#and linhardt is there in spirit cause I *was not* trying to take him off the pillow so I just kinda... put lyon on over top of him gjwhdije

[pierswife]

Everyone say goodnight to Liquid and Jamie--

[lys-iwm]

I NEED AU STUFF!!! It's as big as your void for 3 houses asks. Do you have anything for A House leader swap AU?

House Leader Swap Au!

Black Eagles with Dimitri as their leader

It would be a calm before the storm. Dimitri would be pleasant enough to be able to keep the eagles at least neutral to him as his leading style very much depends on how well his personal connections are to his classmates.

It would be rough at first as Ferdinand and Hubert make it clear they will hold him up to different standards as Ferdinand focuses on how well he can lead and govern and Hubert dealing with how he stacks up against his Lady. 

Caspar, Dorothea and Petra would be the easiest to get along with for him as they have similar interests in battle styles while Dorothea is generally amicable to everyone. 

Linhardt and Bernadetta come next as it would take some time for Dimitri to get to know them and learn how to deal with their quirks as he would generally like to play to their interests and strengths while still being somewhat stern (this differs to Edelgard who would at first be stern and sort of command/force them to do stuff and then learn what makes them tick once the before fails).

Ferdinand would come around when he can see and feel the effects of Dimitri’s leadership style have a positive affect on the class and would probably invite Dimitri to tea to talk about their different perspectives and styles to take his own role into consideration.

Hubert will never like him as much as the others. He’d keep his distance knowing about Dimitri’s past with Edelgard and the role that TWSTD has played in his life. He will at least respect him but never as a friend, merely an acquaintance as he seeks to aid Edelgard in the shadows.

For Dimitri, It would be hard for him as he’s suddenly thrown into a lions den without his close friends and Dedue by his side. He’d quickly be able to befriend some of the eagles while maintaining a solid reputation but it does take him out of his comfort zone and force him to improvise and adapt to his new environment.

The Empire is certainly a different culture compared to the Kingdom which would grant him more insight as to how to deal with those foreign relationship once he’s coronated. 

Out of the three leaders, he’d probably be in the middle with how well he adapts. It would take him a bit to come around and out of his stricter views but he’d try his best and probably persuade some of them to join the Blue Lions once he returns.

Blue Lions with Claude

Having Claude lead the Blue Lions would be an interesting time to say the least.

Because of his at first carefree and mischievous personality, they would initially be wary of him ( especially Dedue, Felix, Annette, and Ashe) but once they got to know him a bit more and genuinely create a connection they would welcome him into their pride.

Claude is the house leader who would easily get his new house to like him. Mercedes would probably be one of the first to be friends with him as her welcoming and trusting personality would be able to make Claude lower a few of his barriers with her.

Sylvain and Claude would do well together. Both being perceived as no-good trouble makers who actually have a lot of insight and intelligence - they’d for sure have tea with each other often. 

Annette would befriend Claude a little after Mercedes as Claude would be a bit off-putting for her but once Claude joins her for cooking/having fun together they’d be on good terms.

Ashe would come next, after reading knight tales together, they’d bond over food and spices (some from Fodlan and others from Almyra). They’d also understand each other’s fighting styles as archers in a house of melee fighters.

Dedue would come later on. His devotion to Dimitri causes him to still watch over Dimitri even when Claude leads him. He’d be respectful and listen to Claude when he talks but nothing much more. 

Felix... Felix is a hard one. He’d be pretty annoyed by Claude’s antics and would probably only see how capable Claude truly is if Claude could hold his own in a sword fight. Otherwise he’d be indifferent to the Golden Deer and go train by himself.

Although Claude might get along with his house well, he’d still have some reservations with them and wouldn’t get to deeply know them except for maybe Mercedes and Sylvain.

Golden Deer with Edelgard

Edelgard is going to have her work cut out for her. Initially she’d go about leading the Deer as if they’re the Eagles. Except for the fact that they are not the Eagles as they won’t take kindly to her strict style as they’re not from the culture built upon rigged tradition.

It will take her time to gain their trust as the closest ones she’ll be able to be close to at first would be Lorenz, Raphael, and Ignatz. Raphael and Ignatz wouldn’t care too much but they’d push through Edelgard’s strict training regimen as they don’t have enough credibility to complain about it.

Lorenz would follow her but criticize her style much like Ferdinand which would be annoying to her. 

Marianne would come next as she’s quite similar to Bernie. Edelgard would probably get through to her by spending time in the stables with her and Dorte. 

Leonie would definitely follow Edelgard once she saw her fighting prowess and her ideals about society as it would play into Leonie’s own goals of being able to support herself and become a mercenary.

Lysithea and Hilda would be the least supportive of Edelgard.

Lysithea with her desire to be left alone, without the crests. Although she shares that sentiment with Edelgard, she’s more focused on setting up her family and living her own short life to the fullest.

Hilda on the other hand is an Alliance born noble to the core and with her free spirit, she wouldn’t take too well with how controlling Edelgard is. She’d tolerate most of it as she wouldn’t want to make an enemy of Edle but they would have the most strained relationship. 

[mommymooze]

Sleep Doctor

Hubert X Reader. Warning: blood war violence, rudeness, bad dreams

You are often compared to Mercedes, both of you are talented in healing, as well as both of you have doting, motherly personalities. Both of you are nurturing, protective, supportive, bakers of treats, a trusted confidante.

There are differences of course. Her faith is in the goddess, yours is in the human spirit. Your reason magic is powerful as well. You don’t have a creepy brother, just a lazy sister. You cook delicious meals, you love brewing potions and concoctions. While she is laid back and chill, you are assertive and firm. You give advice and then enforce it.

Mercedes suggests that someone get more sleep, rest, take their time to recover. Maybe gently remind them after a few days if she stills sees dark circles under their eyes. You tell them they need more sleep and that you will be waiting for them at their room to make certain they sleep that night and perhaps the next two or three nights.

Linhardt enjoys sharing duties as the healer for the Black Eagles Strike force with you. His favorite taunt is to use your name as a threat. “If you do not rest that leg and let it heal, I will advise (y/n) of the situation.” Everyone is quite aware that Emperor Edelgard fully supports your extremely strict and regimented methods to ensure that the Strike Force is in tip top condition.

One of your pet peeves is finding injuries long after a battle is over. Linhardt will only leave his minor wounds untreated if he is too tired to get to it. Dorothea does very well seeking treatments promptly. Petra has a great understanding of the responsibility of your body being a temple and to keep it in constant repair. Bernadetta only hides injuries if she feels that she has made a mistake and tries to use it as self-punishment. Caspar is highly maintained and checked by Lin, so he’s in great shape. Emperor Edelgard is preened by the healers every time she returns, to make sure not the tiniest scratch is left unattended lest she get an infection. Ferdinand does frequent the healers, however he has been known to often get infections, not understanding the seriousness of the smaller, less important wounds he has received in the germ and disease filled conditions of war.

Then there is Hubert. He stands and gives reports to his Lady, while his own blood is pooling at his feet. His mindset is Duty Before All Else. Immediately upon arrival from a mission, he must report to Emperor Edelgard, then he may stop by the infirmary, but more likely will return to his tent or quarters and write his reports of the mission results.

At first you try reasoning with him. Advising him he is losing enough blood that by the time his report is finished his body is completely exsanguinated. You attempt to physically remove him from the Command tent and he strikes you with magic. Trial and error provides the answer for your most successful method of treating the irritatingly stubborn man. Healing him upon his arrival, during his report to the Emperor upon his return. The moment Hubert warps to her tent you are summoned from the infirmary. Your materials already await you in the command tent.

“Stand over here on these towels.” You order the dark mage.

“I must present my report…” Hubert angrily chastises you.

“I tire of my carpets being stained, do as she says.” Edelgard orders, he complies.

You remove his cape, cravat, and outer coat. You stand behind him as he is advising the Emperor of his latest completed duties in the never-ending effort to win the war for the Empire. You in turn untuck his white and red stained shirt from his pants and pull it up in the back clipping it out of your way. The blood has dried around his undershirt and you cut it loose from the stab wound that is just at the base of his rib cage, thankfully below his heart by a few inches. Had the assassin had a better angle, well, the Spymaster would not be with us right now.

Pressing a cloth that is thoroughly soaked in alcohol onto the wound to remoisten and allow removal of the remaining undershirt material as well as cleanse the wound preventing infection, you apply firm pressure into the hole and begin removing the soiled cloth from the deep stab wound as you hear him exclaim.

“…and then we proceeeeek!..Flames woman! Trying to finish the job!” The dark mage yells, his left arm coming back to smack you away as the burning sensation of the liquid goes deeper into his flesh.

You easily duck his attack as you remove the foreign materials, making certain the wound is absolutely clean. Minor deep healing spells take care of the immediate damage. There will still be bruising to his left kidney. You pull out needle and thread to pull the two sides of the wound back together, making it easier for the healing spells to take hold and lessen the scarring. That particular wound finished, it is not difficult to trace another slice into his flesh, this time blood is soaking into his shirt collar as he sustained a dagger’s blade to the side of his head just behind his ear. Head wounds bleed profusely, if they do not penetrate the skull they cause little problem as long as they are cleaned. A nice curved needle allows you to pick up the skin on each side to bring them back together again. A final healing spell there and the bleeding subsides.

Your hands glow lightly as they run along his body, searching for any additional injuries. The stubborn mule of a man certainly will not reveal any weak points. Two ribs on his left front are heavily bruised, healing spells correct that situation.  Finding no other serious injuries, you return the cape and coat to Hubert, pat him on the shoulder, and proceed to the infirmary.

The trouble with being at war is that it is prohibitive to good sleep. There are quite a few members of the Strike Force that have issue with sleeping, some nights it is interrupted by dreams or memories of personally tragic events during the war, others cannot get to sleep in the first place, their minds tormenting them with frightening thoughts. While in Enbarr or at Garreg Mach, you are available to assist your fellow Strike Force members with issues of nightmares, night terrors or simply general insomnia. Your schedule is changed to accommodate the availability for such. You are available from sunset until 5 or 6am to assist with these issues. After that you return to your room to sleep until noon. The guards patrolling the areas are trained take notice if someone is calling out loudly in their sleep. There is also a physical sign, a request for assistance, by placing a red card slightly peeking past the bottom of the door, alerting them to retrieve you to the location for necessary assistance.

Your counsel at night is always kept between you and the patient. Having someone there to talk to is the best medicine for most parties. A trusted ear, a caring heart, letting them know they are not alone, simply being there is at times the answer to the current situation.

Hubert again, is the one most difficult to work with. His living space is highly covered in magic spells and sigils. The layout is such that if he is screaming in his bed it would not be heard through his closed door. He is not one to ask for help unless it is from complete desperation. Only by observing the reticent Spy Master can you tell that sleep has been evading him more than normal. His eyes are sunk further back into his skull, the blackness seems to surround his eyes. He taps his feet to keep his body moving, reminding himself to stay awake. This dedicated, enervated man is your most challenging patient by far. As today’s strategy meeting concludes, you request that he remain behind to discuss a matter with him and Emperor Edelgard.

“Hubert, when was the last time you slept.” You ask, hands on your hips.

“Three days ago. There is no time for sleep when you are running a war.” He answers.

“There is only so long before your body will take what it requires. The next battle is less than a week away. It is critical that you sleep now.” You plead, looking to Edelgard for support. “I agree. Hubert, pass along what duties you can and carve out time for sleep every day until the battle. Provide both of us a schedule of when you will set aside time for rest.”

Hubert stands, bowing to his Emperor and glaring at you sharply before he leaves the room.

You have found, through trial and error, ways of making him sleep. Forcing him into specific routines that subconsciously prepare him for sleep. Once he is in bed and relaxed usually a palm resting on the back of his hand is enough to make him lay still enough to drift off. Sometimes he is more agitated, so you will read to him dissertations regarding the history and foundation of white magic in a monotone voice. The text is very dry, of no interest to him, yet the words distract his thoughts enough, allowing sleep to take him.  

Today was no such day. Overtired and restless he shifts in his bed anxiously.

“Tell me a story.” He finally requests.

“I did not think you a fan of fairy tales or knights.” You reply softly.

“You have a large family. Tell me a story of your youth.”

You begin to weave the tales of your younger days. The family going into the woods to pick buckets upon buckets of blueberries, your brothers getting distracted by seeing who could climb the highest in a tree, Mother panicking that they would fall and break their arms and legs. Scrubbing the purple from your siblings before getting them to bed then helping mother preserve the berries in wine bottles to enjoy during the winter. You are softly retelling these events until you realize he has fallen asleep.

It is not dark in the room, the curtains are pulled close to reduce the sunlight. You pull out a novel to read. Hubert is a quiet sleeper. He’s not like Caspar who crawls around and tangles himself in his sheets while he slumbers. You look up from your book as you see Hubert moving his feet, giving a weak kick.  He is pulling his arms up to his chest and his face is drawn into a frown. You drop your book. Your hand brushes his cheek softly as you try to gently wake him from his nightmare.

“Hubert, I’m here for you. Everything is all right. Shhhh.” You softly whisper.

The dark mage startles from his sleep, his eyes wide. He looks about the room finally realizing he is within his own bedchambers. He looks very distressed, his hands trembling. You instinctively pull him into a hug, holding him tight against your chest as you lay gently on him.

“Breathe, just breathe.” You urge him, taking long slow loud breaths to have him match yours.

It takes a while before he finally begins to relax again. You know you can’t stand hunched over him much longer, so you walk around the bed to lie next to him on top of the covers. You pull him to face you as you card your fingers through his hair and encourage him to relax. The exhaustion of his body takes over and he falls asleep again.

You awaken after a short nap due to movement under your arm. Opening your eyes you find Hubert looking back at you. Instinctively you slowly pull your arm from across his chest back to yourself.

“Did you rest well?” you whisper.

Hubert rolls onto his back. “Surprisingly, yes. My headache is gone.”

You quietly slide out of the bed, straightening your clothing. Making your way to the other side, you return the chair to its proper place and gather your things.

“Do you often accompany your patients in their beds?” Hubert asks, a slight sneer in his voice.

“Never.” You reply. “You are a…special case.” You reply, closing the door behind you.

-----------------

The next day Hubert is much more coherent at the morning strategy meeting. Once the meeting adjournes, the Emperor requests that the two of you remain behind.

“I notice an improvement today.” Edelgard smiles at the Minister of the Imperial Household.

“Of course, My Lady. I refuse to disappoint you.” He respectfully bows.

“We are scheduled today from 10pm until 3am. Granted, 5 hours is not much for the average person, but to Hubert’s tortured soul it is quite the luxury.” You quip, causing Edelgard to giggle.

The dark mage scowls in your general direction. You both excuse yourselves as the Emperor has another appointment to attend.  You join him as he heads toward his office.

“Was it so horrible to rest yesterday? Do you not feel some improvement?”  You inquire.

“You were witness to my sleep. It is anything but restful.” He grumbles.

“Which is currently the point of my assisting you.” You respond in a logical manner.

“If there is nothing further you require, I have significantly less time to complete my duties. I bid you good day.” Hubert sniffs as he heads to his office.

-----------------

You are waiting outside of Hubert’s quarters for his arrival. He arrives 15 minutes late. There is no apology for his tardiness. He completes his routine for preparing for bed and finally pulls his covers up to his chin, only to stare at you. You’ve brought knitting to keep you company, a quiet pastime.

“Do you need a diversion?” You ask softly.

“No.” He responds, continuing to stare daggers at you.

A few minutes later he decides to stare at the ceiling.

“Why do you do this?” Hubert wonders aloud.

“For your health of course. Sleep is extremely important. Your body needs the rest, so does your mind. It affects your nervous system, your immune system. All creatures need sleep.” You answer matter of factly patting the back of his hand.

“Why do you care?” he asks.

“I’ve come to know everyone very closely. You are my work family and my friends. I would be devastated should anyone die from something I can possibly prevent. Just as you protect us all from spies, assassinations, poisoning, and the like, I do the same protecting everyone from sickness, injuries, infections etcetera. There is only one Hubert Von Vestra. I would like to see him live past the end of the war. “

“Hmpf.” Is his only response.

Hubert closes his eyes as you quietly knit. His breathing slows as he drifts into the land of Nod. You silently slip from his room to check on the other occupants of the Imperial Palace to find that it is a rather quiet night and there are no disturbances amongst the Strike Force. You return to Hubert’s quarters to see him still resting, which is surprising. You know he is a light sleeper, however even if he woke up, he remained in bed. You count that as a victory. As 3am nears, you head out to retrieve a carafe and water, preparing coffee in his parlor just at the time he should awaken.

“One moment.” Is heard coming from the door to his bedroom. A few minutes later Hubert emerges from his bedroom dressed for work and looking shockingly more alert than you have seen him in the past two weeks.

“Thank you for doing this for yourself as well as for the rest of us. I will see you again this evening.” You articulated as you gather your personal items to leave. You swear you almost hear a soft ‘thank you.’ from Hubert as he locks his door and heads to his office.

-----------------

Hubert is working until midnight tonight, never a regular schedule for himself, his duties rule his sleep schedule. You leave Ferdinand’s quarters in time to head to the kitchen and obtain a cup of coffee before you must meet with the dark mage. Ferdinand sleeps well most of the time, however as the war becomes more brutal and savage, he is plagued with nightmares more frequently. After you were called to his room this night, he finally agreed to take a small sleeping potion. The thought of dark circles under his bright and shining eyes is like having storm clouds blocking the sun. He is the source of the Strike Force’s positive energy. They need him brightly shining in the lead, a beacon of hope.

Your arrival at Hubert’s door is matched with his. His posture is much improved, not hunched over barely able to stand. He greets you with a nod and waves you into his quarters. You pat his shoulder as you walk past him. He prepares for bed and once he is under the covers calls you into his bedroom. He has already placed  the chair in its normal spot, close to the head of his bed. Taking your seat you place your hand on top of his.  His hand does not move.

“You keep touching me. Why do you do that?” Hubert asks, staring at the ceiling.

“It is another one of the basic needs of humans. Some need it more than others. Certainly you have observed in battle, when the Professor is encouraging Caspar in the middle of a fight, if Caspar receives a simple pat on the head, he can rush forth taking out several squads of enemies at an amazing pace. When Bernadetta is extremely anxious, sitting next to her with a leg or shoulder touching her, she visibly relaxes. Emperor Edelgard relaxes with gentle hugs. Ferdinand prefers a one armed hug when being comforted through a tough time. The professor responds to hand holding and shoulder touching. Dorothea gets herself anxious and worked up sometimes, then only a full squeezing hug can get her to settle enough to speak with her.

“I was not aware of such needs, nor of your detailed observations of our team members.”

“I must admit, you are my most difficult patient in this regard.” You smile softly.

“Explain.” He says flatly.

“Beyond contact with our Emperor, you do not touch others nor does anyone touch you.” You begin. “Even when contact with another is made, it is not skin to skin, always to clothing, always with gloves. Certainly your upbringing, family history, interpersonal relationships, work schedules, work agenda and severe lack of personal time factors into this.

When one is in the infirmary, healers constantly touch the patients. Verbal reassurance is good, physical touch is required, and is extremely reassuring. When a patient is unconscious, the body still reacts to touch. When Petra was heavily injured a few battles ago, Dorothea was there for hours holding her hand, stroking her cheek. The body does react, relaxes. Somewhere in her brain, she knows someone is there for her and she needs to get better in order to rejoin them. Unconscious patients still tense up, faces furrow. Touch causes them to relax, leading the body to focus on healing.

On the battlefield, I am shocked at the condition I have found a fallen person, yet they are still alive, simply because someone else is there with them, touching them, encouraging them to hang on to that precious thread of life for yet a moment longer. That comrade being there has performed a miracle. There is no other way to explain it. Reason magic is cast through verbal incantations, physical movement, mental intentions. Healing magic is through touch, with the exception of physic, because no rule is absolute. “

“Hmmm. Continue.” Hubert watches your face closely, turning his palm to yours, taking your smaller hand into his without thinking.

“Now my observation of you, Hubert. I have heard you say that you are unworthy of anyone being close to you based on your workings below the surface, your bloodstained hands, duties you have carried out in the darkness. I disagree. You are not to judge your own worthiness. Only others can perform that task. They will base it on their own life, experiences, beliefs, circumstances. If they cannot understand you and appreciate you for who you are, all of you, then perhaps they are not worthy of you. The Emperor knows you, knows what you do for her, suspects what is done outside of her vision, yet she is there for you, accepting you for who you are, as you are. Over these years of war, all of the members of our team have learned more about you, perhaps scratching beyond the surface of you, yet they are still here. They still support you, believe in you, rely on you. They find you worthy of their protection, their support. Tell me of one person in the Strike Force that has not helped you in a battle. I certainly can tell you about how many I have had to piece together after they shielded you from certain death. I have lost count of how many holes I have patched up on you are a result of your protecting each and every one of them.”

“Physical Attributes are difficult to overcome…” he argues.

You laugh at the thought. “Have you never heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Beauty is found within? To me, my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. Having so many children her stomach never went back to being flat and fashionable. She has spots on her face from being in the sun. Wrinkles in her hands from working them hard for many years. Her nose is crooked because she broke it as a child and never had it properly healed. Most people on the street would look at her as the typical matronly old woman, but to me she is more beautiful than any goddess, I would not change a thing. My sister was being courted by Bernard, her now husband. Bernard was awkward, tall and lanky. At first I noticed he was all knees and elbows, his teeth seemed to be too large for his mouth. But my sister loved him, and he loved her. When I last saw him, I saw a tall handsome man that would do anything for my sister, just looking at him you could tell he adores her. When he looks at my sister, his smile shines bright and I consider him beautiful inside and out. Ask Dorothea how far good looks will get you. She is a beautiful woman, however knows that beauty fades. She has found someone who loves her for her. That when she is old and wrinkled and gray, they will be there for her and she for them. “

“I have much to think about. Good night.” Hubert says softly closing his eyes.

You remain holding his hand until it relaxes which is not until he is in a deep sleep. He sleeps quietly and restfully. A very good rest for him indeed.

The next morning Hubert joins you in his parlor, sitting at the table with you as you silently enjoy the first cup of morning coffee together.

As you pour a refill, you finally break the silence. “Today we prepare, early tomorrow we leave for yet another battle. I know you will not sleep tonight, if you wish to try, even for an hour or two, I would be happy to help.”

Hubert briefly scowls then retracts it to a minor frown. “I can sleep on my own. I do not need you as a crutch.”

You place your hand atop his now white gloved hand. “I am not a crutch, I am an enforcer.” You smile.

--------------------

You are too busy the night before leaving to think about Hubert. Ferdinand has a particularly strong night terror. Bernadetta had a major panic attack. Linhardt could not find a comfortable place to sleep, wandering and laying about all over the palace. You would find him in the middle of a pathway, taking him to a more secluded and safer place to sleep only for him to move to a different poor location for slumber. You finished bottling your last batch of healing potions and pots of salves for minor wounds and burns. You begin filling the wagon with as much bandages and bindings as you could stuff into it. You and the other healers riding in the wagon will take turns sleeping, resting now because once battle starts, you would not sleep for perhaps two days or more.

A few more days on the road, scouts have returned stating there is a small army preventing anyone from passing, apparently a mix of kingdom and church soldiers. A brief strategy meeting is held and soon the caravans realign, with the support teams like yours toward the rear. A few more hours at a slow pace as they advance to the enemy location. Now explosions are heard as the mages on both sides attack, the infantry running in behind the Cavalry and the fliers doing their best to snipe from the skies. Your group hurriedly throws together the medical tent, secures a location for water, sets up cots, supplies. Ready for patients, you head out toward the field of battle. Those that are no longer fit to fight are sent your direction. You assess their condition, stop severe bleeding and direct them to the correct tent location. You see a Meteor spell go off in the middle of the battle, sincerely hoping that is Dorothea and not the enemy that is the source. You watch Linhardt in the back lines, healing who he can, keeping them on their feet. You want to go out there and help, but you remain at your post.

The battle continues until sunset. You are surrounded by patients. Fortunately nobody in the Strike Force has serious injuries, or at least they have not yet made it to the medical tent. You finish cleaning the slicing wounds of a very young, perhaps 17 year old, soldier’s arms before sewing the sides of the wounds back together and then casting a healing spell on them to remove the final trace of any visible wound.

“(Y/n)” a deep voice comes from behind you.

“How are you doing Hubert? Is there somewhere I am needed?” You ask, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Do you have any healing spells left in you?” He asks, a frown on his brow.

“No, That was the last one.”  You say, cleaning up your surgical tools. Before you look up, he takes hold of your arm and warps you to a tent.

“Now it is your turn. You are in desperate need of sleep. There are buckets and towels to wash up and your bags are there to change clothes.”

“I sleep in the medical tent in case they need me…” you state, confused by this.

“You are out of magic, let those that can heal remain. I will step outside, you will clean up and prepare for bed.” Hubert exits, closing the tent flap behind him.

In spite of the rudeness, it feels nice to wash the blood and grime off and change into clean dry clothing not soaked in someone else’s blood. Sleeping away from the injured is much much quieter, you think as you change into bedclothes and sit on the cot.

“Done.” You call out.

Hubert enters the tent, bringing a tin cup full of water as well as a waterskin. “You must drink this. You have not had a drink since the first patients came in.”

“I’ve been preoccupied.” You gratefully take the cup and drinking the entire contents quickly.

“Now rest. Go to sleep.” His voice is quite assertive.

“Stay with me a bit?” You plead.

“Demanding woman!” He huffs, pulling the chair next to the bed to sit close by.

“Is everyone okay? Have they been checked out?” you ask.

Hubert grumbles. “Of course they are. Many have been asleep for four hours or more. Now hush.”

You suddenly sit up. “Have I stolen your bed? I can’t do that to you.”

He hesitantly touches your shoulder. “You need to rest. Stop fighting me.”

You frown and lie back down. “Could you lie next to me for a bit? Its…chilly.” You begin scooting to one side of the cot, until it threatens to tip over from having the weight all on one side.

“You are relentless.” He frowns.

You nod and lift the cover for him to join you. He lies on his back, you on your side facing him. You lift his arm bringing it around your back as you place your head and arm on his chest. Without opening your eyes you tell him, “Yes this is necessary.” You settle in next to him and quickly relax, falling asleep.

[ailuronymy]

Guest Warriors-ify: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Hello there! I’ve got a Warriors-ify for you for one of my favorite games. Specifically, I’m going with the war-phase since I find that’s easiest to translate. Let’s go!

(Warning: There are some spoilers! I’ll try to avoid major ones, but still.)

WindClan (the Church of Seiros)

Leader: Lilystar (Rhea) - White she-cat with light grey spots on her head and tail. At the beginning of the war within the clans, she went missing. Her deputy has been acting in her place. She’s calm and devout in her belief in StarClan, and has led WindClan for many moons.

Deputy: Lizardstep (Seteth) - A grey-brown tabby tom with sharp green eyes. He’s been acting as WindClan’s leader since Lilystar’s disappearance, but refuses to take his nine lives because he still believes she’s alive. He’s known for being stern and strict, but much softer than he seems on the inside. He’s constantly fretting over his daughter, Minnowcloud.

Medicine Cats:

Minnowcloud (Flayn) - A light grey tabby she-cat with the same sharp green eyes as her father, Lizardstep. In the turmoil that lead up to the war, there was a conflict between WindClan and ShadowClan which started because one of their warriors attacked her while she was gathering herbs. Even in the times of war, she is bright and cheery, and does her best for her clan.

Fawnface (Manuela) - A light brown she-cat with long, silky fur. She’s a notorious flirt and a bit vain about her beauty, but a good soul deep down. She was Minnowcloud’s mentor and got severely wounded trying to protect her from ShadowClan’s attack.

Warriors:

Beetleclaw (Shamir) - A sleek black she-cat with lots of thin scars. Was a rogue before joining WindClan after owing Lilystar a debt, and stayed after bonding with the other cats - particularly Cedarpelt and Leopardclaw. She’s known as a fierce and stern warrior who runs across the moors with enviable stealth. Was Antfur’s mentor.

Leopardclaw (Catherine) - A large long-furred golden she cat with nicked ears. Lilystar herself once saved Leopardclaw’s life during her apprenticeship, and as a result holds a deep adoration for her, and has led many searches to find her. She’s good friends with Beetleclaw, and the two often patrol and fight together.

Cedarpelt (Alois) - A stocky brown tabby tom with a jovial demeanor. Was mentored by Larchfang, a well-respected senior warrior who ended up supposedly dying in a forest fire moons ago - but really, he’d run off to become a rogue. Despite what many would consider a betrayal, he still holds a lot of respect for Larchfang. He also tells a lot of awful, awful jokes.

Fogwhisker (Hanneman) - A lanky grey tabby tom and a senior warrior of WindClan. He’s inquisitive and intelligent, always trying to learn more about the world. Whenever he’s not satisfying his curiosity, he’s likely bickering with Fawnface, whom he’s never quite gotten along with - though the two do care about each other deep down… probably.

Antfur (Cyril) - A small dark brown tabby tom. He’s one of the youngest WindClan warriors, and was adopted into the clan by Lilystar after he was found abandoned as a kit. He was so grateful for the rescue that he’s devoted himself to being the best warrior he can for Lilystar’s sake. He’s determined and focused, and often takes on extra tasks around camp to lessen the workload of others.

Rowanpelt (Gilbert) - A bulky ginger tom with old battle scars. Alongside Fogwhisker, he’s one of the oldest warriors in the clan. He was actually originally a ThunderClan cat, but after feeling as though he failed Lionstar, the current leader (who was an apprentice at the time) he enforced a self-exile on himself, leaving his daughter behind. Eventually, Lilystar took him in.

ThunderClan (the Blue Lions)

Leader: Lionstar (Dimitri) - A large, ragged-furred golden tom littered with scars and missing an eye. He was once a mild-mannered and kind young tom, but trauma from his youth weighed down on his mind, until the outbreak of the war caused him to snap. He is violent and irritable, and has a cynical view of himself and the world. To make matters worse, he often suffers from vivid nightmares and even some hallucinations.

Deputy: Boulderpelt (Dedue) - A large and muscular dark tabby tom with a white underbelly and scarred pelt. He was born into a band of rogues that lead an assault on ThunderClan, and was originally going to be killed alongside them. However, seeing that he was too young to be a part of the attack, Lionstar (then Lionpaw) shielded him from harm. He is quiet and stern, and cares deeply for Lionstar, even though he’s become a shadow of his former self.

Medicine Cat: Dawnleaf (Mercedes) - A long furred cream tabby she-cat with a calm demeanor. She was originally born in ShadowClan, but after ThunderClan was left without a medicine cat, she volunteered to take over. She was nearly finished with her apprenticeship at the time, and thus was qualified to work on her own. She left behind a brother, whom she still misses dearly…

Warriors:

Greywhisker (Ashe) - A small grey spotted tabby tom. He’s kind and empathetic, and believes strongly in the values of a warrior, such as honor and loyalty. He enjoys telling stories to apprentices, as he memorized them all as a kit. He bonded closely with an elder during his apprenticeship, who became like a surrogate family member after his parents died of greencough, but that elder was killed during a battle with WindClan when he insisted on joining the battle.

Reedstorm (Ingrid) - A lithe, muscular golden tabby she-cat. She’s serious and even strict at times, but overall good-natured - and a big eater. She spent her apprenticeship with Nightclaw and Wasptail, and cares about them both deeply; even if they get on her nerves constantly. Like Greywhisker, she believes strongly in the values of a warrior, and is very disciplined in her duties. She fell in love with Nightclaw’s brother during her apprenticeship, but he was killed during the rogue attack. She still blames Boulderpelt for it, even though she knows it’s not his fault

Nightclaw (Felix) - A skinny black cat with copper eyes. Despite his thin frame, he’s deceptively strong and quick on his feet, and is a terror on the battlefield. Though he’s a capable warrior, he’s foul-natured, rude, and doesn’t get along with many other cats. Wasptail and Reedstorm are the only cats he opens up around, and even then he’s still quite cagey. He was once very close to Lionstar, and often expresses his utter revulsion at what a beast his old friend has become. He has repressed a lot of feelings about the death of his brother during his apprenticeship.

Wasptail (Sylvain) - A fiery ginger tom with long fur. He’s a bit on the lazy side, and annoyingly flirtatious with every she-cat (and even the occasional tom) that crosses his path. Despite acting like he’s incompetent, he’s actually incredibly gifted in both hunting and fighting. His brother was a traitor who went off to join a pack of rogues, who were then all killed in a later battle. He has… a lot of repressed feelings about all of that.

Daisycloud (Annette) - A little ginger she-cat with a stumpy tail. She’s bubbly and energetic, often boosting the spirits of others regardless of the dismal situation. Dawnleaf is her best friend, and she looks up to her a lot. Because of this, she’s actually picked up some basic knowledge of medicine. Her father, Rowanpelt, left ThunderClan moons ago, and she dreams of one day reuniting with him.

ShadowClan (the Black Eagles)

Leader: Eaglestar (Edelgard) - A black she-cat with fur that has been slowly patching over with white (vitiligo). She is headstrong and calculative, and was the first leader to declare war on the other clans. Her motivations for doing so are not entirely clear, but are certainly more complex than a simple grab for territory. She is often blamed for the disappearance of Lilystar, but has confessed to nothing. Despite receiving nine lives from them, she has little devotion to StarClan, and considers them to be cruel and uncaring entities.

Deputy: Raventail (Hubert) - A long-furred smoke tabby tom. He’s a sly, stealthy warrior with an eerie aura about him, and often takes care of Eaglestar’s dirty work in the shadows. He’s incredibly devoted to her, and is a feared warrior on the battlefield. Like Eaglestar, his true intentions are unknown.

Medicine Cat: Snailcloud (Linhardt) - A long-legged dark grey tabby tom. He’s devoted to his work, sure, but he’s also infamously lazy and prefers to sleep. The only thing that gets him to wake up consistently is the opportunity to learn more about the affects of medicine herbs on other cats. His kithood friend, Pebblestorm, is often his test subject.

Warriors:

Rushheart (Ferdinand) - A long-furred golden tom. He’s a bit vain and arrogant - actually, very vain and arrogant - but it doesn’t come from a place of malice. Really, he’s just overly confident as well as a bit socially awkward, and truly means well. He considers himself Eaglestar’s rival, which she doesn’t quite reciprocate.

Pebblestorm (Caspar) - A stocky blue-gray tom. Despite his small size, he’s incredibly strong, and has a fiery determination in battle. This often leads to him being hotheaded and impulsive, though. He’s close friends with Snailcloud, despite their opposing personalities, and often tags along when gathering herbs (even though he thinks it’s boring).

Rain Falling on Stones / “Rain” (Petra) - A dark red she-cat from a distant mountain tribe. She’s polite and respectful, but often lost when it comes to the customs of clan cats. Still, she’s determined to understand this new and bizarre world of cats she’d been thrust into, and she’s going to make the most of it. She’s known throughout the clans for being able to hunt large predator birds, such as hawks and eagles.

Robinface (Dorothea) - A brown tortoiseshell she-cat known for her good looks and (a skill rare among cats) having a beautiful singing voice. She’s a smooth-talker, a bit of a flirt, and can be surprisingly cynical at times. She briefly trained to be a medicine cat, in which she met and began to look up to Fawnface, the WindClan medicine cat. However, when tensions between the clans started to rise, she decided to return to the role of a warrior.

Mousestep (Bernadetta) - A small tortoiseshell tabby she-cat with white paws. She’s a bit of a recluse, and painfully shy, but this has lead to her being one of the stealthiest cats in ShadowClan (a feat in itself, considering that ShadowClan is known for stealth) and being unintentionally a very well-respected warrior. Still, those who know her personally know that she’s really a nervous wreck.

Palefang (Jeritza) - A broad-shouldered cream-colored tom with mask-like white markings on his face. He was separated from his sister, Dawnleaf, after she was called to be ThunderClan’s medicine cat. He became a cold warrior and a menace on the battlefield. Many cats think of him as cruel or dishonorable, as he lead the attack on Minnowcloud and Fawnface.

RiverClan (the Golden Deer)

Leader: Deerstar (Claude) - A light brown tabby tom with a white chest and paws. On the surface, he seems like an amicable airhead. However, those who know him more personally know he’s a cunning warrior and a brilliant strategist. He uses RiverClan’s watery territory to his advantage to stay out of the war as much as possible, not wanting to risk his own cats for the sake of another clan’s conflict. 

Deputy: Rosecloud (Hilda) - A light ginger - almost pink - she-cat. She’s an incredibly strong warrior, despite her dainty appearance, though she’s often lazy and unmotivated. Many cats questioned why Deerstar would appoint her as a deputy, but he has his own reasons. Meanwhile, she takes a lot of joy in having the authority to boss other cats around.

Medicine Cat: Rainfur (Marianne) - A blue-gray she-cat with dark-rimmed eyes. She’s known for her gloomy disposition and almost repentant devotion to StarClan - despite not really doing anything wrong. Cruelty she faced as a kit and young apprentice ingrained in her a belief that she was going to grow up to be a cruel and horrible cat. Still, she’s dedicated to her duties as a medicine cat.

Warriors:

Violetwhisker (Lorenz) - A grey-brown tabby tom. He’s incredibly vain and often questions Deerstar’s authority. He believes the clan should be more involved in the war, as they could stand to have much to gain. He’s uptight and self-absorbed, and seems to believe that simply being around him is a blessing.

Lightfur (Lysithea) - A tiny, long-furred white she-cat with odd pink eyes. She’s always been sickly, and can’t go out often in bright sunlight due to problems with her skin and eyes. Though she can’t properly fight due to her health, she has a brilliant mind and is a capable fisher. Marianne has offered to give her medicine cat training several times, however she has always adamantly refused, not wanting to be seen as ‘weak’.

Foxpelt (Leonie) - A wiry ginger she-cat. She’s incredibly passionate and determined and once idolized a former WindClan senior warrior, Larchfang. She can be a bit blunt at times, maybe even rude, but she’s truly a passionate and driven warrior.

Goldenfur (Raphael) - A giant, muscular golden tabby tom with long fur. He’s a gentle giant, incredibly good-natured, and loves nothing more than food and training. Well, nothing more other than his little sister, who he dotes on constantly. He lost his parents in an accident when he and his sister were young, but he doesn’t let the tragedy get him down.

Hazelwhisker (Ignatz) - A skinny, light brown tabby tom. He’s one of the few cats in all of the clans to take an interest in art, and often sneaks away from camp to arrange pebbles and other objects in pleasing patterns. He’s a bit ashamed of this hobby, however, as he feels it’s not befitting of a warrior.

Cats outside of clans:

Ash (Byleth) - A blue-gray rogue, child of the former WindClan warrior, Larchfang. They joined one of the clans as an adult, but mysteriously vanished after the war started…

Blade / Larchfang (Jeralt) - A large brown tabby tom who left WindClan after he started growing suspicious of Lilystar’s intentions. He fled with his only kit, shortly after the death of his mate, and raised them outside of the clans. Unfortunately, he was eventually found and brought back in. He and his kit are both gone now, however…

Cherry (Anna) - A reddish-brown she cat who wanders the land, always somehow finding strange trinkets that she tries to trade with other cats…

[BONUS] SkyClan (the Ashen Wolves)

Leader: Sootstar (Aelfric) - A dark grey-brown tom well-liked for his gentle, polite demeanor and many acts of charity to cats outside of SkyClan. His clan is the most welcoming to outsiders, likely because many of its current members were once outsiders themselves.

Deputy: Smoketail (Yuri) - A lithe, graceful gray tom with silky fur. Born to a rogue long before joining SkyClan, Smoketail has traveled far and lived in many different places, despite still being rather young. He’s a bit slippery and a bit too cunning for his own good, and has lived through many things he’s reluctant to talk about.

Medicine Cat: Dapplefur (Constance) - A pale tortoiseshell she-cat. She’s a bit cocky and arrogant at times, and talks much bigger than she has to, but she’s really alright in the end. Rambles a lot about 'restoring her family’s legacy’, whatever that means. However, there are times in which she acts like a completely different cat, becoming shy and downtrodden.

Warriors:

Bearfang (Balthus) - A bulky black and white tabby tom. He’s a loudmouth and often overconfident and hotheaded. He often rushes into battle without much regard for the situation, much to the chagrin of Smoketail. He joined SkyClan after getting in trouble with a band of Twolegplace rogues. Once upon a time, he knew a couple of RiverClan cats - Including Rosecloud and her family.

Redwhisker (Hapi) - A long furred red tabby she-cat. Hapi is the type of cat that marches to the beat of her own drum, and is often inside of her own head. However, misfortune seems to follow her everywhere, and she has the worst luck when it comes to encountering threats such as foxes and badgers on patrols. 

And that’s all folks!

[hotheadhero]

The first thing Caspar realized when he woke up was: This isn’t my ceiling.

In another context, that might not be so alarming - every so often he’d crash on Linhardt’s bed instead of his own when he was just too worn out to climb the long flight of stairs back up - but what he saw above his head looked so completely unfamiliar to him that he promptly bolted upright in his bed.

He should have clocked himself into next week, he came at that too-hard, too-close steel-wooden frame so fast, but instead his head passed right on through and he was greeted with a field of pitch-black, glinting randomly in places like metal. Caspar squinted - somehow the simple reflex did much to improve his night vision, but still, none of it was anything he recognized. Packed cotton, thick twine here and there, and several heavy coiled springs interspersed throughout... If he didn’t know any better, he might think he’d ended up inside his own mattress somehow. A self-deprecating laugh escaped him, and he absentmindedly raised a hand to pinch himself. Some crazy dream, right? He’d never even seen a bed mattress be assembled; how would he know what one looks like inside--

No pinch. No pain. Caspar took one look down at himself, and screamed.

“SHIT, what--?!?” Shock and terror sent him flying into the rafters (higher than he had any right to be), and he realized that he’d never actually left his dorm room at all. What’s more, his sight was wreathed in faint glowing cyan and he was floating, digging incorporeal fingers into and through the planks as if doing so would keep him grounded in this world he’d so prematurely left. There was no body in his bed; the sheets were rumpled but showed no sign of having been slept in; and he was pretty sure there’d be no body underneath his bed even though he knew now that was where he’d woken up this morning. 

I’ve been turned into a ghost. The rest of him already knew it but his head and heart were still in denial. Still, there was little other way to explain this literal out-of-body experience. Only - where was his body? The one book he could recall ever reading about ghosts had said they were malevolent spirits chained to the world of the living by some lingering regret, usually embodied in some physical object that needed to be destroyed to release their prisoner. But what about reversing the spell? He didn’t want to go away just yet; he still had so much left to do! He hadn’t even managed to accomplish his dream!

“Oh, what do I do, what do I do, what do I DOOO--!!”

Frustration and panic tore from him in an unearthly sound he hadn’t even known he was capable of making. He could feel his heart - or whatever passed for it in this ghostly form - racing, literally threatening to blow him to pieces. Could ghosts even blow themselves apart with their own evil energy? Scratch that - he didn’t want to find out.

Caspar had never been known for restraining himself, but with his very life on the line, somehow he managed to wrestle his fear down to a low boil. Think, Caspar. There has to be some way out of this. This had to be a curse of some kind, right? Or a spell? He could brainstorm all he wanted, but only a mage could give him any definitive answers, and that was assuming they even knew what had caused this mischief in the first place. 

Hubert. Linhardt. Celica. One of those three had to be able to help him, right? Hell, he’d take anyone with a magical enough look to them, as long as he could sleep in his bed like a normal human again. Or eat. ... Oh, goddess, did ghosts get hungry? Would he ever get to enjoy the dining hall’s food again?!?

Fuck - That tearing sensation again--

No. Don’t get distracted. Try not to think about that... or the way you don’t need to open the door to go right through. Mage. Find one.

It was night out. Here and there a lamp-flame flickered. Silence. Odds were low that he’d find anybody wandering around campus right now, but maybe the library would have some answers. Or the mages’ dorm rooms. He didn’t know how long he had to reverse this, but time was short - either one of them would do. He’d simply have to try his luck.

...

Non-IC thoughts and rules below the cut.

Spontaneous April Fool’s writing, just because Caspar has a name-alike. Also, the mages named above are only there because Caspar has had canon and/or TOA interaction with them - I am by no means narrowing his interactions to just those three. If all this intrigues you, feel free to interact with ghost-Caspar however or with whoever. I’ll take asks, submits, or reblogs of this scene-setter/starter. Just be sure to get your ideas in my inbox, notices, or DMs before April 1, 11:59PM PST (might be flexible with long thread ideas). I left open where he goes first, but ghost Caspar can be found anywhere he normally hangs out as well as the above stated other locations. Or anywhere at all, really.

Given that this idea has only existed for as long as it took me to write this, I don’t have a lot of premeditated constraints for ghost Caspar other than the following:

He’s effectively made of mana/an energy-being here. If he’s stuck in this form too long, he may need to leech off someone’s magical (or life?!?) energy.

What happened to his body?!? Could be stolen or transmuted or something else entirely; you decide! (Or it might differ by interaction?)

At base, he looks like himself but glows faint cyan (like his hair, but electric). He’s easier to see at night and near impossible to see in day. Magically attuned people OR people observant enough to notice a “heat mirage” effect when the temperature really isn’t hot enough to have one may still be able to see him even in daylight, though.

If he gets too emotionally distressed, his form distorts and fuzzes out - think old TV static meets Photoshop Liquefy/Shear. Same happens to his voice - the latter scream could be likened to a banshee’s.

He can talk to anyone who sees him, or to anyone who doesn’t via dreams/possession. Possessing someone in broad daylight (e.g. to hold conversation, though theoretically it could be done to frighten someone?) might manifest physically, e.g. host feels their body temperature drop, or their eyes change color.

He can move physical objects if he concentrates. This might look like repeated attempts to grab/clench an object if you can see his full incorporeal form, or a cyan wisp of variable thickness/opacity if you can’t. 

Ironically, being made of pure mana here, he might have an easier time casting spells than he would normally. Too bad he has no affinity for dark magic. (Fire and wind could blow apart his form; he retains his fear of thunder and lightning; and he might be able to pull off a supremely weak “Sagittae” if it ever came up... e.g. one "arrow”, and more a stylus at that.) Nosferatu would come surprisingly easy thanks to the whole mana vampire HC.

[quillfulwriter]

You Will Live Ch. 1: Enbarr | FE3H AU

Word count: 1900 (4 to 16 minutes) | Rating: T | Note: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers | Main Characters: Ferdinand, Hubert, and former Black Eagle students | Ship: Ferdibert

—————–

Smoldering flame mixed with the tang of magic and turn of summer into autumn in the air. The city had been evacuated, of course, so the only dead within the walls were beasts and willing soldiers ready to defend Her Majesty’s cause no matter their odds. This was, for them, a matter of patriotism or principle in devotion to their Emperor. The soldiers still standing fought with as much spirit as they could muster even as their allies fell.

Hubert’s own magic reserves were dangerously depleted, but he would not yield. His post was the final line of defense between the invading forces and the Enbarr castle. He swallowed and his throat was dry, but he still smiled coldly at the soldiers from the church, Kingdom, and Alliance forcing their way towards the gates. Beyond him was Her Majesty and all the hopes she sacrificed so much for. Hubert would sooner die than relent here, of all places.

Your Majesty.

The calling spell only worked in a certain range, such as the Empire’s capital, at least for Hubert. That was all he needed in this moment.

How goes the battle, Hubert?

She counted on him not for good news, but accurate reports. This would hardly change now.

Poorly, I’m afraid. We will fight to the last.

The distant fizzle of silence was a telltale sign that Hubert was struggling to maintain the spell. The archers breaching the defensive line were taking up his focus instead, an act he knew Her Majesty would approve. It was only sensible.

Withdraw into the castle if you must, Hubert.

Of course, Your Majesty.

He dropped the connection on a lie. To retreat here would be to allow this filth into her castle to take her life. In this number, Hubert had to confess they would almost certainly succeed regardless of where he went. That did not dissuade him from the fight in the least.

He drew on the dark magic he refined in service to Lady Edelgard, bracing for the mounted units charging toward him. Most likely, he’d already been flanked by stealthier classes and this last stand would be over soon enough. But he would be sure they earned their invasion. Clouds of dark purple energy swirled around his arms, wisping away at the edges as the first soldier came through the archway.

In a sweeping gesture, several glowing spears of energy appeared above the soldier and the glyph flashed at Hubert’s feet as the spears pierced the enemy and left them slumped over on their horse. That was the last charge he had for Dark Spikes, and his advantage against cavalrymen was exhausted.

Naturally, it was in that state and when the wear of battle screamed in all of Hubert’s being that none other than Ferdinand himself rode over the hill. His alliance changed at the bridge of Myrddin and what letters he dared send to the Empire following that were swiftly destroyed by Hubert himself. To think he’d respected him, sat with him in the tea gardens like they were friends. Hubert made a fool of himself by going out of his way to purchase tea as a gift for the former Prime Minister, just as Ferdinand had been for purchasing an overpriced imported coffee during a time of war as a gift for Hubert.

He was a sight in battle all the same. Blood clung to the ends of his free-flowing hair, grown long in his adult years. After all this grueling combat, his posture on horseback was as pristine as in his regular training. Ferdinand von Aegir would gloat for ages if he only knew that Hubert would concede in his final moments that he was, in fact, the noblest of nobles in the most respectable sense no matter where his allegiance fell.

What a shame he would not get that insight even in Hubert’s final words.

“Running into you in the capital like this—I have to say, it's almost sentimental.” How easily the teasing banter came, as if this was just another walk to the gardens or conference hall. For once, Ferdinand did not smile.

“Hubert. She must leave.”

Just who was he trying to convince with such a dry response? Hubert scoffed, the spell brewing in his palm at the ready. No different than Ferdinand’s javelin. He came prepared for the deed, it seemed.

“You really think you can make her?”

All those years trying to best Edelgard with the goal of providing her guidance if she went down the wrong path, and then it was Ferdinand who veered off course. Normally, Ferdinand could be made to realize he was mistaken. But it was far too late for that now. Barely able to stand and still holding the last defense to the castle, Hubert had to believe as much.

“It does not matter what I think. Those are my orders.”

Hubert’s spell was his answer, and the javelin glancing past him was the reply. The blur of spells and Ferdinand’s attacks were impossible to track after that. Hubert’s eyes throbbed with overexertion and he could taste coppery blood. He wouldn’t hold on much longer now. Even the mages stationed to his left had staggered towards his location at some point and collapsed, arrows buried in their backs.

Beyond their corpses, a familiar archer drew back on her bow. She came out of her room for this? Such progress.

“It’s over, Hubert.” Bernadetta kept her arrow trained on him, pointed and intense, but her eyes were soft. Pitying, perhaps. “Please just… Don’t make us hurt you.”

He chuckled and she shivered just a bit. Well, it would appear that her instinctive fear of him didn’t change. “Then surrender.”

“C’mon,” Caspar came up on the other flank, tense but still too relaxed for a battlefield. Was there nothing between shouting like a madman or talking casually for Caspar? It was a miracle that he survived this long. “You’re too smart for this. Beating you up now, it’s… kinda unfair.”

Hubert laughed again, or tried, but it came out as more of a wheeze. If they were going to join forces against him, he’d prefer it was in actual combat. To collapse and die from simple blood loss wasn’t how he imagined his end.

“Come to your senses, Hubert.” Ferdinand spoke from horseback, the tip of his spear red with Hubert’s blood. In fairness, he had his own injuries from the last of Hubert’s spells in turn. The duel had been far from one-sided. “Our forces are inside the castle. Stand down.”

That sentence ran through Hubert like a hot blade. Behind him, soldiers must have slid through the moat to escape Hubert’s attention during their fight. How could he have been so lax? The glyph of the communication spell lit up in his eyes, likely invisible to the others at this distance.

Your Majesty, the enemy—

I am aware, Hubert.

I will be there shortly.

But he couldn’t and Her Majesty knew that as well as he did. The forces would not have made it inside if Hubert was at his full strength. Just sustaining this spell was depleting what little reserves he had left. If his former classmates saw the concern on his face, they had the decency not to insult him by saying it.

You will do no such thing. Stand down, Hubert.

Edelgard, no—

Not again. This would not be the same as her time in the Kingdom while he suffered in the Empire: it would be far worse. If he lost Lady Edelgard a second time with no way back from it, Hubert had no concept of what he might come next. Her victory was everything to him, but if she was ordering him to surrender, then…

Please, Hubert, follow this last order from me. You have walked this path with me and made it all that much brighter for it. All I need from you now is to know that although I will fall here today, you will live your own life.

If Edelgard made her mind unavailable for contact through the force of her considerable will or if the worst had already come to pass when the spell broke off, Hubert had no way of knowing. Not yet. The stone bridge almost certainly bruised him as he dropped to his knees, coughing blood up onto the pale surface.

“Uh, Linhardt!” Caspar’s strained, his inflection rising as it did whenever he was excited or stressed. How long had it been, but still Hubert could read them so clearly. As if they never left.

Hubert clenched his hands into fists against the bridge, scraping them on the stone enough to hurt through his gloves.

“What now?” Linhardt’s presence was impossible to pinpoint, even as unmistakable as his sighing tone was. The injuries Hubert sustained were too great for his body to maintain even that simple function.

Ferdinand dropped from his horse with a clank of armored greaves. “Hubert!”

At least when he spoke then, it wasn’t with the empty distance from before. Ferdinand talking without some buoyant emotion was too foreign to tolerate for long. Hubert wouldn’t have much time left to wait either way, he supposed.

Then the cool dispersion of a Physic spell washed over him.

“No, leave me—” He reached up with a stained glove, trying to wave off their assistance. He wanted to fall with Edelgard. It was his purpose, the path he’d chosen. The healing spell did restore him to the point where the taste of blood was fading, but the strength to stand still escaped him. He could still end this with his devotion intact.

“We couldn’t do that to you.” Bernadetta’s timidity was back in full force as she stepped up beside him on the bridge.

Another wave of enemy soldiers rushed by, unstoppable as a flood and leaving him with a weight as heavy as being buried alive. Why did they show him mercy? Didn’t they realize this was the cruelest fate even Hubert could imagine? Another healing spell from Linhardt was joined by Bernadetta’s slender hand hovering on his shoulder. He didn’t have the venom to shirk her off in this state.

“Her Majesty, her victory—” The edge to his voice was less cutting and more desperate than he desired.

“I am sorry, Hubert.” Ferdinand had knelt in front of him at some point. His curling locks swam in Hubert’s vision, blending with the warm tones of his uniform. On the opposite shoulder from Bernadetta, he rested his hand and gave a reaffirming squeeze. How dare they do this to Hubert. How dare Ferdinand show him this compassion here, now. “I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

And yet, through the indignant spite, Hubert reached up to grab onto the front of the former Prime Minister’s shirt. Feebly, even according to his own account.

“Please—” He hoped they were satisfied to be the only ones to hear him beg for Her Majesty’s life. There was nothing they could do, no more than he himself could. Lady Edelgard and Hubert alike knew this end was always a possibility. But when it came, he expected he would meet his death before allowing anyone to even come close to Edelgard. He would sooner die; Hubert swore to himself. But with the actual moment here, Hubert instead held onto Ferdinand, felt the single trail of wetness on his own face, saw the pulsing darkness at the edges of his vision—

“What’s going on, Lin?”

“Oh, he’s passing out. But he’ll survi—”

—————–

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