#LANCE IS SHOWING HIM AROUND HIS HOMELAND

[skitskatdacat63]

Oh my god

[yuuniee]

“Fight with all your might! And if you fall, pick yourself up and try again!”

Name: Viktor Falkenberg

Japanese: ヴィクトル・ファルケンベルグ

Dorm: Savanaclaw

Birthday: 10th August

Age: 19

Height: 195 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Homeland: Land of the Legends

Family: Unnamed father (†), unnamed mother, three unnamed older brothers

Voiced by: [TBA]

Nicknames/Aliases: Monsieur ??? (Rook), ??? (Floyd)

Grade: Third

Class: 3-B (no. 27)

Club: Magift Club

Best Subject: Defensive Arts

Hobby: Taking care of animals, woodcarving

Favorite Food: Beef Jerky

Least Favorite Food: Cabbage roll

Pet Peeves: Being forgotten or left out

Talent: Rock Climbing

Appearence: Viktor is a young man with dark skin, disheveled black long hair with a crimson streak on the bangs, grey eyes with eyebags under them and an eyepatch under his left eye. Due to the events in his past, he also has so many scars on both his face and his body.

Personality: Viktor is distant and closed off. He may come off as an intimidating person although he is actually pretty reasonable and understanding. He also happens to have a softer side for those who he deeply cares.

Unique Magic: “Forbidden Hunt”

It basically shows one’s weakest points as little glowing lights. The closer he gets to the person, the more damage they will take. It also heightens his senses and if he overuses it, it may temporarily transform parts of his body to a bear’s.

[x]

Fun Facts:

He has skipped a year due to the war between him, his father and his brothers for the kingdom. In the end, he defeated them all but at the cost of his father’s life.

He knows how to use various weapons like claymore, dual sword, bow and arrow.

He hardly opens up to anyone due to some.. past issues. (trauma) He often mocks those around him to push them away due to this.

In the story, it’s revealed that it takes at least 30 minutes for him to wake up.

Before he goes to somewhere different, not for war but for exploring, he makes sure to learn about that place throughly.

He likes being in the forest the most and says that he finds peace there. He also seems to love the forest animals. Because despite his intimidating nature, the animals seem to approach him more than people do.

He lives in Harveston on a mountain where he chops firewood and stays alone in his little cabin. But hey, at least it’s warm and people and animals there seems to soften him at least a little bit! ^^

Despite what others say about him, his cooking is actually good. He even briefly mentions in his dorm uniform story that he used to make pies for his brothers.

In the first Vargas Camp event, he easily identifies which crystal is which. Later when asked, he says that he was taught about crystals at a young age along with other things like fighting with a lance, defensive arts and even science.

[luminousrider]

[ 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦 ] : sender has killed someone who threatened the receiver. (Post Timeskip AU)

tw for gore, gruesome imagery

The stink of blood ever pervaded the air around the monastery, even once it began to show signs of life once more, as those who had made their vow on the cold winter's night what seemed like a lifetime ago. In part, it was due to the rust, the tang of iron as metal sheared due to weather and lack of care diffused into the air, biting noses and lungs with the same cling as death itself.

And it was, in part, due to the blood. The blood on their hands, under their nails and in their hair, in their clothing which they could not, for whatever reason wash out.

Or would not.

He refused to allow those souls that had trickled back into the monastery, seeking their purpose in the higher power of the Goddess, to scrub the floor behind him, snarling and rumbling, implacable as the storm if he saw them even approach the long stain that the body left behind in his wake.

He wanted everyone to know what had befallen the man who'd left the smear against the cobblestones, wanted their footsteps to linger and trail along the path the stark red - and then mottled, browned - left. Wanted them to climb the ramparts to the high walls of the monastery, and to look out upon the stonework and see the rat he'd flushed out from its den, who thought his bark worse than his bite.

Dimitri knew nothing of Altena's homeland, but he knew offense when it was given, and he knew what it meant to be an outsider as a byproduct of survival.

He'd left the body intact, such as it was. If the crows took the man apart, it was no concern of his, but it was not his lack of control, not his volition that peeled the strips of skin or the odd bone fragment from the corpse. He had not needed to use Areadbhar, though his relic sang for blood in his hands, thrummed in time with his heart through the bloodhaze - merely the blunted training lance had carved through the sternum and affixed the corpse to the wall just as well, splintering in the chest and leaving the hold gaping where the heart had been removed.

It was no gift left at her doorstep, no token to curry her favor, but Dimitri thought that perhaps for a moment Altena might have wanted to see the worth of this wastrel's life, all that this pitiful man had amounted to.

She's stayed too long. One year as a student had turned into more time as a teaching assistant had turned into more time helping the people of Fódlan as war began to break out. Thracia needs its princess but she finds it harder and harder to leave the country she's lived in for so long as life grows more difficult for the people here.

And she's always been better in a fight than she has been with leadership and diplomacy.

They had been friends, once, she and Dimitri. Perhaps, in some way, they still are. She looks down at the body at her feet and knows he'd done it for her sake. She'd heard what the poor bastard had said before he'd been run through.

She wonders as she watches the blood travel through the cracks in the cobblestones what had happened to the young man who'd held up a lion poster and cheered for his friends after she'd knocked him out of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. What happened to the young man that had been so baffled and bewildered with her when the pirates they'd prepared to fight had just been some sort of performance. She wonders but, in her heart, she knows.

War, violence, loss, desperation. She's seen men changed by them before. Her father. Her brother. She sighs and closes her eyes.

This is why she's still here. If her lance can help end this war, can help keep anyone else succumbing to the horrors that war brings, she'll fight.

[golde-silvere]

So I just finished the Blue Lions demo…

1. One thing I didn’t predict was that Rufus, Dimitri’s uncle, was partly responsible for the tragedy of Duscur and has, according to Dedue and Cornelia, tried to kill his nephew several other times. He’s also pretty pathetic. He’s terrified of his own nephew and is haggard from all the lies and treachery he’s committed. Not a tragic character in the slightest.

2. Cornelia is being set up for a bigger antagonistic role this time round. She has Rufus wrapped around her finger, and goes on to underestimate the Blue Lions before they kick her butt. The game 100% confirms she is from TWSITD, her real name is Cleobulus. So having Kronya and Solon exposed must have pushed her to convince Rufus to stage a coup. I also liked her dialogue against Dedue. Given how Dimitri has survived numerous assassination attempts, I think Dedue may be the reason why he keeps surviving. I don’t think Cornelia likes him very much.

3. We fight Viscount Kleiman during the coup. That was another unexpected turn. I thought he would be set up as another big character but he’s kinda underwhelming. Turns out he’s in cahoots with Rufus. His capture also helps to prove Duscur’s innocence much earlier than the previous timeline. After the two year timeskip, the people of Duscur are resettling into their homeland.

4. We also get to see Sylvain’s father. He’s loyal to Dimitri and thinks highly of him. That’s good. Though we have no word on Miklan. We don’t know if him stealing the Lance of Ruin and turning in a demonic beast happened in the new timeline. If he’s still alive, we may have to fight him.

5. Dimitri is starting to show tiny signs that he’s not doing as well on the outside. Shez talks about how he’s put up a wall around himself. A soldier talks about not knowing what goes on in Dimitri’s head. Dimitri is lost in thought whilst talking to Shez and reassured them despite not resting enough. I predict he’s going to go downhill from there…

6. A knight mentions that Dimitri was constantly watched following the tragedy. Even his letters were looked at before he could send them. This could be a reason why his friendship with Felix, Ingrid and Sylvain had dampened a little. He was not exaggerating when he said Dedue was the only friend he had.

7. We are going to stand by the church in this route. Unfortunately the demo does not let me access the battle where we come to their aid. Dimitri is less hostile towards Edelgard in the demo despite being at war. Though I think finding the true conspirators of the tragedy may have helped. Though how their relationship develops in the future is something I’m looking forward to seeing.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

of all i am made of (perhaps you are too)

ao3

Hugo does not believe in soulmates.

To be fair, he doesn’t much believe in anything but the feeling of coin in his pocket and the clever bite of his dagger. What use has he for god and destiny when he carves his own path of lies through time, with a sharp tongue and a cocky smile.

Why should Hugo believe the universe would gift him a soulmate when it already has made it perfectly clear that nothing is free?

Besides soulmates are rarities of the past--legends and folktales on the lips of elders and religious fanatics; the former clinging to superstition from the od era, the latter feeding false promises and hope to the instupid masses.

Soulmates are for hopeless romantics and tiny children. Not for Hugo.

“That does not surprise me,” Nuru says, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face.

She’s lying down in the golden field where they’ve set camp for the night. The contrast of the bright yellow against her dark skin is stunning-particularly in the moonlight, with her dark hair fanning out about her head.

Hugo, who is sitting upright a few paces away and playing with his daggers, frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unsure if he should be feeling defensive or not.

Nuru folds her arms beneath her head, propping herself up enough to make eye contact with him. “Even if you had a soulmate, you wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she scoffs.

He snorts. “ You believe in soulmates?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes, actually. I thought you were the rational one in this party.”

Nuru gives him an expression that indicates how stupid she thinks he is. “I might be the only person who can keep their head in a crisis, but that doesn’t mean I can’t believe in a higher power, Hugo.”

She rolls over, so that she’s laying on her stomach, facing him. “Burning stars fall in my homeland every year. There are stories of a sun princess who’s tears heal the dead. Varian somehow hasn’t strangled you yet. I think you’d better start believing in a god.”

“Or soulmates apparently,” Hugo mutters.

“Or soulmates,” Nuru says. “Would it really be that far-fetched?”

“Do I believe there’s someone out there who shares my dreams? Or has my name written above their heart? Hard pass, Princess.”

“Alright then, how about sharing the same soul?” Nuru asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “You’re telling me that doesn’t sound at least a little romantic?”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Now that,” she says, a grin stretching across her face, “that I can believe.”

___

“I think Anya’s my soulmate,” Yong says dreamily, staring at Varian’s redheaded cousin like she hung the fucking moon.

Hugo, despite secretly adoring the round child, rolls his eyes. Hard. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means we share the same time threads,” Yong replies distractedly.

Varian and Anya are nerding out over something-something Hugo would find interesting or fun to mock them over, but right now, for some reason, he’s more interested in Yong’s adorable-if not misguided-crush on Varian’s little cousin.

“Time threads,” Hugo laughs, cracking his knuckles. Yong winces at the noise, momentarily taking his eyes off the two babbling alchemists. “Alright, color me curious. What are time threads?”

Yong frowns. “You’ve never heard of time threads? Every child in Koto learns about them.”

Ah, must be some religious poppycock only spread in the fire kingdom.

“Well, I’m not a child living in Koto, am I?” Hugo replies lightly. “Spill, little pyro.” He pokes the kid in the shoulder repeatedly until he gets swatted.

“Her lady, Odiyesi, spins a thread for each person,” Yong recites in a sing-song voice. “This thread contains the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. If she so chooses, two threads will be intertwined-maybe even beyond the Snip, if she wills it.”

“The Snip?”

“Oh yeah, that’s when you die,” Yong says, side eyeing Hugo.

Hugo ruffles Yong’s hair. “And you think Anya is your thread partner. That’s so cute .”

Yong ducks out from under his hand, scowling. “Why did you ask if you don’t even believe it?” he mumbles, face pink.

“You know what I think?” Hugo asks, pretending like he doesn’t hear Yong. “I think you should go right up to here and tell her all that. Give her a heads up about your eternally bound souls.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to the underworld,” Yong shoots back, with a surprising amount of fire.

Hugo bursts into laughter. “That,” he says, “is the first thing you’ve said all day that makes sense.”

___

“What do you think about soulmates?” Hugo asks mildly. He has a glass of wine in one hand, but he’s barely tasted it. Instead, he stands, staring out the stained glass window and into the courtyard.

Donella, sitting behind her desk, looks up from Varian’s Ulla’s journal-recently procured by Hugo.

The amount of deception and sneaking around he’d gone through to actually get it out of Varian’s line of sight had been painstakingly difficult. And it had been even harder coming up with an excuse to Nuru why he needed to spend the night somewhere other than their current lodgings.

He doesn’t really remember the lie. Just the trust in the Princess’s face when she’d briefly patted him on the shoulder, telling him to be back by sunrise.

Donella closes the journal with a snap, leaning back in her chair. “What a curious question. And from you, no less.”

When Hugo turns around, she’s smiling that sharp smile-the one that makes his stomach plummet with discomfort. Something in him churns at that dangerous expression now, unsure of what he’s suddenly gotten himself into.

He gives a casual shrug, raising his glass to his lips. “Just making idle conversation, I suppose.” The wine tastes terrible. Still, he takes another sip before setting it down on an end table.

“Hmm.” His mentor eyes him skeptically. “What do I think about soulmates?” she muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose the proper answer would be that I hate them.”

He frowns. “So you don’t believe in them?”

“You can’t hate something you don’t believe in, Hugo. Of course I believe in soulmates.” Donella must see the surprise in his expression because she laughs after a brief pause. “I would be hard pressed not to believe in them after seeing it with my own two eyes.”

Hugo blinks, startled. “You met someone with a soulmate?” he asks, disbelieving.

“You could say that.”

“How do-how did you know they were-”

She opens the stolen journal again, long scared fingers deftly flipping back to her reading place. “Because I could feel when she was in pain. Now shut up, Waif, I still have three quarters of this tedious reading to get through and only five more hours to do it.”

___

Even though Eugene has decided to make the conscious effort not to kill Hugo, the guy still shows mild animosity. And by mild, Hugo-of course-means that he drags him around, making him do tedious tasks and scowls whenever he gets close to Varian.

Whatever. It’s not as if Hugo’s going to complain, considering that it’s mostly his fault there was a demon monster briefly unleashed onto Corona that destroyed most of her capital city. As long as Varian isn’t blaming himself, Hugo calls it a win.

So he lets the Prince Consort drag him around the city and put his alchemy to work.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hugo says, at one point, when it becomes apparent that even though Eugene has no idea how alchemy works , he was still going to hover. “I’m not going to cut and run.”

The man had snorted. “Yeah, I already figured that one out for myself,” he’d muttered and then proceeded to not explain what that meant.

So here Hugo is, with an ever present shadow, hovering like he’s a fucking five year old. Hugo honestly doesn’t see what Varian sees in the guy-or Queen Rapunzel for that matter. She looks at the ex-thief like he hung the moon and all the damn stars in the sky.

“It’s because they’re soulmates,” Eugene’s buddy-Lance, Hugo thinks-had said when he caught him staring.

Hugo had scoffed.

Now, bored and overheated after a long day’s work, Hugo watches Eugene frown over some blueprints in the Queen’s study. Hugo’s not exactly sure why he has to be present for this particular part of the renovation project, but he’s too tired to protest.

“Are you and the queen soulmates?” he hears himself asking.

Eugene lifts his head, eyes alight with surprise. He glances back down at the blueprints once, before leaving the table to join Hugo by the open doors leading to the balcony.

“Weird question, coming from you,” he snorts, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “But yes. We are.”

Hugo doesn’t know what to make of that. “How do you know?”

The older man hesitates, something like understanding dawning on the man’s face. A small smile crosses lips. “Have you ever met someone that no matter how many times you tried to walk away, you couldn’t?”

Hugo swallows.

“That’s how I know. Now,” he claps Hugo on the shoulder. “If you’ll stop messing around, I need your opinion on whether Yong’s demolition idea or Varian’s solvent solution is going to work best for the lower district’s avalanche problem.”

___

At the end of all things-or perhaps the beginning-Hugo finds Varian on a rooftop.

It’s not hard to find him, as when Varian is brooding, he likes to perch. It’s a habit that the alchemist has either picked up from spending most of his time in a castle with high roofs or perhaps it’s born of chasing his dumb racoon into precarious positions.

Either way, Hugo learns early into his friendship with the darkhaired boy, that when he’s being introspective, he likes to pick a high roof and perch like a fucking woodland creature.

So when Varian goes missing in the middle of Corona’s lantern festival, it takes precious few minutes to find him.

“You are so predictable,” Hugo says, dropping down next to him. Heights don’t usually bother him, but the castle is impressively tall.

The other alchemist doesn’t really seem to mind, however. He lets his legs dangle over the edge, occasionally swinging in the air.

“Or maybe I wanted you to find me,” Varian replies easily. His head--tilted up, toward the stars that are mirrored in the constellations of freckles on his face-is wearing a peaceful expression.

Something in Hugo’s chest clenches tightly at the sight of it. There was a time, not too long ago, where he was convinced he’d never see Varian happy again.

But now, Varian turns his face toward Hugo and offers him a smile. “Or maybe I’m just predictable to you.”

The tightness in Hugo’s chest dissipates. What is left aches for something he can’t have.

“Or that,” Hugo says, instead of doing something stupid like trying to hold Varian’s hand or kiss the stupid expression off his face.

Varian turns back to the stars.

“You know, they say shooting stars fall in the direction of your soulmate.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “Not you too,” he groans, eliciting laughter from his friend. “I thought out of everyone, you would be on my side here.”

“Aw, don’t believe in soulmates?” Varian teases, grinning boyishly. “Sun and moon, I should have expected that.”

“Yeah?” Hugo raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“You’re so cynical. And not in the way Cass is-she’s like realistically -cynical. You’re just oh poor me I could never have a soulmate because my soul is made of garbage -”

Hugo clamps a hand over Varian’s mouth, shrieking when he tries to lick him. “I- stop -I don’t have to listen to this slander -”

“-and if you ever did find your soulmate you would be insufferable about it,” Varian goes on, catching Hugo’s wrist when he tries to silence him again. “You would spend the entire time trying to prove to yourself and everyone else that there was no possible way they could be your soulmate and when you couldn’t you would-”

He stops. Blinks at Hugo with realization dawning across his face.

Hugo’s wonders if Varian can feel his pulse racing where the smaller boy’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yeah? What would I do?”

Varian’s lips purse. “I don’t know what you would do. I’d hope you would be smart about it.”

He lets go of Hugo.

Hugo immediately misses his warmth.

“And what would be the smart thing.”

“Well,” Varian draws out the word thoughtfully. He scoots close enough to Hugo that if the taller boy wanted he could wrap and arm around his shoulder. “Well, an excellent start would be telling them.”

“And how would you tell them? If it were you,” Hugo adds quickly, when Varian shoots him a questioning look.

Varian leans back on his hands, head tipped back, exposing his throat to the sky. “I would tell them my heart started beating at the same time as theirs when we touched. That there’s a silver dagger inked on my shoulder that burns when they’re angry and sings when they’re sad-”

“Varian.” Hugo’s heart clenches so hard he briefly wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

“-I would tell them that I dreamed in color the first night we lay side by side in the forest,” Varian goes on, ignoring him. “I would tell them that when we touch I see every color-even the ones that don’t belong here.”

“Varian.”

Hugo’s hand finds his soulmate's.

Varian turns his head to the side slightly, finally meeting Hugo’s eye. With his free hand, he cups the side of Hugo’s neck, tentatively.

“I would tell him that our souls are made of the same thing.” He smiles gently. “It’s just science, Hugo.”

Hugo laughs, pressing his forehead into Varian’s. “How is that the most romantic thing you’ve said yet?”

“Because you’re a closet nerd,” Varian says, right before he leans in.

Underneath a starlit sky, Hugo kisses the boy made of the same stuff as him.

___

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 17, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 17 - The Demon King's Shadow (con’t)

Frelia's pegasus knight unit was continuing to desperately defend against an overwhelmingly large enemy army.

Their entire unit had already been nearly wiped out, and the remaining soldiers were putting all of their strength into defending the bridges. If they fell here, then the enemy could invade in one fell swoop, and the people of Narube would likely be massacred without resistance.

"Those who can move, take the citizens south!" Syrene, the leader of the pegasus knight unit, shouted as loudly as she could while swinging around her lance and fending off the enemy's onslaughts.

However, she hardly had any knights left that could follow that order. Even if the knights managed to get the children atop the pegasi, their wings were damaged, and they couldn’t fly. Even the citizens who had panicked and cried at first had already lost the energy to do that any longer, and exhaustedly slipped into utter silence.

They’d made a major miscalculation. The Grado Army had lost the capital, yet still had a large number of soldiers left.

If the knights thought only about themselves, then they had the possibility to take advantage of their pegasi’s mobility and retreat, but they couldn’t abandon the people of Narube just to escape.

“We’re at our limit, Lady Syrene! We’ll buy you some time! Please do whatever it takes to get out of here!” A knight wearing armor covered in blood yelled at her.

But Syrene shook her head.

She had no intention of running away until the very end. The bodies of the Frelian soldiers who’d exhausted all of their strength lay around her. She was ready to die here in battle herself as well.

Her only regret was that she couldn’t live up to Prince Innes’ hopes for her. She remembered the day that she’d officially become the leader of the pegasus knights as if it was yesterday. The prince had personally given her a beautiful whip and said that the pegasus knight unit was the pride and joy of Frelia, and he wanted them to fight for their homeland so long as they drew breath.

His words filled her chest with deep emotions. She swore to herself that she would devote herself to Frelia… and Prince Innes and Princess Tana.

The plan was to unite her forces with the prince’s at Narube River and fight together at full strength under his orders. However, before that could happen, she would probably see her end. Regret burned in her heart.

Her younger sister was together with the prince. That was her only consolation. If her sister could protect the prince when she couldn’t… then that was all she could ask for.

“Lady Syrene, that’s…!” One of the knights shouted.

Was it more enemy reinforcements? Just how much leftover strength could the Grado Army have at this point? 

The moment Syrene was about to succumb to her despair, she looked at where her soldier was pointing, and instinctively breathed a sigh of belief.

A large army was nearing from the south. They were still a considerable distance away, so she couldn't clearly make out who they were, but the color of their armor was different from that of the Grado Army.

"Is that… the Renais Army…?" The moment Syrene whispered, a single pegasus knight appeared from the oncoming crowd, and flew straight in her direction. 

Syrene knew who it was before her eyes could even confirm the rider’s face, as she could distinguish the slight but distinct strong wing movements and neck shaking of individual pegasi.

She smiled without even thinking about it, and felt a weight be lifted off her shoulders that had been with her since the beginning of the war.

“Commander Syrene, are you alright?!” The knight riding the pegasus shouted, and swiftly threw a javelin at a Grado soldier coming at her while avoiding his own attack.

She effortlessly hit her target, showing her strength. ‘She’s gotten so much stronger in such a short amount of time.’ Syrene thought.

“Vanessa, you’re here! Meaning…”

“Yes, Prince Innes and Princess Tana are with me! They are safe as well!”

“Thank goodness…” Relief warmed her heart. 

Vanessa continued in a commanding tone, “Please stand down, Commander! We’ll take it from here.”

“No, I...”

‘...am not severely injured,’ she started to say, but thought twice about it.

Both her and her unit were already at the limits of their stamina. Even if she continued to be stubborn and fight on the front line, she would do the exact opposite of help, and get in her allies’ way. It was wiser for her to retreat for the moment, recuperate, and then pick up her weapon again.

“Understood! I will stand down for now, and let your commander take over from here. Please tell them I said so.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“And Vanessa.”

Vanessa tried to guide her pegasus higher into the sky, but Syrene called out to her again.

Vanessa turned back around and no longer had her previous tense expression on her face, perhaps because she had finally relaxed. 

Syrene responded in a casual tone, “It looks like you’ve been playing a very big role as a soldier of Princess Eirika’s guard. I was really worried when I heard that you’d been betrayed in Carcino, but… I finally feel at ease.”

“Thank you Ma’am…!”

"Your spearmanship has improved greatly since we parted as well. And you've become a bit more beautiful too."

Vanessa’s eyes widened at suddenly being teased, and her cheeks turned red. “S-Sister…!”

No matter how good their relationship was as sisters, on the battlefield, they were commander and subordinate. To Vanessa, who was so serious it made her formal and strict, keeping that distinction was of vital importance. But right now, even she had forgotten herself.

Syrene laughed out loud and guided her pegasus to softly spread her wings.

Her pegasus had taken an enemy attack, which seriously injured her wing. She wanted her beloved pegasus to be healed as quickly as possible. To a pegasus knight, her pegasus was more than just a simple mount. They were invaluable partners whose fates were linked to each other.

“I’ll see you again later, Vanessa.” Syrene parted ways with her sister for the time being, and her pegasus flew off, leading her exhausted unit.

The Renais Army had crossed the bridge and was coming closer. Syrene stopped her pegasus and landed on the ground.

Everyone was injured and bleeding. Their uniforms had been beautiful and stunning when they left home, but now, they looked like they never could have been such dazzling garments. However, each and every one of their faces were lit up like the sun.

Syrene knelt down on one knee before Eirika and bowed her head. “Reporting, Princess Eirika of Renais! The Frelian Army was surprise attacked by the Grado Army, and we regrettably lost most of our soldiers. But only a few of the people of Narube have been killed since the beginning of the attack, and the rest are safe.”

“Good work. All of you please take whatever time you need to recuperate.” 

Eirika’s voice was soft and kind. Just her words alone healed Syrene of her exhaustion.

“Are you alright, Syrene?”

She recognized Prince Innes’ voice, and looked up.

He was standing next to Eirika. Among his dirt-covered army, he stood out as the one refined person. He of course should be tired since he had traveled on a long journey together with the soldiers, but he didn’t show it in the slightest. His clothing looked as if a tailor had just dressed him.

“Lord Innes… I am sorry. The Frelian Army is unable to merge with Renais’ Army. We’ve suffered too much damage, and…”

"Never mind that. None of you have anything you need to worry about. We’ll take it from here.”

His words were reassuring. ‘It appears that Vanessa is not the only one who’s grown up while we were apart.’ She felt that Prince Innes had also become even stronger since the last time they’d seen each other.

‘Perhaps…’ Syrene thought. ‘Vanessa has become more beautiful because of Prince Innes?’ It was difficult for her to imagine Vanessa falling in love with any ordinary man. If he wasn’t a partner that she could respect with all of her heart, then he likely wouldn’t be able to steal it. And If there was any man that Vanessa could respect, it was of course...

“Syrene, do you know any information about the enemy commander?”

Innes asked her in a harsh tone.

Syrene shook her head. “There is a fort on the other side of the river. The enemy commander is using it as a base. I heard that it appears to be Prince Lyon leading the army. I have not been able to confirm that myself, but that is what my subordinates reported.”

“Hmm… Do you know anything about Prince Lyon? ...No wait, nevermind.” In a move that was entirely unlike him, Innes hesitated and changed his words. “Asking won’t change anything. For now, Syrene, please get healed, and return quickly to the battlefront. We still need your power.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

He seemed worried about Prince Lyon for some reason, but knowing that she and her soldiers were living up to the prince’s expectations made Syrene happy. The pegasus knights had survived their long, grueling fight, retreated for the time being, and were healed by Natasha and the other healers.

“Leave the front line to us. We’ll defend the northern bridge.” Ephraim said and charged his horse straight north. 

His loyal knights Forde and Kyle led his other soldiers and followed after him.

Eirika went with Seth and the others to save the citizens. The group totaled a few dozen men and women huddling together and shaking. Eirika talked to each of them individually to encourage them, helped the injured atop her horse, and led them to a safe place.

Eirika worked as hard as she could, trying not to think about anything she did not need to. But every so often, she would remember that wicked voice. Whenever she thought about Lyon and the pain the Demon King had caused him, she couldn’t stand the feeling she felt. 

‘I ate his heart.’ Or so the Demon King said. If she accepted his words literally, then Lyon’s heart was already gone, and his body entirely controlled by the Demon King. She did not want to believe that such a terrifying thing could be reality.

It had been for only just a moment, but she'd heard Lyon scream. “Run away…” He’d pleaded with all his might. “I’ll destroy you…” There was no way that could have been the Demon King’s voice.

Lyon’s heart had yet to be completely consumed. He'd nearly suppressed the Demon King’s consciousness, and was continuing to just barely manage to fight. He was struggling as hard as he could to remain in control. And that was why they had to press forward. They had to defeat the Demon King and restore his heart.

But on the other hand of that thought, the Demon King's last words weighed heavily on her heart. Ephraim told her not to worry about them, yet she couldn't help but think about them.

Kill Prince Ephraim, and claim Princess Eirika. The Demon King said that was Lyon's desire. A kind man like Lyon shouldn't have such a twisted and ambitious desire… or so she wanted to think, but her heart was no longer sure.

As Lyon was a sickly person, Ephraim had always been the object of his admiration. In situations like when Ephraim was praised by Duessel, or he won a match against a senior knight, Lyon would cheerfully say "You really are amazing, Ephraim!" Those were words of wonder and amazement.

At the time, Eirika didn't think much of it, and just took his words at face value. ...There hadn’t been any warped feelings hiding underneath that adoration, right? He thought Ephraim was amazing… and wanted to be Ephraim… but he couldn’t. Those feelings of inferiority hadn’t turned into jealousy, had they?

“Lady Eirika, we have finished leading the people to safety.” Seth reported.

The pegasus knights had also finished receiving their treatment, and were awaiting Eirika’s orders. Now was not the time to be guessing what was within Lyon’s heart. She had orders to give as her army’s commander.

“Let’s go! We will take the fort across the river and capture Prince Lyon!” Eirika hesitated for a moment, then added, “You must not kill him! We still have a lot of questions for him.”

Syrene and her pegasus knights immediately accepted the order and all flew up into the sky at once. The pegasi had all been healed alongside their riders, and their energy was restored. They flapped their white wings at full strength.

Seth looked up at the pegasus knights and said, “Lady Eirika, I understand how you feel, but Prince Lyon is already…”

“...I know.” She cut off the rest of his sentence, not wanting to hear it.

He looked straight at her. "Our enemy introduced himself as the Demon King. We still do not know whether he truly is or not, but if he is, then this is very serious. Even if we fight him at full strength, we still might not win.”

“...You're right.”

“It’s a shame that his heart is in chaos on the outside, but…”

“I know. I’ll be fine, Seth. I’m prepared to fight him.” Eirika nodded with conviction.

She couldn’t make Seth worry, and so she spoke those words to him immediately. In truth, she still didn’t know. Would she be able to turn her sword against him?

Eirika maneuvered her horse to the front line, where Ephraim's group was fighting. She shook off her hesitation and gradually picked up speed.

A harsh battle was unfolding on the northern bridge. Grado dragon knights attacked from the sky, making the fight difficult for Ephraim and his soldiers, but the pegasus knight unit rushed to their side, and started to change their situation bit by bit.

Pegasi were of a smaller build than dragons, but were utterly fearless. They flew bravely at the enemies' chests, and threw them into confusion. Once the dragon unit's movements had broken out into a panic, Innes and Neimi shot arrows straight at them. The arrows flew through the dragon's wings. Their cries pierced the sky, and their riders lost their balance and fell into the river.

Once Eirika's army finally captured the bridge, they used that momentum to continue moving east. They could now see the fort the enemy was using as their base.

"He's in there, right?!" Ephraim asked when Eirika rode up next to him.

Eirika noticed that her brother refused to refer to Lyon by name.

Perhaps Ephraim felt just as lost as Eirika, and that was why he was purposely avoiding referring to Lyon by name. If he said it aloud, it might dull his resolve to fight, no matter what else he did.

The enemy was waiting for them outside of the fort. Eirika's army shifted into a fan formation and surrounded the Demon King.

He had a cruel smile on his face, and waited calmly for them. He no longer seemed to have any interest in pretending to be human. His facial features were clearly Lyon's, but his expressions did not feel human at all.

'That's not Lyon… such a wicked, cold stare could never be Lyon's.' Eirika told herself. But she still could not rid herself of her hesitation, rather, she tried to find if Lyon was left anywhere in his face.

"...So you intend to challenge me?" The Demon King asked. 

The chilling sound of his voice made Eirika's horse tremble so hard she could not calm her.

"You are all so lucky to not yet know my true terror…”

"Get out of Lyon's body!!" Ephraim roared.

Eirika jumped. His voice was filled with an intense anger that she had never once heard come from him in her entire life.

Ephraim did not fear the Demon King, although perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was so infuriated by someone hurting Lyon that he forgot how afraid he was. 

Ephraim's powerful voice boosted the morale of Eirika's army, but the Demon King met Ephraim's anger by laughing at him.

"It's not healthy to make your blood boil, prince of Renais. Don't you get it? Prince Lyon and everything about him is no more. I ate him. This body is no longer his.”

"Damn you…!" Ephraim raised his lance, and his soldiers each readied their own weapons. The archers and mages behind them also prepared themselves to support them.

But the Demon King’s spell was faster. Its waves rippled through the air, and a split second after, a horse collapsed.

Eirika looked over at them and felt fear send a chill down her spine. The neck of the fallen horse was turning in unnatural directions as if a huge, invisible hand was twisting it.

“Nosferatu…?!” Lute gasped. As someone so confident, it was entirely unlike her, but even she was panicking. “Please be careful! That is an extremely powerful dark magic. If you take a direct hit, then…!”

The army’s movements fell into chaos. The terrified horses burst out into a full gallop and tried to shake off their riders. Only Seth, Forde, and a few others managed to keep control of their horses, while the other knights all clung desperately to their horses’ necks.

The Demon King cast another spell. Another horse fell down. 

The army was in a panic trying to rush outside of the spell’s range, but among them, Eirika was doing the opposite, and pushing ahead. 

Seth and Ephraim noticed her and rushed over to her, flustered. They stood behind her, ready to protect her, as she faced the Demon King.

His expression changed, sharp eyes narrowing in satisfaction.

Eirika tightened her grip around her horse's reins. Her horse stopped shaking, the strength of her resolve seeming to communicate with her mount.

"Can you hear me, Lyon?" Eirika said and stared straight into the Demon King's eyes. 

"It's useless!!" Ephraim shouted and tried to stop her, but she paid him no mind and continued.

"You're in there, aren't you, Lyon? Please do not abandon hope. We will defeat the Demon King and save you… so please, don't give in…"

The Demon King's expression shook ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow and glared at Eirika. "Pitiful girl… You still believe that there is any of Lyon's heart within this body? How fascinating. Then come here. I will tear you apart limb from limb with these very hands…"

"Get away from him, Eirika!" Ephraim shouted and kicked his horse's side. Seth followed after him a second later.

Ephraim thrust his lance with a sharp battle cry. The Demon King narrowly dodged a fatal blow, but blood sprayed out from his shoulder. Seth followed up without a moment's delay, thrusting his own lance. 

The Demon King flailed his arm around wildly, but there was no power in his movements.

"Support Ephraim! Archers, step forward!" Innes ordered, and swiftly shot an arrow of his own. 

His silver arrow pierced deep into the Demon King's chest.

'Stop!' Eirika tried to scream. 'If you kill him, then Lyon's heart will die, too!!'

The Demon King staggered, but his eyes did not lose the intensity within them. "This little is too much…? The human body is so frail." He muttered in annoyance and pulled the arrow out of his chest. Blood flowed from the wound. 

He glared at Eirika with eyes burning like a blazing fire. "I have learned the extent of your power. In this case… I will hasten my resurrection. I will abandon this frail body and return to my true flesh. That is the day when this continent will once again be shrouded in darkness. There is no longer a single place any of you can run to!” He said in a tone not unlike that of one giving a curse, and disappeared.

Ephraim yelled at him, “You’re running away?! Do you really think I’ll let you desecrate Lyon’s body ever again…?!”

Ephraim ordered the soldiers to search the area and turned back towards Eirika. “Are you alright, Eirika?”

“Yes…”

"Don't do anything reckless. You know he's not Lyon. The Lyon we were friends with is already…"

"Brother, I want to believe him. The Demon King says what he does, but Lyon's heart is still alive… he's suffering and waiting for us to save him. I can feel it." Ephraim furrowed his brow. His blue eyes clouded over with hesitation.

He was still suffering, too. Just like she was.

He sighed deeply. "...I understand. Right now, finding him comes first. Eirika, you rest for a bit."

"No, I'm going to search too…"

"Your face is terribly pale. You've pushed yourself past your limit. L'Arachel, could you please take care of her?"

L'Arachel was standing near him, so he called her over. 

Eirika went into a tent with L'Arachel, deciding that she would take a short rest.

ー

[jaffaarchfiend]

Auraugust 3 +4: Beliefs + Family

Doma... The Ruby Sea... Sui-No-Sato... This had been what Jaffa had been dreading this entire time. 

He had faced down the gods of beastmen, he had faced off against ancient Voidsent, he had bested Ascians and the draconic embodiment of vengeance itself. He had believed in his abilities as a healer in the aftermath of the raid on Rhalgr’s Reach... even when all he could do was stabilise the few he could make it to in time.

But Doma? Coming to what could be considered his peoples homeland... his parents birthplace, with no context or clue about how anything or anyone worked beyond what he had picked up from Lady Yugiri... This was far more terrifying and nerve-wracking than even Niddhogg himself. Seven Hells, he’d rather fight against Zenos again wearing nothing more than his smalls and a stick!

But Alphinaud and the others convinced him that he was needed for this mission... after all, he was the Warrior Of Light, and more importantly in the Raen’s viewpoint, the only one in their infiltration group who could act as a mender should the worse come to worse. So here he was, at the bottom of the ocean... with a very confused Kojin as they pondered how or why he already had their blessing. “Maybe its because of the Elements and your connection to them as a White Mage?” Lyse suggested, with a hesitant shrug from Alisae. “It’s as good an explanation as any... let us press on though.”

They dove into the depths of the ocean, swimming as naturally as fishes and breathing with just as much ease. As they approached the underwater dome that housed Sui-No-Sato, the Raen Warrior Of Light couldn’t help but feel his anxiety grow for some reason. They entered and began to try and make inquiries as they had been guided to... With some very concerning responses from some of the local Au Ra.

“Did... I step in something on the way here or make some kind of insulting gesture?” Jaffa asked, inspecting himself several times. “Because everyone keeps giving me the biggest stink-eye.” It didn’t take long before they managed to locate the man in charge who immediately thrust a finger at the Raen. “How dare you show your face here Karai! You chose to abandon us, and yet now you dare return?”

The Au Ra snarled and slammed a hand onto the table. “I have no idea who you think I am, but my name is Jaffa! I have never even been here before!” he roared, the Scions blinking as they looked at their companion. They had never seen him lose his temper like this before. The two Au Ra stared one another down for a moment, the older one giving the younger a proper look. “Ah... Now I see. You are not Karai, but his child... I see they did not teach you proper mann-” Before he could get another word out, a lance’s jagged blade found itself suddenly at his throat, the younger Raen’s attire having altered into that of his mantle of the Azure Dragoon.

“Do not speak like that about my parents again. Understood?” Jaffa snarled, the same realisation reaching him even as it had with Shirosai, a vague crimson ring threatening to form around his iris’, the influence of Niddhogg’s Eye barely being kept in check. The tension held thick in the air until both Lyse and Alisae rested a hand on opposite shoulders, the younger Au Ra dismissing the glaive in favour of his healers stave. “My... apologies honoured elder.” he said, giving a deep bow at the waist. “It is no excuse, but they died when I was young. They never told me of this place, only that they hailed from Doma.” he said, taking slow breaths between each sentence as he worked to calm his temper and mind.

The older Au Ra brushed himself off and slowly nodded. “Your apology is accepted young one... and you have my condolences.” After that though the usual business of gaining trust with the people of Sui-No-Sato ensued, with a little more ease as the news of his origins seemed to have spread and some of the ones who recalled the mans parents gave a sympathetic ear to the Scions plight and cause for being here... Some even shared stories with them regarding his parents whilst Lyse and Alisae handled their own share of tasks.

[ponkho]

Dimitry Darrleeyia

The cold, serious and cryptid magician whos past is in flames

Introduction

Full name: Dimitry Keahi Darrleeyia

Meaning: Dimitry means "Earth-lover" and "Devoted/Dedicated to demeter" (greek mythology goddess of corn and harvest). Keahi is a boy's name of Hawaiian origin meaning "flames" . Darrleeyia does not have any meaning, it is there for backstory purposes.

Source 1 source 2

Pronunciation: Dimitry (Dim-mi-tri) Keahi (ke-ah-hí) Darrleeyia (Darr-lee-ih-ah)

Gender: Male, He-Him

Birthday: 15/9

Age: 28

Orientation: Pansexual

Magic: fire, Earth (rocks creation and manipulation)

Occupation: Magician, shop-keeper, fortune teller,

Familiar: Maxwell, the red panda. Cute boy, horrible personality

Love interest: Asra

Shippable? Yes! Absolutely!!

Theme song: Phoenix - Fall out Boy

playlist :)

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

MBTI: ISTJ

Major Arcana: The Moon

Upright: Unconscious, illusions intuition

Reversed: confusion, fear, misinterpretation

Minor Arcana: Ace of Swords

Upright: breakthrough, clarity, sharp mind

Reversed: confusion, brutality, chaos

— Magic —

Fire–- his habilities in general is around fire magic, such as creating a flame from thin air to creating massive explosions. If you manage to enrage him enough his hair will turn into flames and he will breath a black hot smoke.

Earth–- this magic is more on the rock solid part. He's not very good with nature and earth magic (since he tends to burn things down thanks to his fire magic) but he is actually pretty good at rock manipulation. He can creates hard rocks from the ground and create precious rocks even, his most precious rock he can create is diamonds, but for that he needs to have passed through a hard time of stress, sadness or any overwhelming bad feeling, and as a result, two horns made of diamonds will grow to defend himself and look threatening. (He feels embarrassed after, he thinks he was weak enough to let those feelings overwhelm him)

Others habilities: he can speak with animals, cooks amazingly good and he's good at only three weapons: daggers, katanas and Lances.

— Personality and Preferences —

Personality: he's cold, cryptid and too honest. He doesn't give a single shit about how you feel, most of the time, i mean. He is hard to befriend, and always is looking for some hidden lie under any word that comes out of your mouth, but once you get his trust he will still be very cold but he will start showing how he feels. Like, giving gifts, making things. Giving without wanting back.

He has a great talent of getting through lies, so if you really want to deceive him, you gotta be smarter than him. People tend to stay away from his path everywhere he goes, not because bad reputation, but for respect, he can look as calm and cool as he wants but he can and will put you to your place if needed. Dimitry, whenever he wants to impress, he'll act, doesn't know how to talk about feelings or anything, so if he know about something you really want or like he'll get it for you, but will never want to take credits for it, instead he will use the famous "I just happened to be there".

Finally when he really likes someone, his behavior changes totally towards this person. He's calm, loving, sweet, measure his words with care to not hurt, loyal and becomes a little bit protective. He will smile more and if you're lucky, you can even get some chuckles out of his mouth, he'll even create jewels for you, "oh you like knives? Here's a diamond dagger I made."

Never talks about his markings. Unless you have a amazing relationship with him, but even so, he will only give hints and never the whole truth.

Likes: Cooking, talking with Max(well), reading, drawing, playing harp,(He plays it at his bedroom on the palace) silence.

Dislikes: loud people, disrespect, lies.

Fears: losing Max, cages and betrayal

Quirks: he can run extremely fast and thanks to his tail, he can make swift turns without losing much speed. His markings burn when he is enraged, and sometimes they will burn his own clothes.

Favorite food: Gingerbread

Favorite Drink: Hot chocolate

Favorite flower: Gardenia

Favorite color: Mahogany

Most likely to: burn a city down because they messed with one of his friends

★— Appearance — ★

Height: 197 cm

Eyes: Burning orange transitioning to yellow

Hair: long Mahogany colored hair, two long bangs on the front, hair tied up on a bun.

Other: his hair is not originally mahogany, his hair color is the same as the tuff of fur on his tail, wich is, blonde.

Color theme: Mahogany, red, yellows and beige.

Family & Background

Family:

His current adoptive mother is a queen, or as they say, a Leader, wich would make him the next in line

Bianca Wood - biological mother - deceased // Relationship: none

Darek Wood - biological father - alive? // Relationship: Bad

Meghan Rook - adoptive mother - deceased // Relationship: bad

Andrew Rook - adoptive father - deceased // Relationship: horrible

Lys Rook - adoptive sister - deceased // Relationship: he was kind of her slave

???? Darrleeyia - Adoptive mother - alive // Relationship: motherly, friend, family

History

Sit down because it's going to be a long talk

He was born on a very poor little village and his parents never actually wanted kids, it's one more mouth to feed and they almost didn't have food for themselves, he was raised to work hard, he helped on home already at a age when he knew already what was happening around him. His mother never gave him a motherly love and his dad just talked to him to offend or to order him around, not that he cared about it, he thought it was how parents worked. One day his mother fell ill and died, at that age Dimitry was 6, he knew she wasn't coming back and his dad started to put the blame on him for her death, as if he could do anything. One day things got out of hand and his dad became alcoholic, then he started to owe money for people, and he couldn't pay it. So one day, when the opportunity came and he saw that Dimitry could use magic, he sold Dimitry to a couple that needed someone to cook, clean and entertain the guests of their bar on another village. They payed a good price and even more because of the magic Dimitry knew.

When he arrived he felt betrayed, left by his own father. So he thought "Well, he was an ass anyways. I'm sure I'll be better here" unfortunately, it was not what happened. They had already pointed out that they needed someone to cook and clean the bar, wich he already knew and was fine with it but then they started to abuse their power over him. His sister made him clean her bedroom, she would cut his hair just for "fun" and blame him for anything she had done, and of course her parents believed her and only her. He got spanked a lot of times and then he just decided he would never smile or talk again, because every word that comes out of his mouth turns against him, at this time he was 8.

One day a customer, different from all the others came directly at him. It was a woman, taller than everyone in that room, she used a hood and she had an air of superiority. She asked him why he was sad and why did he work so hard, he didn't answer, but she insisted on talking to him, she even invited him to sit on a table to talk with her but he refused since he was working. Then, she told him she had a way of saving him from that place, he was just like her, but because of always restraining his emotions and desires, he didn't look different from all the rest. She would come at night again to have one last talk and it was his choice if he wanted to go or not.

When the woman came back at night, she was without her hood and when she walked in, all the bar fell silent. He finally knew who that woman was. She was the woman from the tales, the legends, she was Darrleeyia, a goddess. She brings warmth, prosperity and happiness whenever she goes, and she was just there, on that miserable bar, just to ask him if he wanted to come home. After she made the question all the eyes fell on Dimitry, he felt anxious for the first time, but he knew she wouldn't be worse than what already was happening to him there, so he accepted her offer. She gave him her hand and they walked out of the bar without interruptions. What about the bar, you say? She burnt it down and she did not hide her satisfaction of it.

Together, they went got on a ship and she took Dimitry where he now can call home.

Five Facts:

Dimitry is allergic to shrimp. He discovered that when the Leader of the seas of the homeland gave him a shrimp as a treat for helping her out. The Leader got in trouble with Darrleeyia later on.

He is ambidextrous

He can purr, but it's rare. Extremely rare that only two people saw him do that. His mother and Maxwell

His body runs at a higher temperature than normal humans.

His diamond horns cannot be broken by anyone other than himself. If someone wants to take it out they'll have to crack Dimitry's skull.

Art References:

I got 99% inspired by @juliandev0rak's Cadmus bio soooo

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 10: Time to Sharpen Up

Chances of survival are dwindling into single digits... because Lance is lousy with a sword.

First  Previous  Next

“Come on now, Lance. You’re better than this.” Alfor frowns, following his son's uncertain footwork.

“I’m really not.” The droid pulls on its whip, Lance’s broadsword tangled in the glowing cord. The Altean is panting, skin glistening.

Alfor presses his thumbs into his eyelids, though whether with disappointment or embarrassment, Lance can never tell.

He’s not a good warrior. Not with a sword.

Keith just watches, tail flicking back and forth, ears following Lance’s movements. Shiro stands on his right, visibly unimpressed, but trying to be polite.

Lance sighs. He’s just not very good at this. The droid charges, too fast. Lance has been distracted by his audience, hasn’t seen the advance. It’s a genuine mistake, this time.

“Lance!” Alfor yells, drawing his own weapon to protect his son while Coran tries to end the training sequence. The training sequence can’t end during an attack.

Too fast. Alfor won’t get there in time.

Lance throws a hand up, a flash of blinding blue light flaring from his palm.

Light threads through every crack and crevice in the charging droid, saturating its wires, melting, warping, disintegrating in the blinding light. It crumbles into nothing a mere spot from his outstretched palm.

He collapses to his knees. Too much. Too fast.

“Invalid technique. Victory forfeited,” rings out from the walls. Keith gapes, eyes wide. What a terrifying thing to be able to do to something. Lance could do that to him.

“End training sequence.” Alfor crouches beside him. “Son, are you alright?” Lance meets his father’s worried gaze with weary eyes. Alfor softens. Lance’s eyes find the floor.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get there.” Alfor gently helps him up. “If nothing else, you have plenty of untapped potential. And I know you’re capable.” The king looks his son over, anxiously checking for injuries. Lance nods, staring at the training room floor. “Look at me.”

Lance looks.

“I know you have it in you, son.” Alfor cards a gentle hand through Lance's hair. Lance nods, more for his father’s benefit than anything else.

He doesn’t feel much at all. The things Lance wishes he were good at are the things everyone knows he’s bad at and the things he’s actually good at, no one knows at all. It’s mostly intentional, but in this case, it’s reality. With his father, his spouse, and his spouse’s brother watching, it bites.

Everyone else disperses to return to whatever they were doing, leaving just himself and Keith. The Galra comes over, tail flicking like a pendulum. “I know you said you were lousy with a sword, but...”

“But quiznak am I lousy, huh?” Keith nods, sheepish. “We should go hunting soon. I can finally try out that bow Zarkon gave me for my birthday. You can see my actual skills then.”

“Sounds good.” Keith’s ears are wilted today. Lance knows why.

“We have a few vargas before it’s time to say goodbye.” Lance puts a hand on Keith’s arm. “Is there anything you’d like to do?”

“I think… I think I’d just like to go and… sit in the loft in our quarters, if that’s alright. I know we have work to do, but-”

“Go on. If anyone asks, I’ll say you’re helping the Captain get his affairs are in order and that you’re both working to ensure your safety after he’s gone. Commander Iverson is certain to be bitter about it, since he’s technically in charge of your safety, but I consider that a bonus, personally.” Lance grins, and Keith manages a small smile, despite both his aching hearts.

Lance only has one. How he gets enough oxygen with only one heart is beyond Keith’s capacity to understand. Perhaps that's why he's so bad with a sword.

Up in the loft, Keith finds himself looking out at the grounds. He can’t see beyond the castle walls. He’s never seen beyond the castle walls, not even when he got here. He’s never met the commonwealth, never seen any wilderness. If this past movement is any indication, the Alteans are perfectly content to restrict him to the castle walls and never give him the opportunity to leave. Keith is still staring out the window of the tower loft, half-extended claw dragging down the fine glass, when there’s a knock at the door. He turns away from the purpling sky to find Adam.

“Prince Yorak, Crown Prince Lancel has sent me to escort you to the launch.”

Keith sighs, nods, leaps down from the landing, not bothering with the ladder. “Will I ever be permitted to go somewhere alone?”

Adam sighs, holding the door open for him. Keith trusts this Altean more than the others, though still not much. “Likely not. You are not held in fond regard.”

“So we are still pretending this is for my benefit.”

“No. You are also under constant surveillance. One of the guards posted outside your door is a Listener, one who uses alchemy to enhance their hearing. You’ll be pleased to know that their only report thus far was that you have not yet consummated your union to Crown Prince Lancel. King Alfor is not pleased.”

Keith stops in his tracks. “My body is the only possession I have left.”

Adam turns to him, pushing up his glasses, ever-present datapad cradled in his arm the way one might cradle a baby to their hip. He looks… sad, but trying for indifferent. “That’s where you’re wrong, Prince Yorak. You swore fealty to your King. Everything that you are belongs to Altea, including your body. You have been contracted out to the Crown. That being said, I have instructed the Listener to wait a phoeb, then claim you have mated with the Crown Prince.” Keith frowns, trying to understand.

Adam smiles, lips curling. “Your reality is that you are a living possession. But reality can be manipulated with relative ease. I can make your perceived reality far, far different from what it is. I can make you charming, demure, innocent, beautiful, powerful, awe-inspiring, terrifying, loathsome, dangerous- whatever Crown Prince Lancel wants. That is what you are.”

Keith stares at the green-scaled Altean, eyes wide. The ruff of fur down his back rises with a sudden chill. “You- I’m beginning to think you are the most dangerous thing on Altea.”

“You may very well be correct. Shall we?” Adam turns, leading them down yet another hall.

“My brother sure knows how to pick ‘em,” Keith mutters, more to himself than anybody else.

Adam trips. “Excuse me?”

“Oh. You couldn’t tell?” Keith cocks his head. Adam blinks, hazel eyes wide. He shakes his head. “My brother is embarrassingly smitten with you. It’s really funny, actually.” Keith smiles. “It’s... nice, I guess. At home, he’s always so imposing. He’s imposing a lot here, too. It’s nice to see some other side of him working its way into the open. He normally saved that for when we were in our den, away from everyone else... I think he likes it here.”

“Everyone likes it here. Everyone except you, it seems.” Everyone else gets to go home. Adam turns before backing his way through the doors to the launch pad. “Though, as far as the commonwealth is concerned, you miss your homeland, but our beloved Crown Prince is the only thing you need to be happy.”

Adam grins as he holds the door open. Shiro tugs Keith out into the open before he can step past, pulling him into an all-encompassing embrace. Keith doesn’t even try to resist.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Keith whispers, a slight whimper in his voice as he throws his arms around his brother.

“Aw, I’ll miss you too.” Shiro gives him a squeeze, eliciting a gentle purr from the young prince. “It won’t be so bad. Lance is a good man. He’ll be good to you.”

“He has been thus far.” Keith doesn’t enjoy the admission, but there it is. Not everything is terrible. “Even if he’s a terrible warrior.”

“True. He is. But he seems to like you well enough. And this place... I know you haven’t seen much of it yet, but it is beautiful here.”

“I know. And it’s nice. But it’s not home.”

Shiro smiles, one of his large hands rubbing the spots behind the younger Galra’s ears. “I’m proud of you for doing this. For not putting up fuss or fight. Sometimes, that’s the hardest thing you can do.”

“I know. I have no regrets. No matter what might happen.” Shiro steps back then, regarding him with that cool gaze. A soldier’s gaze. The captain nods, lays a fist over his breast. Keith returns the gesture. He’s a soldier. Not a pampered prince. A soldier.

Lance watches the farewell, not saying a word. He knows all of this already. His spouse is a warrior, not a lord or a prince. Lance needs to do better to support that lifestyle. Keith can’t be happy sitting around reading all day. In the meantime, he walks over and places his hand on the small of Keith’s back, trying to be supportive.

He wants Keith to know he's here for him.

Lance is surprised when the Galra’s ear turns toward him and his tail curls around his ankle. It’s the furthest Keith has chosen to acknowledge Lance’s presence in view of other people without it being for show. Adam has fallen to gossiping about how cripplingly shy the new prince is to save face.

Speaking of which... Shiro steps up to the Altean, leans down, whispers something in his ear. Adam’s face turns bright red, scales glittering brilliant green as the Galra draws back, grinning from ear to ear. Lance hears a snort as Keith tries not to laugh. He smiles. “I’m going to invite him back as soon as possible. Watching these two flirt is the most fun I’ve had in my life.”

“It’s hilarious,” Keith agrees, whispering in Lance’s ear.

“Reminds me of watching my fathers flirt, to be honest. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen Alfor undignified.” Lance grins. “I’ll tell you about it sometime, if you want.”

“I- I’d like that, actually.” Keith smiles an uncertain smile, willing but not hopeful.

The spouses stand side-by-side as the ship carrying Shiro departs for Daibazaal. A soft keen in Keith’s throat informs Lance the warrior prince wishes he could be on that ship too.

“It will be alright, Keith. You’ll see him again. I promise.”

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Ride Home (Diarmuid, Fionn, Reader (No Gender))

There was something about the way the man was walking.

His head was up, facing towards the world. His hands were swinging at his sides. That long blond hair danced in its ponytail as he walked, keeping an upright beat as you walked behind him. He’d come all this way to pick you up from a long and bothersome shift. The man hadn’t even noticed the atmosphere in the room, simply waltzing himself across the room and taking you by the hand.

He walked you right out, throwing you a smile and a wink like he was some pop idol. Then he’d shoved his hands into his woolen coat and begin this proud stride.

What else was there to do for the great Fionn than to walk behind him, taking in the man’s appearance?

He didn’t simply have a positive personality, he exuded radiance in his every second. He kind of reminded you of some of the reading you’d done before about the knights of the Round Table.

He had a pride prouder than a peacock. He had looks fancier than any of their feathers.

“Dia!” Fionn waved to your other servant, earning a sigh from the knight standing by the car. “I’m going to ride in the back with Master today. You can feel free to drive!”

“I was already driving, Fionn.”

“We were driving together, you jokester,” Fionn teased, ruffling at the man’s hair and opening the door. “Come along, Master, before this guy tells another silly joke.”

“Hello Diarmuid,” you greeted, giving him a soft smile for the hard work. You’d have to treat him later. Fionn really didn’t have any idea how hard Diarmuid went to make life so effortless for him.

“Hello, Master. Work went well then?”

You nodded, not feeling up to talking about what’d happened.

The doors closed. Diarmuid began to drive, leaving you in the small space with the not terribly small servant at your side.

It wasn’t like Fionn was one of those muscular wrestlers like on the telly, but he wasn’t lanky, not really. His arms were still muscle, toned and coiled around bones you swear were steel with the way he could manage to jump and strike back at Diarmuid in training. His height as well made it so that you were unable to do much else other than admire and look up to the man. Literally.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders.

His head leaned against your shoulder.

Then you were looking over to his face, finding his attention on you.

“…Is something wrong-“

“You lied to Diarmuid. Why?”

Your eyes went immediately to the man in the front seat, bringing Fionn’s hand to your face.

“Do not look at him. He’s driving. He cannot help you. You and I are talking here. Is there something missing from our relationship, Master? You and I share everything, even ourselves.”

You did, but…

“If I can take down the monsters that tried to invade my homeland, you should know, no shadows or darkness can manage to take down my master either.” His hand stroked along your chin, turning it softly to face him. “I mean it, Master. You are under my protection now. You have the knights of Fianna at your service… Or perhaps we should just be called your knights. What would your coworkers think of that?”

He leaned in.

“They would never dare to come at you again if you’d let me handle them as I wish. If not that, then at least allow me to teach you how to lead. I could show you a few moves. A couple flicks of the wrist and a good lance and you would never have to deal with them again.”

“You almost sound like a berserker that way.”

“Nah, that would be doing it for some kind of pleasure in the practice.” Fionn’s hair ruffling continued with him ruffling at yours, bringing your hands to your hair. “I just don’t like what I saw today. No one gets to make you upset, master. No one.”

“I was alright.”

The words were surprising, but…

“Oh?” Fionn raised a brow at you, leaning back.

“Sure, they were upsetting, but I have something they don’t have.”

You had the knights of Fianna.

The leader himself leaned back, that radiant smile coming back to his face as he looked you over and leaned against the door.

“That’s the spirit, master. You just keep smilin’ like that and make Diarmuid and I keep falling over ourselves.”

[iturbide]

Yeahhh. Unless Edelgard wants to change, which seems unlikely barring something drastic, she’s never gonna integrate into the crèche. Considering the dragon paralogues in CF, how you can’t take Hubert or edelgard and lindhart mentions how he wouldn’t want them there, and how you can only spare Seteth and Flayn as byleth if you fight them on CF. I don’t think she’d be on friendly terms with any dragon. Anyway, who do you think the lords of 3h would spend time with in askr besides 3h characters?

Yeah exactly with Edelgard change has to be forced more often than not.  She doesn’t embrace it readily unless it’s something that goes along with her existing mindset (she accepts Ferdinand’s suggestion of public education because it goes along with her ambitions to give everyone a fair opportunity) or comes from someone she’s close to (she softens her stance on the Church of Seiros based on conversations with Manuela and realizing that faith in the goddess is not the same as blind devotion to Rhea).  So the idea of her changing her mind about the dragons in Askr is certainly implausible, if not verging on impossible.

It’s important to remember, though, that all of that evidence up there is from after the timeskip and Edelgard’s rise as Empress of Adrestia.  Before that, during the school phase, she at least maintains a veneer of respect for Rhea and Seteth and shows no visible ill-will toward Flayn when she joins the Black Eagles house – she may not interact with her, but she doesn’t go out of her way to antagonize her, either.  That’s important to remember, because that is the Edelgard presently in Askr: the one who hasn’t taken over rule of the Empire, and the one that’s presently biding her time for the perfect moment to strike.

Still, the Grimas would offer a place, more out of habit than anything.  In truth��they’d be uncomfortable around Edelgard.  There’s something about her that reminds them of the First Exalt, and she puts them on edge like very little else, to the point that they will slow or even stop what they’re doing if they see her approaching the creche – just to make sure the kids are safe.  Their instincts tell them not to trust her, and they’re prone to listening to those instincts.

As for who the 3H Lords would spend their time with, Claude would definitely be hitting up as many tacticians as he can hunt down.  The Robins would be some of his favorites to chat with, since they’re always pleasant to talk with; on top of that, their Plegian heritage led to some major trials in their worlds, and hearing how they surmounted them with the help of their friends and allies would give him a lot of hope for his own dream.  Also, he and the Morgans would become thick as thieves after just a few meetings, constantly swapping trap designs and tactics and occasionally setting up gauntlets for one another to try and navigate safely (usually without warning anyone else beforehand, which is not ideal, but you can’t entirely fault their excitement).  He’d also enjoy spending time with the master archers of various worlds, picking up tips and seeing all the different kinds of bows and styles of arrows that have developed in each of these worlds, and more often than not he’d pal around with thieves to swap for intel – you can never be too prepared (and the fact that Gaius can be paid in candy is excellent since Claude has a sweet tooth of his own and always has sugar on hand).  And there’s always the creche to hang out with when he needs to relax.

Dimitri would likely start off spending much of his time with the renowned heroes of legend from other worlds – Marth, Chrom, Lucina, Alm and Celica, Seliph, etc. – in hopes of finding a way to temper himself into the kind of man who can one day rule a nation as so many of them did in their own worlds.  He’d get a lot more than he bargained for with all of them, given the trials they all faced, and to his surprise some of them even harbor their own dark urges and private terrors, like Chrom’s deep-rooted anxiety that he’ll someday become like his war-mongering father and how Celica’s attempts to save her friends and her people led to her outright possession by Duma.  It would be a lot to contemplate, especially given the burden he bears as heir to Faerghus, but they would be kind people willing to help – and Chrom and Lucina in particular would try to help him get his super strength under control, since both of them have equal trouble with breaking things.  He’d also enjoy sparring when he has the chance, and would find an eager partner in Ephraim (not to mention some great pointers on lance work), and when he needs a break he would invariably seek out the creche.

As for Edelgard, she would show an equal interest in Lords like Chrom, Lucina, Alm, and Celica…but she would be far more interested in how they defeated the dragon ‘gods’ they faced; though Fomortiis isn’t a dragon, she would certainly seek out Eirika and Ephraim to hear how they defeated the threat to their lands (and possibly Lyon, as well, in hopes that he might have some memories of his time under Fomortiis control – namely how he managed to kill the Great Dragon Morva). She would also seek out other Emperors and Empresses to understand how they lead and managed their empires – notably Arvis, given the incredible work he did in the Grannvale Empire before Manfroy wrecked everything.  She takes her ambitions very seriously, after all; if she can get insights into how to help her homeland thrive, she’ll at least entertain the conversation.

[scribblesofanaricat]

Kaleidoscope Icarus

(big thank you to Toni for helping me with parts of this)

Alone in bed. Covers twitch. Clock hands rattle around their beaten path and I count it backwards. A meander towards oblivion.

I see my reflection blink. It must like watching me thrash in blue sleep.

Narrow staircase, no socks, tea bag fossils pinned to the wall, I count them up, all six, any colour I like as long as that colour is yellowish grey.

I inhale indifferent coffee broth with a side order of whichever death cult the screen hunched in the corner is serving up today. Bidding its junkies a good afternoon and then meting out a lethal dose of contradictions. It beats down on me as a sun would: simple, forcible, inevitable, ordained.

I’m not Icarus.

Even so, quick fears still tread on my heels after I kill the show and instead pay a call to the frosted-glass moon low in that blank page of a sky. Shoes dangling over a railway bridge, one a lovely Twitter-blue, lemon laces trailing like a severed leash, the other was once violet. Jaundiced glances from pedestrians and passengers cursing the back of my neck.

They plant themselves beside me because where else would they go? We don’t say much, never do, “our glass roots were love when lilac liquids flowed invisible” and “my powdered soul occurs from sun sight with figure flames and smoke” and “if we lose time by staring freely and counting sound, you’re told about it accidentally”, that sort of thing. And we do submerge our long short hours in staring freely and we do count sound since we’re not the type to move mountains, although young by our own reckoning. We know it - or we think we know.

Amongst foggy vows to meet again tomorrow, they clear off and I’m left with the grains of my own soul, the static in my skull, wearing it like a flannel shirt. House prices. Affairs. Break-ins, breakouts. Blares of ‘protect our free speech, protect our children!’ born from whatever illusory agenda they’re being warned against by the king agenda-pushers this time...another monologue from another plastic jack-in-office here to fuck us around...

Sometimes I could carve it all into my skin with a dirty needle and not flinch.

We end up huddled like penguins in the fug heaving around my room. We’d have thought the dawn of the end times would look different, something that’d be splattered over our calendars and marked in history. Instead we’re met with a whitewashed wall from the screens and newshounds even as we watch it happen in 3D. Nothing to do now but wait.

‘I don’t give a damn.’ They’re flung down on their stomach, right arm stowed under an Everest of pillows and left arm glancing off the carpet. ‘I don’t care, I couldn’t...we’re gonna flatline someday soon and we’ll nosedive into Hell and I’d still take that over this shit…I’ve got to see that ocean again, though...just one last time…’

‘Mhm.’ I’m stiff. Stiff yet floaty. The screen crouches there, rattling off a story from America about some toupeed sore loser being forcibly dragged out of the White House with the boot of millions tattooed on his arse. Let them have their pipe dream, let them have their ocean, their fickle friend with its brackish spray, rolling pulse, delusive serenity, useless but to go to your watery grave in… if I scorn it hard enough, I can almost smell it.

I outstretch my rusty arms, gathering the ceiling in a remote embrace, and begin to narrate. ‘After the downfall from the empty pages of a multitude, myths started to creep back through the gaps in the world we saw. They’d been driven feet-first out of society by the threat of extinction long ago and so they’d had to hide themselves away over the rooms of sighs they found.’ The haze seethes and swirls, fashioning hieroglyphs from my breath.

They shift beside me, breathe it in. Counting sound. I survey it all as they draw it down into their lungs and bloodstream - giants and Lilliputians, fae and demons, sister ships sleeping in spoken hiding places, uman babies feeding off a wolf who bares her teeth at us. And Icarus. Taking to the air, lured by the glare that swallowed all else and eagerly drinking it down, until he fell so far and so fast that nobody could save him.

Not like us. We won’t be led astray. We are not the imperfect sight, crimped, bought with ballads.

‘But their memories were long and their bloodlust ran deep as trembling nails. And whatever scraps of human society were left had their turn to hide, or to pose as something different - pretend to be one thing when they were really another, in case they were in line for the wrath of their former fantasies.’

I recline on my mountaintop carpet in the soupy silence after my short tale gives out, waiting. Waiting perhaps for a flashbulb of understanding or for guesses at regions of dry ideas. The clock shudders into its next aspect. Bonded pattern, distorted mosaic.

‘C’n we go to th’ocean?’ is what they exhale at length. I lie there. Head sagging into my chest. Dead rain of a crowd. And then I patter on about spume and pulse and deceit, and about rock shadows standing full at Phoenician attestations, and by God, it’s like reading a bedtime story (or maybe an aloof comedy) to a toddler and almost as easy.

So we sprout in the bleary armchair of the ocean. Coast and universe falling away like a house of cards beneath our shoeless steps. They ask pinch-eyed if I brought a laptop along with me (of course I didn’t; the world watches us out of the corner of its panoramic eye enough as it is) and seem satisfied with my answer. I droop backwards so the rocks can catch me, mendacious as the water - that slumbering giant - but in the opposite direction, downside up. I have to wonder if the sky could be the same way, or if it’s merely everything and nothing. The aridity of all.

A boat worms along the horizon, eats it up inch by inch. That old static begins to pulsate against the core of my head, guessing at who or what could be in there. The newest pet of the media, pockets padded with the benefits from yesterday’s public-spirited stunt, familiarising themself with the bits of fruit floating in the middle of an etched glass and awaiting the casting call for yet another lone hero who’s the only force insulating their precious homeland from the evils of truth and the nefarious threat of equality.

Maybe a consortium of sallow flesh and bloated eyes, red as tongues of flame yet seeing only in black and white, skin honeycombed with pinprick holes. They give and take manufactured fairy tales that accelerate their enslavement, fire their last magic bullet together in a binding act of mercy.

Or a smoke-bearded fisherman and his helpmate with salt water in their veins, in their stirring times; they haul up their meshwork and inspect its captives. Look at these beauties, they marvel every time, a record dashing against its broken needle like a baby bird against a window. Or something - I don’t fucking know what fishermen talk about. Are there fishermen anymore? I guess there must be.

As I study the vessel, purling with the wind, it metamorphoses fitfully into a whale. Its heaving back is encrusted with arthropods. Plunging its way into nowhere. Watch through unchartered eyes as its tail heaves up into the air, blotting out the sun, before it too plunges beneath the depths, beneath the waves, into the dark, dark blue-grey murmurs and untapped power of the abyss. I wonder what sort of watery graves still dwell there, trapped, locked in and locked out. The corpse of a ship. The corpse of a whale.

The sun dissolves into the horizon, spilling its aureate blood over the sea-shaped cemetery. I drink it in; it comes out in puffs of icy white. The smouldering glare lances across my eyes, burning, gnawing. I close them. I breathe cold.

My wax wings splinter. But will not melt.

Their pixelated face reappears above my own, sun’s gore cleaving to their hair with a shimmer, and jab me with a bone. And we trudge back over clumps of sand, the world brightening and darkening, brightening and darkening. The light parts liquefy like butter in a pan, overflowing, flowing, flowing until there’s no more left to flow. Until it evaporates and its burnished blush is briskly replaced by glitter and dazzle and tiny flickers of rainbow bouncing off little jewels.

I breathe warmth. The radio goes on at me, goes on, goes on, a webspinner sniping its threads.

Time hangs suspended for the lion’s share of the night. Screens paralysed in an eternal moment. The masked puppets on one side, me on the other. They dance, bow, spin on wire strings. They get tangled. They do not move any longer. Asides from the occasional twitch and twist, as weak as that of a dying deer caught in the scheming beauty of the headlights. They do not get free. Eventually they too are still.

I move onwards.

We separate then, me and them. Their fingers dance in the air as the light of the sky slips through the cracks of the earth. ‘We’re completely and irreversibly fucked.’ It’s somewhere between question and statement. I watch them droop away, hands tucked in pockets of woven clouds and leather, until the night embraces them and their shadow melts much like the light had. Tipped-over oil, trickling away.

I watch. I wait. I breathe.

I move onwards.

The wet earth slumps when I step upon it, its cold breathing into the soles of my worn shoes. I look towards the sky, up and up and up, so far that I cannot see. The sun has sunk, withered away. Gone. Gone and perhaps never to return. You never know. Never know.

The moon is rising now, the stars winking like oh so much spilled glitter. I see the sun's reflection here, its beaming glow bouncing off the pale white surface of the small planet as though it were an alien mirror. This is how you know it's there, even when it’s faded away. Gone but never quite so.

But its blazing heat is no longer here to thwart me, even if its glimmer is still present. I spread my wax wings. I breathe, I live, I rise, I die. That wet earth hums its lullaby of little critters, chirping crickets and twittering bats and the frozen old breath of ghosts long dead. Disdainful wind freezes my nose and lips and ears. I soar…

I am not Icarus.

The dark sky cradles me like black ocean water. The shimmers of light are fish, sparkling beneath the waves, the moon their only beacon. My only beacon. I breathe warmth in the cold night air. Prickles of goosebumps along the skin of my arms and legs. I am the warmth, but the cold consumes me slowly.

I float lazily, there and not there, alive and dead, warm and cold. An angel on wax wings, a ghost long dead and gone, a corpse at the bottom of the ocean. Fuck. I breathe a disclaimer of disaster, a rage against the remorseless. I breathe warmth, then cold, then nothing. Just to double check.

The golden-white glimmers of school fish trail past, streaks of astigmatic light. The moon smiles down at me, a comforting glow. A lantern hung by gods of old on invisible chains. The mirror of the sun. The dancing partner of the earth. The lighthouse of the sea.

My beacon in the sky.

It does not melt my wings. I am not Icarus.

I soar. On and on, the sparkling sky, the gentle sea. The land leaves me far behind, the twinkle of city lights fading into nothing but open waters, open skies. Nothing but starlights. Nothing but moonlight.

There is nothing waiting for me. Fuck. They have melted into the shadows, slipped like dry sand between fingers, like dry sand in an hourglass, like water in a hole-littered bucket. It is only me and the star speckled sky. Me and the moon.

I'm not sure how long I stay, floating between schools of sparkling starfish. Slowly, the moon rises…falls…and the sun creeps up behind me like a monster in a cave, turning the sky from black to blue…green…then spilling yellow, melted butter, sunstreaked blood across the horizon, its burning light warming my frozen cheeks…soothing my goosebumps…the black sea once more becomes its sparkling blue-ish green. Fuck. The stars fade like fleeing fish and vanishing ghosts. I breathe cold into the warmth.

My wax wings drip in the light. The sunlight burns my eyes, searing my retina, boiling my cornea. I squeeze them shut. I wobble and sway, a dance in the sunrise. I dance, bow, spin on wire strings and liquid wings. I become tangled. I tumble down a narrow staircase, no socks, teabag fossils pinned to the wall.

Wind sighs in my ears. I see my reflection blink in the waves far below. It must like watching me thrash in yellow dreams. The world beats down on me as the sun is now; simple, forcible, inevitable, ordained. The world crumbles around me, earth cracking, water roaring, sky tearing and tearing like shreds of paper in the hands of scissor-happy children. I am a puppet on broken strings and I am falling with nothing but the frigid embrace of the ocean to catch me, where the whale-ship corpse sleeps. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I breathe and it is cold. The sun blazes like a beacon. It is life. It is the death cult and that fear tingles down my spine.

A shoe of lovely Twitter-blue falls free, lemon laces flapping wildly. I outstretch my rusty arms, as though to catch it like a ball during playtime in the schoolyard, swamped in the too-big uniform of bright purple, a blazer that fell well past my knees. But I cannot catch myself.

I’m falling.

Falling, falling, falling like Icarus.

[jaegertango]

Contract

I return to Tumblr after almost two years because fuck learning how to do Ao3 and Twitter puts me in a rancid mood. Have some OC writing with a goblin.

Quel'thalas, home of the High Elves, was a region of legendary beauty and stupendous magics. Its radiant forests and mana-filled skies made it a haven to all spellcasters, as well as made sure every child of the Quel'dorei bore the boon of magical prowess. Being such an effervescent garden of study and bastion of delight made it most of everyone in Azeroth's number one wish to visit – but it was not so easy to travel towards. The High Elves, massively proud of their homeland, were also infamous for their xenophobia, and barred all outsiders from “defiling” their blessed region and taking what was theirs. Not one member of the Alliance, traveler of the Horde, even splendorous mages from Dalaran, were allowed passage to the golden land. For many years, only a scant few outsiders were given permission to enter the borders of Quel'thalas, and even fewer returned back from those woods.

And their xenophobic ways only grew more paranoid after the assault of the Scourge.

Arthas' crusade to the Sunwell, the crown gem and source of power for the Quel'dorei, had left the capital of Silvermoon and much of Quel'thalas in ruin. Their eternal font of magic had been corrupted into an amalgamation, capable only of poison, and the city had been sundered into two razed sides. Most of the Quel'dorei perished horrendously, only to be brought back as wretched shadows of their former selves, seeking only to appease their baser instincts. Only in the recent years, with the arrival of the Alliance and Horde banding together against the greater evils of the Scourge and Legion, could the newly dubbed Sin'dorei – the Blood Elves - attempt to heal their devastated lands and rebuild their ruined city. Despite their fears of outsiders, they demanded help, desperate for even the aid of “barbarians” to return themselves to their former glory once more.

“Mister” Jashuo Blasternut knew better, but he also understood their plight. As he sat in his Shredder, the Goblin was amazed at the sheer magnificence of the city of Silvermoon. He had seen plenty of tall buildings before in his time, but never could he have expected the spires of the Quel'dorei to lance the heavens so proudly, nor enjoy the tidy stone of the streets. Gadgetzan prided itself on its own technology and access to buildings made of metal and stone over wood and mud, but in comparison to how Silvermoon stood, he would've been breathless – were it not for the literal black scar ripped into the capital of utopia. It was the most obscene comparison, as the pilot gazed from extravagant splendor in the shapes of gold, scarlet and emerald – to a twisted artwork of unholy soil and desecrated treasure. It was almost laughable how obvious the comparison was: Jashuo could see a Magister walking in his silk robes of glorious azure, promptly ignoring the wicked burn lashes scorched into the streets not far from his right. Rather than try to admit that their city had been sacked, they instead hid away in what remained of the city, and refused to look at what had been destroyed. Perhaps it was too traumatizing, or perhaps it was an eyesore; perhaps it was both. Mister Blasternut would've understood either one, but that was why he was there: to make sure that Silvermoon City got the supplies it needed to repair itself.

So he waited on the streets in his Shredder, which was continuously coughing out smoke from its double exhausts thickly. Combined with the meaty grumble of its engine, every single Blood Elf in the city was giving Jashuo a wide berth. He definitely stood out among all of the glitz and glamour, and they refused to give such an obnoxious blemish to their amazing city. The Goblin frankly didn't care, though he was annoyed that they weren't giving his crisp suit the time of day. He dressed up for this! The least that the Sin'dorei could do was accept that he was there to help them and not “embarrass” them. At the same time though, it didn't matter. All that did matter was that his contact showed up and recognized that he was there to plot this contract with them properly. Being a benefactor still demanded the proper respect, and the pilot could only hope that the pride of a noble would not get in the way. It certainly would not be the first time...

Eventually though, he was greeted with a small contingent of Sin'dorei riding upon their daintily-decorated hawkstriders. The only reason that Mister Blasternut recognized them from any other clique of elves was due to them walking straight *at* him, definitely showing that they recognized his presence. The Goblin counted five of them – four guards surrounding a fifth. Too many for him to fight; rather, too many for him to fight and get out alive. His Shredder was equipped with enough state-of-the-art weaponry and thick armor to get him out of (and into) any scrap comfortably, but fighting five well-trained Mages would take too much time for him to make a victorious escape. At the same time, this was making the Goblin somewhat nervous: he had neglected to hire any goons himself. The Blood Elves might have been affiliated with the Horde, but he had a hard time trusting uneven numbers. Regardless, he was there to do a job, and all he could hope was that these Sin'dorei weren't trigger happy. Keeping his sidearm pistol tucked into the back of his pants, Jashuo smoothed out the front of his suit and tie, swept his brown hair back and adjusted his aviator glasses. With an easy step, he moved forward to make the drop from his Shredder-

-only to hastily dart to the right as a fireball exploded a foot in front of him. Even if he hadn't made the dodge, the sparks wouldn't have touched him, but the Goblin still yelped and made the effort to move away.

“Not another step, greenskin!” One of the guards growled, his staff held aloft. “Where you stand is already close enough to the Magistrix.”

“Close eno-  I'm twenty feet away!” Jashuo hissed, his hand behind his back in a clumsy attempt to snatch at his hidden weapon. He was unable to do so, and now it was obvious that he was reaching for something without actually drawing it. This only made the Sin'dorei more irked, and the other three were now drawing their respective staves and swords. With every second, the Goblin was highly regretting this meeting: these guys were thirstier for blood than Orcs!

“Perhaps once you've tossed away your weapon, we can assume you can be closer,” the first spoke again, his gaze tempered on Mister Blasternut. The woman in the middle merely sat silent, her eyes clearly concerned as she leered at Jashuo. It was not an argument that the Goblin wanted to lose, but he didn't have much of a choice. If it got bad, all he could hope for now was to scramble back to his Shredder before he got too ablaze. Surely they wouldn't do something so brazen though, right? Despite his instinct demanding that he not be that stupid, Jashuo once more paid them no heed, sighing as he pulled out the pistol and set it onto the ground. He held his hands up, trying to pass off his face as stoic, but he could feel his brows knitting together.

“Ya know, ya ain't makin' the best first 'mpression here!” He retorted back, flipping his hands back and forth to show he had nothing in his sleeves either. “I'm just a businessman here!”

The captain of the guard scoffed, but nonetheless nodded as he looked towards the Magistrix. She nodded in turn and began to dismount, her guardians following suit and forming up around her. While they all wore the garb of Spellbreakers, clad in intricate platemail, their lady wore a brilliant yellow dress definitely not for combat's usage. The fabric fluttered and glittered in any ray of light that touched it, giving it an ethereal appearance like that of the sun. She wore a mask in the shape of a phoenix's beak, but Jashuo could easily recognize she was a woman. Her hair was long and brown, a definite mane of well-kept locks in comparison to the Goblin's scruff. The two could not have been more different, the Blood Elf's tall and graceful to Jashuo's short and sleazy.

“Pray forgive the aggression,” she spoke in a polite, but curt tone, keeping her hands folded in front of her. “It is hard for anyone to trust outsiders, especially after our Ranger-General has seemingly returned from the dead.”

“...Seemingly?” Mister Blasternut grunted, and was luckily able to bite back any more sarcasm he had. He didn't need to give these Sin'dorei any more ammo to use on him. “I'm guessin' you're uh... Lady D'anthius then?”

“Indeed – and you hadn't even butchered the name! Consider me impressed,” the Lady D'anthius spoke, and even though she claimed it a compliment, the Goblin was somewhat annoyed at her words. Her tone could have sounded as pleasant as she wanted: it did not change the toxin her words meant.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I'm honored. Let's cut to the chase: you need metal for your city, aye?” Jashuo grunted, folding his arms over his chest. His bluntness seemed to take the Magistrix aback, for she visibly recoiled and responded quickly.

“Yes well I... ahem,” the woman spoke, and instantly the Goblin knew something was wrong. Those three words, combined with how she cleared her throat, wasn't like her previous tone. It sounded unsure and hasty, as if quickly being taken off-guard. Mister Blasternut was oh-so familiar with such a state of being, and even that cough was reminiscent of the many times he had to clear his head to properly talk. Yet, what most astounded him was how natural it sounded, as if the Lady's voice had only just started to make its arrival. When she spoke again though, it was with that same level volume and politeness.

“Indeed. The Scourge brought forth nightmares that have devastated our homes and left our people divided – but not broken,” she spoke firmly, keeping her eyes on Jashuo. “To that end, we need only the supply to return our people to grandeur once more.”

That tone returned, and the Goblin wasn't sure what to make of it. Now that he heard it again, something about her voice didn't sound correct. The words made sense, and they were definitely admirable, but now her tone sounded wrong. The Goblin kept quiet for a handful of seconds, trying to process what he could make of her statement to no avail. Maybe he was just overthinking it.

“Right... so metal for buildings and weapons and all that. Well, bulk's what I specialize in, so ya came to the right Goblin,” Jashuo replied finally, looking towards the destruction of the city to his left. “So uh... how much are we lookin' to buy here then?”

“Buy...?” the woman murmured blankly, though she instantly lit herself up to try and hide that question. “Oh! Well, that is what the contract is for, pray tell!”

There it was again. That tone of voice. It was striking the pilot in such a bizarre way that he couldn't put his finger on. Despite Lady D'anthius having spoke three times the amount of words in that “usual” tone of voice, hearing these other words was ringing in Jashuo's mind. Something was “off” about this woman, like she was putting on a different face and attitude. For some reason, this was gnashing hard against the Goblin, strongly enough that it was only when one of the guards cleared his throat that the pilot finally realized what the Magistrix had said.

“Aye, contract – y'know. Usually has cash to it. Ya are plannin' to pay for this, right?” Jashuo grunted, unable to stop himself from being somewhat snarky towards the Blood Elf as he raised an eyebrow at her. However, despite his own aggression, the woman nodded easily, and motioned for one of her protectors.

“Indeed! This legally-binding contract will confirm that, in exchange for your goods and partnership, Silvermoon shall pay you warmly for your services. The parchment requires only your signature!” Lady D'anthius spoke up as the guardian walked towards the Goblin with a roll of paper and a quill. After reaching upward quite a bit to actually snatch the contract, Jashuo unfurled it, and instantly heard a murmur through the Sin'dorei. He ignored it, quickly scanning the document.

“Er... that is to say, at the bottom,” the Magistrix continued, and it was only when she spoke that the Goblin looked up curiously at the group. They quickly silenced, and it was because of that sudden quiet that Mister Blasternut felt the disturbance in persona once more. This time though, he could see flashes of concern in all of their faces, namely the protectors, and a cruel thought entered his mind. Did they not think he was going to read it?... or did they not think he knew how?

“...Seems all in order,” Jashuo answered lamely, and he could feel a plan forming in his head as he read more of the contract. Any of his former cowardice was quickly being melted out in favor of spite. If there was any way to give him the bravery to do something, it was entirely out of implication that he couldn't. He raised the quill to sign, and now that he was more aware, could sense the tension as thick as the smog belching from his Shredder.

“Yannow, actually...,” the Goblin spoke up as the quill touched the paper, and he looked up just in time to see one of the protectors inhale slightly. Instantly, that reaction made it worth being shot at. “I gotta quick question here, Lady D'anthius.”

“You... do?” She asked, at first trying to keep up that air of significance, but quickly deteriorating back into that gentler tone. Now there was no denying that false attitude, and it brought a genuine grin to Jashuo's face, full of shining, sharp teeth.

“Ayup! Ya'see, I ain't just a goblin of fortune here – I do what I do for a good cause, ya'hear me?” He spoke idly, gauging their reactions curiously. Lady D'anthius seemed unsure of what to make of him right now, but seemed to be agreeing with his words.  “When I heard that I could be helpin' rebuild one of the greatest empires ever been 'round Azeroth, I knew what I had to do, see?”

“...Indeed?” The woman replied uncertainly, that fake tone trying to return, but the smugness of the guardians already coming back in full force. She seemed to be catching on that Jashuo was plotting something. He had to admire her thinking so quickly on her feet.

“Aye! So I'm here to help, I'm even here to take you tryin' to hose me with this cheap payment of a 'contract.' But here's the thing, Lady D'anthius,” Jashuo continued idly, then coldly insulted just quickly enough for him to segue into the next part of his explanation. The guardians instantly looked angered at the statement, but the Magistrix kept steady, seeming to predict the Goblin's tone as he kept talking.

“I ain't here to bullshit ya, so I'll make ya a deal. I'll leave ya this supply as goodwill, not a gold piece charged! But it ain't gonna be 'nough to fix even a tenth of what's busted here, or any of that crap I had to pass just gettin' here!” Mister Blasternut stated firmly, his bespectacled gaze now burning into Lady D'anthius' mask. “So I'll be here next week, with more metal for what ya need, and if ya play ya cards right, ya'll be back here next week with an actual contract that assumes I'll read it. I ain't here to bullshit, babe, so ya better not bullshit me back. 'Cause ya should know the first rule of business, Lady D'anthius:”

Jashuo took off his shades, his crimson eyes boiling into the Magistrix's mask as he leered at her.

“If we don't see eye-to-eye, there ain't even a copper to be made here outta yer Silvermoon.”

It was deathly silent as the Goblin glared at Lady D'anthius, and he was surprised in himself that he wasn't fidgeting or squirming under the collective gazes of all five Sin'dorei. Yet he managed to hold on, keeping his eyes fiercely on the woman as he waited for her response. She seemed to be scrutinizing him carefully, as if debating whether to even bother replying to him or simply sending her guards after him. Finally, after what seemed like months, she reached up to her mask to take it off softly, revealing her extremely attractive face, and very piercing green eyes burning back into Jashuo with laser focus as he was somewhat taken aback by her reaction. When she spoke, it was in a capable, natural tone of voice:

“Very well. I... graciously accept your donation, Mister...?”

“Blastanut! Mista Blastanut, please,” Jashuo smirked toothily, getting over himself as nodded in return. “I think we'll be getting 'long just fine, Lady D'anthius!”

“Then I hope that next week marks the... proper start of our agreement,” Lady D'anthius paused, then smiled as she bowed her head politely. Jashuo managed a short bow of his own back before clambering back into his Shredder and closing the lid. With a loud sigh, he felt his nerves instantly relax, but not nearly enough to stop him from making as quick of an exit as he possibly could from the city. It was only when the Shredder had turned the corner that Lady D'anthius shook her head, her captain gazing at her.

“It was probably wiser to detain him, milady,” he grunted, looking supremely tired suddenly.

“He caught our ploy. It was a mistake on our own parts, and thus should I pay the price,” the Magistrix replied, that “familiar” tone of curt politeness returning once more. “These Goblins have proven more cunning than expected: we will be smarter for next time.”

The captain looked satisfied with the answer, but as the woman placed her phoenix mask about her face, she looked back in the direction of where the Shredder had departed, and felt a soft twinge in her chest.

He was a curious one, that Blasternut...

[snowbird-down]

Chrome

It had been...a chaotic few months.

No...moons. They had a lunar calendar here. She had to call it moons now.

Already she’d given too much away. Kharn suspected her. Killian probably suspected her. Voldo outright knew her.

It all had seemed so innocuous. Once, when asked what her future plans were, what her purpose was, Laelia could not answer. Then Tieve arrived with a solution: Salemtaza’s Voyage, a massive Ul’dahn research airship, was in need of a skilled pilot. Surely she qualified?

“Yeah, and how do they feel about Garleans?” was Laelia’s sardonic response.

But Tieve assured her that the expedition leader, Nathaniel Salem, wouldn’t mind.

And now here she was. She kept her third eye covered and insisted she was a Shroud native named “Jeanne d’Meche” -- not knowing that such a contrived Elezen name was outright odd.

Salem had initially been understanding and kind, but of late he was suspicious courtesy of her connection to Valeriaux. He’d spoken of odd rumors surrounding the man, when Valeriaux himself had only spoken highly of Nathaniel.

...Val...

If you’d asked Laelia who she imagined herself coupled with, she would have written out a list of gorgeous amazonian women, likely Viera. Instead she was now sleeping with a Duskwight, a Gridanian lord, who had shared as many secrets with her as she had him. He had unexpectedly proven her rock in the most turbulent of times, the order to her chaos, the soothing shade to her burning light. And all because she’d dared to land her stolen airship in the Shroud... But no, that wasn’t complicated enough, of course; fate decreed that she was placed on the engineering team, courtesy of her familiarity with magitek. And those nerds, those assholes, those goobers...they had now become her family, even as Lucas grounded her for stealing a skyskimmer. They were the positivity and enthusiasm she’d never had in her life, the beating heart that had been strangled away beneath Garlean propaganda.

And then there was Lune. Precious Lune.

The brilliant engineer. The burning flame. The endless font of purity and optimism. The...Dalmascan.

Laelia was 12th Legion. She only passed through Dalmasca. But she still felt responsible for Rabanstre’s ultimate fate. The way he spoke of his homeland, with such passionate fondness...each time it was a lance through her heart. She loved the boy like a little brother, wanted to make it right somehow. If her people had destroyed his culture, then by her hand would she see it restored, dammit!

But tonight, she sat with a bottle in her hands, staring at it with abject guilt. Valeriaux hated it when she drank, tried to stop it...but by Solus she hurt so much.

He and Lune believed in her.

Kharn said Salem would cremate her when she was no longer of use to him.

And somewhere out there, Vicky and Max were yet living.

What did she do? What could she do?

And so Laelia drank herself to sleep, and passed out upon her bed. Tomorrow, she would go through the motions once again, knowing that it was all pathetically shallow.

Death was likely around the corner, and she had fuck all to show for it.

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 16, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 16: Repatriation

The army climbed a mountain, then traveled down a gently sloping mountain road, and finally, they could see Renais Palace just before them.

For Eirika, this was her first time seeing her home in a long time. Though it was currently occupied by the enemy, she still felt nostalgic at the sight.

“What a gorgeous palace!”

L’Arachel said.

Eirika was as happy as if it was she herself who had been praised, and nodded. “Yes. It is a very old building full of rich history. I didn’t realize it while I was living here in peace, but… seeing it like this after so long makes me realize just how beautiful it is.”

“It's so upsetting that such a beautiful palace has to become a battlefield."

Hearing that surprised Eirika.

She hadn’t thought much about that until now. Taking back the castle would mean exactly what L’Arachel had just said. This beautiful building would be filled with angry screams and the clashing of blades. The blood of countless soldiers would flow down the white hallways. The pillars and walls would likely be left with severe damage. Even to Eirika, who’d survived battle after battle to get this far, the thought that the palace of all her memories since childhood might go up in flames made her so sad that she could hardly bear it.

Ephraim noticed that she looked sad, and said to encourage her, “Whatever happens to the palace can be fixed. It won’t be that big of a deal.”

“Brother…”

“Buildings can be repaired however many times they need to be.”

Though those words seemed unconcerned about what may happen to the castle, Eirika couldn’t help but think about what they meant.

Buildings could be rebuilt. But what about human beings?

Both Orson, who’d betrayed his homeland… and Lyon, who’d been changed completely by the Dark Stone… both of them could never become the people they once were ever again. Even if they vowed to do so, the memories of their betrayals and the invasion had stained their hands red with blood, and would forever cast a shadow over their hearts. They already had scars that could never disappear completely.

“If we want to avoid a fight, then we could wait here patiently for a while.” Innes said. “Orson’s poor government should not last for long. A rebellion will eventually break out, and someone close to him will run out of patience with him and assassinate him. However, that means that many people would die as we wait."

“We cannot possibly wait that long.” Ephraim said and looked at Eirika.

The right to command the entire army was still Eirika’s, as it always had been until now. Personally, Eirika wanted to hand it over to her brother, but Ephraim stood behind her. The soldiers had followed her ever since they left Frelia. Eirika was the person they trusted and respected. When he considered how they felt, he imagined that they would fight better if she continued to be their leader. That was what Ephraim thought.

“Yes. We cannot stand by and do nothing. Let’s go!” Eirika raised her sword. 

The soldiers all cheered as loudly as they could.

The neighing of cavalry horses shook Renais for the first time in forever, signaling the start of the battle to reclaim Renais Palace.

Most of the soldiers currently guarding Renais Palace were those brought in from Grado. The news of the emperor's passing and Lyon's fleeing the country had of course reached them as well. Though they had been in battle stations and receiving consistent orders, it was only natural that their morale would be low considering the circumstances.

And because they knew that fierce ex-Grado soldiers like Duessel and Cormag were now members of the Renais Army, their morale was all the worse. Just the sight of Duessel's face made more than a few of them start shaking, drop their swords, and surrender.

The door to the treasure room had been destroyed, and almost all of the treasure was gone. Orson was supposed to be leading the army, but did nothing, so the army had lost any sense of order, and roamed the palace lawlessly.

They conquered the palace in no time at all. Eirika and Ephraim rushed to the throne room.

The moment they pushed open the door, warm memories filled Eirika's chest. Memories from before the day the palace fell, and she fled with Seth. It already seemed like a long time ago, but her father's smiling face when he said goodbye was still clearly burned into her mind.

In that moment, Eirika had made a vow within her heart. That she would reunite with her father and brother, and retake Renais...

Reuniting with her father had become a dream that would never come true for all of eternity, but she had safely found her brother. And now, Renais' recapture was one step away… just one small step away.

The only person waiting for them inside of the room was Orson. He was sitting on the throne, but when he saw Eirika and Ephraim, he calmly stood up.

"Orson…" Ephraim readied his lance. 

However, Eirika did not unsheath her weapon, instead pleading with him, "Orson, please talk to us. Why did you betray Renais?"

He did not answer. He only slowly raised his sword.

His eyes were hollow, but his stance did not show even a single opening. It was a vestige of his time as the leader of the knights that still remained within him.

"Please, Orson. Put down your weapon, and talk to us. Who convinced you to betray Renais?"

"It's no use, Eirika. He is not in his right mind.” Ephraim quickly whispered to her.

Eirika knew that her brother was right. But she couldn't give up. He'd lost his wife, grieving her so deeply that he could not perform his job duties, and then someone tried to manipulate that weakness… There was nothing more pitiful than having to defeat him as an enemy.

"Orson, please talk to us. Who was it? Who tried to take advantage of your sadness…?"

Orson suddenly lunged at her. He swung his sword in one terrifyingly sharp motion. If Ephraim had not raised his lance a split second faster than Orson lowered his weapon, Eirika likely would have been seriously injured.

She felt she had no choice but to unsheath her sword. 

However, Ephraim, repelling one of Orson's fierce attacks with his lance, shouted to her, "Stand down, Eirika!"

"Ah… Brother…"

"I'm the person he betrayed. This is my regret. Leave him to me!"

'Regret…?' Such language was not like Ephraim at all. He must have chosen his words carefully, knowing that she pitied Orson.

"I will not allow you to stand in my way… I will not allow anyone to destroy my happiness." Orson muttered quietly, and brought down his sword. 

Ephraim blocked it with his lance and counterattacked with a sharp battle cry.

Eirika gripped her sword, but did not move. Her chest was tight, and tears were in her eyes. Orson's voice was full of sadness.

'I cannot forgive him.' That one thought was clear in her mind. Whoever manipulated Orson's sadness and tempted him to betray his country, she could never forgive him.

Orson's attacks were desperate, but Ephraim was physically stronger than him. He shifted his stance from left to right, and toyed with Orson.

Finally, the battle was decided. Ephraim's lance stabbed deep into Orson's side.

Orson staggered and dropped his sword. The hand he placed against his wound was stained red with blood.

"Monica…" His final words were his wife's name before he collapsed.

Ephraim wiped the sweat from his brow and turned around towards Eirika. "Are you alright, Eirika?"

"Yes. And you, Brother?"

"We've finally retaken the palace."

"Yes. Father is surely very happy."

"...If he is, then that's all I need to know." He said in a melancholy voice that was entirely unlike him.

Eirika looked at her brother's face. He was staring down at Orson. From his expression, she could tell it was unbearably painful for him.

"We're too late. We couldn't do anything. Renais is in ruins, and the people are suffering. Makes me wonder why I couldn't come home sooner…"

"Brother, don't say that…" 

"I'm sorry, Eirika. I didn't mean to complain. I'm just mad at my own incompetence."

Eirika shook her head. Ephraim was like a miracle, having defeated the enemy army and retaken Renais. Nobody should beat themself up and say they were too late after that. He was just being hard on himself.

Seth soon appeared to give his report. Only a few of their soldiers sustained any injuries, and they had successfully captured the entire castle.

"Also…" Seth started to say something else, but hesitated. It was entirely unlike him.

"What is it?"

"...Please come this way. To the room Orson locked himself in." Seth showed them the way, and they followed behind him.

Halfway there, Seth hesitantly turned towards Eirika. "Lady Eirika, it may be best for you to stay here. What you will see could be too much for you…"

"What is it? Seth, what did you find?" she asked.

But he did not answer. 

Eirika had a slight suspicion that she knew what was making him hesitate. Whatever was inside the room where Orson was locked up, thinking about his deceased wife… it must be keepsakes that it would make her heart hurt. "I'll be fine, Seth. Whatever I see, I will not falter."

"But…"

"We're going to Orson's room, right? Whatever he was doing in his room… I must see it."

Seth nodded and continued on towards the room.

The moment they opened the doors, they heard a delicate voice.

"Darling…"

Eirika twitched.

It sounded like a woman's voice, but was utterly monotonous. It more closely resembled a bird speaking human language...  repeating the words, but not understanding the meaning.

'It can't be.' A premonition almost impossible to believe sent a chill down her spine. The scent of a strong incense wafted from inside the room. It seemed to be trying to hide a foul stench.

Ephraim muttered, "That voice… could it be…. Orson's….?"

"Darling."

The voice was coming from within the dimly lit room. A thin sheet of silk hung from the ceiling, covering what appeared to be the bed.

The voice stopped, and silence fell all around them. Eirika looked away in fear.

There was hardly any furniture to be seen. The room was almost empty… The owner of the voice had to be behind the silk sheet, but she did not have the courage to check.

She heard the voice again.

"Darling. Darling. Darling. Darlingdarlingdarlingdarlingdarlingdarlingdarling."

The voice repeated the same word over and over as if its source was broken.

Eirika felt like she might faint. Seth supported her.

She was confident when she said she would not falter, but those words were just a lie now. If she had not clenched her teeth as hard as she could, she likely would have screamed.

Ephraim quickly pulled out his lance. It was reckless to swing it around in a small room like this one, but he'd lost his common sense, too.

"Is this the same magic that Lyon used? Did someone resurrect Orson's wife… just like Lyon resurrected Emperor Vigarde's corpse?"

Eirika finally realized the meaning behind the ecstatic look on Orson's face.

This allowed his deceased wife to be brought back to him. Every time her corpse uttered "Darling," it comforted him, though the sound had no meaning… When he gently touched her cold, hard skin�� it descended him further into madness.

"Seth, take Eirika and get out of here!" Ephraim ordered.

"I'll take care of this. You go outside too, Lord Ephraim…"

"No, I'll do it. Hurry up and take Eirika."

"...Understood." Seth picked up Eirika and left the room.

Even though she was now free from the incense and fresh air filled her lungs, her pounding heart could not relax. She wasn't even aware of the fact that she was clinging to Seth's arm.

She couldn't stop shaking. The monotonous voice echoed through her ears over and over again. "Seth… what… what was that…?"

"I'm sorry. I knew I shouldn't have brought you into that room."

"No, I went in because I insisted…" 

After a few deep breaths, she finally let go of Seth's arm. The feelings rushing through her still had not calmed down, but she managed to regain her composure enough to speak normally. "Orson loved his wife, didn't he? Then why didn't he know that something so… inhuman was nothing more than a desecration of her?"

"If only he'd had time for his heart to return to peace, he certainly would have known. He likely would have slowly accepted her death, and been able to move on. However, while he had still not yet healed from his grief, there was someone who whispered in his ear. That he would resurrect his wife if he betrayed Renais."

"...You're right."

"If I was put in the same situation, I might make the same choice. If someone tempted me with that offer when I lost the person I love, chances are I would find it difficult to turn down."

"Seth…" Eirika felt that was a bit surprising to hear. Because Seth was so calm and composed, there was no way he could go insane like Orson did. He wouldn't really learn what it was like to sympathize with Orson… Someway or another, she knew that he wouldn't.

Seth calmly changed the subject. "Something seems to be going on outside. Let's go check it out." He left her side and walked towards the balcony.

Ephraim came out from the room. He looked even more exhausted than he had right after his fight with Orson.

When Eirika approached him, he showed her a stiff smile. "It's all over now. It… It disappeared and turned to ash, just like Emperor Vigarde did…"

"Brother…"

"What about Seth? Where did he go?"

"We heard a loud noise coming from outside, so he went to check it out…"

Eirika pointed towards the balcony. They could hear the loud voices even from where they were standing. It sounded like a large crowd of people had gathered, and were shouting.

"Is it the townspeople? Why are they here? Are they unhappy about something…?"

Just then, Seth returned. He walked up to Ephraim and told the twins, "Lord Ephraim, Lady Eirika, please go out to the balcony."

"What's going on? What is the commotion about?"

"Please go and see for yourselves."

Eirika and Ephraim looked at each other, then decided to do as Seth said for now and go out to the balcony.

The garden in front of the palace was filled with a crowd of people. It was such a large group that they thought it might be made up of all the people living in the capital. And the moment they appeared on the balcony, the voices only got louder.

The people were waving their hands in the air and shouting excitedly, "Lord Ephraim! Lady Eirika!"

"Long live the king! Our king has returned!"

Eirika looked down at the crowd that had gathered in utter amazement. Ephraim continued walking and placed his hands on the balcony railing. Those in the crowd who saw this became louder still.

Ephraim turned around to Seth, who was standing behind him, with a bewildered look on his face. "What is this?"

"Your ears do not deceive you. They gathered here upon learning of your return home. Please wave at them, and acknowledge their joy."

"O… Okay." Ephraim's gestures were stiff and awkward.

Eirika stood by his side with a smile on her face.

Neither of them were very good at standing in the spotlight. He was utterly confused, and quickly retreated back inside the palace.

He was so nervous that he loosened his collar and took a deep breath.

"I'm surprised. I didn't think there was any way I'd receive such a greeting. When the people of Renais were suffering, all I did was fight with other nations, and couldn't do anything for my own country. I was prepared for it to most likely take a long time before they would forgive me…"

"Their enthusiasm comes from their reactions to Orson's terrible rule. They are not necessarily praising you." Seth's words were harsh. 

Ephraim's expression stiffened. "You… You're right, Seth. The people are seeking a new leader. And that just so happened to be me. I will not disappoint them or their excitement. I will dedicate myself to Renais' restoration and the return of peace to the people.”

"And I will help."

When Eirika said that, Ephraim's eyes lit up with joy. "Your saying so reassures me more than anything else. You are my sister who I can depend on for anything."

"...Really?"

"Of course! To be honest, when we were kids, I sometimes thought it would be better if I had a little brother. I thought it would be fun if I had a mischievous little brother I could rough house with…"

"That's really what you thought?"

"When we were kids, yeah. Now, I truly feel from the very bottom of my heart that I am happy to have you. You're stronger and more dependable than any man."

"Brother!" She realized that he was teasing her, and her face turned red.

Ephraim burst out laughing.

Seth listened to their conversation with a smile on his face, then opened his mouth. "Lord Ephraim, Lady Eirika. I'm sorry to do this while you are both tired, but there is something I want to confirm right away…"

"That's right. The Sacred Stone." Ephraim caught on to what he was talking about.

Seth nodded and continued, "The late Lord Fado entrusted me with these words before Renais fell. 'Raise the Twin Bracelets in the throne room. The seal will break, and the Sacred Stone will be sleeping before you.'"

"The time has finally come for these bracelets to serve their purpose, huh?" Ephraim rubbed his bracelet.

Eirika looked down at her own bracelet.

Ever since she had learned the true meaning it held, she'd felt many times just how heavy of a burden it was. But now, all of that hardship was finally going to pay off.

Since the Sacred Stone was enshrined behind the seal, it should be safe, however, until she saw it with her own eyes, she would be nervous. 

The twins both turned towards the throne room.

The moment they raised their bracelets, a space in the stone floor opened without a sound, revealing a long staircase that led into a basement. Even they'd had no idea that the palace had a mechanism like that within it.

Ephraim picked up a candlestick and went first down the stairs. Eirika and Seth followed him.

At the bottom of the stairs was a small room. Within it was an altar, and placed atop it was a small stone.

For a long while, the three of them stared at it and spoke not a word. It reflected off of the light of Ephraim's candle, and emitted its own strange, glittering light. Both its color and gloss were completely unlike any other stone on earth.

"This is… the Sacred Stone?" Ephraim finally said. His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. 

Eirika nodded. "Yes. It is one of the five Stones that sealed away the Demon King long ago…"

"If the bracelets had been stolen, then this Stone probably would have been destroyed around now, huh? This is the power that we were able to protect all this time."

"It is the hope of everyone… of all the people who live on our continent."

Ephraim reached out and gently picked it up. “Now let's get back to everyone."

"Please wait, Brother." Eirika noticed that the bracelets had started to emit a strange light, and called out to him.

Ephraim looked down at his bracelet as well. Both of them were emitting a faint white glittery light. It was a phenomenon that neither of them had ever witnessed until now.

It wasn’t hot. It just gave Eirika a strange sensation that she was being filled by a power flowing out from her bracelet. She looked down at it in surprise.

“Is it… reacting to the Sacred Stone…?” Ephraim wondered.

“Brother, can you... feel something?” Eirika looked into Ephraim’s eyes, and could sense that he was experiencing the same sensation as well.

“Yeah. What could it be…? It… It feels like strength is bursting out from deep within me. I can’t put it into words exactly, but… It’s like I quickly climbed up to somewhere high and the world has opened up below me… or like I broke out from an old shell and was reborn… Regardless, it’s a very strange feeling.”

"I feel the same."

Of course, the feeling didn't necessarily mean that they changed at all on the outside. They were the same Ephraim and Eirika as always. But now, they undoubtedly felt all the effects of obtaining a new power.

Seth said to them, "Your bracelets are the proof that you are the rightful heirs to the throne of Renais. The Sacred Stone most likely divided the power of Renais' royal family between you."

Ephraim nodded. "...Father might have anticipated that this day would come, when the bracelets and the Sacred Stone would lead us in the right direction."

The light coming from the bracelets gradually dimmed, but there was no doubt they could still feel the power flowing through them. 

Ephraim muttered, as if he was talking to himself, "Since... I was a child, I've only ever wanted to get stronger. If I became the strongest king in the world, then ruling my country would come naturally. That's what I always thought…"

Eirika knew that was how he'd thought. As someone who hated war, she felt that line of thinking was a bit scary, but she understood well that he wasn't a violent person. No matter how powerful he became, she believed that he would never misuse his strength.

However, their father had worried about Ephraim's way of thinking. 'One cannot not rule a country by strength alone. You must see more of the world, and learn as much as you can.' He had warned him. 

At the time, Ephraim rebelled against his father and argued with him about it. Every time they did so, it hurt Eirika's heart, and made her think about which of their words was right. She respected her father's reasoning and character, but on the other hand, she also admired her brother's strength. 'Neither of them are wrong…' That was the only conclusion she could ever think to come to in regards to it.

"The moment I heard that Grado had invaded Renais, blood rushed to my head. I wanted to chase out the invaders with my own lance, and bravely set out to war. The result of that is the disaster that Renais is experiencing now. Back then… if I had been prudent like Father was, I might not have just fought by brute strength alone, and been able to think of a better way…"

"Brother, Father was proud of you." She couldn't stand to see Ephraim blame himself, and so she cut his words short. 

Seth politely added his thoughts as well. "Lady Eirika is right. Lord Fado always said that you will surely become a fine king."

Ephraim looked down at the floor and made a pained smile. "I'm not ready yet. It will probably be a long time yet before I'm able to live up to Father's expectations of me." 

He looked down at the Sacred Stone in his hand and suddenly offered it to Eirika. "Eirika, you take this."

"Huh? But that's the…"

"I think you're more worthy to be the one to carry it. Like I just said, I have a tendency to always rely on strength. I want to try to suppress it as much as I possibly can, but if I fly into a rage and lose myself, I might try to use its power for the wrong reasons."

"But…"

"And the Sacred Stone harbors great power. It might protect you if your life is ever in danger. Please take it."

"...I understand. If you insist." Eirika took the Sacred Stone from her brother's hand. "One day, when we welcome true peace, and you officially ascend to the throne, let's return it to this underground altar. But until then, I'll take good care of it."

"Yes, let's! It is a precious treasure that must be passed down to each generation of Renais' royal family."

"Lord Ephraim, Lady Eirika!" Seth called out. "Renais' Sacred Twins should be kept here. Please take them."

"Oh, that's right!"

Beneath the altar was a chest. Seth first pulled a long lance out from within it, and carefully handed it to Ephraim.

Ephraim examined it and gasped. "What a beautiful weapon this is… no matter the craftsman that made the lance, none other has ever felt so perfect in my hands. So this is one of Renais' Sacred Twins? There's an engraving on it here. It reads… 'Flame Lance Siegmund…'"

Seth then took a sword from inside the chest, and gave it to Eirika. "And you take this, Lady Eirika."

"Thank you. This one has an engraving on it as well. It reads 'Storm Blade Sieglinde…'" Eirika stood next to Ephraim, and tried it out, swinging it up over her head.

It was much bigger than the rapier she was used to using, but it was so easy to wield that it surprised her. It even felt like the sword moved faster than her own body.

Long ago, the hero and progenitor of the Renais royal family used this sword to fight the Demon King's forces. This beautiful sword that looked more like a magnificent work of art at first glance had spilled the blood of thousands of monsters. The moment that thought ran through her mind, she suddenly felt its weight.

"It might be best to end the war without using a weapon like this, but…" Eirika lowered the sword and murmured. "If we fear fighting and run away from it, that will invite an even bigger calamity… This war taught me that. Let's fight, Brother. To restore Renais. To bring peace to Magvel."

[lordsister]

One Year Waiting (Masamune Date x Reader)

A/N: So I finished Masamune's dramatic route and decided to do the same thing I did for Nobunaga's dramatic route and write this fic from his point of view on their separation. Enjoy!

I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters.

My ko-fi: ko-fi.com/lordsister (please consider donating if you enjoy my work!)

Warning: spoilers for Masamune's dramatic route!

Did he really know what love was before he met you? Masamune didn't think so. No one had ever enraptured him as you had, in all your reckless, merciful, beautiful glory. No one had ever made his heart pound as you had.

It had taken everything in him to keep his cool when you disappeared through the smoke, burning your hands as you desperately tried to get to him through the flaming rubble. His heart had broken as you cried out to him, promising that you would return to him no matter how long it took. He only had time to promise to wait for you and tell you not to cry and show him the smile he loved so dearly before you were gone, taken 500 years away from him.

No matter how much he wanted to give in to the pain and heartbreak that made everything hurt, Masamune had promised to die by your side and only after he had protected you to the end. As neither of those requirements were currently met, he summoned what strength he had left and shrugged off the beam that had fallen across his shoulders, gritting his teeth against the searing sensation on his skin. He managed to find his way down the hall despite the smoke that clogged his lungs and made his eyes water, but more fire and wreckage blocked his path, preventing him from reaching the safety of the outside.

Just when he thought he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to you, Masamune felt something slip from the inside of his tattered hakama, fluttering in the air in front of him before falling to the floor, its edges beginning to curl and blacken. The panic that rose in him was unlike anything he'd ever felt before and he snatched up the drawing you'd made for him before it could be damaged any further. Shoving the paper back into its place next to his heart, the change was instantaneous, determination replacing his momentary fear and hopelessness. He was not going to die here. He was going to live and see you again no matter what it took.

Renewing his struggles, Masamune fought through the flames and debris until he was wheezing and choking, ignoring the blood he could feel running down his skin. When an opening finally appeared, he barely had the strength to pull himself forward except a pair of hands shot out and grabbed him, hauling him across the burning floor until he emerged into the clouded light of day, drizzling rain pelting singed, raw skin. Through the pain, he realized it was Yukimura who had pulled him out and was now hovering over him, shouting something he couldn't hear, before falling into unconsciousness.

When he woke up, Masamune hoped with every piece of himself that he was in his futon at his manor in Azuchi and that you were laying beside him with that peaceful little smile you got whenever you were having a good dream. His hopes were quickly dashed as pain lanced through his battered body and he realized he was lying on stiff bedding in a doctor's home in Kyoto. Yukimura sat next to him, his back to the wall as he slept. Bandages covered his torso and he shot up, startling Yukimura awake as he looked around for his clothes.

"Damn it, Masamune! You're going to reopen your wounds!" The other warlord protested, but he wasn't listening, only relaxing when his eyes landed on the folded pile of burned blue and gray fabric beside him and the paper sitting atop it all. He breathed a sigh of relief as he picked it up and held it close, fingers running gently over the worn edges. Masamune was aware of Yukimura watching him, but didn't care. All that mattered was this little piece of you he still had left. "Masamune, what happened in there? Where's (y/n)? Is she...?" The implication in his words was clear and Masamune shook his head quickly.

"She's safe. We got caught up in the wormhole and she was sucked back with the ninja while I got stuck in the fire."

"It's good that she's safe and all, but what'll happen to the two of you now? Can she come back?"

"She can." Masamune's grip on your drawing tightened just a little and he smiled through the pain of losing you as your words rang in his head. "And she will."

"Well, whatever happens I wish you luck." Unfolding his legs, Yukimura rose to his feet. "I didn't pull you out of that fire for nothing. Next time we meet, we'll be enemies again. I look forward to facing you on the battlefield, Masamune Date."

Masamune scoffed, the shadow of his roguish smile crossing his face. "I look forward to it, as well. Better watch yourself when the time comes, Yukimura."

The other man only smiled back before exiting the small room, tossing, "Don't forget to pay the doctor!" over his shoulder as he went.

The silence that fell afterwards was suffocating as Masamune eased back into a lying down position and held your design between his palm and chest, blue eye staring up at the ceiling as the reality of the situation finally came crashing down. The one person he had ever truly loved, who he wanted to protect above all else, was gone from his side. There was little he wouldn't give to have you back in his arms where you belonged, where he could feel your heart beating and kiss that smile he loved so much.

What were you doing right now, 500 years away? Masamune hoped you weren't crying. Despite his ability to keep calm in even the most dire situations, he couldn't stand it when you cried. Even the thought of tears rolling down your beautiful face and him not being there to wipe them away made his vision blur with tears of his own and grief rise in his throat. It'd only been a day and he already missed you so badly.

Carefully unfolding the drawing still in his hand, Masamune held it up, gaze running over the precious lines he had already memorized long ago. His fingertips just barely brushed the dried ink for fear of smudging or making the lines fade, just enough contact to draw strength from. He missed you so much he thought it was going to kill him, but he would wait as long as it took for you to return to him. He would wait, with his love for you to keep him company.

The months passed slowly without you, each day dulled by his longing for you and the lack of your presence beside him. From Kyoto, Masamune rode back to Azuchi to report to Nobunaga and the other warlords about what had happened to you. Ieyasu took it noticeably harder than the others, something that both surprised and alarmed him. The prickly blonde cared for you much more than Masamune had originally thought and though protectiveness rose in him over the signs Ieyasu was clearly exhibiting, he chose not to do anything about it. You had made it clear that you loved him and him alone while he saw Ieyasu as a brother. If it had been anyone else acting such a way towards you, he may have taken more violent measures to ensure they wouldn't dare try anything, but Masamune was sure Ieyasu knew his place by now.

After much discussion with Nobunaga, it was decided that Honno-ji would be rebuilt again and Masamune was given permission to reside there until you returned. When you came back he wanted to be right there to greet you. The only condition to the agreement was that you be brought to Azuchi immediately upon your arrival. He left it unspoken that if Nobunaga tried to keep you in Azuchi, he wouldn't hesitate to take you and run away to Oshu. Nothing would stand in the way of his life with you, a life that had been put on hold and that he dreamed of every single night.

After everything had been settled in Azuchi, Masamune continued on to Aoba to handle affairs for the time he would be staying at Honno-ji. He'd sent a messenger ahead with a note stating you wouldn't be joining him, but still faced a barrage of questions regarding "his princess" from his vassals upon his arrival at the castle. The excuse he gave was that you'd been called back to your homeland on short notice, but would be back to join him in Aoba in the future. Only Kojuro seemed unsatisfied with his answer, but accepted it soon enough. He'd faced more questions and confusion when he'd revealed that he would be living at Honno-ji until your return, but arrangements to have any matters that required his attention sent to the abbey went along smoothly.

Before he left for Honno-ji, the place closest to you, Masamune commissioned the seamstresses to make a kimono for you using your design. You would need something to wear when you came back and he only wanted the best for you, something that would make you smile when you wore it.

Keeping busy was good for him, kept his mind off of how much he missed you, but the ache was always there, a constant pulse in his heart reminding him that you were still gone. It made it worse not knowing when you would return to him, but he was determined to wait forever if he had to. He didn't get a lot of sleep that year because it hurt so badly to dream of you, to kiss you and hold you and love you to make up for all the time apart, and then wake up and not have you. Several women tried to make advances on him in the time you were gone, but he rebuffed them all, his interest and love reserved for you alone. All he wanted and needed in this world was you.

A year of seeing you only in dreams passed and Masamune stood on the balcony of his room at Honno-ji, looking out over Kyoto. He could feel the paper that had become his greatest treasure, a token of your affection, against the beat of his heart and tried to imagine what you were doing right then. Were you going about your daily life? Or were you on your way back to him at that very moment?

Masamune was just about to turn around and go back inside when a weight hit him in the chest out of nowhere, knocking him to the floor. His heart nearly stopped in his chest when his arms closed around a form he'd only held in his dreams for months. A soft "ow" escaped your figure as you tried to steady yourself from your little trip through time and he couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction as he spoke. "Ow is right."

Slowly, you lifted your head and wide, hopeful eyes met his. "That's the first thing you say to me?" There she was. There was his kitten.

Happy tears welled in your eyes and Masamune reached up to brush them away, holding you close to feel your heart beating with his. "Don't cry, kitten. You know how much I love it when you smile." The watery, messy, beautiful smile you gave him made his longing heart swell and all of the things he wanted to convey so badly embodied themselves in a tender, passionate kiss. 'You're here with me now, finally. I'll make you so happy you won't have to cry anymore. I'm never letting go of you again. I love you.'