fingers peeled away at the laces and leather as you kicked the shoes away.

All Din seems to ever do is watch you intensely. With brown eyes, no doubt. You know that for sure. His eyes are brown.

With the floor uneven as you walked his way, you brought your mind to one thought.

The color brown.

There are several shades. Several ways brown could be beautiful. Many of the girls who had been in the servant ranks had brown eyes, and you’d known ever since then that brown eyes were, and always would be, undeniably beautiful.

His eyes could be brown like a piece of smokey quartz, dark and mysterious with its shadows.

His eyes could be lighter, like topaz, a warm pool of late sunshine.

His eyes could be almost golden, like amber, like sweet honey.

Your hands, now bare, reached out for the helmet. You half expected resistance; maybe Din would have second thoughts?

However, there was none. There would never be any, you realized, now that you two had married.

You slid your fingers beneath the helmet, finding the soft skin of his jaw. Smooth, you note, so that’s a no on the facial hair.

“I shaved,” Din answered your silent question. You smiled in response.

You took no more hazarding chances. It was time. You could feel it. You want it, and it’s very close.

You lift the helmet, standing on your toes to do so, and Din’s face becomes revealed to you in the matter of a split second.

Brown eyes.

Darker, brown eyes. You could have guessed that. They match the sound of his voice. And his skin is as though he were made by the sun.

There is a line of hair just over his top lip, a thicker mustache that made him look ever angry. You touched the tip of his nose, then his chin, then his cheeks.

“You’re very handsome,” you tell him in the gentlest voice you could summon. You doubt you could speak any louder right now. The beauty of him has you breathless, again, and at a loss for any other words.

Calling him handsome is a real understatement. He’s unlike any person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t get that a lot, believe it or not,” Din mutters. He holds your hand that cradles his face. “I want to kiss you.”

Shocked by his words, you stared into his eyes with a gaping mouth. No one had ever said such things to you. You’ve never felt such an affect; warmth like honey and butter that slid down your chest and thighs as one of Din’s thumbs slowly brushed over your lower lip.

The hand that cradles your chin lifted up, and the tender feeling of Din’s mouth overtook yours.

He smelled the same as his leather jacket. Soap, a smoky summer’s day, and all of him.

Your chest plates clattered as Din carefully pulled you closer.

You were startled as his tongue poked through your lips, but the sensation that came with it left you gaping, a perfect opportunity for Din’s tongue to trace the crevices of your mouth. His lips felt like a drug. You couldn’t believe you’ve lived without kissing until now, as an adult. Now that you’ve felt it you never want to live without it again.

It seemed like a skill. You could easily stand there and fade into the euphoria, but you could not swish your tongue and lips like he could without feeling like a wild mudhorn cleaning himself.

When Din became breathless, he pulled away, but his hand still fiercely attached to your face.

You gasped for air.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first night we spent together,” Din rasps. “Watching you...in the small shirt...and you were fawning over me. I wanted you badly.”

Your face burned fiercely at the words. You’d never have speculated…! Sputtering for a reply, you wrapped your arms over the shoulder plates of Din’s armor. “You have a good way of hiding your feelings,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

Din’s hands fell to your hips, which he squeezed as he shook his head with a smile. It was shocking. You felt yourself become stunned at the prospect of a simple smile, of a half laugh whisping from his lips.

What affection you’d felt for him before burst into a blossoming flower, delicate but beautiful.

“I can’t believe how handsome you are,” you say.

Din sighs. “I really don’t know what I’ll do if you keep on saying that.”

You blushed at the tips of your ears. “I-I mean we should-right?”

Din’s mouth twitched at the idea you’d prodded for the first time all day. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says in a dark voice.

“Why?” You weren’t ‘disappointed’ but you were confused.

“I shouldn’t force this onto you,” he said. “It’s enough you’ve married me. We can save that for another night.”

Ah. His chivalry strikes again. You shake your head. “What if I had been looking forward to it?” you prodded.

Din grabbed your chin once more and kissed, this time harder than before. “I told you already,” he rasps. “I don’t like being teased.”

Knees shaking, face burning, you looked into Din’s eyes with a wide smile. “Alright.”

According to Din then, helping each other out of the armor is customary for the wedding night. Din took this opportunity to teach you how to disassemble, then reassemble, armor on your own.

Beneath the armor you were not naked. You still had your sheer dress, and Din had his trousers and fitted tunic. The necklace stayed on, the pendant hanging at your chest. You’d declined Din’s prompt to remove it.

Guiding you to the bed to sit, Din placed more kisses over your face. Propping yourself onto your knees, you watched Din eagerly while he untied his own boots. His helmet got placed next to yours. Shoes, next to yours. He climbed into the bed with the basket of food in hand.

You reached for the first piece of cheese you found.

“What do we do now that we’re properly married?” you asked.

Din caught your wrist and guided the cheese to his mouth, where he then took a huge bite of your food. Through a grin, Din shrugged. “Get to know one another, I’d say,” he prompts.

It went back and forth from then on. He asked questions about your childhood, and you’d give mostly depressing answers. You explained to him the in depth details of life in the servant ranks. You’d been born into it by a servant girl who was impregnated while unmarried. You were born, only to have your mother executed hours after. You’d never known her, so it didn’t feel truly sad at first look. Though the more you thought about it, the more sinking realizations settled in your mind.

Din reminisced his story of how he’d lost his family. He’d been rescued by a Mandalorian group under the name of Death Watch. The story was long and intricate. You were mesmerized by Din’s story, by the way his mouth moved when he spoke and said certain words. You were deeply embedded into the story. The history of Death Watch had been explained in thorough detail by your husband. It had once been a group of heroic warriors, dedicated to protecting and upholding the Way.

Paz and Ryder’s father had been a strong part of it.

Everything changed with the rise of the Empire.

Death Watch had been seized by a man who sought the powers of a sith lord. And that had only been the start of the end of Mandalore.

Din managed to escape most damage by moving along with his covert. He was one of the lucky ones.

After his story, he asked you more questions. Life among the ranks; friends; memorable stories. You told him everything. You’d witnessed many defectors become dragged by the hair to the red circle. Often times, servants were gathered to watch as their sister was executed. It was meant to be a lesson learnt.

You didn’t learn it.

Neither did your friend Vidia.

You’d not spoken Vidia’s name aloud in many years, so sharing her story to Din moved you to deep tears that trickled down your face before you stopped them. She lived on through the stories you told. Her mischief, the way she could ease any girl’s worry; and, of course, the time she tried to defect. She tried so hard. She almost succeeded. She’d organized a revolt against the council with the other older girls. It almost worked.

But they were all caught and killed.

You learned from her death that life on Aniri would never get better; from then, you’d watch the ways of the palace and plot. You were going to escape, for Vidia, at first. Then you’d decided you would escape for you.

While the time passed between you, all in between the smaller questions like favorite colors and first kisses (yours had been with Din, and he was happy for it), you both ate happily from the basket.

When he was ready for bed, Din rolled off the mattress. He set the basket up and you could only watch with burning cheeks as he pulled out of his tunic. He folded it up and pushed it into the wardrobe.

He found a tin can and popped something from it into his mouth. He offered you the tin. You tested the waters with a lick to the tablets.

“Are these mints?” you demanded.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

Mints were high quality on Aniri! You expressed this to him with a wide smile. “I never thought I would have one...I never thought I’d have this sort of life,” you added as you chewed the mint. You scrambled to get under the blankets as Din approached the bed with a thoughtful smile on his mouth. You tried your absolute hardest not to look. You couldn’t really help it. You’d never seen a shirtless person before. It was intoxicating how amazing Din looked. His stomach is well sculpted, his shoulders wide and strong, and his collarbones had an intense effect on you.

Din shut out the lights on his way to bed. He shifted around, pulling the blankets over himself as well. It didn’t take long for you to reach out for one another. As soon as your eyes had adjusted, Din reached out for you. He pulled you by the waist so you were aligned with his torso. Your dress ruffled up against your thighs as you laid there, being kissed and becoming dizzy. There wasn’t much you could do. You didn’t know how to do anything.

You could only do as your body reacted, which was to push up against his bare skin as much as you could manage. You spread out one of your legs, wrapping over Din’s hips so your thigh pressed into him.

You gasped into his mouth as his calloused hand ran over your thigh, up very high to where you could something happening. Something interesting, really. Something definitely new.

“You should ask me to stop,” Din grumbles against your neck. His lips had puckered over your quick pulse, sucking and biting at the skin that had never once been touched before.

“S-stop,” you breathed as you pulled his face back up. You pressed your mouth against his. Trying your hand at kissing back felt messy. It felt sloppy. But Din didn’t seem to mind all that much.

He yanked you closer. “Do you mean it?” he asked you in a rough voice.

“Not really,” you giggled.

Your leg that is cast over his hips got pulled at. He seemed to stretch it out wider so he could run his hand way up beneath your black dress.

His thumb passed over your wet center and you trembled against his chest.

“What was that?” you exclaimed, struggling to catch your breath.

Din looked down at you through the darkness. “This?” he asked. His thumb pressed on that one spot again and you gasped loudly. “What is that?” you asked again.

“Something I can easily stop if you asked me to,” Din says firmly. You gripped onto his bicep as you shook your head. “I do not want that,” you quickly say.

Din chuckled. He pressed another kiss to your mouth as he moved his thumb in small circles. You grabbed onto Din for your utter life. You recalled the feeling of being thrown around the Razor Crest while Din navigated you to safety. This feeling is very similar, but in a way you couldn’t possibly put into words. It’s warm, fuzzy, but it makes your blood run cold in your veins. The feeling has you breathing hard and clinging onto Din, tugging on his messy, brown hair.

And just as soon as it had started, there was a gigantic wave of euphoria that passed over you. Something burst inside your stomach. It was like the feeling had reached its peak and then ended.

You shuddered against Din’s torso, still reeling from the experience. You breathed hard, muttering his name over and over. “How,” you asked, “did you do that?”

Din laughed. The sound rumbled through his chest, low and baritone. He slides his arm up your dress and around to the small of your back. He tugs you closer to his grasp. “It’s a Mandalorian secret,” he tells you.

“Would you do it again?” you asked.

Din laughed. He rolled over you, pressing you into the pillows as he looked down at you through the darkness. In the silence you could hear that the party still raved on in the meeting hall.

“I could. But I won’t.” You gripped at his hair, lips puckered in a desperate attempt to kiss him some more. “Why?” you gasped. “I told you, mesh’la,” Din mutters. He kisses your lips once; it’s softer, gentler, and it eases you to comply with the cuddling hug Din rolls you into. “I don’t like being teased.”

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xmalereader · 5 years ago

Text

Knight Mandalorian X Prince Male Reader

1/2

|| Masterlist ||

Summary: Reader is a prince and soon to be future king but his father thinks that he should be arranged into marriage and have a bodyguard as they head to the next kingdom to meet his future wife, but what if the read falls in love with someone else? Perhaps a Mandalorian knight?

Warnings: Language, knights, kissing, making out, mentions of arranged marriages.

Why was he here? He shouldn’t be here and he knows that, but he has a job to complete. A few days back the mandalorians had received a letter from the king of Snivo, asking for one of them to be sent to the kingdom and become the princes knight for a short period of time and that they would be paid well if they were to take the job. The king needed someone that knew how to fight back and weal a weapon, he just needed someone to protect the prince since he was being send off to another kingdom and forced into an arranged marriage and the king wants to make sure that his son arrives safety without problems.

So of course they had to Dyn Jarren, he declined the offer many times to his leader saying that he was already busy with just taking care of his own kid. Being a single father wasnt easy but the other mandalorians helped him out with the kid when he would be out on missions. Dyn tried to convince his leader to not make him go but nothing seemed to work. Now here he is, stuck in a kingdom with nothing but wealthy people that he sometimes loathed.

Dyn has never met the prince and really wishes that he doesn’t, he’s heard rumors that the prince was sometimes a spoiled brat and only cared about himself. If he was going out deal with someone like that for the next two weeks of traveling then he might as well and kill the prince himself and tell the king that they were raided by hunters and wasnt able to save the prince. But he already knows that he can’t do that, he has a code that he must go with so for now he must deal with the princes needs.

—

The mandalorian stands up straight, his head held up high. He stands next to the king as the two wait for the princes arrival. Dyn had tried too and many times to picture how the prince looked like, hearing all the rumors about him only gave him a bad image of how he would look like. The mando was lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the sound of doors slamming open, “What the hell is this?!”

He turns his head towards the doors to see a young man, he expected to see him wear a crown and maybe a long cloak that covered up half of his body and a bratty attitude. Instead he got anyone man with short like dark hair, a sword by his side, and a pretty adorable glare that was plastered all over his face. He was dressed in normal civilian clothing and wore nothing fancy. The prince currently didn’t give off any prince vibes, he looked like one of the servants that worked in the kingdom.

“Father I’ve already said, I don’t want any part of this marriage and I currently don’t need a bodyguard.” The prince hissed out and points his blade that he had in his hand at the king. The king doesn’t flinch and only narrowed his eyes at his own son, using a finger to gently move the blade away from his face. “I arranged this for you and you will marry the princess of Druklok-“

“For what exactly!? We don’t have a quarrel with them and we currently don’t have a war coming up. I am being forced to marry a women that I don’t even know and wish to never know!” He exclaims to his father/ Looking away in anger as he crossed his arms and turns around to leave the great hall. “If you don’t do This then I won’t allow you to interact with the servants again and ban you from the village.”

The mandalorian noticed the prince freeze in place once his father mentioned the servants and the village that wasnt too far from Snivo. “You wouldn’t.” The princes fingers fidget to reach down for his own weapon again but was able to hold himself back. “You must do this, its for your own good.” The king says again, earning a scoff from the prince. “You don’t know what’s good for me, all you’ve done was use me for bets and wars, using me like a pawn to get away from your problems and now you think that getting married to some women that I don’t even know is good for me? Yo don’t know me.” With that the prince turns to leave the hall, slamming the doors behind him.

The mandalorian expected the king to do something harsh to his own son for disrespecting him but all he got was silence. He glanced over to the king and noticed how he slowly sighs and sits back down on his throne. “Please keep a close eye on the boy and make sure that he leaves tommorrow morning for Druklok and that he arrives their as well, don’t let him escape because believe me he will try.” He informs. The mando nods in response, “yes your highness.” He gave one last nod before leaving the great hall to search for the prince. He would walk around the halls and stop a few servants along the way to ask if they knew where the prince could be. He was able to get a few responses and they all said the same thing, the stables.

Mando finds his way around the kingdom until he finally arrives to the stables. He makes his way through the entrance and looks around for the prince. The place had a few horses and smaller animals, moving quietly he hears murmuring as he moved deeper into the stables.

“—Can you believe that old man?! Forcing me into marriage when I could be out their doing something else that could be useful for our kingdom!” The prince was cleaning one of the horses bin, stabbing the pitchfork into some dry grass and tossing it over a fence as he continued to grumble in anger to a horse. “He’s getting old anyways, soon hell die and the kingdom will be mine and ill fix it up! Ill make sure that the servants are treated with respect and should be sene as higher rankings and not lower. I’ll send carts full of supplies and food for the villagers since they seem to need the extra food more than us.” He continued one, not noticing that the mandalorian was listening to everything he was saying.

Dyn was a bit surpised by the princes conversation, like he said he expected the prince to be a spoiled brat and showing off his riches but he was the opposite. He sought the good in people and he didn’t care about rankings. He treated everyone with respect, now he knows why his own father threaten to keep him away from the servants. He must be really close to them, maybe closer than to his own father.

“You know I can see you bucket head.”

Dyn is pulled out of his thoughts, moving out of his hiding spot he leans agaisnt the wall of the stables. “Sorry your highness, didn’t mean to ease drop.”

“Drop the highness, hate it when others need to sound so formal towards me.” The prince quickly says, eyeing the mandalorian before he gets back to work. “Can’t believe my father hired a mandalorian, heard about your culture and people.” He grunts out, tossing some more dry grass into the bin. Setting down the pitchfork he approached his horse that was standing outside its bin and eating some apples that the prince had provided for it.

Dyn blinked in surprise, watching the prince work around the stables. “Is their a name that you prefer to be called?” He blurts out. The prince eyes glance over to the mandalorian before answering. “Y/n, just call me Y/n nothing else.” He pats the Horses side as he looks at the mandalorian up and down. “What about you?” He asks in return.

“Just mando.” Dyn says.

Y/n hums, “So bucket head then?”

Dyn’s going to kill him.

—

The two were able to get to know each other for the whole day before the next morning arrived, forcing y/n out of bed and into the outside world. Mounting his horse with a glare on his face, ignoring hsi fathers words as he simply wanted to get this over with. The mandalorian was used to waking up early since he had his own kid back at home who would wake him up with his crying needs. “Have everything?” The king asks his only son, who rolls his eyes. “Yes, father.” He turns to face the king, getting a look that the mandalorian knew too well. Y/n bites his lip in anger, “Yes, your highness.” He grumbled out through clenched teeth. Before his own father could continue on with talking the prince turns to see the gates opening, taking this as his chance to quickly escape.

Mando watched Y/n ride away without a second thought, the king did warn him about this and he did see it coming but he knows that he’ll catch up to the kid. The king sighs in defeat before waving a hand at the mandalorian, allowing him to go on after him. Dyn rides after Y/n, seeing the back of the princes black horse he catchs up in time to stop the prince. “you cant run away from this.” The mando says as he used his own horse to stop the other by standing in front of him.

Y/n pouts and looks away. “Worth a shot.”

Dyn can only shake his head before moving out of the way and allowing the prince to pass through. The first couple of hours were filled with silence, the only thing heard was the sound of hooves stomping against the muddy trails and the rustling of trees. “Do you ever take it off?” The mandalorian turns to his right to see the prince titling his head to the side as he asks his question. “He speaks.”

Y/n pouts again. “You didn’t answer my question; do you ever take off that helmet?” He asks again. The mandalorian looks ahead, “I do.” The princes brows rose in surpise, “Okay...what about in front of someone else?”

“I haven’t shown anyone my face since I was a kid, the only one who’s seen my face would probably be my own kid but he’s still young so he won’t remember my face once he gets older.” Dyn explains to the other, the two riding down the path that lead them to the other kingdom. Y/n’s atttention was focused on the mandalorian as he spoke, once he brought up his own kid he bites his lip. “Didn’t know that you had kids, let alone be married.”

“I’m not married and the kid isn’t my blood either I took him in.” The mando corrects the prince, noticing from the corner of his eye the princes mouth formed a small ‘o’ in surprise. “Wow, single father who’s suddenly being forced to take care of useless prince who is also being forced into a marriage that they don’t want. You’re just wasting your time.” Said y/n, letting a sigh escape his lips.

The mandalorian was a little curious as too why the prince didn’t want to get married, he knows that their wasn’t a specific reason from the king since he was just forced to do it but he wanted to know about the princes reasons. He adjusts himself on the horse and clears his throat. “Since I told you something about myself why don’t you answer my question,” Y/n perks up and smiles. “Shoot.” He simply responds.

“Why don’t you want to get married?”

Y/n groans. “You heard my father say why.”

“No,” he shake his head. “Why you don’t want too...”

The princes hands tighten around the reigns of the horse, looking anywhere else to avoid the mandalorian stare. His throat tightens as he thinks of his own reasons, he remembers his own mother telling him that he was allowed to love whoever he wanted before she passed away.

“Y/n promise me that you wont allow anyone or anything stop you from loving whoever you want.”

“I promise, mama...”

Y/n can still remember that night, the promise that he made for his own mother before she passed away. She wanted him to be happy and now that she’s gone his own father was taking that freedom away from him. He blinks away tears and sniffs, “I don’t want to get married because I still have a lot to learn...I want to be normal and not be forced to be someone I’m not...” his voice grows soft as he spoke. “Also she’s a women.” He added quietly, his face slowly turning a dark shade of red.

The mandalorian was confused for a few seconds before it finally made since, his eyes widening. “You mean—“

“Yes.”

The prince cuts in, biting his lip. “Thats why I dont want this marriage and you probably think I’m weird now.” He adds, nudging his horse to walk a little faster this time to avoid the mandalorian judgment.

Dyn does the same, riding next to Y/n’s side to answer him. “I’m not one to judge so I don’t think your strange, your normal like everyone else. My people, the mandalorians are all different as well.” He says trying to cheer up the prince, which did work a little since he noticed a small smile creep up on the princes face. Dyn couldn’t help but smile under his helmet.

—

The two were able to find a perfect spot to set up camp for the night, dyn was making sure that the horses were tied up well on the tree while Y/n was staring a fire and making them some food.

“A prince who can cook, that’s not something you see everyday.”

Y/n laughs at the mandalorians teasign tone, “I learned from a young age, actually learned from watching the cooks back at the kingdom.” He pours some soup into a bowl for the mando, handing him the bowl before he goes back to serving himself. Dyn hums. “You’re talented, learning from watching.”

“Yeah but that depends if you like the way I cook.” He shot back with a grin on his face, leaning back on a tree trunk. Eating his own soup. The mandalorian sets the bowl aside, not quiet hungry yet. “Tell me more about your kid.” Said Y/n, setting down his bowl onto the ground and crossed legs.

Dyn chuckled softly at the prince, he was thinking back to the first time that he found the kid. He had a bounty on his head and yet somehow he had the audacity to take the mission. Hunting down the poor kid who did nothing wrong to anyone. They only wanted him because he was special and once his eyes landed on the kid he just couldn’t turn him in.

“The kid is special too me, he keeps me sane and reminds me of who I am. He can be a bit of a trouble maker.” Dyn was suddenly telling the prince his life story. “Poor kid had a bounty on his head, took him in once I found him...couldn’t complete my mission. The others helped me raise him, it was difficult at first but once I got used to the kid things started to move a little easier.” Y/n smiles at the mandalorian, he’s heard stories of his people and how they were the toughest knights and that shouldn’t be messed with. And somehow here he is, listening to mando talk passionately about his own kid.

“He must be a really adorable kid, you make it sound like he’s the most precious thing in the world.” Y/n giggled out, finishing up his own food. He pulls his legs up, placing his hands on his knees. He stared into the fire as he began to explain his own story. “I wasnt always treated as a prince, my mother came from a middle class who married my father and soon had me. She didn’t treat me differently, she loved me like a normal son.” He chuckles. “We would both sneak around the kitchens, stealing bakes goods and run back to our room to eat them in secret...” he smiles at the memory of his own mother.

“What happened to her?”

Y/n’s smile fades away. “She got sick, the doctors couldn’t do anything to help. So I stayed next to her everyday and night. My father was never around he probably never loved my mom and only used her to get an heir for the throne.” His expression changed into hatred. “My mother passed away a couple of days later, I remember approaching my father to tell him the news about my mothers death...he didn’t mourn or phase he just remained the same old man that I remember until this day.” He was gripping his knees closer to himself.

The mandalorian didn’t know if he should feel bad for the other, he suffered just as much as anyone else. Watching his own mother die in front of him and having to deal with a father that didn’t care about his own wife and son. Dyn has heard of similar stories like this from the other mandalorians, before they became a mandalorian.

Dyn’s life was different before than it is now.

“Tommorrow we change route.” He suddenly says, catching the other by surpise.

“What do you mean change route? Do you know a faster way to Druklok?” The prince questions.

The mandalorian gets himself comfortable, leaning his head back. “I accepted this job for the money but I’m also the kind of person who likes to break the rules, so tomorrow morning we change routes that’ll take you far away from Druklok and Snivo.”

#the mandalorain #the mandalorian x male reader #dyn jarren x male reader #dyn jarren #star wars x male reader #star wars #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal

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kattegat-kittycat · 5 years ago

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Fates Entwined, part V: On the Way to Lose It All

After your former clan was brutally murdered, you agree to an arranged marriage with Ivar to keep your social status. You may not always see eye to eye and sometimes even find yourself on different sides of one war or the other, but somehow you can never escape each other no matter how much you try to forget, deny and run. Somehow you always end up in each other’s faces. Sometimes quite literally.

A/N: Well, this chapter got longer than I expected. This story also started to develope its own flow while I was writing. I like when that happens and suddenly your story starts to drag you with it if you want to or not :D Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Beautiful morning is breaking

Leaving us all behind

All of the gloomy faces

And all the truths we hide

Entwine – Out of You

I had forgotten, how cathartic training could be. Purging your built up anger and frustration and channeling it into movement. I hadn’t known the shield maidens before, and I knew when I arrived at their practice that they thought me a spoiled princess, maybe a lousy fighter, but most of all, they didn’t think that I would get down and dirty with them. But I did.

They had paired me up wit one of their weakest fighters in the beginning and I could see that right away. Her stance was unbalanced, the grip on her sword loose. The shield felt like a burden to her, it wasn’t an extension of her like it was with me.

I quickly moved up through the variously skilled fighters until I was welcomed to their elite. By then, I felt like my old self again. I was good, a skilled sword fighter and they could use me in their ranks. It felt good to be accepted for myself, even though I still felt some of the shield maidens eyeing me warily. And I knew why, as I could feel a familiar pair of eyes on me toward the end of the training session. I smiled as I turned to look up the small rise of the ring wall, where Ivar was sitting in the soft grass, watching us. He smiled as I walked toward him and opened his arms.

“My Sif, you are a true wonder to behold. You are as swift with your blade as you are with your tongue. And that comes from a place of awe. But tell me, how well are your skills in archery?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Not bad, but I could use a good teacher. So, if you happen to know one, send him my way.”

Ivar patted the ground next to him and I just plunked down and let myself sprawl across the grass nothing like the lady I was supposed to be. He grinned, as his hand touched my cheek.

“You happen to talk to the best of them.”

I turned my head and squinted against the sun, as I looked up to him. Margarete was right, you could mistake him for a fairy prince, he was so beautiful.

“Do I, now? That is interesting.”

“I could also teach you how to properly throw a knife.” His voice had a suggestive tone and somehow I liked that his way of flirting was telling me of all the ways he could teach me how to kill a man.

“We are a funny pair.” I grinned.

He weighed his head from side to side, then nodded. “You are probably right. But this will be what makes us successful. We are extraordinary, we are unpredictable.”

I hummed in silent agreement and closed my eyes, when he said:

“Father returned today, you missed the commotion back in the town.”

I sat up instantly. “What? What are you doing, now he is back?”

“Nothing. He is a loser. They say the Gods turned their back on him and they are probably right. And he smelled funny. The great Ragnar Lothbrok…he didn’t look that great to me.”

The people of Kattegat didn’t treat Ragnar too kindly. I could see that. Most of them were ready to follow Björn to discover the Mediterranean, but after Ragnar had kept the truth of what happened to the settlers in England from them, nobody trusted him and instead everybody was quick to believe that the Gods had forsaken him. When I met him, he seemed distraught, he was a man haunted by his own past. I felt pity for him, but I also understood that this was the man my husband wanted to make proud of him. This was the man, all the stories were about. And as always, the stories had become greater than the man himself. He asked his old friends for forgiveness, thanked his wife and ex-wife, he seemed to be a man determined to clear his conscience before he died, which made me nervous. I didn’t now why, but I felt like something was about to happen. Which was, why I was almost relieved when he left for Hedeby to ask Lagertha for her help in fighting the English. But then, he came back and what happened then was what had kept me on edge. I could feel the need to prove himself in Ivar. He had barely slept since his father had come to town.

Then, one night, just before the new day was dawning, I heard him crawl into our bed chamber. When I sat up, startled by the noise, he looked at me with gleeming eyes, bluer than usual. He looked so happy, so beautiful, it hurt not to be the reason for his happiness.

“Father is taking me on his raid to England.” He said and he grinned proudly.

I looked at him for a moment, my mouth agape, until I felt a tear running down my cheek. And another. I shook my head.

His eyes widened only for a moment, as he realised his mistake.

I hated to feel like this, I didn’t even know why I felt the need to cry. I had never felt the need to cry about anyone. His face became soft and he looked like he was going to cry, too.

“You promised…” I whispered.

Ivar gave a solemn nod. “I…I know. But this is it, Sif. I have to go. It is…”

I took a deep breath. “This is where our destiny is going to be decided. This is what it comes down to.”

He crawled over to me and heaved himself onto the bed and I let him. I knew I should be raging mad, I knew, I should tell him what a fool he was for following his father, but I did not have the energy to do so. Instead, I took his face in my hands.

“I should hate you for this, but I don’t. You are important to me, Ivar, I hope you know that. You might break my heart, but I love you.”

He shook off my hands only to grip my shoulders and pull me into a hard hug. I felt him shudder a few times. Then I heard his broken voice:

“I know. It is a pity our hearts break just as easily as my bones, but this is what I have to do. All my life, I wanted my father to be there and now that he is here, now that I finally get the chance to get to know him, I have to seize it.”

And I knew he was right. I could feel it like a shift in the air. The tides were turning, we were hurdling toward the great unknown. We sat there holding each other until it became light out. Ivar told me of his father’s plans, all the while I was making my own. As soon as Ivar left, I would see to my revenge. He would be gone quite awhile, I knew that. I knew that their travels would not go smoothly. It didn’t need a seer to know that, seeing the rowdy bunch Ragnar was recruiting and the ships they were supposed to be sailing on. But I also knew, he would survive. I couldn’t say how I knew, only that I knew. Maybe it was only hope. But I knew.

While Ivar was preparing to go to England, I made some preparations of my own. I did them in secret, because I knew Ivar still did not approve of me going to fight for what was mine. I was his now and he had to be enough for me. Our opinions on some matters differed greatly, and while it hadn’t posed a problem until now, it did on this one. His wife should not be stronger than him. And he hadn’t yet proven himself.

I followed them sometimes, watched them prepare, gather warriors, and dig up the treasures, Ragnar intended to bribe his men into going with him. Like a common thief, I found one of the chests Ragnar had hidden. I took enough to further my cause, but not enough for it to be noticed.

A few of my uncle’s men had arrived in Kattegat, to follow Björn to the Mediterranea, but I had managed to avoid them most of the time. When they held a sacrifice, which I would usually have to attend, I told Ivar that I was feeling unwell. He believed me, his griefstricken wife and for a moment, I felt bad for lying to him. He caressed my cheek and whispered, he’d be home as soon as he could. I hoped so, because I actually did treausure the moments I had left with him.

It was a couple of days later and I had just started on a new patterned cloth I was weaving, when Aslaug almost stumbled into the room. She looked distressed and close to tears. As she came closer, I could see that she actually had been crying.

“I had a vision, Y/N. I saw Ivar die in a storm after he left with Ragnar! I told Ivar he had to stay home, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Can you…”

When our eyes met, I could see her vision. It hurt me deeply, but I saw something in it, she didn’t see. This was not about Ivar’s literal death, the vision was about the death of the Ivar we knew. He had already started becoming who the Gods needed him to be. He channeled his strong head in ways to be more efficient in battle. He had tried to bribe a blacksmith into forging crutches for him, so he could walk. He was finding ways around his limitations. Ivar the Boneless wouldn’t be boneless much longer and this journey was one step on his path. I did not know which version of Ivar would be coming back to me, but as I touched Aslaug, I knew that I would be the only one of us who would be here to greet him. I quickly pulled back my fingers like I had been burned and as I looked at her with a frown on my face, Aslaug suddenly turned.

“I know! I won’t be around much longer. Don’t you dare tell anyone! I am still trying to find a way to get my head out of the noose.”

I took a step toward her and embraced her softly. “For all that it is worth, I am thankful I have met you, Queen Aslaug. And Ivar will live. He won’t be the same, but he will live. Sometimes our emotions just cloud the vision.”

Her cold eyes turned warm for a short moment, so short I almost missed it. “And I am thankful for the smile you put on my son’s face. He needs that.”

I gave a nod. “I will try to take care of him as best I can.”

She kissed my forehead. “It will be a long and hard journey for the two of you, but good luck.” And with that, she left.

I stood beside Aslaug on the day Ragnar and his men left. Ivar made his way to me on his new crutches and even though I had seen him practice with them a few times, the effect of my husband standing tall in front of me never ceased to amaze me. He looked down at me and smiled.

“You know, I hate to leave you here, but I want you to have this.” And with that, he gave me a kiss and let a small bracelet fall into my hands. I looked up into his eyes and smiled.

“Then part of you will stay with me.”

He sighed. “How did the Gods find you for me?”

I shrugged. “That’s why they are the Gods and we mere mortals.”

And with these words, I watched my husband try to board a ship headed for England. As so often, he stumbled, he fell, but he got back up again. I closed my eyes and took Aslaug’s hand in mine. She squeezed it once, never even looking at me.

The first nights without Ivar were cold and unsettling. Once again, I was alone in between half strangers. Also, I had dreams and visions, only I still wasn’t able to tell them apart. I saw the wide open sea before me, I was violently sick to my stomach, then a storm, the shores of a green island. Ragnar’s face, close to mine, the face of a baby, my family, me and my brother on our old estate. Then I saw the inside of a dungeon, a cage. I heard a language I did not understand. Then I was back in Kattegat, standing at the harbour, seeing a great fleet coming in. There would be lots of battles being fought over this city. It was time for me to go and fight my own.

A week after he was gone, I decided to see the Seer. But first I managed to set up a meeting with Margarete later in the day.

When I arrived at the small hut of the Seer at the outskirts of the town, I hesitated a moment before I went inside. Took a deep breath, gathered my courage. Then I went in.

He puffed out a breath. “Took you long enough to see me, though I suppose you don’t need my help to see the future.”

“No. I don’t.” I confirmed. I sat down in front of him. “But I still need guidance. I need… I need someone to help me with this…gift.”

He inhaled deeply. Then he sighed. “You may call it by its name; a curse. When I was younger, I thought it was a blessing. I thought I was being chosen by the Gods and it was a sign of their favour and therefore I was blessed. But, as it turns out, the chosen ones are the ones who have to suffer the most. Just ask your husband. He never asked to be chosen. And neither did you. But still, here you are.”

“So, it is true? Ivar will tear the world as we know it apart?”

“He will try to. But you know that already. He will achieve greatness. And he will bring on terrible times. But he will lead our people into a new era. How it ends, I don’t know. It lies in your hands.”

“In my hands? But what is my role in all of this? Why was I dragged into this?”

The Seer was quiet for a while. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know. I cannot see you or your path. It might be because your fate is still undecided. It might be because you are not a part of this, only a guide for those who are navigating these dark waters. But it might also be, because you do not come into play for a long time. There is a veil of darkness I cannot cross, a veil I do not dare to lift. It is so dark beyond that I do not wish to see any further. If this is where you take over, I do not envy you. But you will have time, all the time you need to learn to trust your skills.”

“And until then?”

“Trust the Gods and the path they laid out in front of you. Walk it. The further you go, the quicker it will take you home.”

“I don’t understand…”

“And neither do I. So go. You make me uncomfortable, you feel like the end to me.”

I hung my head in silent tribute then left his house. It was weird to enter from the twilight of the Seer’s home into the bright light of day, but I knew I had other things to take care of. First, I had promised the fishermen to help them with their nets. In my hometown, fishing had a long tradition and the women had been in charge when it came to the equipment and its upkeep, so I had started to help the fishermen in Kattegat with their nets, showed them new tricks how to fix them faster or how to make sure they wouldn’t tear as easily. It helped me to think of other things and integrate myself into the society here. Aslaug didn’t like me mixing with the common people, but then again, she had never been the kind of woman to work with her hands. She had never needed to be.

Afterwards, I made my way to the place where I was supposed to meet Margarete. She was already waiting for me at the beach a safe distance away from the town center, away from prying eyes and curious ears. It was close to the training area, but as there were only a few men left in Kattegat to protect the city, the training grounds were mostly empty. There was a reason most of the men left weren’t on one of the two raids. Ubbe and Sigurd had stayed behind, but right now they were fixing the roof of the great hall. When they weren’t out raiding, the domestic tasks caught up even to the two princes.

Still, when I arrived, Margarete was already there, looking slightly on edge. She seemed pretty nervous these days, which made me wonder what she was going through. I knew, before I had arrived, Ivar had put her through a lot, which was why there was no love left between the two of them, but I had thought she would maybe calm down once he was safely away at sea.

“Y/N! There you are. I had already begun to wonder if you’d come.”

I smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I had to help the men fix their fishing nets first. They know how to bribe me into it.” I laughed.

“Seems like you fit right in here. You are no longer the strange outsider girl you were when you arrived.” I wasn’t sure if I imagined the bitter edge to her voice.

“No, instead I am now the weird girl happily married to Ivar. Isn’t life strange?”

She chuckled. “You really like him, don’t you? Who would have thought that someone could actually like Ivar the Boneless.”

“I… I do. He can be…difficult at times, but when you get to know him, he is a kind soul that has been through bad things. He can be friendly and loving. If he wants to. And if his defenses are down. He doesn’t trust people.”

Margarete looked at me slightly amused. “You look like you love him. There is this strange sparkle in your eyes when you talk of him. But I guess this is not why we are here.”

She might act like she was a little daft sometimes, but you should never let yourself fool into thinking Margarete was stupid. She knew how to play the survival game and she knew it well, which was why I had asked her here. If you had ambitions, she knew who to ask if you wanted to further them.

“And right you are. I have to ask you for your help and advice.”

She acted surprised. “Me? How can a simple slave like me help you in any way?”

“Margarete, you know people. You know their relationships and connections. You know who to ask if you wanted to…let’s say, gather a few good warriors.”

Margarete looked like she was thinking about something. Then she just asked:

“And what would you need a few good warriors for?”

I drew closer to her and then fiercly whispered: “Reclaim what is rightfully mine.”

Her eyes went wide. “Do you have designs of Kattegat?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know how Kattegat would be rightfully mine. I have no designs when it comes to this town. But I want to free my home town from the reign of my uncle. I know that he sent his best warriors with Björn to the Mediterranean. So this is the best opportunity to strike. This is my time.”

“You sound more like a man than a woman.” Margarete said, a little insecure. “And you are not supposed to leave Kattegat, Ubbe told me so. Ivar specifically told Ubbe to have an eye on you while he is away.”

I gave a nod. “First of all, I don’t care if I sound like a man. If my brother had lived, it might have been him to reclaim the seat as the Earl of Ripa, but my uncle killed him. As he killed my whole family in cold blood. I want my revenge. I want his head on the Headmeadow of Ripa. Secondly, Ivar almost drowned in a storm and stranded in England. He won’t be back for a while. And lastly, then you just can’t tell Ubbe until I am far enough away to be back before he can stop me.”

Margarete looked at me with a sly smile. “So, it is true. You can see the future. You do have visions?”

I shrugged. “I guess so. I still cannot control them, but sometimes I see bits and pieces of Ivar’s journey. Of his future, of Kattegat’s future.”

Her face turned soft. “Do you know how Hvitserk is doing? Is he alive?”

I noticed something. “I cannot see him or Björn directly. But I know that they are going to… they will be alive later on, so I guess they are doing well enough.” I was only able to see Ivar’s future. There were only few things I had seen that did not have to do with Ivar. What a nice twist of fate. But Margarete was relieved. Knowing that Hvitserk would return was enough for her.

“There are no men left in Kattegat. Those ready to fight are guarding the town. They will not leave now. Even the elderly and the injured have gone with Ragnar. You will not have any luck in Kattegat.”

“Is there anybody else I could ask?”

Margarete’s eyes turned dark. “There’s always Lagertha. But you don’t want to cross her. She’d have you dead within minutes. Also, there is no love left between her and Aslaug. Lagertha resents her for taking away her husband and her home. And then Queen Aslaug wounded her pride by doing the sacrifice for the departing warriors alone. Lagertha was furious.”

I sighed, but I also had an idea forming in my head. Lagertha probably understood my wish for revenge. I started to think it over, when I heard Margarete.

“But, Y/N, Ivar dislikes Lagertha. He won’t be too happy.”

“Well… as I said before, he doesn’t have to know.”

Margarete looked at me like I was crazy. “If there is one thing, I’ve learned, it’s that Ivar always knows. He just knows things, he sees things. I don’t know how he does it, but Ivar always finds out.”

I smiled. “Calm down, Margarete, I know how he does it. He listens to people. He watches people. He knows things because nobody ever heeds the cripple. Nobody cares enough about him to see him. Unless he seeks their attention, people don’t pay attention to him. Ivar has his eyes and ears everywhere. He trusts in people’s need to talk about others. And you, scared as you are, would tell Ubbe about this. And Ubbe would tell Ivar. But if you don’t tell Ubbe, Ivar will never know.”

Margarete smiled slightly. “What makes you think I only tell Ubbe things because I am scared? Knowledge is an underrated currency. People don’t pay it enough mind.”

“Well, you wouldn’t rat me out to Ubbe, if you didn’t have to.”

“What makes you think that?” Margarete seemed genuinely interested.

“I am your only friend here. The other slaves, they hate you because you are sleeping with the princes. They are jealous. The viking women will never see anything but a slave in you, even if you should become a free woman, they would never see you as their equal. Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd adore you, but there are a lot of things you cannot discuss with them. That leaves me. The other outsider.”

“But as you just said, you are an outsider as well. Some people fear you, others just dislike you. Many even loath you, because you are Ivar’s wife.”

“So, we need each other, don’t we?” I asked Margarete.

She seemed to think about it for a moment. Then she gave a small nod and smiled.

“It could be worse. At least you are not trying to get onto the throne of Kattegat.” There was something in her eyes in that moment that I did not like, but I decided to brush it away for the moment.

I smirked. “No, I got my own thrown to worry about. But tell me, how do I convince Lagertha to agree to something downright foolish?”

Margarete shook her head. “You don’t. She has to believe it is worth it.”

“So, how do I approach her? What is the best way to get in contact with her?”

“Well, probably Torvi. She is still in contact with her, because of Björn. I am meeting Torvi tonight, maybe you would like to come?”

I gave a nod. “Thank you Margarete. But remember, neither Ubbe, nor Sigurd can know about this.”

She smiled at me. “And they won’t.”

Torvi brought me and Margarete to Lagertha that same evening. They had urgent matters to discuss with Margarete, but I was not allowed inside to hear what it was all about, even though Margarete had asked for me to be present. Afterwards, as Margarete was led into a small house by Astrid, I was called into Lagertha’s home by Torvi. The two of them had been talking about private matters, but Torvi had probably told Lagertha that I had a request for her.

As I entered the room, Lagertha eyed me closely, she did not seem to trust me, that much was clear from the beginning.

“You are Ivar’s wife, aren’t you?” she asked, straightforward.

“I am. I was married to him after my family died. My mother had been a friend of Queen Aslaug once and she accepted me into their family.”

“So, you are indebted to Aslaug?” Lagertha asked.

“I would not call it that. She has made it abundantly clear that she had her own motives and reasons to get her crippled son married to me.”

“So, do you resent her for marrying you off to her crippled son?” Lagertha tried to understand how I felt about Aslaug, I realised.

“I do not. I do resent the way she did it, but I still have to be thankful for her taking me into her family.”

“Then tell me one thing: why are you here?” Lagertha asked directly.

“I wanted to ask you for a favour. I have been driven out of my home by my own uncle. He has killed my whole family and usurped my throne. I want to take back, what is rightfully mine. And right now, Ripa’s best warriors are in the Mediterranean with your son, leaving the city vulnerable to an attack. I am pretty sure the people of Ripa would welcome me back. All I need is a small force of warriors to kill my uncles and his fellow traitors who are left within the town.”

Lagertha had started to smile at some point. Her eyes glinted in the light of the fire place. “I have heard of that. I also thought they had killed each and every member of your family including you, little Ripa girl. But apparently you are harder to kill than they say.” She moved closer to me and looked deep into my eyes. It made me a little nervous, but I remained quiet as she continued: “You remind me a little of myself. We are in the same position, you and I. So I feel your pain. I do believe your home belongs to you. And I would really like to help you, but what can I expect from you in return?”

“What do you expect from me in return?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Y/N, is your loyalty too much to ask? Once you are Earl of Ripa, you would make a formidable ally and I could use your support.”

I looked at her for a long time. If Lagertha decided to take Kattegat, I had to be on her side. I could not choose Ivar’s side and I could not stay neutral, I would have to fight with Lagertha. She knew all too well what she was asking, but then again, Ivar’s chances on the throne were pretty slim seeing that he was Ragnar’s youngest son and hadn’t I just told Margarete that I had no ambitions of taking Kattegat’s throne? I took a deep breath and quickly pleaded for a sign. Something to help me decide. Then I remembered one of the parts of my vision from our wedding. Ivar in an English city sitting in front of a chariot. Ivar would not come back to Kattegat to stay. Ivar would go back to England. I had known that all along. And if he was selfish enough to go back to England, I could be selfish enough to take back my hometown while he was away. I would be in Kattegat when he returned.

I answered Lagertha with a decisive nod. “I will be at your service if you ever need me. You can count on my support.”

It was the most selfish decision I had ever made, but I had to take what she had to offer. And I knew, were the roles reversed, Ivar would have done the same.

Ivar woke up in the middle of the night, screaming. He quickly looked around, but his environment had changed completely. He was no longer sitting in a longhouse at the coast of Denmark, but in a dungeon somewhere in England. His heart was racing and he felt like he had been fighting himself, but as his hand touched his left shoulder, it came away dry, not drenched in blood as he had anticipated. What had that been? It had felt like he had been there, riding toward the town, fighting off the small number of guards who were trying to hold him and the shield maidens at his side back. They were only ten, but they were good fighters. He looked at the shields they were carrying and saw that they were Lagertha’s warriors. It gave him a start. Why would he ride with Lagertha? He recognised two of the men they killed. They were his…no, not his cousins, but they were the cousins of the person he was riding…with, for a lack of a better term. It was as she had thought, all their best warriors had gone with Björn and there were only a few men actually resisting her ride into the city as they recognised her. When they arrived at the gates, they could hear a commotion, there were people fighting against each other between the people guarding the city, but not for long. The gate opened and they advanced up to the Earl’s estate with little to no defense. Only as they tried to enter the house, they had to fight for their lives. There weren’t many men guarding the Earl, but they were the best and the most loyal. He fought and he moved forward and as he finally locked eyes with his… no, her uncle, he could see the fear in his eyes. An arrow hit him, no, her, in the back of her left shoulder and as he looked down, he could see the tip pointing out of the front of her shoulder. She did not pay it any mind, instead raised her right hand and beheaded the man who had taken everything from her. As soon as he was dead, the fighting ceased. There was no point in fighting any more. She still turned around to kill the man who had shot her. After that, she sat down on the table, because it was the closest piece of furniture and she was exhausted, and broke off the tip of the arrow, trying to pull it out of the back of her shoulder. Then, a familiar face entered the room. Her old teacher. She broke into a smile, as she saw his friendly face.

“By the Gods, it’s little Y/N! She has returned!” he took her hand in his and led her out onto the market square, where he presented her to the people of Ripa. Many of them had already heard the news and cheered for her. Her old teacher raised her hand to the sky and spoke to the people:

“Greet your new Earl of Ripa, daughter of our former rightful Earl, Y/N!”

As he looked over the crowd, Ivar could feel something like vertigo. Her hand touched the wound in her shoulder and came away bloody. And then everything went black.

And Ivar had awoken screaming. He was screaming again, he was furious. How could she have done this? How could she have broken her promise?! He slammed his fist into the wall next to him and let out another frustrated scream. His wife was now the Earl of Ripa. Somewhere deep inside him, he was proud of her. But he was mostly furious that she hadn’t stayed in Kattegat with his mother as he had made her promise. Then again, he had promised her to stay in Kattegat as well, came the afterthought. Ivar acted self-righteous most of the time, but he knew that he had no right to be as furious as he was. But still, he was and he didn’t really know what to do with that emotion. Then he had to smirk. A broken promise for a broken promise, how poetic. He also knew, had it been him, he would have done the exact same thing. And suddenly he realised something else: he had just had a vision. He knew everything he had seen to be true. It excited him a little, but it scared him a lot. This was not supposed to happen, even if you were married, was it? He looked down at his shoulder and while it was not bloody, he could see that there was an angry red scar that hadn’t been there before. This was definitely not supposed to happen. He screamed again, but this time it was in confusion and fear.

Ragnar threw something at him across the room. “Why don’t you just stop with the screaming?” he murmurmed sleepily as he sat up and blinked into Ivar’s direction. Ivar could see the lines of age in his father’s face as he had never seen them before. Ragnar seemed wary and tired to the bone. It made Ivar worry. But then he shook off the thought.

“Sorry father, it is just…have you ever had a vision?”

Ragnar’s eyes grew sharper as he closely studied Ivar’s face. “Yes, a couple times. But you should ask your mother about that, she’s the seer.”

Ivar lowered his eyes and studied the floor. “I just had a vision of Y/N.”

“You mean a dream.” Ragnar smiled a patronizing smile that made Ivar slightly angry.

“No, a vision. She fought for the throne of her home town that had been taken by her uncle. She won.”

Ragnar made a face. “Good for her. I’d still say it was a dream.”

“Do dreams leave scars?”

“Do dreams…”, Ragnar shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Do I really have to tell you at this age that dreams cannot hurt you?”

Ivar crawled over to his father. “Then what is this?” he pulled his tunic collar low enough for Ragnar to see the scar.

“That is a scar.” Ragnar answered simply.

“A scar I did not have when I fell asleep. Y/N was wounded during the fight for Ripa, she was pierced through the shoulder by an arrow. Exactly where this scar just appeared.”

Ragnar frowned. “That is... I have heard of it, but it was a myth. A legend Floki once told me. It was…” Ragnar closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What is it?”

“What has your mother done?” Ragnar asked slightly irritated.

“Nothing, it was a normal wedding ceremony. There was nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Only the two people who got married. Gods, Ivar! She bound your lives together.”

“Isn’t that what a wedding is supposed to be? A lifelong bond between to people?” Ivar asked, mostly to annoy his father.

“Yes, but not that literally! Your mother, she knew exactly who to choose. Ivar, you have no idea what this means. Not even I know what this exactly means. But your lives, they are entwined. You are two people living one life.”

Ivar laughed lightly, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do, how to react. “But surely there is a way to take this back?”

Ragnar shook his head solemnly. “The Gods have plans with the two of you. You will not be able to escape that truth.”

Ivar sighed. He had to talk to his mother, he needed to know if she knew what she had done and how to reverse it if need be. But for that, he had to get out of this filthy dungeon first.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar imagines #vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #history vikings #ivar the boneless x reader #stories from kattegat #fates entwined

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diveronarpg · 4 years ago

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Congratulations, BECKY! You’ve been accepted for the role of LADY MACBETH with an approved FC change to Karrueche Tran. Admin Cas: Ah, Lucrezia. She’s undoubtedly one of my favourite characters here, and for good reason. She’s perceptive, calculating, enchanting, and perhaps most importantly of all, utterly terrifying. I adored your application from start to finish, Becky - you captured every dark ambition, every siren song, every scheme and subterfuge that Lucrezia’s ever used to her advantage. Femininity is her weapon, and she knows exactly how to use it. Honestly, I could feel the beat of her heart in every single word you wrote. This line in particular got me: “You must shed your snakeskin and free the heart-thrum-fresh creature which lays ready and waiting beneath.” Your Lucrezia certainly isn’t for the fainthearted, and I’m so excited to watch how she flourishes in your capable hands! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Becky

Age | 24

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | WFH so online daily.

Timezone | GMT

How did you find the rp? | Blast from the past !

IN CHARACTER

Character | Lady Macbeth, Lucrezia Falco

What drew you to this character? |

There’s blood on your hands and it won’t wash out. There’s blood on your hands and it glistens, deep and dark and vicious. There’s blood on your hands and it whispers like a friend, like a confidant, like a lover.

There’s blood on your hands – and you know this is the price to pay for greatness.

You will build your empire piece by piece until a crown of power rests against your brow. If the streets of Verona must run with ichor, so be it. You are the flower and the serpent. You are becoming and unbecoming. You are forging yourself anew until the person looking back at you in the mirror is a reflection you deem worthy.

Docile smiles have never been a currency you can afford to use. When you were younger, bright and teetering on the edge of foolishness, your mother and father had wished for a doe-eyed daughter. Instead, you had come home from school with a bruise marking your face and a blade-sharp smile cutting across your mouth ( the other girl had looked far worse ). Makeup had covered the purpling skin from friends and family, your mother chiding you with a loss for how to tame her daughter. Your parents had done all they could to brush aside your misdemeanours. This is what happens when you grow up in a house which thrives on concealment: you get good at hiding your sins.

You feel yourself being picked apart. The decadent dance of decaying debutante. You must shed your snakeskin and free the heart-thrum-fresh creature which lays ready and waiting beneath. Your heart turns to a sticky dark mess that slides through the fingers of anyone who dares to try and save it.

You were never built to be soft.

Venom pools in your mouth, tart on the tongue. Dark eyes shine bright in the nighttime, flashing a smile to distract from danger. Laughter echoes down a cobbled passageway and silence pools along stone grooves soon after, matching the rust-coloured criss-cross patterns that decorate your palm as soap and water cleanse you of tonight’s trouble.

Marriage. Misdemeanours. Murder. Perhaps there’s a reason they call you Lady M beyond simply carrying your husband’s moniker with you. Binding yourself to him had been necessary to get where you are now but it had not been his trust you sought to gain but that of Cosimo. The best laid plans are those that take time. You know how to lay in wait, patient when necessary, and those who do not perform as you wish them to are cut loose from their marionette strings.

There is nothing you wouldn’t do to achieve what you desire.

– Lucrezia Falco is the amalgamation of some of my favourite characters, including her namesake; Narcissa Malfoy; Marisa Coulter; Rebecca de Winter; Carmine Zuigiber; Melanie Cavill; Estella Havisham; Amy Dunne. I’m definitely drawn towards the idea of Lucrezia embracing the darker parts of herself and pushing her boundaries. I’m always a sucker for a character who stirs gossip and whispers in people’s ears so I have no doubt she’ll bring her fair share of drama with her, leaving anyone who suffers for it in her wake. A temptress at heart, she’s particularly adept at inciting trouble.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I. ASCENT. You are destined for more. You can feel it calling to you like a siren song billowing up from murky depths. Every ounce of praise is gathered, wrung out and collected from those above you. Hierarchy is merely a concept devised to provide a clear pathway for people like you. The top is evident; the means for ascent less so. – Lucrezia sets her sights high. The absolute pinnacle of her goals is to achieve a high level rank, be it Boss, Underboss or Advisor. She isn’t fussy. I have no doubt this will put her at odds with Juliana ( who is somewhat her foil ) but who doesn’t love some tension? Vivienne and her influence is potentially tricker for Lucrezia to deal with but I envision her attempting to carve out a mentorship-type role for herself in the heart of Ms Sloane. She’ll be quick to pitch her desire to become something more and, whilst it would be great to see her achieve it, I can’t help but wonder what she may do should she be denied.

> Vaguely and conceptually curious about the idea of her becoming a hitman to take the spot Orion left behind but she’d certainly be a bit of a wildcard option, all things considered. Very femme fatale, very serpent-under-the-flower.

II. BONDS. You can feel him watch you, eyes tracking your movements. Lust occasionally sparks but love remains absent, settling like quiet of your shared abode when his conversation starter falls flat at your feet. It is not his fault, not really. You are repulsed by the idea of letting him know you well enough to know your weak spots. To let him in would be to surrender. The organ beneath your ribs serves its purpose keeping you alive and you shan’t let it soften for the sake of a husband who wants to know the woman who shares his bed better. – Ah, Mikael. Married for his connections and potential. Lucrezia is purposefully preventing herself from having any feelings towards him that aren’t inherently carnal but even those have begun to dry, the thrill of what they once had having risked returning to routine. I don’t think it’s impossible for them to fix what they have but it would take Lucrezia learning to be vulnerable in front of him which, after ten-or-so years of marriage, may admittedly never happen. For now she is satisfied keeping him ( what she assumes to be ) happy so that he doesn’t grow tired of her. It’d be interesting and very Shakespeareanly-apt were he to get wrapped up in her devious plans. For better or for worse, and all that… Perhaps they will end up breaking apart or perhaps they will overcome their current lack of love for one another. Either way, it’ll be messy.

III. MANIA. You wipe the blade against silk, a dark smear across fine fabric. Information is precious and once you’ve plucked what you need from a mouth that offers what it can in amongst strangled sobs, you dispose of the source before others can make use of it. Clean. Precise. An emissary is not expected to get their hands dirty like this but you do what you can to get noticed by the right people. And the wrong ones. But your sins are beginning to take a toll, gnawing their way into the blackened husk of your heart. Before long, you may begin to unravel.

– Emissaries trade in whispers but Lucrezia knows she needs to get ahead of the rest in order to stand out from the crowd. She’ll do whatever it takes to get information and secure deals. We love drama in this house so I am absolutely here for her getting in too deep. The more she tests her morality, the weaker her conscience grows. She treats it like an experiment to see whether she’ll ever reach a point of breaking and thus far is yet to see any signs of such. If there is a price to pay for these inhuman acts, it will be her sanity.

IV. CONTROL. You will take what is offered. You will keep climbing. You won’t turn back and you certainly won’t let anything get in your way. Or anyone. You need those ranked higher than you to look on you favourably. The thought of someone close to Cosimo thinking you are incapable makes your skin crawl. With recent deaths and absences leaving gaping holes in the mob hierarchy, you need to do all you can to ensure that those who fill them adore you.

– The higher she attempts to rise, the further the fall. Lucrezia knows she cannot achieve power on her own; she needs supporters. It will take more than a well placed compliment and a brush of her fingertips. She needs to climb inside their minds; carve out a space for herself to sit amongst dark thoughts and ensure the loyalty of her fellow Capulets. Once inspiring this in a chosen few, she will rely on them to protect her and behave in a way that snubs out the sparks of any other bright things daring to climb the ranks. As soon as a new Advisor is chosen, should it be someone she doesn’t take kindly to, she may very well start fanning the embers of mistrust in their abilities. A whisper here, a comment there. A reputation can take a long time to build but can be toppled overnight by the right sharp-smiling disarming woman.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Not currently but that could certainly change if it helped with the overall plot!

IN DEPTH

In-Character Interview:

I. ) At half past nine, in the wake of Mikael going to work and leaving her alone ( precisely the way she likes it ) in the shell of their home, Lucrezia dons her gym wear and goes for a jog. The route is specific. The timing is immaculate. She passes the wife of the mayor like clockwork, passing a smile in her direction each morning until smiles become greetings and greetings become stopping to coo at the child in her stroller.

Eventually this turns to weekly lunches and invitations to various social events. They all dance the way she desires, puppets dangling from strings caught in her hands. It’s at the book club that she learns the most; gossip spilling from the wine-loosened lips of women in power or women married to power. Falling into the latter camp isn’t so bad when it gives you a free step up in the world. Lucrezia knows this fact well.

“But is that really your favourite place in Verona?” the Capulet asks as they talk of unexciting places nestled snuggly in her Don’s territory, seeking a location fit to hold an entirely over-the-top birthday party for the mayor’s wife. She’s only been half-listening, waiting for the perfect moment to chip in with her opinion. Her valued opinion. That was important. Charm the right people into believing you have their best interests at heart and they won’t see that your own motives lay at the centre of all you do.

“What about Teatro Nuovo?” she suggests, seemingly off-handedly, gaze fixing on the mayor’s wife with familiarity and a glimmer of private acknowledgement, as though only she knew precisely where would be best. Lucrezia wouldn’t dare spend an unnecessary amount of time in Montague territory typically but this particular excuse to snoop around the building wasn’t one to turn her nose up at. With high profile politicians and their security in attendance, she’ll bet her luck that the Montagues wouldn’t dare to target her. “There’s an elegance to the theatre. Grandeur. And who doesn’t love an opera-masquerade themed party?”

II. ) “I’m trying to get a better idea of Mr Falco’s routine. What does your typical day look like?” Mikael’s PA asks, far too eager to please their boss in a way that Lucrezia would like to think only she knows the art of.

The edges of her mouth lift, hiding her irritation at the prying behind a well-practiced false smile. “To begin, Mikael and I wake up and enjoy some early morning cardio.” The lie leaves her lips, accompanied by a laugh to put the other at ease. Her wifely facade remains; she’s used to putting on this charade. It is the blush that stains the PA’s cheeks that marks her success. “And then he will leave for work and I attend a yoga class or meet a friend for breakfast.” Lie. It’s more likely to be a negotiation, securing a deal with someone whose attention lingers on her just as much as it lingers on the examples of the firearms the Capulets can offer. “I’ll typically spend some time running errands or planning a dinner party before lunch which is either eaten alone at home or out. The afternoon is for shopping or a leisurely stroll.” Another lie. Afternoons are for organising reports to give to Vivianne. Who is following through with their half of agreements? Who is falling short and needs a follow up visit from her less-charming friends? “And then Mikael will return from work and we’ll have an enjoyable evening.”

Lucrezia conjures a vision of perfection without giving it a second thought. She neglects to mention the hours spent at The Twelfth Night; or those coaxing whispers from unyielding mouths; or those scrubbing the blood of another from the beds of her fingernails.

III. ) “What has been your biggest mistake thus far?” The bespectacled marriage counsellor asks. Beside Lucrezia, Mikael fidgets. She reaches for his hand, curling her fingers around it. His wedding band is warm to the touch. He stills as he always does when she touches him as though surprised by his own wife’s affection. Predictable.

Agreeing to attend this meeting, she thinks to herself. She’d slammed a door in Mikael’s face when he’d suggested they try and talk things through with a therapist present yet agreed to attend for the sake of keeping up appearances ( he talks to Everett about their relationship, she knows this much ). “I once served garlic hors d'oeuvres at a party with an orchestra.” Lucrezia answers. “Such a bad idea when everyone had to stand so close to speak to one another.”

Her revenge on her husband’s attempt to meddle with their relationship is to be had afterwards as she says goodbye, a hand on the therapist’s arm and a sultry tone drifting from her lips. When she glances towards the door, she meets Mikael’s line of sight.

It didn’t matter what games they played, the queen was always the stronger piece.

IV. ) “What has been the most difficult task asked of you?” Cosimo’s question wafts towards her on a tendril of cigarette smoke that catches in the sunlight streaming into his office through slits in the blinds.

Inwardly, Lucrezia wants to scream. Very little can make her speak genuinely, truthfully, from the heart. This line of questioning makes it feel as if he were trying to climb inside her head and understand who she was. She doesn’t care for thinking about her shortcomings, nor does she have any intention of allowing Cosimo to do the same.

She deploys one of her usual tactics. Raises her hand slowly to pull the cigarette from Cosimo’s lips and hold it to her own, taking a drag before returning the lipstick-stained end to him. She exhales slowly. “I’ll tell you when you give me something difficult to do.” Her brow raises in challenge, settling the boss with a steady stare. Test me, she wants to tell him. I want to feel alive.

V. ) “What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?” Everett asks her the day she leaves his decina, chin held high in light of her promotion to emissary, no longer trapped beneath the heel of another man’s shoe. The question is posed casually but Lucrezia knows him well enough by now that Everett rarely acts without purpose – and that purpose would be sat snuggly against the morals that keep his spine straight and his expression guarded.

Lucrezia turns the question over in her mind cautiously as though it were a trap, steel jaw ready to spring shut. A smile slinks slowly across her lips as she closes the space between them until a metre of polished wooden floor is what keeps them apart ( along with a history of unresolved differences ). She squares her gaze with his. “All this time spent teaching me and you still can’t figure out what goes on inside my head, can you?” Something that isn’t quite a laugh escapes her mouth. The sound is silky, amusement winding itself around it like a serpent. “What would you like me to say? That the war is necessary? That, like you, I got involved in all this because of someone I love?”

It doesn’t take a telepath to know that Vivianne springs to the forefront of both of their minds. An emissary is only as good as her intel and sufficient background information was always a valuable arsenal to carry. Her reassignment had not been born from luck; she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Acrylic fingernails reach to brush an imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder of Everett’s suit before turning swiftly to leave, her answer falling behind her as she strides out of the room. “It’s about time we fucking won, Everett.”

Connections:

THE SPOUSE: Mikael Falco. As much as it pains her that the man she married can’t find the strength to stand up to her when necessary, she still clings to a thread of hope that she can turn him into the person she wishes he was. Headstrong. Lethal. As hungry for more as she is. The Falco name is a pretty one and would surely look just as beautiful sitting alongside the most powerful families of Verona, no?

THE ADVERSARY: Calina Sokolova. This town isn’t big enough for the both of them. Calina seems to slip through life with casual elegance whereas Lucrezia feels like her nails have left imprints in everything, working hard for what she deserves. She waits with bated breath to hear news of the Montague emissary’s fall from grace, eager for the whispers to land on the shell of her ear first so she can watch it all burn down in flames.

THE ANNOYANCE: Everett Craven. There’s fun to be had in finding new subtle ways to torment a man like Everett. She waits for the twitch of his brow or the tick of his jaw, hoping to be the cause of the vexed sigh that leaves his mouth. His seriousness mixed with his influence over Mikael are, irritatingly, things she’s never been able to break. And not for a lack of trying.

THE PUPIL: Delilah Bello. She is not one to offer a shoulder to cry on but, equally, she is not one to disregard those who do whatever it takes to stay ahead. Delilah’s choice of tactics may have been misguided and Lucrezia certainly doesn’t find the soldier’s attempts to deny what happened in any way productive – but perhaps she simply needs steering in the right direction. Making the best of a bad situation can be an enjoyable pastime when done right.

THE SOURCE: Mona Chen. Mona certainly knows how to string together a pretty sentence, words shining through the darkness that they have both made their home in. Lucrezia enjoys collecting the payment owed to Cosimo; enjoys having the privilege of hearing the secrets whispered to her as if some vessel for the truth. She turns the information over in her head, admiring it, deciding what should and shouldn’t be passed on. There’s power in that.

THE SEDUCED: Open to anyone. Lucrezia has them hooked around her finger, but unlike post-marriage Mikael they prove to be much more of a fun plaything. She knows they want what they can’t have but she’s beginning to get a taste of her own medicine. Being with them is like playing with fire, dangerous but enthralling. She won’t cheat on Mikael but she might just test a few boundaries.

THE SANCTUARY: Open to Capulets or neutrals. Even someone like Lucrezia needs a safe place to rest. Somewhere she can drop the many charades and be herself. This person is, perhaps, the only soul she has ever felt truly at peace beside. Time is what strengthened their bond, along with their fair share of helping one another out of tricky or dangerous situations.

THE TRICKED: Open to Montagues. She has no intention of harming them, for that would be counterproductive. They are a plaything, of sorts. An experiment to see what she can do, what she can achieve. When they first meet, she slips into a charade of fear. Pretends to be at their mercy if only for the sake of spinning her story: the terrified wife. A sob story can go a long way if you know how to play it.

#accepted #accepted: lady macbeth

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ichigo777666 · 4 years ago

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FE3H Characters Ranked

My opinions of all the main characters in FE3H ranked from worst to best in my opinion. These are MY opinions! Spoilers ahead, obviously.

*NOTES*

This does not include any of the DLC characters. This also does not include the following characters since they have limited dialog / appearances within the game: Gwendal, Pallardo, Duke Aegir, Anna, Lambert, Ionious, Metodey, Kostas, Holst, Macuil, and Indech. Any other characters who are only mentioned by name are also not included. And Byleth is also not on this list due to being the player’s character.

Everyone else included in this list has a few interactions or mentions in multiple ending paths so they’re fair game. Not having a lot of interactions is not going to affect placement that much so don’t be surprised if some major characters wind up low on the list…

*The PIT*

Aka the worst of the worst. The characters I would throw into the void.

#54 – Leonie

I absolutely hate this character so much. Her personality is so flat and grating that she drives me up a wall. Her character can be summed up in two words “loves Jeralt” – that’s it. Just about everything about Leonie revolves around impressing Jeralt or being like Jeralt or doing this because of Jeralt ect. I don’t care if she’s useful as a playable character – every time she opens her mouth I cringe. Her support which is only available after Jeralt dies in which she berates you for “not appreciating him enough” is just the epitomny of selfishness. Then PTS she basically turns herself into a second Jeralt, replicting his outfit as best she can and giving herself his title “the blade breaker” and adds a 2. Excuse you, but is ANYONE can call themseleves that it’s Byleth, aka Jeralt’s child, not YOU. But she doesn’t care and does it anyway...

#53 – Rodrigue

Oh boy this is going to be a very unpopular opinion but in terms of a character, Rodrigue is kind shit. Rodrigue earns this spot for being the shittiest living parent in the game. His eldest son Glenn dies and his comment on that is how “he died like a true knight”. His first emotional response is pride not remorse. He never mentions how much he loved him or how he misses him: just how proud he was of him… And this pisses off poor Felix. Felix whom gets left ALONE after this happens because Rodrigue decides he’s got to be Dimitri’s mentor / guardian. So he basically straight up abandons his grieving 13 year old son to be the new father figure of the prince. Dimitri was more important to him that his own child. We can all see what the impact of this was on Felix through the game. And then, in Azure Sky, when Rodrigue joins you as a “mentor” character, he lacks all balls. Dimitri is going crazy and acting like a psychopath and Rodrigue doesn’t even really try to do anything about that – he just stands aside and comments on how he’s “changed”. I mean FRICK MAN – your were his guardian, his mentor. TALK TO HIM! But NOOOOOOO! So yeah, Rodrigue sucks!

#52 – Lord Lonato

Speaking of shit parents, here’s another for you! Yes, Lonato was kind enough to allow Ashe and his siblings to live with him, which is the oddest decision ever considering this came about after Lonato caught Ashe sneaking into his castle to steal from him. “I’ll just adopt this thief child”. Despite that act of kindness, he also chose to not tell Ashe the truth about what happened to his son Christophe; that Christophe was not involve with the Duscar incident but rather had been a part of a plot to try and kill Rhea. Lonato could not bring himself to believe that his son was wrong or had done anything wrong. Despite the fact that his son had decided, for whatever reason, to try and kill someone, Lonato thought that this was okay. He then sacrificed himself for the sake of trying to avenge his true son instead of continuing to care for the children he’d taken in. He basically took Ashe & his siblings in, giving them security for the first time in years, then chooses to follow his only wrong beliefs and thus put Ashe & his siblings back into the world again. He gave them 7 years of security and this just went “oh well, you’re on your own again”.

#51 – Gilbert / Gustave

And rounding out the “shit parents” section of the list, we have the father that literally abandons his daughter and wife due to own depression. He’s totally alive and out there but just can’t bring himself to give a crap about either or write them any letters. Nope, he’s caught up in his head that he wasn’t there during the tragedy of Duscar, of how he “should have arrived sooner”. I mean, really? It is in now way his fault just because he’s a knight. He wasn’t supposed to be there and he’s got guilt that he wasn’t there? Seriously man?! And then when he finally does reunite with Annette all he does is push her away. Instead of letting Annette decide whatever she wants to be around him again, he chooses for her and denies her attempts to reconnect with him. Yeah, shit father…

*The Bottom of the Barrel*

These characters are bad. They’re not absolute utter garbage like the PIT characters, but they still are awful.

#50 – Dimitri

Yeah, I don’t like Dimitri. What is there to like about this guy? He was traumatized as a teenage when his dad was killed in-front of him and that changed him into a survival-guilt ridden bloodthirsty killer? Jeez, it honestly feels like someone tried to ft a whole bunch of tropes into one cohesive character and failed massively. The whole “brooding” phase in Azure Sky where he’s basically a tantrum throwing 5 year old only makes him worse. Also, I still don’t understand WHY he immediately jumped to the whole “Edelgard is the one who killed my parents” conclusion. The entire Duscar incident had nothing to do with Edelgard, unless Dimitri thinks a teenager with no power could do that. And, if he’s blaming the Empire, why does that extend to Edelgard who was just a princess at the time? I could see if something like the FE was present and that’s why he went crazy after Edelgard but I’m pretty sure the FE didn’t exist back then… so WTF? This is like “my parents were killed by a drunk driver. Hey you, unrelated person who just learned to drive this year, you are drunk therefore I HATE YOU – you killed my parents!” Really, no. NO.

#49 – Acheron

He has a minor role only but you fight him twice and you can get some background from Lorenz. He’s annoying and I guess he’s designed to be so. I don’t like him much. But he’s not as annoying as Dimitri.

#48 – Cyril

Oh Cyril. He’s such an annoying character. He’s a more toned down version of Leonie with his obsession with Rhea. He’s a bit of a jerk during his support conversations and he’s dismissive of his homeland. I think his supports with Seteth best show what Cyril’s all about: he’s devoting himself to repaying Rhea without thought for anything else, even his own future. He has no ambitions and no desires….how can a character be so bland?

#47 – Hannerman

And the obsessive one. ‘Obsession with Crests’ is just the only phrase you need to describe Hannerman. While I can understand why Hannerman as a character wants to research crests, the way he goes about it is just wrong. He hounds Lysithia w/o realizing why she’s avoiding his questions until she basically has to spell out WHY she’s uncomfortable with talking about it. He’s been hounding Seteth for 21 years about his crest and Flayn’s too. 21 fricking years of bothering someone and he can’t understand the answer “no”.

#46 – Arundel

Yeah, he’s a piece of shit but at least he’s interesting. He’s Edelgard’s uncle and yet he basically allowed her to be experimented on. Why? Who knows? He’s associated with TWSITD but why? Power? Conquest? He’s mysterious. His personality “suddenly changed” leaving the option open that he was replaced and the Arundel that exists now is a fake. He’s intriguing but he’s still a piece of crap.

#45 – Dedue

Oh Dedue. I feel like Dedue is stuck playing the “victim” card but without looking for sympathy. He’s from Duscar so everyone looks down on him...and Dedue just takes it. He doesn’t try to defend himself or say that just because he’s from Duscar doesn’t mean he’s evil. He does nothing to try and change anyone’s opinions – he’s content to just sit and take it. But then he talks about wanting to have the world move past the tragedy….so which is it Dedue? In order to have it change, you need to actually DO SOMETHING!!!!

#44 – Thales

The weakest character of the main three. The game tells you almost nothing about Thales...and then you go and read the wiki and find out he’s Arundel….yeah mind telling us that game?! So he’s higher than Arundel.

#43 – Nemesis

Another evil character with no personality or real background. Why did he start his rampage? Was he manipulated or just evil? Who knows….

#42 – Judith

Judith has such a small role unless you’re playing VW. And in VW she’s a bit of a bitch who treats Claude as a misbehaving child even after he proves himself again and again.

#41 – Nader

AKA the Alymrian general you meet briefly in VW and in CF. He’s in for less than a few minutes and he appears to be jolly/happy and has the rep of being an undefeated general. I guess he’s alright. But with no real role I can’t bring myself to feel anything for him

#40 – Annette

When I first played I was on the fence with Annette. I sorta liked her determination and her drive to reunite her family. But then her singing started...and oh boy do I hate her singing. So many of her supports center around that annoying singing! Just STOP already, please! Also WTF is that blue “tab” in her PTS redesign that’s right on her butt? It’s the only one...

#39 – Ferdinand

Ferdinand’s personality is just...annoying. From his meme’d battle line to his constant talk of “being a noble” he just grates my nerves. And why does he act like this? Because his father is not and he’s trying to not be like his father and be a “good person”….

*The Low-End*

These characters are “eh” characters. They’re aren’t too good or too bad...but they lean more towards bad than good.

#38 – Kronya / Monica

This was an interesting idea. I just wish she had been more involved or usable. Like if you’re playing BE house, she becomes a playable member. Something to endear her a bit more other than “this other random character you rescued who acts suspiciously”. Let’s face it, we all knew something was up with her. And then she’s killed off so easily and quickly...

#37 – Cornelia

Okay, she’s a bit interesting and a manipulator. They weren’t afraid to give her an “ugly face”. She’s a schemer and not afraid to flaunt her assets to give her an advantage.

#36 – Alois

Eh. Alois. Loves jokes, very loyal. I guess he’s alright but he’s not spectacular and some of the jokes and just so so so so so so bad.

#35 – Ashe

Ashe is another character that I think lacked development. I mean he just gained a slight bit of confidence and purpose but he’s not one for much change. His personality over all is a bit bland: he likes stories about knights and is worried about his siblings. Oh and he used to be a thief.

#34 – Jeritza

Bland because he’s meant to be bland. His other personality is typical “killer knight”. What saves Jeritza is his support conversations where you get background and you realize why he’s the way he is.

*The Middle Ground*

These characters are right in the middle. Not great but not awful.

#33 – Ladislava

In every ending except CF, you only get to see her once but in CF you can chat with her and learn more about her. She’s the head of Edelgard’s person guard and its heavily implied she had next to nothing before this appointment. She’s fully loyal to Edelgard, even willing to die for her cause.

#32 – Flame Emperor

I listed this character separate since FE is an enigma. I actually liked the design of the FE and the whole mystery surrounding them.

#31 – Manuela

I’m...ambivalent about Manuela. She’s a drunken whiner at time and other time she turns into something sweet and reliable. She’s so worried about her age but she’s NOT that old. It’s a bit trope-y though...to have an older character all concerned about her age.

#30 – Jeralt

Jeralt’s a good dad character albeit a flawed one too. It’s a shame they didn’t give him any support conversations to flesh him out more. As it is most of what we learn about Jeralt comes from others.

#29 – Sothis

I don’t hate Sothis like most. She’s a bit bratty, yes but look at from her way – she’s got no memories, no recollections, and has found herself somehow stuck with this person. She tries to help out Byleth best she can, even if it sometimes leads to near disaster.

#28 – Gatekeeper

A nice wholesome character who always wants to help out and be useful. He’s a nice guy but suffers from lack of characterization.

#27 – Mercedes

First off, I dislike the “breathy” quality of her voice. She’s a very nice girl and very kind...but that’s about all there is to Mercedes...

#26 – Raphael

Ah, the big guy who loves to eat. He’s overprotective but not too overprotective of his little sister. He’s strong, interested in his muscles, and in getting stronger but it’s because he’s shouldering the responsible of taking care of his sister. Still he’s a bit trope-y.

#25 – Lindhardt

Lindhardt make up your dang mind! He talks about wanting to study crests but when he’s offered by two separate people to do just that he complains about how he’s being “tied down”. Really? His laziness and sleepiness also gets tired after a while.

#24 – Ignatz

Ignatz is a character who shows a lot of growth and goes from having no confidence in what he wants to do to finding his path. However Ignatz remains a pushover who gives in to whatever anyone advises even when he knows its wrong. It takes a long, long, long time for Ignatz to learn to have any say in himself...which is why he’s down here.

#23 – Solon

The most developed of the three main TWSITD characters. I feel his reveal as Tomas was ruined by the poorly executed Monica / Kronya earlier. However he was unexpected. Who expects the librarian? It would have been better if they didn’t have him as “suspect” in the whole Flayn is missing part through.

#22 – Randolph

You only really get to know Randolph in CF although he’s got a minor part in AS where we see that he truly cares for his sister and how he feels he must do this, even if he risks dying. In CF, we get to learn more about Randolph. He’s actually a step-uncle to Caspar through his mother marrying into the family. He has no power or clout so everything he earns is done by action. It’s a shame they killed him off so early.

#21 – Caspar

Caspar is a good character in several ways. He’s not depressed about not being the heir to his house and is motivated to find his own way. He knows he’s flawed and in his supports he tries to change only to learn that he’s better off following his own path. It’s his boisterous yelling and charging headfirst into danger is what I don’t like about him.

*The High Side*

These are characters I like. They’re not the best but I like them and can understand them.

#20 – Hilda

Ah Hilda. Hilda’s one of those characters that surprise you. Hilda starts off being this lazy character who doesn’t want to battle and doesn’t want to do chores. Not because she can’t do them, but just because she’s lazy. You see her trying to get out of things in her supports only to either feel guilty or wind up helping someone learn something. But I think where Hilda shines is in VW where she acts as Claude’s “advisor” and some of Claude’s best plans come from suggestions from Hilda. By then she’s come into her own. I also enjoy Hilda’s C support with Seteth greatly where he just lists all the excuses she’s given flat out as Hilda gets more and more nervous.

#19 – Claude

Claude made it up here due to his unprediacbility. Some of his plots/schemes are downright hillarious. Claude is unashamed of who he is and where he comes from – he knows who he is and who he wants to become. And, in a game riddled with characters who struggle with that very issues, Claude’s a bit of a breath of fresh air.

#18 – Fleche

Ah Fleche. She’s a very minor character but she’s got such an impact on the story in AM – this is what path we’re going to discuss. We first meet Fleche when she’s talking with Randolph, her brother, right before Randolph heads out on a mission that will ultimately end with his death. Instead of doing the typical thing for a young girl which is to cry, Fleche goes ‘nah’ and decides to take revenge. She disguises herself as a “maiden” and goes to try and join the Kingdom Army; she’s allowed to by Dimitri. Fleche bides her time and waits until after a big battle and then straight up goes and tries to murder Dimitri. She actually stabs him once and barely fails in her task of killing him. Against Dimitri, one of the strongest characters... a little girl.. Yeah, Fleche is kinda badass.

#17 – Miklan

Okay, so here’s another good sympathetic villain character. Miklan was born with no crest so he was looked down upon by his family. He was the first child however so his family kept him...at least until his brother Sylvain was born with a crest. Then Milan became “garbage” and useless in the eyes of his family and thus was disinherited. He lashed out against his brother multiple times. With no one on his side, Milkan became the leader of a group a bandits and began taking things he wanted, things he felt he should have had, by any means necessary. He later stole the heirloom lance from his family, intent of keeping it and its power for himself. While it’s true Miklan is not a nice person at all, more like a sadist, the reason he became that way was due the treatment of his family.

#16 – Dorothea

I am in the camp of the very few who like Dorothea’s second outfit better than her first – that dress is boss. Some of her supports are downright sweet and her interactions with Ingrid in their paralogue are just adorable. I love how we get to see so many different sides of Dorothea and how she treats each of her aquantinces with the side of herself that’s most appropiate.

#15 – Shamir

The silent Shamir. Unlike so many characters who talk and talk and talk, Shamir only speaks when necessary until she gets close to someone. Her skills are top-knotch, which is showcased in her supports. Her personality is a reflection of her work and the kind of jobs she does as well as her way of protecting herself. She’s mysterious and deadly.

#14 – Rhea

Oh Rhea. I’m often torn in the way I feel about her, going from understanding to becoming frustrated with her within the span of a single conversation. Her desire to see her mother is what drives everything she does – every single thing. She is 100% committed to trying to reach her goal, no matter the cost, and she’s been at it for almost an eon. Outside of that goal, what she’s doing she truly believes is the right thing. She’s trying to guide people towards the right path and away from conflict. She lets no one truly into her innermost thoughts, not even Seteth, and her emotions are all sequested away, so much so that when they do come out it becomes obvious. I mean, for anyone who thinks she’s nuts, let’s take a look at some of the trauma she’s gone through. Her beloved mother, whom she obviously cared for more than anything, was murdered and her body was used to make a weapon. Said weapon was then used to slaughter the vast majority of her brethern who were then in turn alos turned into weapons to be used to kill. She had to then fight the man who had killed her mother to reclaim what’s left of her body and to stop any more pointless killing. Yeah, Rhea’s had it rough.

#13 – Marianne

Ah, sweet Marianne. It was great to watch her change and grow based on her supports with the other characters. Her caring nature towards the animals, espcially the horses, was lovely – she even knows the names of a few of them (the only one to refer to the horses by name). I like how her PTS outfit reflects the changes she’s overcome – even the subtly of making her hair neater.

#12 – Catherine

Badass female knight with a legendary sword. She’s brash, not lady-like, and not afraid of anything really. The way she rushes into combat w/o a though for danger, the fact that she doesn’t try and hide her past from the person whom it affects the most, and her way of testing people. Catherine’s great.

#11 – Hubert

Juts missing the top 10 is loyal Hubert. I’ll admit I didn’t like Hubert at first but he grew on me bit by bit. Hubert’s S-Support with Byleth is like the cutest thing ever – I was not expecting it at all. This is loyalty done in a good way.

*The Summit*

The best characters in the game, IMO. These are the characters I love!

#10 – Petra

I got to admit, I like her not-perfect talking. That’s so much of Petra’s charm. Adding to that is how Petra’s always trying her best and trying to advance herself. She has modest goals she wishes to reach and doesn’t try and sell herself as better than she is. She’s always willing to learn and to help others. When there’s someone with a different opinion, Petra tries to understand why they feel the weay they feel and to try and find common ground.

#9 – Lysithia

Oh poor girl. Lysithia struggles with others seeing her as a child or too childish due to the fact that she’s younger than most of the students. She’s incredibly intellegent and throws herself into her studies. Both of these things lead to others teasing her, either playfully or actually. Instead of taking it stride, this ‘teasing’ causes her temper to show and erupt. She can’t tell them WHY she’s trying so hard, why she’s so desperate to achieve cause that would reveal her secret. She’s burrying all this hurt and anger deep inside that she can’t talk about because can understand what she went through (except perhaps Edelgard). And even though she knows she’s going to likely die soon, she’s not focused on her own life: she’s doing all she’s doing to try and help her family...

#8 – Sylvain

Sylvain quickly became one of my favorite blue lion boys. At first glance he looks like this degenerate womanizer...and then you learn abut him and why Sylvain is why he is. His father views him as a studhorse and that his crest is the only good thing about him; his father literally cannot see Sylvain as an actual person, just a way to further the family. Having a father like this and a brother who hates him for having been born with a crest has greatly shaped Sylvain. In order to have some semblence of himself, Sylvain began to act out, to do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING he could to not be what he was supposed to be. His father wanted a noble son; Sylvain did everything he could to not be that. This got him into trouble again and again but Sylvain didn’t care. Sylvain is willing to do things that make others look down upon him if it helps him try and escape from his life...

#7 – Bernadetta

Aw, Bernie. Bernie’s such a good girl. Based on what she went through, it’s amazing she’s even sane. Her father’s idea of parenting was tying her to a chair and forcing her to remain quiet and submissive for hours, to “teach her to be a good wife” which is the reason she turned into such a nervous wreck of shut-in. He resorted to beating to near death a boy she made friends with because he was a commoner, which terrified Bernie into not wanting to make friends at all. Bernie’s mom seemed to have a little sense and smuggled her out but this is only AFTER she allows this stuff to go on for years – YEARS. Bernie’s had years of psycological trama inflicted on her and then she gets thrust into a school surrounded by people whom she has to interact with. The poor thing. It’s a testament to her professors and friends to see how far Bernie has come; to watch her change and grow as she slowly comes around to adjusting to normality.

#6 – Ingrid

There is something incredibly entertaining about a lady knight who loves to gorge herself on food. Loving eating food is generally a character trait you see on guys (typically big guys like Raphael) so to see it on a chick is a good change of pace. Her whole no-nonsense strict attitude is a great contrast to that. She’s not girly or into very lady-like things such as dresses or makeup or tea parties. Ingrid is a guy’s soul in a girl’s body….and she’s amazing.

#5 – Felix

If you haven’t read the entry for Rodrigue (he’s #53 on this list) go read that first. After all that shit that Felix’s gone through, it’s amazing he’s even still standing and capable. He’s stewing with anger and grief that he’s never been able to work through and it manifests as anger and his stand-off attitude. Poor freaking Felix.

#4 – Flayn

Fishy Queen. I do not get the hate for Flayn. She’s been horribly oversheleted by Seteth in his attempts to protect her so it’s left Flayn a bit naive. Flayn’s usually very cheery and happy which is a bright light in the depressing war times. She’s also a quite capable mage, mainly with healing magic but she can also learn a good bit of reason magic too. Flayn is always trying her best while trying to fit in with the others – she’s over 1000 years old, mind you! It can’t be easy trying to fit in when you don’t understand and when a vast majorirty of those years were spent asleep. She was involved in an ancient battle where she was badly injured (Seteth blames it on her being too young) and requires sleep inorder to heal. Meanwhile everyone else she knew and lived with aside from Seteth was killed. She wakes up an everything she knew and just about everyone she knew is just...gone. Not only her beloved mother but any friends she had too are just gone. It’s no wonder she fears falling asleep when this is what happened. Her obession with fish? It’s Flayn’s coping mechanism for dealing with the loss of her mother. Flayn explains on numerous occassions that she spent lots of time sitting with her mother while she fished and that fish is her favorite food due “to no small part” of this pastime. Fishing and eating fish is Flayn’s way of remembering her mother and dealing with the fact that she’s no longer with her. Flayn’s supports are just great; they all develop her personality more. With Dimitri and Dedue, Flayn’s cooking is explored. Flayn can’t cook although she tries her best. With Dedue, Flayn tries to learn to cook better. With Dimitri, Flayn expresses her disdain that no one enjoys her cookings and how this wastes food, even when she tries her best. Obviously Flayn never cooked before – her mother did most of it. Now there’s no one in her family to cook so Flayn’s trying to learn to try and follow in her mom’s footsteps. With Ignatz and Manuela, Flayn’s exploring things she never has seen or done before: the opera for Manuela and paintings with Ignatz. In Claude’s and Lindhardt’s supports, Flayn sidesteps questions about her heritage and her crests. With Sylvain, we see how Flayn grows and learns to not trust the rumors others say. In Felix’s, she’s trying to help Felix find a purpose after the war ends that still allows him to use his sword. With Raphael’s it’s Flayn who’s being helped by Raphael as she tries to “grow stronger”; she even mentions how she’s frail and how this worries Seteth. And then there’s Ferdinand’s supports where it’s clear Flayn’s been starved of physical affections aside from Seteth. And their supports, between Seteth and Flayn, are a great progression between the two...Overall, I love little Flayn.

#3 – Lorenz

I like noble boy. I will admit, I hated his schooldays haircut with a burning passion...and then man on man did he become HOT pts. Winner of the best boy glow-up. A lot of Lorenz’s character flaws are the fault of his father. His father taught him that all that is important is being nobility and Lorenz ate it up, not knowing any better. His father instilled into him how he neeed to find a wife to further the family’s influence and thus how she must be a noble. This worked so well on Lorenz to the point that he willing to even give up someone he loves if they happen to be a commoner. Lorenz spends a lot of time trying to ‘interview’ girls to find his perfect noble bride, coming off as a bit on an ass – even when he’s confronted by Byleth he refuses to believe he’s done anything wrong since this is what his father taught him to do. It takes a long time until Lorenz starts seeing that he is wrong that what his father taught him is wrong. He starts using his own head and his own eyes to determine what is instead of using the opinion blasted into him by his father. He’s always trying to help other, feeling it’s his obligation as a noble to help those around him, which is a quality that he alone seems to take seriously (despite the school being filled with nobles). He originally dislikes Claude cause he believes that Claude isn’t taking his responsibility as the next Alliance head seriously since Claude is so laid back. He eventually comes to see that, despite appearances, Claude is working on the issues and is capable. His S support with Byleth where he mentions how he has "worked tirelessly to improve" "to become a man truly worthy of (Byleth)" and then is uttely shocked if Byleth tells him he already was worthy shows how dedicated he can be. With Ignatz, he instills confidence in him, seeing talent in Ignatz for art and talking about how there is more to knighthood than combat. His poetry writing comes out with Manuela’s supports and he convinces Hilda through actions to actually throw herself into battle. But I think his best supports are with Marianne. The vast majority of her supports are the others telling her to “be more confident” or “smile more” or other such things where they give her advice on how to improve...but Lorenz is the only one who comes to see that nothing needs to change. He starts by complementing her and then commenting on how she “needs polish” only to realize he was wrong and state she is “becautiful just the way she is”, accepting her fully for who she is without looking to change a thing. He is, essentially, telling her she is perfect the way she is and she doesn’t need to change at all for him to love her...which I find just so utterly sweet.

#2 – Edelgard

Edel gets a lot of hate but I honestly love her character so much. Edelgard is a doer not someone who sits by and does nothing. Due to things outside of her (and her father’s) control, she would up the victim in an experiment, a experiment that killed all of her siblings. Edelgard alone survived although at a cost. That experience forever changed her. Gone was the child and in her place rose Lady Edelgard. Unlike Lysithia who is dealing with her similar situation by trying to provide for her family before her time runs out, Edelgard isn’t. Her goal is the destruction of the circumstances that caused the experiment as well as those who caused the experiment to happen upon her so that this cannot happen again to anyone else. Since the experiment were done to give crests and since Edelgard has obviously seen how some children are treated whent hey have / do not have one, she aims to destroy all of that. Edelgard is literally stomping her foot down and saying ‘no, this isn’t a good or fair system and I’m not going to stand around and let it continue’. She’s willing to sacrifice everything to attain this goal, even if it turns her into a monster or ends in her death. Instead of waiting for the world to change, Edelgard decides to BE the change. She knows she’s going to be responsible for the deaths of a lot of people and she clearly struggles with the idea of this but in the end she decides that if she does nothing than that number will be greater so she persists. She burries her desire for friends and for love because she can’t bring herself to trust or rely on others – her father loved her but couldn’t protect her; the nobles in her father’s court are resonsible for hurting her too. They had her trust and they betrayed it. Her heart has been broken already; I don’t think she wants to risk it breaking again by trusting someone who will betray her, by making friends who can abandon her, by falling in love with someone who doesn’t understand what she’s doing. In CF when you side with Edelgard, you get to see more of that emotion slowly come out. Think on the PTS reunions: Dimitri was in disbelief and then apathetic that Byleth was alive; Claude was slightly surprised but then glad; Edelgard though broke down. Edelgard was the only one to get so emotional over Byleth’s return – someone she had trusted whom had returned that trust wasn’t dead after all; there wasn’t another corpse to add to the pile of people she cared for. And in that final animatic where Byleth falls – she’s clearly so upset. She’s crying, clearly devistated. Devistation which turns into laughter when Byleth revives because she can’t believe it. I stand by my opinion that Crimson Flower is the canon ending for FE3H. It’s the only ending where the endings song is different; all 3 other paths have the same song “Edge of Dawn” but not CF – you get something different. Add to that that EoD is sung by Edelgard. And let’s not forget the symbolism. The game is Fire Emblem. What’s a fire emblem? Crest of Flames. Who posess this crets out of the main cast: Byleth & Edelgard. And in CF you unite. Also notice the same letters. Crimson Flower (CF) & Crest of Flames (CF). That’s not a coincidence.

#1 – Seteth

I honestly could fill pages on why I love Seteth as a character but for here I’ll try and keep it shortish. I’ll start with his supports. Seteth’s supports are all about his advice to the others and him trying to guide them. For Cyril, he’s talking about how it’s great to repay debts but it is also important to consider one’s future as well; he doesn’t want to see Cyril just waste his whole life in servitude to Rhea but rather to grow into his own. With Catherine, it’s concern over her safety, over how she throws herself into battle without care for the consequences. For Manuela, it starts with a lecture over her drinking habits but turns into something far more personal when his wife and daughter get mentioned. Outside of the paralogue, this is the only time an outside person gets to learn that Seteth even had/has a wife and daughter and it’s Manuela who gets told it, implying a deeper friendship. Hannerman’s involves his investiagtion of Seteth’s crest and how Seteth is constantly refuting him, obviously trying to protect himself and Flayn from others finding out the truth. With Leonie, he teaches her how to relax while fishing while she improves his own skills in the area. For Hilda, he’s trying to improve her work ethic first by confronting her about her excuses, and then by writing a story about her laziness...which does work somewhat as it gets her to work on illustrations. For Ingrid, he’s a voice of reason about the demands of her father and he’s the one who suggests that Ingrid simply talk to him about her issues, something which she didn’t consider. For Felix, he’s trying to help Felix realize his beliefs are holding him back and that he needs to make friends. With Bernie, he helps her build some confidence in her own skills and talents. And of course we can’t forget his interactions with Flayn where he goes from overly protective, to realizing he’s a bit too overbearing, to actual apologizing for that. Seteth acts as a conduit or a spark that helps inspire change in those around him, to wake up potential, or to see things differently. He’s strict and often seems somewhat unreasonable about rules and regulations but its obvious this is his way of trying to protect people. He’s shouldering massive guilt over the events that happened in the last war. He personally blames himself for Flayn being hurt and for his wife dying. This event spurred him on to becoming overprotective of his daughter, of the only thing he had left. Seteth is doing what he’s doing to PROTECT his child (unwilling to see her to come to harm), even if he’s going about it in the incorrect way. He has literally devoted his whole life to protecting Flayn to the point that when she gets kidnapped, he falls apart at the seams and is unable to do anything at all except despair and distress. Flayn has become his whole world and just about everything Seteth does is to protect her or help her. That kind of devotion from a father is incredible, especially in a series where most of the parents kinda suck. I also adore how he breaks the typical “paper-skinned mage” trope. Let’s face it, most of us probably thought the stern chuch advisor was likely going to be a mage – and then we get a wyvern rider with a lance. I could go on and on, but I’ll leave it here. Seteth is just the best character.

...this was 18 pages of writing.....

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rebellect-writes · 4 years ago

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[SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] An imaginary number! [b]What happened?:[/b] GH, she’s evil...and I like his hair.

[b]Name:[/b] Hunter Burnett. [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b][LIST]Uncle Jordon. Jordan Burnett. Hunter Jordan. [/LIST][b]Age:[/b] 286 [b]Date of Birth:[/b] June 4th, 1725. [b]Age at Death:[/b] 28. [b]Gender:[/b] Male. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Questionable. [b]Occupation:[/b] Jack of all trades.

[b]Bloodline:[/b] Beast Master. [b]Power Level:[/b] Adult [s]Kiss[/s]. [b]Mind-Set:[/b] Both. [b]Animal to Call:[/b] None. [b]Powers:[/b] [LIST] [*] Heightened senses, reflexes, healing and strength. [*] Bite...If he enters the persons mind when feeding, he can make it less painful and more enjoyable. He doesn’t most of the time. [*] Empathy, he can smell some strong emotions like fear, rage, anger, lust. Since he’s of Padma’s bloodline, he’s also got a slight empathy to all animals. [*]Enthralling/rolling, he can only get this right with weaker shifters and normal humans. Anything stronger can break free. [*] Glamour, he can switch small things about him. Make his hair darker, eyes brighter, on will. [/LIST][b]Rank:[/b] Rogue. He can be tempted by the Kiss though.

[b]Face Claim:[/b] Gerard Way. [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://i325.photobucket.com/albums/k361/Mychemicalromance55_photos/mychem313.jpg[/IMG] [i]Height:[/i] 5’10 [i]Weight:[/i] 151lbs [i]Eyes:[/i] Hazel brown. [i]Hair:[/i] He’s a dyer. Naturally, it’s [URL=http://img.buzznet.com/assets/imgx/7/5/3/9/1/6/1/orig-7539161.jpg]black, he’s [/URL] gone [URL=http://quizilla.teennick.com/user_images/A/AM/AMU/AMUANDIKUTO4EVA/1264970042_5386_full.jpeg]blonde[/URL] in the past, but he’s currently sporting [URL=http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/19400000/Gerard-way-my-chemical-romance-19400197-467-700.jpg]red.[/URL] [i]Build:[/i] Average and lean. [i]Visible marks:[/i] He has a Crucifix burn mark on his left shoulder. [i]Style:[/i] Hunter likes to be comfortable. Since he travels a lot, he’s ditched the formal wear that he used to love and taken to jeans, t-shirts, a nice pair of boots. You name it, he’ll wear it. That doesn’t mean he won’t go back to formal(ish) wear.

[b]Special Skills:[/b][LIST] [*] Can speak pretty decent Spanish and French, well enough to get him by. [*] Not so much a fighter, more of a scrapper when it comes to combat. [*] Good with a knife or any type of blade, if being armed is what's needed. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b][LIST]Hunter isn’t as complicated as most people would think. He’s a fairly easy going guy that likes to have a laugh and being a vampire nearly 300 years old hasn’t changed that, and why should it? Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he has to be a mopey Annie, he enjoys his unlife. He doesn’t judge people right off the bat and he’s willing to give them a choice to show their true colours before passing judgement and moving on with his life. He just understands that not everyone choses to be who they’ve become, or what they’ve become. Caring and nurturing – it comes with raising a boisterous were-puppy -, he’s got the patience of a saint at times and it’s hard to push him into snapping but not impossible.

Other vampires, more to the point the older kind, scare him and because of that he respects them a hell of a lot. He’s fine with anyone younger but the older ones make the hair on the back of his neck crawl. He knows he’s got to play it careful with the elders of his kind, they could easily shred him a new one if they wanted and to top that off he’s trespassing on an occupied territory. In some places that would have ended with his heart and head removed. Shape shifters are awesome; he’d rather run with someone that was furry inclined then spend time around his own kind. Maybe it’s because of his bloodline, he’s never worked it out, but if Hunter comes across a shape shifter in need, he’ll lend a hand. Humans are the same, as long as they’re not trying to stick a bullet or stake into him, he’s dandy.

He’s extremely protective of Grey, and has bled for his “nephew”, to the point that he has killed for him. Hunter would walk over broken glass if he had to, to make sure that Grey was comfortable, and he’d go without clothes on his back to make sure that Grey had what he needs. Does he love him? Yes. He’s been there since day one, and while it may seem a little odd to some but that’s just the way it is and the hand that Hunter’s been dealt. They’re not related by blood after all so it’s nothing incestuous despite the fact that he regularly refers to Grey as his “nephew” outside of the few people that Hunter can call friend. There blames himself for the death of his “family”, and he believes that he failed his friend from all those years ago, and it gnaws at him at times when he’s not really paying attention to what’s going on around him. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b][LIST] [*] Being alive...Well, undead and alive. You get the picture. [*] His [URL=http://www.musclecarclub.com/musclecars/pontiac-firebird/images/pontiac-firebird-1968c.jpg]car[/URL]...Well, technically it's Grey's car now. [*] Living under the radar. [*] Keeping Grey safe, even if Grey doesn't always know it. [*] Wandering the coast at night. [*] When it's not to hot or to cold. [*] Playing games on his phone when he's bored. [*] Watching people. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b] [LIST] [*] Following other people’s rules. [*] Wearing suits. Though he does it occasionally. [*] Being hunted like a dog. [*] Seeing Grey struggle with something. [*] Driving in the rain. [*] Seeing animals abused. (This includes shifters, as well.) [*] Pushing to get what he wants. [*] Being dragged into the spotlight, so to speak. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b][LIST] [*] Strong willed. [*] High pain tolerance. [*] Won't hesitate to get things done. [*] Grey. [*] Somehow manages to keep Grey calm when he's all worked up. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b][LIST] [*] Can't enter a person’s house without permission from the owner. Has killed because of this. [*] Normal vampire restrictions and weaknesses. Fire, sunlight, Holy items. [*] Grey! He failed his adopted family, he won't fail Grey. [*] Doesn't always feed right. A little taste here and there, just to hold him over. [*]Stubbornly persistent at times. It’s been known to get him into trouble. [/LIST][b]History:[/b]

When former British Naval officer turned pirate William Morgan found out that the tavern wench, Carmella, that he visited regularly was pregnant with his supposed spawn, he up rooted the poor woman and dragged her all the way from her home in Maracaibo to his home city of London, and in the early summer of 1725, Hunter was pushed screaming into the world and was welcomed with somewhat open arms. Carmella died from a fever and child birth complicates according to the back street midwife that William had paid to help deliver his son, and she wasn’t mourned. William wanted a son, not a wife or a real family, and he already had plenty of mistresses across many main trade routes waiting for him so one whore dead was no skin off his nose to see her buried in an unmarked grave just outside of the city.

For Hunter though, it meant something different. Since William didn’t haul the boy out to sea with him, he was left from the moment he could walk with William’s sister, Cassandra. She was nice enough, and made sure that her brother’s son was fed and looked after, but that was it. There wasn’t a maternal bone in the woman’s body, and Hunter grew to know this very well, especially when he got hurt and all she did was pour boiling hot salt water over his cuts and scrapes and scolded him for being irresponsible before always telling him the same story about how his father would be so disappointed and when he came back from his trip then she would tell him of all the bad things that Hunter had done. If anything that was what made him wish for his father’s return all the more, simply so he could meet the man even if he was to be scolded for being a typical boy. He was nine when William came back to London, and upon first meeting him, Hunter was scared. Worse yet, Cassandra lied through her back teeth to get Hunter out of her house and William had no choice but to agree after giving the boy a beating for causing his beloved sister so much trouble. Fear turned to twisted joy, and the following day he was dragged out of one life and into something...better. He’d always wanted to see new places, meet new people and have an adventure. He wasn’t disappointed either, so he waved good bye to England and followed his father like a loyal little puppy.

By the time Hunter twenty one years old, he returned to London under an assumed name of Jordan Hunter. William had died in a raid on a tavern in Panama nearly two years previous and it was that loss that had him seeking something else. It was his father that had taught him everything that he had known, and without him, well, Hunter saw no point in staying on as a pirate and that was a bit cowardly in itself and went against everything in him for the most part. Besides, piracy had been a dying art for years before his father had taken him away from Cassandra at the age of nine, but it was well and truly dead by the time he returned those thirteen years later with more knowledge of the world and with more than a few secrets and tricks up his sleeves. No doubt there was a noose waiting for him somewhere as well. A few weeks upon his return, he found out that Cassandra had moved to the country because of her health, and instead of tracking her down, Hunter decided to stay in the city and it took a year of roughing it out, but eventually he found his feet so to speak in a classy tavern come whore house in South London. He was to look after the working girls, make sure that they were treated somewhat correctly and if a John thought he could get away with something that the Lady of the house didn’t like, and then he was to deal with it and make sure that it wouldn’t happen again. Simple, really. Right? Right! It was something he could do with little to no trouble, because half the time the punters abided by the rules and Hunter became somewhat of a ghost, only appearing when trouble kicked off over the next few years.

Twenty six, almost twenty seven years old, and surprised that he’d lasted that long in anyone one job, Hunter made the mistake of stepping in to stop some high Lord from doing some serious damage to a girl named Mary, a new addition to the household. She was a sweet lass that was a little ditzy in Hunt’s opinion but she didn’t deserve the ever living Hell kicked out of her because someone had shot his ... pistol ... too early and in the wrong place. Mary was only eighteen at the time. Not liking it, the gentleman turned on Hunter in a rage but the Mistress of the house stepped in before it got too out of hand and warned the male away with the threat that he’d no longer be welcome in any brothel in the city if he didn’t leave. Luckily, the gentleman had some sense and left. That night, after a talk with the Mistress, Hunter became the unofficial career for some of the younger girls and that suited him fine. The ‘business’ was changing after all; he’d seen it rise up from a tavern where anyone could get what they wanted to something more refined. The year following, Hunter got close to Mary and as unwise as it was, he wouldn’t have changed it for the world. They just clicked. However, the good times weren’t something that just wasn’t meant to be. Lord Jennings came back on evening with his friends and they flashed a lot of money around. The Mistress, Emily as she was known, had no choice but to serve the ingrates, but she warned Hunter to be on the lookout for trouble as well as the more senior girls and staff. Mary was one of the unlucky girls that were called on to serve the gentlemen and while Hunter didn’t particularly like it, he had no choice but to let it happen. It wasn’t until later that night that Jennings changed from a rich snob to something else, something from the pits of Hell itself when the Mistress refused him personal service. For poor Hunter, it was like some of the stories he’d heard on his ‘travel’ made real.

The Mistress and Jennings tore into each other with fangs, two of Jennings friends turned into monstrous wolf like beasts that lunged for the closest living body that was near them, another turned into a snake-man. If that wasn’t bad enough, some of the girls turned to. Great cats attacked the wolf men, and those that didn’t transform tore into them with fangs. It seemed that Hunter was the only human amidst the nightmare, and after a moment’s hesitation he was spurred into action by something that he considered even worse. Mary had been cornered by a rabid creature, some kind of man-dog thing and Hunter didn’t hesitate in trying to defend her. One almighty smack across the back of his head sent him flying into the path of another monstrosity. Jennings. The vampire male had split from the Mistress and left her bleeding and broken on the floor and took after the disorientated Hunter, and the last thing that Hunter saw before the world went black was Jennings fangs.

He woke up three nights later, chained at the wrists and ankles in the houses cellar with no idea what had happened to him or the others. He’d never been to the lower levels of the house before, hadn’t wanted to, but the coffins lining the wall made him tremble. If it hadn’t been for the Mistress Emily who was in a similar position to him and trying to calm him down, Hunter would have found a way to raise unholy hell. The hunger he felt would have driven him to doing it anyway, but from what he was being told there was just something distracting about it. Jennings had turned him to spite the Mistress, who was in fact Jennings own wife and his former fledgling. Talk about having your mind blown open. Hunter had worked for Mistress Emily for nearly a decade and he’d never once thought of her as someone’s wife. He certainly hadn’t thought of her as a vampire either! The nightly sightings had been written off as being selective with her cliental but that was it, especially since she had more than enough people working for her to get whatever was needed during the day done. It was so crazy that it actually made sense to him. Hunter just didn't accept it fully until Jennings finally gave both of his 'toys' an audience and by then it was too late for him and Mistress Emily as they both listened to the Master vampire rage about how he hadn't wanted to take over Emily's life again, but the insults that he got because of her reputation had been too much for him as it had started to affect his business dealings in the city. It was time to bring his wife to heel! Back to her place at his side, even if he had to destroy everything that she had built during their ‘separation’ as he called it.

After Emily was beaten into submission verbally by her husband, Jennings turned on Hunter, simply because he’d stood up for one of Emily’s girls. As a lesson to his new fledgling, Jennings tore the throat out of one of the girls that Hunter had promised to look after in front of both of his ‘children’. The scent of blood drove Hunter wild, pushed him past being human to a place where only the blood mattered. Jennings let him loose and the only thing that Hunter cared about was the blood that was draining from the girl’s throat and he fell on her, feeding on what was left. Emily tried to bring him back to her, back to being human, back to being Hunter, and she almost succeeded by sheer force of will but at the end of the day, Jennings had his claws in Hunter and he also had Emily right where he wanted her and it was like that for nearly twenty years before anything changed. He didn’t go around as Jennings ‘servant’, he became Hunter again, all because he found out that Mary – who had because Emily’s maid more than a prostitute – had become pregnant with a child to one of Jennings shape shifter friends, a weredog, just like she was. What made Hunter more surprised than suspicious was that Mary claimed she was in love with the male, and there hadn’t been any force involved. He had no option but to agree when he saw what she was like around him. If only he knew how Jennings would react ahead of time, maybe he’d have been able to stop his sire for doing something stupid.

The birth was complicated. Mistress Emily had taken over the proceedings as midwife while Lord Archibald paced in the hallway waiting to see if he had a son or a daughter. Hunter did as he was told, fetched water and towels and was the perfect little man servant. It was on his second trip up from the kitchens that he found Master Jennings had returned early from a business trip – much to everyone’s surprise – and had found out what was happening. He flew into a rage unlike Hunter had ever seen before, and turned on the vulnerable Mary screaming and cursing that she was ruining the bed. Archibald and Emily lunged to keep him away from the woman and Hunter was the one that had to finish delivering the baby and even though he had no idea what he was doing and there was a battle raging behind him, between him and Mary, the young shapeshifter was brought into the world kicking and screaming. It should’ve been a happy moment, and it was, in a way, but one moment Hunter was on his feet and the next he was collapsing and clutching at his chest. He didn’t know that Emily had taken Jennings head clean off his shoulders, leaving Archibald to deal with the rest. A life for a life, the baby was alive and Hunter was dying for a second time. It was a good exchange in Hunters eyes. However it wasn't in Emily's. She blood oathed him to herself in a last ditch attempt to save his life and she almost lost him. Almost. To them, Jennings had never returned home that day and the never mentioned him again.

Excitement over, the vampires became unspoken godparents to the child that had been named Thomas, and they watched as he grew up and his parents passed on seventy years later. Hunter was barely past his first century of un-life and could have done anything or gone anywhere, but a bond of friendship kept him there. Even after Emily finally grew bored with watching out for her friend’s children and their children’s children and moved on, Hunter stuck around keeping tabs on the closest thing that he had to a family. He became an unspoken Uncle. Sure, he was sad to see Emily go but he just couldn’t do it, and wouldn’t do it for all the tea in China. The only problem was that since his Mistress had left to find something else to occupy her, Hunter had to be careful. It wasn’t right for a “rogue” vampire to wander into Kiss’ territories unannounced, and feeding in a territory that was controlled by a Master vampire was even more dangerous for him. So he crept around the territory lines, nibbled rather than fed, and vanished when there was any sign of trouble headed his way. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was his to do with as he wished.

He travelled a bit even though he kept in contact since some of the weredog’s that came and went didn’t seem to like him being close to them or their kin. He dropped out of contact for sixty years at one point because he’d been focused on getting a job and getting some money put away in case he ever needed it, and he did get a bit put away for a rainy day. When he finally came back into contact with the dogs and a lot had changed, Hunter was only glad that he could come back in time to see Grey born and could be in the kids life from the start rather than coming in later and getting growled at by someone. He wouldn’t admit it, but Hunter had been growing tired of everything, those sixty years before Grey’s birth had been tiresome and Hunter hadn’t been able to see the point in trying anymore, but things were oddly different now. So he became Uncle Hunter to Grey and for the first year and a half everything was grand, there wasn’t any trouble that they couldn’t get passed. He should’ve known that it would change though, one night hunters tracked down the family of weredogs and slaughtered them all. Hunter had been out feeding in the main town, rather than staying at the family home that night. He got there too late to save anyone, but he did find Grey stashed away in the cupboard under the stairs. After leaving an anonymous 999 call, Hunter left with Grey; the only thing on his mind was how it would look if the police turned up and found him standing amongst the bodies of his family. It would’ve looked liked he’d done it rather than a roving gang of murderers that pretended to be on a mission from God to destroy monsters

So, they travelled for a bit together. Scotland, Ireland, the States, you name it. It was a bit tricky for Hunter, having to explain why Grey wasn’t in school and what not, but he passed it off as him being in private education. People tended to leave them alone once they heard that, but Hunter – who was going as Jordon at the time – dealt with it and made sure Grey wasn’t affected much. Around about the time that Grey hit fifteen years of age, the kid went through his first shape shift. Hunter was glad of this, even though Grey pretty much freaked out over the fact it was a dog form rather than something fancy like a wolf or bear, but that pretty much sorted itself out when Hunter told him that he turned into a [i]big[/i] dog. Since Hunter had pretty much dragged Grey to the states to make sure no one found out that he was a weredog and could connect him to the family tragedy, it was time to come back home to the UK but not before Hunter paid a few of his old Mistress’s ‘friends’ to find out what had happened all those years before. What was turned up was just a little disturbing to say the least. A rogue sect of Human against Vampires had killed Hunters family all that time ago because of him, and it tore him up inside to learn this.

Four years later, the nightmare came back to finish what was started. Grey was nineteen and Hunter was, well, typical dorky Hunter over a movie night when their little rented house was raided. Hunter told Grey to run as he took one of the humans out before swiftly following. It was only later when they met up on the outside of town to watch their house go up in flames that Hunter realized just how important Grey was to him. It was little too late though, the hunters found them and Hunter threw himself at the lot of them so Grey could runaway and that he’d catch up with him later. What Hunter didn’t want Grey to see was him tearing into the crew of slayers with a rage he didn’t even know existed until he saw their leering grins. Throats game out between fangs, silver bullets hit home weakening him more and more until eventually he was left broken on the floor. Rather than kill him out right like anyone sane would do, they hauled his mangled body to a lock up, told him that he was going to be used as an example for monsters in the area.

Now a vampire can take a lot of damage, they beat him, starved him, and threatened to burn his face off with holy water, you name it, and Hunter dealt with it. He even got a pretty cross shaped scar for mouthing off to a chick that obviously wasn’t getting any at home. It wasn’t until two weeks into this Hell that things got interesting. They started bringing in animals for him to feed off, dogs, cats, rats, hell even some idiot brought him a goat. Rather than feed though, he manipulated the animals even though it cost him. A dog would bite here; a cat would take a swipe at someone’s face. It was worth it because one of the punks came close enough for Hunter to snag him by the throat and tore into it, draining the life from the slayer. All he wanted was the blood at first, but the keys to the pretty jeep and his chains were a bonus. Using the animals as a diversion, Hunter got out of the waterside warehouse and the hell out of dodge. Even though it took him a couple of more weeks to track Grey down, he wasn’t in any state to confront the young weredog. He did however stick close to Grey, more a silent uncle that was heard rather than seen. While he was healing up and Grey was getting on with life, Hunter found out that HAV had found Grey in London. Seeing red, he went straight to Grey’s flat and broke in, he wasn’t going to beat around the bush and told Grey everything that he knew before dragging him out of there and telling Grey’s neighbours that there were trouble makers on the way and that they should call the police because there would be guns! Well, as you can imagine it wasn’t the best reunion and Hunter would’ve done anything to make it better except he couldn’t. All he could do was point Grey in the direction of Jackford with a promise that he’d follow him after he gave the slayers some new tails to chase, and he did.[/SIZE]

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gascon-en-exil · 5 years ago

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Lords and their Knights: When FE Chivalry Goes Gay

@mwritesink prompted me to write about my favorite tropes in FE and how they evolved over the course of the series. I already crossed a few others off in an earlier post, but this one is a particular favorite of mine where M/M romance in this series is concerned and one I felt had enough examples to constitute a piece of its own. Let it not be said that this is merely the gay variation on the well-worn heterosexual romance trope of a lady and her knight (ex. Eirika/Seth), because negotiating the fundamental power imbalance in this type of relationship takes on different dimensions when both parties are male. I draw a closer comparison to courtly love, which in the traditional sense is also socially transgressive (being adulterous) and not consummated via marriage or other public means...which in FE terms means an S support and possibly a eugenics baby. A vassal in love with his lord rather than his lord’s wife is not only cutting the female intermediary out of what can already be a very homoromatic scenario, but it’s directly tangling together a kind of martial romantic love and ideas about what knighthood/vassalage even is or ought to be - two topics FE loves to explore. I’ve therefore compiled a few of the most notable examples of this trope across the series to talk about in more detail, because if one is willing to be liberal with subtext there’s surprisingly quite a few to pick from.

(And yeah, this is also in part because I like hot rich men who take orders, and this series already has plenty of gay or otherwise ambiguously non-straight mages, thieves, archers, and their ilk without my help.)

The Sad Gay Knight: Quan/Finn

This one I’ve talked about before in a fair amount of depth, from my hopes for how a Genealogy remake will treat Finn to speculation on just what Quan got out of this relationship besides a devoted retainer and (we may assume) a nice piece of ass. The summary here is that Finn’s love for Quan supersedes anything he’s shown to feel for any of the various women he can hook up with and quite frankly astonishes in its ramifications for the future of Leonster and Thracia as a whole. It’s poignant, adulterous (but Ethlyn’s probably ok with it?), and messy as all hell once you factor in whatever’s up with Glade and whatever Lachesis wasn’t feeling about the whole situation. It is also, naturally, very sad; Finn loses his lord when he’s only around eighteen, and with their kingdom collapsing around him and the entire continent consumed by war he dedicates the next twenty years of his life to raising Quan’s son to be the king Quan himself had wanted to be. And for all his labor he apparently derives no lasting satisfaction, spending his epilogue wandering around the Yied desert and at last returning only to (possibly) pen the history he’s helped to make.

Finn is the embodiment of knighthood loyal unto and beyond death, and that paired with all the romantic and erotic subtext surrounding the two of them - Finn as Quan’s treasured favorite, his catatonia after Yied, the obsessive polishing of the brave lance that Quan gave to him, his inability to satisfy women in some vague way - makes them the defining example of this trope in Fire Emblem. I look forward to seeing how remakes will handle them; Finn’s presentation in Heroes is definitely cause for hope there. As for the issue of yet another story in media of gay men beset by tragedy and death, I did draw up a long headcanon on the technically crack pairing of Diarmuid/Tristan that specifically plays into the lord and knight trope while also allowing Finn a chance to pass his experiences on to a later, happier generation. IS is free to take notes, just saying.

Pretty Blond Twinks and the Men Who Love Them: Perceval/Elffin and their lasting influence

Moving on from Jugdral, I’ve got to say that I’ve really been sleeping on the original gay Elibean duo. Before Raven and Lucius (but chronologically after, because these games are out of order) there was another feminine young man with long blond hair beloved of a severe-looking warrior. Binding Blade gives us the bard Elffin, who in another life was Etruria’s Prince Mildain and Perceval’s liege. The Knight General takes Mildain’s alleged accidental death about as well as Finn takes the death of his lord and lady; he turns grim and humorless, and without a dying dream to guide him he follows the command of the corrupt revolutionary faction of Etruria with little protest. It takes learning that Mildain is alive and in Roy’s army for Perceval to drop the halfhearted Camus routine and switch sides, and the strength of his fealty not to his nation or even to his king but to the prince he’d thought dead is absolutely touching in the moment not to mention incredibly useful since the guy is one of FE6′s best units.

Binding Blade doesn’t give anyone but Roy and his harem paired endings, but there’s still a fair bit to be gleaned from their support lines, both what is in them and what isn’t. Perceval and Elffin each have supports with women, but nothing remotely romantic - Perceval’s support with Larum is particularly amusing since he clarifies that her, ahem, dancing does nothing for him. Also worth noting is that neither of them can support with Clarine, even though one would think they’d make fine romantic choices for her given their statuses and physical resemblances to her beloved brother. Their own support line is quietly intimate. Elffin has changed since his near-death experience, and Perceval is still struggling to accept that their relationship can’t be as it was, that in fact for the time being they can’t now be a knight and his prince. Perceval also frets over Elffin’s refusal to see his father the king, and he later extracts a promise from Elffin to come home to Etruria after he’s done traveling the world as a bard, in one of the series’s several instances of writing what sounds like a marriage proposal in ambiguous terms. Per Elffin’s ending, he’s only gone for a few months after the war, so their promised reunion isn’t long delayed. I’m interested to see what a remake would add to their relationship, because as it stands Perceval/Elffin has an established romance arc that deserves a paired ending or at the very least more suggestive epilogues.

Further compounding their underrated signficance, it’s not too difficult to trace a line from Perceval/Elffin to a number of other M/M pairings in the two later GBA games and in Tellius that present some variation on this theme:

As mentioned above, Raven/Lucius is physically similar and performs a nearly identical gameplay function, with the pretty blond waif again responsible for recruiting his surly but protective boyfriend from the ranks of the enemy.

Gerik/Joshua meanwhile borrows the character of the end of their support line and turns it into a genuine paired ending, with a prince incognito recruiting a swordsman to come work for him. They being who they are however, it’s all handled a bit rougher, with Gerik being impressed by Joshua’s “swagger.” Take that as you will.

Ike/Soren may be the defining seme/uke dynamic in Tellius’s overflowing fount of queer subtext, but Tibarn/Reyson smashes that trope together with this one and FE’s power couple unit archetype plus a dash of whatever the avian equivalent of furries is for wholly unique results. Although both of them are technically royalty, only Reyson is a prince by heredity whereas Tibarn presumably became king of Phoenicis by beating the crap out of any rival contenders as most laguz prefer to do. One can therefore read shades of a courtly relationship in Tibarn’s decision to zealously take up the cause of justice for the Serenes massacre in Reyson’s place. Combine this with Reyson’s characteristic edge that even Tibarn is forced to rein in at times and their relationship comes off as surprisingly more egalitarian than the sum of its parts. Oh yeah, and blond waif dancer + premade OP unit with ludicrous physical stats and movement again.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the conflict of the Tellius games Zelgius -> Sephiran explores what would happen if a gay Camus archetype chose instead to dedicate himself to an antagonistic lord. Sure, you can still recruit Sephiran via a convoluted and unintuitive process, but Zelgius is doomed no matter what.

They Can Say It, But They Can’t Do It: Awakening and Fates

Ugh. If I must....

I’ve made no secret of my ambivalence toward FE13 dragging the series into open acknowledgement that same-sex attraction is a thing that exists, handled as it was with a lot of explicit homoerotic denial and an assortment of cheap gay panic jokes and...whatever the hell Victor and Vincent are supposed to be. Chrom/Frederick, hot though it may potentially be in fanon, is one of those jokes, making a parody out of a knight enamored of his lord and leaving it to mean absolutely nothing since Awakening’s relationship endgame is invariably S supports for time traveling eugenics babies. FE has taken cracks at the overly dedicated knight before - see just about everything involving Kieran from Tellius, up to and including his overzealous devotion to his superior officer - but Awakening plumbs the depths of Frederick expecting Chrom’s nude image to raise the army’s morale. Just..what do you even say to that, apart from the awkward sputtering that comprises most of their support line?

FE14, for all its stumbling steps toward something less completely offensive, fares little better in this particular regard. Leo/Niles is a deeply troubled albeit thought-provoking callback to the subtextual lord/knight relationship, one where it’s hard to imagine them finding a healthy way to navigate the power differential. Then there’s Ryoma/Saizo. It’s nothing special in localization, but the never-localized festival DLC involves Saizo’s ardent desire to warm Ryoma’s clothing in his cleavage. That sounds like absolutely normal behavior for a servant and not a rehash of Frederick’s shenanigans, uh huh. Fates may indeed be said to be slightly better about playing palpable homoerotic tension for drama rather than comedy...but only slightly.

Paving the Way for an OT3: The Deliverance

This is, incidentally, yet another reason to appreciate Echoes for doing so much to redeem the 3DS games in the realm of (male) queer content. Yes, there’s a large and unaddressed divide between the openly gay and very modern Leon and the heavily subtextual faux-historical queerness of the Deliverance, but taken independently the two presentations work for what they’re each separately aiming to be. Among Clive’s gay entourage are not one but two men who’d dearly love to be the knight to his lord, and Forsyth’s strong desire to put Clive on a pedestal evokes the earlier spoofs of this kind of relationship precisely because Forsyth is that kind of vassal, the kind that would read Ribald Tales of the Faith War and cry like a heavily erect virgin bottom getting his first taste of dick at the brief interludes of tender manly love between Quan and Finn. He’s played for comedy just as much as Kieran or Frederick are, and yet Echoes comes across as less down on the concept as a whole for several reasons, being that

1) Python’s snark over Forsyth’s attraction to both Clive and Lukas is genuinely funny, much more so than when it’s the object of these affections quietly groaning his way through them,

2) Lukas is also there, and his desire to be Clive’s beloved knight is not played for comedy at all but is allowed to be unrealistic and unsatisfying because Clive will never get it,

3) everyone wants to screw Clive for some reason, not just his subordinates but also his sister and the estranged BFF who dies in his arms...and the guy is shown to be unworthy of all of them, and

4) all the characters involved are allowed other avenues for romantic attraction outside of a lord who’s just not that into them. Forsyth has Python, Lukas has both of them as friends and possibly more later, Clair has Gray (...at least he’s not her brother?), and Fernand has a bad rebound that goes to hell in the manner of Zelgius and Sephiran but at least ends with him getting to reconcile with his former friend before he dies.

The setup for the Deliverance’s overarching queerness is a bit strange as it rests on all these characters somehow finding Clive attractive, but nonetheless it makes for an unexpected and refreshing critique of the lord and knight trope, given a situation where the lord just isn’t that into it and in fact doesn’t seem to realize that he can be into it. It’s a good reminder that this isn’t a particularly good dynamic for a stable and lasting relationship, and that as hot as it can be it takes more than impassioned one-way devotion to make it work in the long term.

The good news if you’re into this kind of relationship like I am is that it’s a trope with some life in it yet. Echoes came at it strong, and prerelease information on Three Houses suggests a few possibilities for this dynamic in that game. I’m especially keeping my eye on Dimitri and Dedue, whose relationship appears to contain echoes of the original duo of Quan and Finn. I highly doubt there will be anything on the level of S supports acknowledging this type of attraction, but I’ll settle for some suggestive A supports.

#Fire Emblem

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