#and yet hes still the only one who acknowledges hubert!!!!!

[procrastinatingattorney]

once again its wild for s/ilver snow to kill off most of the cast offscreen and be like "ohhhh no we have to fight old friends" and its freaking ashe and lorenz cos you dont see edel and hubert all route cos they cut gronder field aka the climatic hyped up battle that the marketing focused on lmao

[mittelfrank-divas]

The things that really get to me about the difference between the Ferdinand who sides with Edelgard and the one that opposes her is Bridge!Ferdinand's "of Adrestia" line and how in his Marianne B support, only CF!Ferdinand sticks to his stance of accepting what happens to him and moving forward from it, with non-CF him not having the line with him acknowledging what he lost and in his explore dialogue is fixated on regaining Aegir lands and title.

That's right babey, recruited!Ferdinand is a Ferdinand who has sabotaged his own character development and doubled down on the importance of his title. He is Ferdinand von Aegir until the end!

And why shouldn't he? Edelgard took his title from him, and everyone says Edelgard is the evil villain. Literally everything around him is reinforcing the idea that defeating Edelgard is both the right course of action and the thing that will allow him to regain his nobility -- which is, of course, the only thing that should matter to him. Nothing matters more than something thought to be unjustly stolen.

It's his rivalry with her all over again. All along, Ferdinand thought that he had to defeat Edelgard in order to prove himself. Only when she beats him, and yet still treats him as a friend who she respects, does he realize that he never had to fight her at all. He never had to prove himself against her.

But recruited!Ferdinand, of course, never gets to experience that lesson. He never gets to complete his supports with her, and he never gets to see what would happen if she won the war. Instead he joins the winning side and, rather than basking in the glory of that win, can only say that "I feel that a huge hole has opened up in my heart. Who knows if it can ever be filled?" How strange that his title does not fill it for him.

Meanwhile, Bridge!Ferdinand seems to have undergone some introspection in the five years that he spent with Edelgard and Hubert. And this is a Ferdinand who could have regained his title during that time. Edelgard was fully in a position to give it to him, could have used it as leverage to secure his loyalty. But either she did not need to do that, or he realized that it no longer mattered to him quite so much.

He is Ferdinand of Adrestia. He is more than an Aegir. And he has more to fight for than just a patch of land.

[tamagoincident]

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 2/10

link: AO3

Chapter Two - The Man Who Makes All the Decisions

Chapter content warning: brief encounter of sexual harassment

You awoke gasping in the night, heart pumping, heaving in lungfuls of stale air. The darkness of the Saints Hotel room pressed close. You’d dreamt about Emma and Henry again. 

Frightened as you were, you whispered to yourself that you were safe, that the dampness upon your brow was perspiration, and not the spatter of blood from Henry’s gunshot wound. That the screams seeping from the peeling walls were not Emma’s, but recalled from the etchings of your memory. You collapsed back onto the sheets and pulled the blanket over your shoulders, shuddering hard against the nausea prickling in your stomach and praying for sleep to find you once more.

—

Arthur stood at the bar in Smithfield’s Saloon, casual in the way he leaned over it. How at ease he appeared, unapologetic in his taking space. You choked on your envy, allowing yourself to wonder what it’s like to do whatever you wanted, wherever you pleased, unescorted. This feeling climbed as the man seated closest to the entrance pulled his chair out fully in your direction, reclining with his thighs spread. You tightened your grip on the handle of your travel bag and kept your revulsion from showing too much. Folk like that chased any sort of reaction, like they chased down drink after drink.

Ernest waved you over, having noticed how quiet the room fell when you’d walked in through the swinging doors. Arthur remained fixated on his glass despite the change in atmosphere, spinning it idly atop the nicked wood, taking more stock in it than in his surroundings. His voice cut across the idle chatter from the tables. “You even wash these?”

“Funny you ask,” Ernest said, wiping down the bar with a rag. “We’re in the market for a dishwasher. You look right fit for the job.” He abandoned his task at your approach to reach towards one of the dozens of bottles lining the shelves behind him, but you held up a hand to stop him. You needed your full wits to do something as illogical as you were about to, potentially letting a stranger lead you to God-Knows-Where to meet God-Knows-Who, with the pistol shoved in your right boot acting as your sole reassurance.

“So you’re a comedian now, mister? Didn’t realize I was getting dinner and a goddamn show.” Arthur knocked back his shot of whiskey and put the glass down on the bar. You set your bag at your feet and settled yourself in the space beside him. Through the aroma of decades of liquor soaked into the timber of the saloon, you caught a whiff of soap and freshly scrubbed skin. 

“Cursin’ in front of women,” Ernest said, acknowledging you. “Ain't your daddy ever taught you manners?”

“Say that again,” Arthur growled and smacked both palms on the counter, moments away from hopping over it. You cleared your throat before he could hitch a leg up. He turned and froze, as if it surprised him that anyone else was in the saloon at all, let alone you in your best (and only) dress.

The disturbance had caused a bit of rubbernecking your way. While Ernest rattling the clients was always an entertaining diversion, (and privately, you would have seized the opportunity to see Arthur try to throttle him, the mountain of a man Ernest was) an all-out saloon-brawl was counterproductive to anything you’d arrived there to do. The situation had to be defused, and fast.

“I’m not a delicate flower, I won’t wilt from a little profanity,” you said. “It didn’t offend me to hear him swear the first time we’d met, and it doesn’t offend me now.”

Arthur looked at you. His expression turned from confused to even more confused. Clearly he hadn’t recognized you from your previous encounter. Taking pity on him, you helpfully concealed your nose and mouth with your sleeve, resembling the scarf you’d worn when he met you. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. You dug four bits from your skirt pockets, sliding them onto the counter to Ernest. “For this man’s next drink.”

“Couldn’t tell it was you without the get-up you was wearing the last time,” Arthur grumbled, and accepted the second shot of whiskey, placated for now, “or without the rifle.”

The rifle wasn’t concealable, and it hadn’t fit in the bag with your other travel necessities, so you left it with Ernest. You’d come back to Valentine to retrieve it later, at the right moment, along with half of the train score you had hidden away in a lockbox. “Had to try to look somewhat respectable for a negotiation. If there will be a negotiation, that is. Didn’t want to show up in my dusty travel clothes.”

“You look naïve, and an easy target to swindle,” he said, sparing a glance toward Ernest, who only cocked an eyebrow in response. Arthur cleared his throat. “Not that I’d do something like that. You see, I’m an itinerant worker, laid off from a factory—”

“Save it, please,” you said. “I’m not interested in divining who you really are or where you’ve come from. What I am interested in is whether you can help me with that offer we discussed. From your countenance, I assume your friend decided to take me up on it, against your better judgment.”

“What’s wrong with my countenance?”

“You’re scowling.”

“I ain’t,” he said, scowling. You put your hands up, conceding.

“He said he’d meet with you,” Arthur said. He brought the glass up to his lips. “Still decidin’ if I want to spin him a tale that I came to Valentine, but you never showed. Or, I could just rob you. I don’t think he’d mind that as much.”

“You just said you wouldn’t swindle me,” you accused.

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but didn’t wish to act on it for fear of appearing too amicable. “You said we’d get half the money upfront?”

“Yes. You’ll get half if we can come to an agreement, and the other half once Emma is home safe.”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Arthur said. “We already went through an ordeal with that train, risking our skin to come up empty-handed. Now you want to pay us to risk it again with the score which should’ve been ours in the first place. This might end up being more trouble than it’s worth even with the seventy dollars you promised on top of it.”

“Hey lady, how much for your company?” A grunting voice emerged from behind you. You ignored it, too immersed in assessing the value of all your worldly possessions, your rifle among the other trinkets you had stashed away in different locations. You didn’t own land or assets to sell or put up for a loan. The single thing of monetary value in your possession was Henry’s wedding ring, and you’d hang before pawning that off. It’d been his dying request to return it to Emma. They’d only been married for five months when he was killed.

“I said, how much?”

Ernest jabbed his finger at him. “You best shut your mouth and sit back down ‘fore I drag you out of here, you drunken fool.”

 “Weren’t talkin’ to you.” A hand clapped on your right shoulder, jerking you backwards. “I was talkin’ to this uppity bitch—”

You only had a brief moment to recognize the man as the one from earlier who’d leered at you. In the next second, he was flat on the ground, clutching his newly crooked nose. Arthur was towering over him, shaking out the soreness of the impact from his hand. He bent down and, without so much as a word, wiped his bloodstained knuckles on the howling degenerate’s shirt. Apart from his slightly mussed hair and the wild promise of barely restrained ire lurking in his eyes, an eerie calmness rolled off of him.

So much for preventing a brawl. 

“You broke it! You fuckin’ broke it!”

“Hey,” someone piped up from the cards table. “Ain’t that the feller who damn near beat Tommy to death the other day when Hubert was workin’?”

“That was you Hubert was talkin’ about?” Ernest said to Arthur. “You owe us money for the window you smashed through, my friend.”

“How much was it to replace?” you said. “I can pay—”

More wailing. “I’m gonna skin you alive!”

“You know, Tommy ain’t been right since,” another person called out. “He may be an imbecile, but he’s our imbecile! You think it’s fun beatin’ on all of us?”

People were getting out of their seats. “Yeah!”

“Let’s go,” Arthur barked at you amid the jeering.

“My bag—” you said, surveying around your feet for your belongings. In the chaos, Arthur had grabbed it for you and was heading to the door. You struggled not to trip over your skirts in pursuit, casting one last apologetic look to Ernest, who seemed like he wanted to go after you. 

Arthur stood outside, unhitching his horse from the post. The temptation arose to make a jest, to smooth the terse silence with something guaranteed to irritate him further. You swallowed it and instead listened to the bustle of wagons and barking of stray dogs. 

“Grab your horse,” he said. “You can follow me. We got a bit of a ride south from here. Can’t for the life of me figure out why he wants me to lead you to camp, but I’m tired of arguin’ with him.”

You wondered who exactly Arthur was referring to. At the Trading Post, he’d hinted at a leader of sorts, the one who had yet to be named. You thought to ask for it, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. “I don’t have a horse. Not since my last one ran off.”

“She doesn’t own a horse,” he said to no one in particular, a moment of exasperation to the universe perhaps, if you had to guess. “How the hell you been getting around? Hot-air balloon?”

“Much less exciting than that, I’m afraid. Trains and stagecoaches. Sometimes I borrow a horse from Ernest. Sometimes I ‘borrow’ from strangers and return their horses before they’re missed.”

“I’m not even gonna pretend all that trouble you put yourself up to makes any sense,” Arthur grunted in response, strapping your bag to his saddle. “Alright, then. Come here.”

You didn’t move. In your hesitation, you considered beginning your rescue plan anew, using the train money to pay for hired guns, which you had wanted to avoid. If the first meeting between the two of you had gone well, the incident in the saloon had gone every bit as astray. But Arthur had intervened on your behalf, which you appreciated, regardless of the issue it had caused. You thought if there was any chance of a man caring whether or not Emma made it back alive, he was it. And there was the small detail of the score you lifted off his hands. You imagined it wouldn’t go over well if you offered it to another group.

Arthur placed the tip of his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up and over the saddle. He lowered his hand. This, you accepted with thanks and up you went onto the back of the horse. At this proximity, the scent of soap you’d noticed in the saloon was stronger. You couldn’t remember the last time you met a man who bathed with any regularity, let alone bathed at all.

“Might want to hold on to somethin’,” Arthur murmured. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the cantle as the horse fell into a trot. 

And off you both went, past the gun shop and the train station, the muddy roads shifting into dusty trails the further Valentine receded from view. You were glad to quit the miserable little town if only for a moment, and though you hadn’t any high expectations for your destination, you hoped it smelled better.

“You mentioned you’re taking me to a camp. How big is it?” you asked.

“Suppose you’ll find out soon enough,” came the curt reply. 

“Then, how many people are with you? Besides you and your friend.”

“Ain't you full of questions,” Arthur said. The pistol hidden in your boot felt heavier. It might be enough to fend off several people if they decided to take back by force what they believed to be theirs, but an entire camp? You reprimanded yourself for not thinking this whole thing through.

The horse veered left. Though you sat quietly, your mind was rife with uneasy thoughts. The sun blazed high in the sky, but it would soon begin its descent. You wish you’d asked to meet earlier, having not considered where you would lay your head down tonight, especially if your offer was declined. In all likelihood you’d end up sleeping propped up against a tree in the good company of hungry mosquitoes. Or hitching a twilight ride back to the Saints Hotel with some shifty wagoner. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done either.

Arthur said something, which you were too deeply absorbed in your misgivings to have caught. You asked him to repeat himself. “I said, it’s not too much further now.” 

The horse picked up its pace. Suddenly you were aware of the soreness in your biceps from straining to grip the back of the saddle. Squeezing your thighs harder to maintain balance, you wrapped your arms around Arthur’s torso. If the unexpected contact startled him, he did not show it.

“I never thanked you earlier,” you said.

“For what?”

“Quieting that fellow back in the saloon.”

“I reckon you could’ve done it yourself. One minute you’re firin’ a rifle in my direction. Next, you’ve gone all feeble and quiet.”

“If I rose hell whenever someone pestered me, sir, I wouldn’t be here to pester you.”

This earned you a laugh. You felt sorry you weren’t able to see it. “It’s Arthur Morgan,” he corrected. 

Arthur Morgan. You’d known to call him Arthur from that friend Marston of his, but now that you knew both names, you thought it sounded familiar. You racked your recent memory for it, coming up empty. It was a common enough name, anyway. 

“You ain’t told me your name,” he added.

“That’s right, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t,” you said. And that was that.

—

“Coming through,” Arthur shouts as the horse slows. You crane your head to see who he’s speaking to when you spotted a man stepping into the clearing, adjusting the bowler hat atop his head with his left hand and swinging a rifle with his right. Your arms slipped away from around Arthur’s waist, back to gripping the cantle for support.

“My my, what’s this? Returning with a girl before the sun goes down,” he says with a wide grin. “You’re getting romantic in your old age.”

Arthur groaned. “Do you ever shut up? You fill every waking moment with your nonsense.”

The grin grew impossibly wider. Tilting his head up towards you and Arthur, you were just close enough to make out this man’s freckles beneath the shadow cast by his hat’s brim. “I’ve plenty of time for peace and quiet when I’m six feet under.”

“Just another reason to hasten you there,” Arthur said, then, softly to his horse, “Come on, girl.”

“He doesn’t really mean that, you know. He loves me,” the man called as you passed by, “Isn’t that right, Arthur? Like an older brother, I’d say!”

The horse stopped at a hitching station just beyond the camp entrance. Off you went from the rear of it, lowering yourself until your boots hit the grass. “Quite the lively introduction,” you said to Arthur.

“That boy is too busy cracking jokes and chasing skirts to do much of anything useful,” he said, dismounting. 

“He’s amusing,” you said. “It’s a breath of fresh air from all the prickly folks around these parts. Look at them wrong and they’ll be twitching for their gun.”

“About as amusing as an insect buzzing in your ear.” Arthur led you to a table, gesturing to the folding stools. “You can sit here a moment. And don’t talk to no one.”

You peered down at the tabletop, noticing copper stains that had long seeped into the wood. “Is that blood?”

Arthur shrugged. “Or you can stand, if that’s your preference.”

You tracked him as he made his way straight to the center of camp, to the largest of the surrounding fixtures, a cream-colored tent that stood proudly over all the rest, watchful. He stopped at the entrance, waiting for the dark figure inside to turn towards Arthur as they stooped slightly, perhaps to grab something. 

The figure emerged finally, joining Arthur outside of the tent’s shade. Sunlight beamed against glittering rings on fingers wrapped around a smoking cigar. You squinted.

Oh God, you thought. That’s Dutch van der Linde. You read about him in the New Hanover Gazette. Your mind ran miles per second as you put bits of information together. You had passed his face on wanted posters during your travels, passed Arthur’s too, lingering above a five-thousand dollar reward for one of the largest heists in Blackwater history. A heist that had seen a dozen or more people dead. And now you were in their camp, a camp that bounty hunters across several states would pay a pretty penny to find.

Those wanted faces turned to you. Arthur waved you over. Your legs grew heavy, rooting themselves to the ground. You had a decision to make.

[fireemblems24]

VW Chapter 19

Onto Verdant Wind now, in what I suspect will look suspiciously like SS's chapter.

Spoilers for up to Chapter 19 for all routes except SS (ch 18) possibly below.

Pre-Battle

So I'm betting this is the "defeat Hubert" chapter? But the question is, for real this time or no?

Yep, you're fighting the Death Knight and Hubert . . . again . . . Who's left after this, just Edelgard?

LAMO, funny how Claude opens nearly the exact same way Seteth did.

Oh, I get to ask about the citizens this time? Picking that answer 100%. The vibe is so different from CF where invading is an exciting thing. At least for Caspar. Maybe I'm misremembering others.

You know what? That would be an interesting post if I ever had the time for it. To go through the script somewhere and list every time citizens/commoners are mentioned throughout the game and just see if different routes vibe differently.

YIKES - Edelgard's using her citizens as a shield to protect her? That's . . . that's something. I guess she's living up to her claim during that Lonato chapter.

I still hope we find Rhea again though. I'm super curious to hear her story.

Battle

When Claude says - no route enemy, target enemy commanders - I ignore him.

So . . . Byleth wolloped the Death Knight for most of his HP and he only had like 16 left. And I wanted to give him the most lolz death possible, so I had . . . Marianne . . . kill him - with an iron lance. Frozen Lance FTW.

Having Claude attack Hubert for that sweet, sweet unique dialogue.

LAMO he called Hubert a lapdog. Hubert tried to be edgy, and Claude was just having none of it.

But why does Hubert give you a Goddess Icon when he dies? That will never not be funny to me.

Post-Battle

DEDUE. What a way to return to the game after a two week separation than to see my lovely Dedue again.

Except this is VW Dedue and Dimitri is dead, and he's just living for vengeance now, which Dimitri would hate.

Ok, so is there any fanfics out there of a post-Grondor VW or SS Dedue meeting ghost Dimitri or something? I think I want that pain. Those two seeing each other again, Dedue realizing Dimitri's still dead, Dimitri blaming himself for Dedue living for vengeance and nothing else, and then Dimitri fades away again before either get to confess their feelings.

On second thought. I don't want that fic. I want AM back. Or a VW fic where Dimitri survives and reunites with Dedue for real.

Dedue the real MVP, and now he's off on his own. What happens to Dedue after this? Do you ever see him again?

LAMO. Claude wants a new ruling system too. Edelgard really never bothered talking to him, hunh.

No. Claude. No. We do NOT need one powerful ruler leading all of Fodlan. Divide the power, don't centralize it. One all-powerful ruler is a horrible, horrible idea.

I'm totally picking "I should be that ruler." Because it makes no sense whatsoever, because who wants to put a rando mercenary on the throne? Claude's probably the right pick, but I can't resist.

Claude was upset with me lamo.

It better not be Byleth in charge at the end. Oh, God, please don't tell me all the routes don't end with an all-powerful Byleth ruling everything while Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude just roll over.

Pre-Battle

These chapter pictures are kinda cool looking. They remind me of folk art or what you'd see in an illustrated book on Nordic mythology. I like it.

Oh, no, it's that same lame response from Byleth about not wanting to kill Edelgard. But why though? Byleth doesn't even KNOW Edelgard here?

I hope Claude gets annoyed with me for whining about some girl I talked to like twice who's currently destroying the continent. I hope this trite doesn't show up in AM too. It made sense for SS, but VW?????

That's fair from Claude. Sure, we won't kill if we don't have to, but she has to be willing to work with someone else which doesn't seem like her strong suite.

Time to go kill Edelgard again. I hope I can keep Dedue alive this time too. Last time was easier because my units are better. I could just send Sylvain and Ferdinand anywhere, surrounded by enemies, and they don't care. This group, not so much :(

Battle

Claude just called Edelgard our "bashful little Emperor." She'd be livid.

The plan is to get Felix to kill Edelgard to get vengeance for Dimitri. The problem is that Felix is a dancer and doesn't have a lot of strength. Let's see if he can pull this off.

But first, Edelgard and Claude dialogue.

Lol, Claude promising to finish the job for Claude. I'm liking his more laid back tone more than I did before.

Edelgard really refuses to work with Claude, hunh. He asked her twice now, she even acknowledged that Claude's after the same thing but still refuses to work with him because he got a C in history class I guess.

It's funny hearing Edelgard tell someone they lack self awareness.

No unique dialogue for Felix and Edelgard though :(

So, this is how it went down in my head. Felix kept quiet and standoffish, not bothering to know the Golden Deer better, just staying in the training room day and night, focusing on nothing but the blade. But then he never used it on the battlefield and only danced, never really seeing combat. So when they were storming the castle and seeing Felix advance towards the throne room, they all expected he'd dance. But he walks by Claude, walks by the rest and advances on Edelgard, saying he'll cut through, not even realizing that's what Dimitri used to say. But Claude remembers. And he watches Felix's cold eyes and a single-minded focus on taking Edelgard down. And he does.

Then Felix leaves without saying a word, exchanging one quick, understanding glance with Dedue, who always knew that, despite their very different ways of going about it, that they were the two who loved Dimitri the most.

Ok, I'm finished now. Someone take this keyboard away from me. I haven't gotten to write in two weeks now.

Post Battle

Wait, this is the same cut scene??? Why the fuck is Edelgard calling Byleth her teacher? I don't even know her?

This scene makes no sense here. It was good in SS, but wtf Edelgard, why are you so hung up on Byleth when you don't even know them?? God, I'm not looking forward to seeing this again in AM.

Edelgard really be a simp, hunh.

So how confused was everyone that played VW or AM first and saw Edelgard, who you don't know at all, get all weepy over Byleth for no real reason?

Leonie MVP. Not surprised, girl put in the work.

No, we beat her because of Felix, not because of Byleth. Byleth was on chest duty.

Oh, the letter is here too. This really is the exact same as SS again. Poor Claude. He really deserved better. Dedue and Hubert have bigger roles in VW than Claude does for crying out loud.

If it's the same group as Monica and Tomas, I'm not that worried about them. They weren't exactly . . . threatening.

Rhea, though, she's back!

Oh, at least this is a bit different with him asking about the children of the goddess. He could wait a second and let poor Rhea step outside in the sunlight again first though.

So the guy named Nemesis wasn't a hero after all. I'm shocked. Totally shocked I tell you.

Can I take a wild guess that Rhea, Flayn, and Seteth are "the children of the Goddess?" And the Goddess is Sothis obviously. That's why they wanted Flayn's blood, because it's fancy blood.

Claude's a globalist lol. Hey, at least he acknowledged Duscur - unlike someone . . .

Next Chapter

Shamballa sounds like a place in Fullmetal Alchemist

At least they addressed why they never bombed the monastery.

Still doesn't explain why they haven't dropped one on Dimitri yet though.

Rhea is coming!!! I know I won't get to use her as a unit though :(

This is still the exact same as SS though :(

[askhubertvonvestra]

Hello Hubert which of the lantern (DC comics lantern corps), do you think you and the rest of the BE would be.

There are very distinct personal requirements for the Green Lantern Corps. As such, not every comparison will be perfect. I will still make an effort to approximate the Black Eagles through the Green Lanterns, but you should be aware of this factor in advance.

Bernadetta von Varley: Jessica Cruz. That this member of the Green Lantern  Corps experiences intense anxiety and a severe aversion to the outdoors in the merely an aside about her, which naturally makes her an exceptional parallel to Bernadetta. Her fears do not define her, but rather, her ability to overcome them. 

Considering her additional obstacles, one could argue that she has a greater personal fortitude than most others she meets. They would be correct. Ms. Cruz’s initial struggles yielded incredible growth and command over her abilities. Who could be a better representation of Bernadetta than someone who has learned through persistence that she is far more capable than she realized?

Caspar von Bergliez: Guy Gardner. Their attitudes are comparable, in a way, although Guy may be even more extreme than Caspar. While their world view may be simplified at times, both Mr. Gardner and Caspar seek to improve the world around them and stand as a champion of fairness. Neither of them are averse to putting the work in, and there is never the expectation of reward due to their status, as a noble for one and a Green Lantern for the other. 

Taking it a step further, they do have a remarkable capacity for compassion that elevates them as people and leaders within their respective organizations. Failure rarely discourages them for long, and you must admire that kind of dauntless resolve.

Dorothea Arnault: Boodikka. While Dorothea doesn’t have the militant background that Boodikka boasts, she certainly began her life with survival skills as a key asset. Far younger than she should have. They do share a skepticism of people in positions of power as well as a formidable will. While fortune doesn’t often smile upon either of them, it’s never stopped Boodikka or Dorothea alike. All that they have, they have retained due to their efforts and resolve.

Edelgard von Hresvelg: Sendrina. The tragedies that Sendrina has survived and carries with her are no small factor in my decision to compare her to Her Majesty. Her decision to focus on the demise of the Children of the White Lobe is a fair parallel to Lady Edelgard’s own mission to defeat Those Who Slither in the Dark, although she did not take up the mantle for anyone. There is a measure of loss and blaming oneself that exists between them as well... But I suppose I’ve made my point.

Ferdinand von Aegir: Daniel Young. While he was not a Green Lantern for long, it is impressive in its own right. Who, being given this ability temporarily, would return it dutifully when their work was done? Daniel Young was an officer responsible for bringing criminals to justice when he was called upon as a temporary replacement by another Green Lantern, who was severely wounded. Given otherworldly power, Officer Young sought only to do his job with said abilities. Few are the people who could attest to having such integrity. I can plainly think of one such person who emulates that personal moral code with nearly every deed.

Hubert von Vestra: Kilowog. It’s obvious I lack his stature. Yet I maintain the ability to intimidate others as needed, and we share a generally inventive and intellectual disposition. Mastery of his craft defines him, as many of his peers have studied under him at one time or another. My closest parallel to this is the sorcery engineers of House Vestra, but it will suffice. I am not the most powerful dark mage in Fódlan, but I am among the most knowledgeable, as he is with the ring. I would say his mental fortitude in the face of manipulation of various kinds is comparable to my own self-discipline as well.

Jeritza von Hrym: Hal Jordan. The great extremes in Hal Jordan’s life are reflected in the trials Jeritza has endured and returned from, however injured he was in the process. The events at his childhood home were something of a death and rebirth, although less literal than Mr. Jordan’s. Both of them pose a daunting threat, between their strength and effective combat strategies. Ultimately, the critical piece of their similarity is that no matter how dark the depths they sink into, they retain a certain light that cannot be snuffed out.

Linhardt von Hevring: Ch’p. It should be noted that I mean no offense in this comparison. The untimely demise of Ch’p aside, he was vastly intelligent. Any perceived limitations of his form were quickly outmaneuvered by his innovative mind to the point where he could easily hold his own against markedly more powerful opponents. I believe Linhardt would see the acknowledgement of his skills in this comparison.

Petra Macneary: Soranik Natu. Although Petra has no extensive medical experience, she shares much of her character with Dr. Soranik Natu. As the future leader of Brigid, she is in the position of having to mend the tension between the Empire and Brigid to secure a more prosperous life for her people. Dr. Natu faced the resentment of her people towards Green Lanterns when she took up the ring, and both have shown impressive strength of will in the face of that challenge. 

This was not done without reluctance, however. Petra did not wish to leave her people when she was taken due to politics, a paltry reason to remove a child from their home. Dr. Natu was apprehensive of standing against the ferocity of her people’s hatred. Still, Petra and Dr. Natu alike rose to the occasion.

[argent-vulpine]

A Gentle Voice

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

Jeralt was gone, and Seteth didn’t know how to handle comforting Byleth. She had entered a fugue state, the only tears shed being the ones she’d left on the field of battle. He needed answers, both from Rhea regarding whatever it was she’d done to Byleth as a child, and in terms of who it was that had attacked the students and ultimately killed the famed Blade Breaker.

Solon, or whatever his name really was. Monica, whose disappearance and sudden return after a year missing were suspect in hindsight. Who were these people? Who else had gone home themselves and returned something else? Or had they always been these other people? Too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Back to long nights, though this time they were for the professor, and not because he mistrusted her. Seteth pushed himself to his feet, needing some fresh air to clear his head, and left his office.

He had intended to head downstairs and talk a walk, but he caught sight of the door to the captain’s office cracked open, a faint, flickering light casting shadows that drew his attention.

There was no doubt in his mind who was in there, but he still pushed the door open further, glancing inside to be sure. As he suspected, Byleth was curled up, her father’s coat draped over her as she read through what looked to be a journal.

She looked up as the door creaked, her eyes bloodshot and stark against her pale skin. The book snapped shut and was tucked away. Something from Jeralt, then, but he didn’t bother to ask. It wasn’t his place, and she would perhaps tell him on her own, eventually.

“Professor, it is late. You should be sleeping.”

“The way you’re sleeping?” she asked dryly. “I tried. I couldn’t. So I’m here.”

Well. She had a point. Sighing, he approached the small couch; she tucked her legs closer to make room so that he could sit. He wanted to reach out and hold her close, tell her that things would be all right in the end but… who was he to talk, really? He’d kept himself and Flayn hidden away for such a long time after his wife died, after all.

How strange, that this woman had been entrusted with such a large secret, when a few short months before he hadn’t trusted her at all.

Against his better judgment, he reached out and placed a hand on her knee, the gesture meant to comfort. She stilled briefly, but made no motion to remove it, no words telling him to stop. “I know the pain of loss, as you are aware… but to lose a parent like this…” He sighed, shaking his head. “That is something I do not know. Flayn does, and I would do anything to have it be different. No child should have to witness such a terrible event.”

She opened her mouth, about to say something, and then closed it again. 

“I know you are no longer a child, but the sentiment is there. Flayn at least has me, while you… I am sorry. Just… know that you are not alone.”

The silence stretched for a long moment, and he was about to apologize when she reached out, resting her hand on top of his. “… thank you, Seteth.”

He flushed, shaking his head. “There is nothing to thank me for, Professor.” He turned his hand beneath her to grasp her fingers, giving them a soft squeeze before he pulled away. “You do need to rest, Professor. Would you like me to get you a tonic from the infirmary? I am sure Manuela has something…”

“No, I don’t… I don’t want to be made to sleep like that.”

He hummed an acknowledgment, understanding why she might dislike the idea. “Ah… I could… sing for you, perhaps?” he asked, cheeks flaring with heat. “That is, I used to sing lullabies to Flayn when she had nightmares or was unable to rest. I could… do the same for you.”

The coat rustled briefly as she shifted beneath it, but beyond that, all was still and silent. He thought perhaps he had overstepped, or that she thought the notion silly. After all, she was not a child, and perhaps did not find comfort in music.

“I think… I would like that,” she finally said, voice soft. “Dad wasn’t much of a singer… mostly tavern songs? But sometimes he would sing other things. He always looked sad, but they were such nice songs.” The corners of her lips twitched upward for a brief second. “Even if he did sound terrible.”

Seteth gave a low chuckle at the thought of Jeralt singing anything that could be considered soft. He’d heard the man sing before, on his way back to the monastery from the town’s tavern. Off-key would have been a polite way of putting it. “I hope that I am not a poor voice to your ears,” he replied, glad that some of the tension had eased.

He drew in a breath, considering what to sing, and began ultimately with a soft lullaby. It was a fable set to music, an older song, and gentle, the melody slow and soft. Byleth watched him, her entire attention on him as he sang.

She showed no signs of relaxing, instead coming perhaps more alert than before as he sang. In the back of his mind, he wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or not; the song was a lullaby, after all, meant to ease people into slumber.

Byleth shifted, turning on the sofa until she was leaning against him, their shoulders pressing together. His voice faltered briefly, but she seemed content to stay where she was, listening.

The song ended, and he began another, a hymn often sung by the monastery’s choir. To his surprise, she began to hum along, soft and even; he wondered if this was something that Jeralt had sung around her before, or if perhaps she had picked it up since arriving at the monastery. He had seen her with a few students from time to time during choir lessons, after all.

This, at least, seemed to have the intended effect; she stifled a yawn and settled closer against his side. He hesitated, briefly, and then lifted his arm, carefully draping it around her shoulders, and was rewarded by her turning slightly, her cheek resting above his heart. He hoped that it was not beating too erratically.

Seteth finished the song despite Byleth’s humming tapering off as she fell asleep. He sang another, certain she wouldn’t hear but not wanting the moment to end just yet. And when it did finally end, he found himself not wanting to leave her there alone. He closed his eyes and sighed softly, willing to admit – just a little, to himself – that he… had grown fond of the professor.

He ultimately fell asleep as well, willing to do away with propriety for at least this night.

--------

They never had the opportunity to talk about that night. Byleth had been gone by the time he woke up in the morning, stiff and a little sore from sleeping upright. He assumed she had made her way back to her own room at some point, and she had resumed teaching her class that day.

But everything after had happened so fast…

Finding Jeralt’s killers. Byleth and her class charging recklessly ahead to deal with them. He had to piece together what had happened in the forest afterward, but the green hair she sported on her return had caused a great deal of worry for him, though Rhea

had seemed delighted, spiriting the professor up to her rooms to care for her.

He heard her singing as he passed by her rooms, going still as he realized what she was singing. It was old, a song he hadn’t heard in a very long time.

And it was suspicious that she was singing it to Byleth.

Something just seemed terribly off about all of it, and while he had suspicions that Rhea had done something, he didn’t know what, or how. Even the why was a mere guess, but it was a concerning enough guess that he spent many sleepless nights trying to learn more. Rhea was not forthcoming any time he asked her, telling him only to wait and see, that all would be clear in due time.

When Byleth was well enough to return to her own rooms, she did so to a flurry of activity. Preparing her class for the upcoming rite, normal classes, adjusting to her new hair and eyes. If they were a shocking change to her students and others around her, what must it be like for her?

Any time he tried to get her alone to talk to her, she would be pulled away. Certifications, exams, students in need of her advice or her assistance. He suspected she was throwing herself into work more than ever before, taking her class out into the field to deal with requests that came in. From time to time, she would ask him along, wanting his assistance, but there was never a good time to ask her about what had happened in those moments.

He wondered later if she had suspected Edelgard’s treachery, had known that not all was as it seemed. Certainly the attack on the Holy Tomb had been dealt with swiftly, with Edelgard and Hubert sent fleeing.

And after that treachery had been revealed, the monastery was in a flurry of activity as non-combatants were sent away for their safety where possible, or fled into Abyss, or simply barricaded themselves behind the stout walls of Garreg Mach to ride out the upcoming battle.

Byleth and her students were a force to be reckoned with on the field; she saw them firsthand as they fought against the Adrestian soldiers, fighting their way through as they tried to reach Edelgard.

But then Rhea took to the field, brandishing her draconic form in a way he hadn’t seen in centuries, and there was Byleth, running toward her, to protect her – why?! – and then she was falling, falling and he couldn’t reach her in time to save her, wyvern or not.

Her loss rippled through the field, causing a chain reaction of loss. Her students retreated, following her last orders to them, fleeing into Abyss where escape routes had been prepared for them, though he found all this out only much later.

And then Garreg Mach had fallen. Rhea was nowhere to be seen, nor was Byleth. Seteth took Flayn and the Knights of Seiros and retreated, fleeing into the countryside while war raged on around them all.

[fromtheo-withlove]

Pt. 5 - Not a fighter

Sorry for the delay! Life has been busy and honestly it took me a bit to get this chapter right. But here it is! The next chapter will be the banquet.....

TW: prisoner restrained in dungeon, death mention, light injuries, swear words

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Tag-list: @ihaveacrushonjester @tears-and-lilies @starnight-whump

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

As she walked through the halls of the dungeons with the guard, Aurelia tried to mentally prepare herself to see Gabriel.

“Your highness, you should know… the guard on the shift before me, he roughed up this other prince a bit before I arrived.”

She stopped abruptly, whirling to face him with anger in her eyes, “Why? Was it done on my father’s orders?”

“Uhhh, no ma’am. And I will be telling Sir Robert. If I can be so bold as to speak freely, Hubert always picks on the weaker ones. But he shouldn’t be doin’ that to princes if the king doesn’t ask for it. The boy has been very cooperative.”

“He’s not a fighter,” Aurelia said softly.

The guard seemed eager-to-please and chatty. “I heard he was a medic. You knew him when you were kids, right?”

Aurelia just nodded.

“The enemy commander too?”

Her expression remained neutral, but she couldn’t help the edge creeping into her voice. “His name is Bennett. I do not wish to talk about this right now. Just bring me to Gabriel.”

“Sorry your highness, right away.”

Gabriel sat on the floor of his cell, back against the wall, ankle shackled to a long chain connected to the floor. His wrists were shackled in front of him and he had his arms wrapped around his knees. There was a new bruise on his cheekbone, the purple in stark contrast against his pale skin.

The light of the lantern illuminated his wide, frightened eyes. He stared at the door, blinking in the light and trying to see who was holding the lantern.

When his eyes adjusted, he finally saw Aurelia and sighed in relief. “Y-you’re here. You came.”

Aurelia turned to the guard, “You can go now, I can find my way back.” He hesitated for a moment before nodding and heading back down the hallway.

She focused her attention back on the young man sitting in front of her. “Of course I came,” she said sadly.

Gabriel’s eyes were already filling up with tears. He sniffled. “It’s so good to see your face again.”

“It’s good to see you too, but I’m so sorry it’s happening under these circumstances.”

Gabriel nodded. “Me too… Earlier, when I was dragged in and I thought I was about to-“ he paused. “I thought it a cruel twist of fate that I’d be dragged all this way and not even be able to see you before they—you know.”

He couldn’t even bring himself to say it aloud, to acknowledge that death was looming over him, that he had already nearly faced it.

She didn’t know how to respond. Aurelia couldn’t get the image out of her mind, of Gabriel blindfolded and panicking, desperate for air as the guard choked the life out of him. She felt nauseous even remembering it. She sat down and grabbed his shackled hand between hers. He was trembling. He grasped her hand, holding tightly as if they were a lifeline.

“It was terrifying facing it like that. And you’d think that it would bring acceptance, in a way. That I faced it once and I’ll face it again…. And everyone faces death someday, I know that….. But I can’t help it, I’m still so fucking afraid to die.”

She stared at the floor, staying silent. It seemed words were failing her now. She had handled the conversation with Bennett without losing her nerve – she had argued with him, taken care of him like she always had, bantered back and forth. But a minute with Gabriel and she was already crumbling inside. He didn’t deserve this. And he was sitting here, wearing his emotions on his sleeve – openly terrified, yet genuinely happy to see her. She felt a swell of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

“This isn’t fair. You shouldn’t be sitting here in a fucking cell, having to have this conversation.” Tears flowed down her cheeks.

He squeezed her hand, tried to put on a strong face. “I know…. But life hasn’t been fair for anyone these past few years. So many lives were lost. All of them were just as human as I am. I’ve been pushing for peace for years…. I didn’t want to have to die for it, b-but at least I’m not dying for nothing, right?”

Aurelia pulled her hands away angrily, “No, you do not need to die for peace. I cannot lose you and Bennett like this. The war is over already, this doesn’t need to happen.”

“Hey, Auri, please don’t be mad at me…” he whispered desperately, the strength in his tone fading. “I don’t have a choice in this remember? I- I’d like to think I’d choose the right thing if I had been given the choice…. but it doesn’t matter anyway.” His voice was breaking. “I may as well have something to- to hold onto, you know?”

Aurelia put her head in her hands. This was the second time she had let her anger at the situation impact her friends. She needed to calm down for Gabriel’s sake. “No, I’m so so sorry Gabriel. You know I’m not mad at you, how could I ever be? You’re facing all of this and you’re literally comforting me… I’m sorry.”

She reached for her bag. “I just want to be here with you, make things easier if I can. I brought you some food. I brought ointment for Bennett but I don’t think it’ll do much for your bruise. Next time I’ll try to sneak down a blanket, I’m sorry I didn’t think of it.”

“You saw Bennett?” Gabriel’s expression grew pained. “How- How is he? You know he didn’t kill those innocent people right? He wouldn’t have.”

“I know. I didn’t believe it either. I talked to him about it. It was his men. They took over his command and he didn’t stop them, but he didn’t know they’d go so far. They were plotting to kill him and they threatened your life as well. He blames himself of course, feels he should’ve done more and realized what they were doing sooner. But the only thing that would’ve changed is that he’d be dead on a field somewhere while they pillaged villages. And you might’ve been as well.”

Gabriel nodded. “The soldiers weren’t fond of either of us. They felt we were soft and not true Lianharians since we grew up here for so much of our lives. My father knew it too.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. He didn’t get angry often but when he did it was that much more potent, and deserved. “My father didn’t even care that he was throwing Bennett into the lion’s den. He never liked me much, but he knew he had a back-up heir if Bennett couldn’t survive the war or his own army….. My only solace is that he’s probably more distraught than we are right now.”

His voice grew sarcastically dramatic, with bitterness seeping through every word. “His precious bloodline, gone! Everything he worked for, lost! Defeated in a war he started, the shame! Oh, and his only sons would be dead – eh, it was a pity, but they did always take after their mother.”

Aurelia knew the imitation sadly wasn’t far from the truth. “I still don’t know how he played any part in producing two of the best human beings I know.”

The conversation grew silent for a moment, then Aurelia continued. “Bennett’s doing alright, all things considered. He was mostly just worried about you and blaming himself for getting you into this.”

“It’s not his fault, you have to tell him that. This is on our father.”

“And mine,” Aurelia muttered.

“That’s true,” Gabriel said quietly. “I know he’s a king and we’re the enemy now, but I didn’t think he’d be so… cruel. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to get through this Auri.” Gabriel’s tears started up again, and he was more visibly shaking. “I’m not strong and brave like Bennett.”

“You are strong and brave, you fought for peace.”

“I wrote strongly-worded letters. Diplomacy and philosophy were all I had to bring to the table and I failed.”

“You treated soldier’s wounds, brought medical supplies, protected people.”

“Treating someone else’s injuries isn’t going to make me any stronger when wounds and injuries are inflicted on me. I’m weak. And scared. Bennett always shielded me from that side of things. Protected me. I can’t even take a punch, Auri. Now I’m going to be what, whipped? Beaten? C-cut?” His breath quickened and tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

“All I can hope is that I’ll p-pass out o-or die quickly.” He let out a sob, as if only now remembering that the best case scenario would be death before too much torture.

Aurelia took Gabriel’s face in her hands gently, wiping his tears away. “Gabriel, please listen to me. I can’t promise anything and I don’t want you to get your hopes up, because we’re facing impossible odds. But I am trying so hard to figure out a way to get you out of this mess. I know it’s a lot to ask, but please, please, try to stay alive. Don’t give up on me just yet.”

His eyes were red from crying and still filled with fear, but they widened at her words. “Do you really think there’s any chance we make it out?”

She hesitated. “I still don’t have a plan… And I understand if you can’t put faith in that right now. But I swear I’m not going to just sit by and do nothing while the two people I care about most in this world are going through all of this. So there has to be a chance.”

He nodded in understanding. He knew he’d probably die in this castle, but he wouldn’t give up if Aurelia was asking him not to. “Thank you, Auri, for even trying… I’ll try to survive as long as I can. For you and for Bennett.” Suddenly his eyes flashed with concern, “But please promise me you won’t put yourself in harms way trying to help, it’s not worth the risk.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” she said confidently.

He looked reassured, not noticing that she hadn’t made any promises.

After a moment of silence, she opened her bag, bringing out a bread roll, an apple, and a canteen of water.

“I made Jasmine tea for you. It’s cold and I’m not sure if it’s your favorite anymore, but I thought maybe you’d like it more than the water they have down here….?”

His cheeks flushed and he smiled. “It’s still my favorite. I can’t believe you thought to make me some. Thank you so much,” his voice caught on tears. “Ah, I’m getting emotional again, I’m sorry. Now that I’ve started crying it’s so hard to stop.”

“You don’t have to apologize Gabriel.”

He paused, then looked to her hesitantly. “You’ve done so much already, but can I ask for something else?”

“Anything.”

“I’m beyond grateful for the food and will eat all of it, but can I wait until after you leave? I was hoping…. I was hoping that while you’re still here… you could just hold me for a bit…? I know it’s a ridiculous thing to ask, I just n-need a kind touch right now and-“

“Shhh… I have some time.”

Aurelia set the food and tea aside, and moved closer to Gabriel. She wrapped him in a hug, one hand on his back, one hand running her fingers through his hair. He sank into her embrace, readjusting to rest his head in her lap. They stayed like that silently for a long time, with Aurelia gently rubbing Gabriel’s hair and shoulders. She eventually saw his breathing slow and realized he had fallen asleep. It was probably the closest he’d had to a peaceful sleep in days. She watched his chest rise and fall slowly. She knew she couldn’t stay too much longer, but she couldn’t bear to wake him back up to reality just yet.

She didn’t want the stillness of the moment to end either. It was surreal to have him close again after so many years apart. When Gabriel and Bennett had first returned to Lianhar, she and Gabriel had written letters for as long as they could, first sharing concerns about whispers of conflict and then desperately trying to slow the indomitable force of war from both sides. Eventually their letters stopped when delivering a goods or messages across kingdoms had become an act of treason and even smugglers had moved their businesses elsewhere.

Bennett was her best friend and the person who understood her better than anyone, but Gabriel inspired her and made her want to be a better person. It was the words in his letters that had gotten her through the worst of the war. She turned to them over and over when things grew difficult. They were her crutch when her mother died giving birth to her baby brother two years ago, when she felt completely alone in the world. She knew that Gabriel had probably long since forgotten those letters from the early days of the war, but they meant the world to her. And now, looking down at Gabriel sleeping, she mentally vowed to herself that she would do everything in her power to take care of him and protect him, like he had done for her without even realizing.

Although it pained her to do so, Aurelia gently shook Gabriel awake after a half hour or so. He stirred slowly at first, but she saw the moment when he opened his eyes and remembered where he was. He sat up, cheeks red. “I’m sorry that I fell asleep, I- I just haven’t been able to sleep much… Thank you for staying with me.”

“I’m glad I got to be with you for a little while. Thank you for letting me visit. I’ll come whenever I can, and if it’s during a day shift I can even bring a book or two.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you Auri.”

She gave his hand one last squeeze before she stood up to leave.

“Stay strong Gabriel, I’ll see you soon okay?”

She walked out of the cell door before she could hesitate, knowing that she needed to get back soon, though also knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. She didn’t want to think about the next time she’d see Gabriel and Bennett, at tomorrow’s banquet.

---

Next chapter

[zara2148]

Fethsteel Fic: Not Good Enough (For You)

So here we go, my take on how Fethry Duck joined F.O.W.L. and met Steelbeak. Less warning stuff for this one, mostly just implied abuse, though it’s clear Steelbeak has not had a pleasant history. Also, both he and Fethry have some self esteem issues... and there’s not exactly spoilers for “Lost Harp of Mervana,” but the new intro takes place right after it.

Also on AO3. Make sure leave kudos and comments there. I enjoy the feel of being applauded.

Huey was placing Isabella Finch's journal back in Uncle Scrooge's study when he spotted the tin can phone there, now connected to nothing. Scrooge held on to everything in the mansion, even seemingly useless things, on the grounds that it may one day come in handy again. 

It was one reason why Trash Day could be such a nightmare, though Scrooge was starting to learn how to let things go...

Huey found Della and Donald unpacking their gear off the sub, hanging up suits and boxing equipment until it was ready to be used again. "Uncle Donald? Mom? Do you know how to get in touch with Cousin Fethry? I think he'd love to hear all about Mervana."

"No, sorry, sweetie. I haven't heard anything from him since he rode off on the back of that... giant... fish..." Della shuddered in remembered revulsion.

"Mom, it was a krill."

"A fish is still a fish by any other name."

"You also seemed fine with Mitzy at the time."

"I was too busy thinking about all the Moonlanders we had to beat up."

Donald sighed and turned away from a crate to answer Huey’s question. “I haven’t heard from him either since then.” He shrugged. "But that's normal for Fethry. He either calls every five minutes or he gets so wrapped up in something we don't hear from him for six months."

"Doesn't he have a cell phone we could call?”

"Knowing Fethry, it would just get dropped in the ocean." There was a reason Scrooge only trusted Fethry with a tin can after one too many busted phones.

Huey’s beak twisted in discomfort. “But what if he got in trouble? What if he needed our help?”

Donald let out a breath, more frustrated with himself than anyone else, even Fethry. He knelt in front of Huey and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Fethry is…” Cuckoo bananas really hadn’t been the right thing to say to Huey, not when Donald could see the similarities between the two of them. Unsure how else to finish that sentence, he tried again.

“Fethry is who he is. But he’s also a grown adult capable of making decisions and taking care of himself. If he ever needs us, he knows where we are.”

Della grinned proudly. “He’s a part of the Duck family. Surviving is what we do.”

Uncle Donald and Mom weren’t wrong about that. Cousin Fethry had survived alone in a collapsing sea base for years. He knew the Junior Woodchuck guidebook from cover to cover, just as Huey did. He was better prepared than most to face trouble when it found him.

"Okay, I'll just make sure to write down all my observations about Mervana to share with him when he gets in touch."

Donald gave Huey a smile. "I'm sure he'll love that."

***

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

It was an old refrain at this point. 

The last job interview he had, Fethry had spent a full half-hour talking about the eating habits of krill and the merits of singing when asked about his team management skills. 

The interview before that, he spoke briefly about the endless silence of the ocean when asked how he dealt with workplace difficulties. He’d been too quiet after that question.

And the interview before that… well, he didn’t think that room was ever going to be the same.

Fethry’s laptop was old. Wires were sticking out and duct tape was barely holding the screen together. He browsed through the listings for scientists on Quacked In, tweaking his cover letter and resume slightly for each.

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe he should try for a slightly smaller position at a lab, like a custodian! He had experience keeping things in custody! And then he could work his way up from there. 

But the little Donalds had such faith in him. They believed he could be a great scientist. Fethry wasn’t going to let them down. He never really realized until it was too late, but Fethry knew he had a habit of letting his family down.

Gladstone had offered to help, after that big event with purple people from the sky… ahh, yes, the invasion! But Fethry knew how often people tried to get close to his cousin to use his luck. Family shouldn’t do that.

The next listing didn’t quite catch his eye. But Fethry was at the point of applying for everything that came up for “scientist” and read through what little there was.

“WANTED: Skilled scientists for private company in Duckburg. Duties will vary. Flexible work schedule, late nights occasionally required. Must be able to roll with the punches.”

He had no expectations that it would progress to a job offer. How he chose to look at was that he was doing really well on reaching his goal of 100 job rejections. He’d read all about re-framing your objectives for positivity!

Once he reached 100, well, he might as well try for 200 rejections then.

He reviewed his resume and cover letter on the final submission screen. He clicked “Send.”

Then he moved onto the next listing and thought no more of it.

***

F.O.W.L.’s computer settings were extremely sensitized when it came to tracking the movements and activities of the Duck-McDuck clan. They knew when Hubert Duck received a new merit badge, or when Dewford Duck uploaded another video to his overlooked Insta, or when Llewellyn bought a soda that wasn’t Pep branded.

Any diversion from or progress in the Duck’s family’s normal routine could be significant. That’s why they monitored it all.

So when a member of the Duck family applied for one of their vacant positions, it got noticed. Alarms went off, alerting the highest-ranking members in F.O.W.L. command.

Just ten minutes after the application was received, Bradford clicked through it on his laptop.

F.O.W.L. could just ignore this. Stay away from the Duck family until they were more ready to move out in the open. It would be a sensible move.

But there was potential here he couldn’t overlook.

Fethry Duck was one of the harder members to track ever since the McDuck SubLab crumbled into an undersea abyss. Satellite images last had him riding some sort of kaiju across the ocean, which was just typical when it came to the Duck-McDuck family.

When the moon invaders came they had made many mistakes, such as caring more about the acknowledgment of their perceived superiority than how they could exploit the Earth. But they had been right that it was better to have all members of that family accounted for when it came to global-scale plans.

Having Fethry under constant watch at F.O.W.L. would leave Gladstone as the most transient variable. And the lottery winnings and sweepstakes prizes he left in his wake would make him infinitely easier to track.

Fethry was also one of the more controllable members of the Duck family. Neither misfortune nor ostentatious fortune dogged his steps. He didn’t question intention and he didn’t try to stir up trouble for his amusement. He was so lacking in ambition that he stayed in a lonely janitorial position for almost five years. If he was taken to a lab and given every reason to stay, he likely would do so without seeing anything amiss.

His goal was to steal the world right out from under Scrooge. Why not start by stealing a member of the man’s family? One Scrooge was unlikely to miss for quite some time, given his avoidance of Fethry’s company.

Yet for a duck who didn’t believe in handouts, it said something that Scrooge still cared enough about Fethry to give him a string of jobs that he more or less performed adequately. He’d prefer it not come to threats, especially since harm to his family made Scrooge predictably savage. But if worse came to worse… better to have a hostage than do without.

And if he was useless? Disposing of him would be no hardship.

He clicked “Accept” and composed a brief response, suggesting a range of times that Fethry could visit a front location in downtown Duckberg.

After opening up the email and reading through it, Fethry squealed and picked out the earliest possible time. 

***

Fethry hummed as he walked inside the address the email gave him. It was a plain building, notable only for its pristine white exterior that seemed all too blank.

He’d dressed up nice for the occasion. His red jacket was replaced with a slightly frayed and browned business suit jacket. His tie was a piece of dried kelp that Mitzy had picked out for him. She always had the best eye when it came to kelp. And his cap was still present, keeping his thoughts toasty warm!

Yet his throat felt clogged and simultaneously too dry. The papers in his hand would be wrinkled if he clutched them any tighter. There was a heavy feeling in his chest that told him he’d be out of here soon enough, and he would need to try his luck elsewhere.

A duck with a dirty face and ruffled hair sat behind the visitor’s desk. Her name tag read “Ample.”

He approached her without his usual bounce. “Hello, I’m here for an interview.”

She nodded and glanced through the schedule. “Fethry Duck?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“The director is ready to see you now. Go through the double doors over there.”

He dipped forward in an awkward half-bow, unsure if a handshake would be too presumptuous. “Thank you!”

He pushed his way through the double doors. The room was in grey shadow, a large desk slightly off toward one of the corners. Two chairs were in front of the desk, facing the figure behind it.

The shadows slightly obscured the person behind the desk. He could make out a shape but no features.  

The shadow turned to him. “Ah, thank you for coming. Please take a seat.”

Fethry grabbed one of the chairs, shifting his paper copy of his resume as he looked at his interviewer up close.

Oh, he knew this vulture! He worked with Uncle Scrooge before! His name was buzzing around in the back of Fethry’s skull, waiting to be grabbed hold of…. what was it, what was it…?

“Bradley!”

“It’s Bradford,” he corrected in a cold tone. 

Fethry slumped back in his seat, feeling small. “O-oh, I’m sorry.”

Bradford did not take the time to acknowledge what he said. He sat “So, Fethry Duck. Scrooge’s nephew.”

“Yes.”

“You hold no degrees, no certifications that would qualify you for a scientific position.”

“... no.” Fethry knew how much those pieces of paper meant to people. He sunk into his chair, almost wishing it could swallow him up, the way the ocean did…

...and that was not a train of thought he needed to be boarding right now. Fethry stepped off a mental platform, letting it whiz by.

Bradford continued, neither noticing nor caring about Fethry’s inner world and its struggles. “And yet, you thought you could apply here, for a scientific position with us.” He stood up and started to circle around Fethry. “Do you know what we do here, Fethry?”

“Science?”

“Among other things.” Bradford paused behind Fethry. Fethry couldn’t quite bring himself to turn and look at him. “What we do here... let’s just say we're out to change the world.”

Bradford resumed his circle and came to a stop in front of Fethry. He let silence reign for a few seconds before speaking. “And Fethry Duck? We’re willing to give you the chance to join our ranks.”

Fethry had to swallow down dry disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Fethry’s hands were clammy as he held out his stacks of papers. His grip wasn’t shaking, but his limbs felt hollow. “You don’t even want to look at my resume first?”

“I’ve already seen it.”

He let his arms fall to his sides. His voice came out small, as if he was once again speaking from the bottom of the ocean. “Why me?”

Silence returned. Bradford considered him over his beak.

“You’re the unnoticed member of the Duck-McDuck family. Isn’t it time you had a chance to prove yourself?”

Bradford wasn’t wrong. He wanted that chance. But the implication that he was only getting this job because of his family...

Well. Wasn’t that how he got every job he ever had?

Bradford turned away from him and loomed his way back behind his desk. “Mind you, the job still isn’t much. You’ll be working in a lab on your own projects, yes. But you will remain under direct supervision for the time being. Before undertaking any venture, you are to submit a full report that outlines expected costs and outcomes, in accordance with our guidelines.”

He sat down, his back hunched to allow him to continue looming from a lower height. “The pay is minimum wage, but you can work your way up through experience. Food and board will be provided on-site, so that’s two fewer things you have to worry about.”

Fethry absent-mindedly fiddled with his kelp tie, his attention otherwise on Bradford as he continued.

“As you may have surmised, your work is to be considered top secret. For the time being, we will ask that you remain in the facilities to better learn your responsibilities. There is to be no contact with the outside world without prior approval. Otherwise, you put ourselves and the work we do at risk.”

“If you accept the job under these terms, a car will be dispatched to pick up you and any belongings you choose to bring tomorrow morning.” Bradford steepled his fingers and looked through Fethry. “Do you accept these conditions?” 

Fethry had forgotten he hadn’t said yes to anything yet. He wasn’t sure how he got so caught up that he missed that.

He could bring his team with him, their jar was extremely portable. But taking this job would mean saying goodbye to Mitzy for a while… hopefully, she would understand. 

He nodded, then said for emphasis, “Yes.”

“Well, then. Welcome, Fethry Duck, to…” Bradford paused again, his words trailing off into familiar silence. “... well, we’ll just call it your new place of work.”

***

There wasn’t a whole lot to do at their headquarters between missions. The funnest thing to do around here was to play all the arcade games after the kids had gone home for the day.

However, the last time Steelbeak did that he blew an entire paycheck and ended up with only 20 tickets to show for it—not even enough to trade-in for a piece of candy. That didn’t make him stupid, that made the games rigged.

Now he stuck to the actual secret parts of their secret lair, wandering the halls. His wallet stayed full and fat, but the time between missions dragged on and on.

The gun course was fun, but there was only so much offtime an agent was allowed there. Spend too much time shooting things and command would send you over to their quack shrink.

The rec room was okay, but he’d be fighting every off-duty Eggman there if he wanted to pick which channel to watch on the sole TV. Not that he wouldn’t win, but his time in the prison rec room, and the underground fighting ring’s rec room before that, taught him that victory wasn’t worth it if you couldn’t find any good shows playing.

Which is how he often ended up doing what he did right now, trailing after Heron down to the labs. He’d watch her and watch the other scientists, trying to see how what they did tied into F.O.W.L.’s big ol’ villain schemes.

Did he always understand what she was working on? No. Did she ever really try to explain it in an easily understood way? Also no. Did these trips to the labs often end with her metal hand clamped around his beak, hissing at him and calling him names? No, well, yes. Yes, it did.

… he was supposed to be going somewhere with this, but he wasn’t quite sure where. Wait, no, now he remembered. 

If he wanted to someday be the one hatching the schemes, he should watch how others hatched theirs first. It was like watching the prizefighter in the ring to learn how to beat him. Some people would only hit you if you asked them for anything, so you had to watch how they did something instead.

Most of the other scientists ignored him, and he didn’t pay them much attention either. But today, a duck in a red hat waved at them as he and Heron stepped inside the lab.

“Oh, hello! I’m Fethry!” The lab coat he was wearing hung loosely on him, clearly meant for a slightly larger bird.

“O-kaaay...?” Why was he expected to care?

A grin was spreading across Heron’s face as she looked the duck up and down. Then she turned her gaze to Steelbeak as she gestured offhandedly at the duck. “Fethry is our new marine specialist. He’ll be working on some of our most important projects.”

Heron… sounded like she was trying to hold back a laugh. What, was this smart guy really good at the jokes? Or did he know a party trick or two?

And what kind of name was Fethry? Might as well have called him “Webby” since he had webbed feet.

“Say, Fethry?” He knew that tone of voice from Heron. He didn’t always know the details of what she was saying, but he knew the sweetly sharpened tone was meant to cut someone down to size.

He felt… lighter, watching that tone be aimed at someone who wasn’t him. Like he was actually in on the joke for once. He also felt the urge to move to safer ground.

Heron’s smile was wide as she continued. “Why don’t you explain to my partner, Steelbeak, what you’re working on? He loves to hear about scientific experiments in great detail. Especially if you use a lot of long words.”

Okay, maybe he was still part of the joke.

Fethry’s eyes widened—he didn’t even know it was possible for someone to widen their eyes like that until Fethry did. “I’d love to!”

“Great!” Heron said in a passable imitation of Fethry’s enthusiasm. Under her breath she added, “Maybe now I can get some real work done.”

Steelbeak’s jaw tightened as she walked away. He refocused his gaze on the red-capped duck, who was all but jumping in place. 

A snort escaped him as he sat down at a table. At least if this pipsqueak tried to clamp his beak, he could just knock him into next week.

“So what are you working on?” This was still more exciting than watching the walls, after all.

Fethry laughed nervously. It had been a while since anyone paid him a significant amount of attention. “Well, at the moment I’m just filling out the request paperwork. But I’m hoping to start an experiment on delaying the eating habits of the crown of thorns starfish.”

“The what?”

“Crown of thorns starfish. It eats coral.”

“And that is?”

“Coral is like…” Fethry scratched his head. He could never remember all the big words like polyps, sessile, and Anthozoa when he needed to. “It’s like skeletons scattered across the seafloor that fish live in.”

“Really? So fish just decide to live in dead bodies.” Sounded fake, but at least it wasn’t boring.

“Well, coral is a skeleton, but it’s also alive. It’s really bad when they do die.”

“So the fish live in alive dead bodies.” This Fethry guy was talking an interesting sort of crazy.

“Skeletons, yes. Called coral. Only these sea stars eat the coral, so the fish have no place to live then.”

“Now, these sea stars start off eating algae. It’s been called the grass of the sea,” he explained before Steelbeak even had to ask. Fethry’s beak scrunched up. “Though I have to say, grass usually tastes much better.”

“How long it takes for the sea stars to go from algae to coral varies. And there’s a lot of these starfish in the ocean. If they made the switch all at once, they could do a lot of damage.”

Huh. For the guy’s first project, it had the makings of a decent scheme. “So… if you could figure out how to make them do it, you could have them eat the fish out of house and home?”

Fethry actually nodded at that. “Or if I could figure out a way to slow it down, I could buy time for the reefs to grow.”

“...huh.” He actually followed most of that. Sure in his mind, coral reefs had a lot more skulls than they normally did. But he got the gist of what Fethry was talking about.

Black Heron hummed as she worked without interruption. Fethry calculated the costs of feeding and housing a small colony of starfish, making sure to show his work. And Steelbeak imagined blackmailing a fishing village with an army of sea stars. Small potatoes when it came to true villainy, but everyone had to start somewhere.

***

It wasn’t one of Heron’s longer science sessions. She tapped at some keys, read some screens, fiddled with some gadgets, and was ready to leave in a couple of hours.

Fethry had remained in the lab, drawing up plans for a sea star’s dream home. They’d need plenty of walking room, he’d said, so he was drawing up little pathway designs. Including one for a yellow brick road.

He started to reach out a hand to Steelbeak… for what, Steelbeak wasn’t sure. His body tensed in defense.

And Fethry must have noticed because he let his hand drop to his side and just smiled instead. “Thanks for listening. I know I kind of ramble.”

Steelbeak waited a few seconds to be sure that Fethry wasn’t going to make any sudden moves. Then he gave a shrug and followed Heron out.

It hadn’t been a hardship. Listening to weird undersea stuff passed the time. It was like catching a documentary on TV, without the meatheads that would grab the remote from you and change the channel to something else.

Black Heron laughed at Fethry as soon as they left the lab. "That guy," was all she managed to say before chuckles overtook her.

Steelbeak scowled. “What? What did he say that was so funny?” Was he the butt of someone else’s joke again? He'd make him go splat, if so.

Heron regained control of herself, but she was still grinning. “He didn’t have to say anything. It’s comical that he’s even here.”

The scowl receded and his brows knit in confusion. “I don’t —”

“You don’t get it, I know. Lucky for you, I’m in a good enough mood to explain. He’s Scrooge McDuck’s nephew. You remember, the guy you were supposed to get out of the arcade?”

“The big guy who wrecked one of my suits?”

“Ugh, no! He was the one wearing a top hat.” A frown flitted across her face, but her good mood was quick to reassert itself. Past failure meant little in the face of such a hilarious triumph.

“He came to us, wanting a job. He has no idea that we’re F.O.W.L. and no idea that we’re working against everything his family stands for. We’re holding him hostage, and he has no clue.” Another peal of laughter escaped Heron.

Steelbeak let out a chuckle as well, now that he was finally in on the joke. "Ahh, I get it. Classic dum-dum. What kind of idiot doesn't know who they're working for?"

The grin on Heron’s face slipped slightly.

"This should go without saying, but I know you so I'll say it anyway. Do not tell Fethry any details of your work, your missions, what we do here. Nada. Nothing."

"Well, duh. I know that. That's why they're called secret missions."

"Steelbeak, I once saw you brag about being a secret agent at a bar to try and get a date."

"And why not! They were cute!"

“And you wonder why your recreational leave is so limited.”

“What?”

“I’m saying dumb boys don’t get a lot of outdoors time.”

“Hey!”

A smirk moved across her face before she continued. “The director wants him to remain utterly oblivious, so secrecy is of the utmost importance. He’s not going to be happy if we have to lock him up or kill him for knowing too much.”

Steelbeak did not reach for his beak. He did not feel the slight dents that remained from trying to punch his own mouth open. “And we’re not just locking him up now, why?”

“Because the Ducks are easiest to manage when they think a situation is within their control!” Her voice was raised as decades of thwarted ambitions seeped into her tone.

Steelbeak was unimpressed. He could get just as angry, and he hadn’t needed years to get to that point.

“And what if he does ask what I do here?”

“Why would he ask? You’re hardly about to engage him in some deep conversation, are you?”

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes for some reason. “Well, no, but…”

“Oh, for larceny’s sake. If it does come up and you can’t avoid answering the question, just make something up. You’re an agent, do some lying.”

“... yeah, of course. I can do that.”

***

It doesn’t really sink in until later that night, back in his room, how Fethry answered all his questions without calling him, “Stupid.”

[lysissisyl]

Happy Fake Birthday

To @patricia-von-arundel, because I’m smitten. 💜

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Byleth was spending that day like any other day. She had trained in the early morning and now she was looking for Edelgard to offer some help with papers, strategies or anything else she was working on.

The emperor had always been very busy since the end of the war. They had won, but there were so many things left! TWSITD were still out there, as weakened as they could be, and haunting them down was a priority. There were still nobles attempting rebellions and scheming. There were offices that were still vacant. Then Empire, and the Kingdom and the Alliance even more, were still repairing all the damages, adapting to the new system. Edelgard always said she could take care of it all, but she was clearly overwhelmed, even with all her Eagles helping. Byleth was the only one she actually allowed near the most delicate and personal documents. She was the one she shared her strategies and battle plans with. So Byleth did her best to help and remind her El to take a break and take care of herself too. That day, though, Edelgard wasn’t in her study. Odd.

That day wasn’t like any other, not for Edelgard. She had decided it herself, but this didn’t make it any less special. When she had told Hubert that she needed a free day, he had looked at her like he was wondering if a slitherer had killed his emperor and secretly taken her place. She couldn’t blame him. She couldn’t remember taking any before, not a full day. Luckily for her, he decided she wasn’t suspicious enough to require further questioning. She had planned everything in advance. She had sent letters to Petra in the Bridgids, to her former professors, to all the Eagles and other schoolmates currently far from Enbar.

She had challenged herself in ways that would have made Byleth laugh. (She was sure Mercedes would’ve never let her near the kitchen again.) She had planned everything, like she always did, but she was still nervous. Was it a good idea? She knew the truth now. Was she being ridiculous? But she had missed so many! Did she do it all right? Not that Byleth had any previous experiences for comparison, but she truly wanted to make it right. She was walking to the window and back, pacing. Were they late? No, they weren’t. She was early.

Were they now? No, still early.

She sighed.

Byleth found a note on the desk: “I have some errands. Go fishing. I will stop there on my way back to help you carry the fish home.” She frowned. Odder.

Well, odd or not, she really wanted to go fishing now, and she wanted to meet Edelgard there and walk back together even more. She found her fishing rod and baits already packed and ready to go. Another note was on the side: “ I hope you will enjoy this wonderful day, my love.”

This was going from odd to suspicious. It was also very lovely, especially since she could see how Edelgard’s hands trembled writing those last two words. She had started calling her that after she proposed, but she was clearly not used to it yet. Her voice got half a tone higher every time and she still occasionally stuttered. Lovely (even if she would have probably argued about that word).

They were late now. Where were they? She had told them the time many times, she has made sure they all arrived in town in advance. They were there, so why weren’t they there?

A knock. A familiar one. Hubert.

She stopped in front of the window and turned around. “Come in.”

Hubert barely took a step in. “Your guests are here, Lady Edelgard.”

She almost sighed in relief. “They’re late.”

“Two minutes late, lady Edelgard.”

She sighed this time. “You know what to do, Hubert. Go.”

He nodded and left.

Edelgard walked straight to the gardens, where she knew her guests had been led. She got past the fancy flower beds and hedges, to a more secluded area. It wasn’t one of the greenest, but it was the perfect place for fires. Some had been prepared in the gravel, surrounded by blankets, benches, big pillows and swings. She wanted to roast the fishes there, like Byleth used to do with Jeralt as a child. Her ex classmates were there, chatting happily in small groups. (Manuela and Hanneman were arguing happily.) They were having fun all together for the first time after their Garreg Mach days. Someone softer would’ve cried.

Byleth had filled two baskets and was working on the third one when she heard the footsteps. Quiet, very controlled, almost sneaky. Definitely not Edelgard’s, but almost as familiar. Hubert waited respectfully for her to pull the fish out. She freed it from the line and threw it in the basket.

“Lady Edelgard sent me to help you with the fish. She apologizes for not being here in person as expected.”

ODD.

“I can carry the fish.” And Edelgard knew. She knew she could probably carry the fish and Hubert.

“I am aware, but you know her as much as I do. She would have never accepted not to be here without doing anything to make up for it.”

Byleth took the half filled basket and handed it to Hubert. “I know.” Then she grabbed the other two.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the palace, but Byleth spent it all wondering why she was sharing it with him. He was calm, now and when he approached her. That meant that Edelgard was perfectly fine and he knew. Byleth knew Edelgard was too much of a workaholic not to stick to her schedule and she wasn’t even in her study that morning. Maybe a meeting that required some extra time? But they usually handled them together. Talking to a problematic noble? She usually used the throne room for that and Byleth had checked it. Most of the errands outside of the Palace were taken care of by servants, the Eagles or Hubert. If any required Edelgard’s presence, Byleth was usually with her. It was always her or Hubert. Or both. Something personal then? Likely, but...why didn’t she know? She obviously respected Edelgard’s privacy, but she also knew that she had shared everything with her in the last few months. Was she overthinking it? No, she knew Edelgard and all that was suspicious.

The atmosphere in the gardens was cheerful and made Edelgard smile, but nothing warmed her heart like seeing Byleth there, the look on her face when she saw her and all her students. The Byleth who fought by her side during the war would have acknowledged it all with a brief, faint smile and a sincere “thank you”, but things had changed so much from then! She could see the surprise, then her brain putting all the information together, and making the joy emerge in her eyes. The smile she offered her wasn’t faint, nor faded. Edelgard could feel the emotion in her voice when she looked into her eyes and said “thank you” at least three times. She could feel how her hand squeezed hers when they turned toward their friends together.

“El?”

“You thanked me enough already, my love.”

“I just wanted to ask you something. Did you send Hubert because you’re a bad liar?”

Too unexpected not to make her flustered. She started complaining, but she changed her mind. “ I can’t lie to you, my love.”

“I’ll take it as a yes.” Byleth grinned and Edelgard’s protests lost the few coherence they had.

Then Byleth got serious again. She looked at all the students reunited, then at the wonderful woman who clearly reunited them for her. “Can I ask why?”

Edelgard blushed. It suddenly seemed very stupid, but she still said it. “Years ago I asked you about your birthday and you told me you didn’t know the day you were born, that you and Captain Jeralt had never celebrated it. I told you you could just choose one. You chose today. I know we learned your true birthday on Jeralt’s diary, but...” she stopped. That really sounded stupid.

“El?”

“If you plan to tease me more, my love, I may threaten to cook the fish too.”

“ No, I...” Hesitation was unusual, new, the sign she was dealing with emotions she was still learning to know. “ I just thought that I haven’t thanked you enough at all.”

The words surprised her, but the kiss that followed completely took her ability to think away. It lasted an instant and forever. For a long moment Edelgard forgot about the war, TWSITD, all the responsibilities, worries and duties. She was just El again, and El ran to her friends, with the brightest smile they had ever seen.

It was only minutes later that Byleth remembered Edelgard’s words. She took a deep breath and turned to face her, a rare veil of fear in her eyes. “ What else did you cook?!”

“ The cake...” Silence. “ Don’t worry. Mercedes helped.”

[saokpe]

HDLW Sibling Week 2020 - Day 2: Pillow Fort

More siblings! I’ve always wanted to write a political drama, glad I was able to fit it in. Enjoy!

@hdlwsiblingweek2020

Comfortable Negotiations

The synchronized steps, bouncing across the overwhelmingly muffled walls of the McDuck Manor, follow the figures of an arrogantly joyful Louie Duck and a stoically serious Huey Duck. Their trenches lead them to one of the few areas of the house yet to fall victim to the rampant colonialism these shrewd visionaries spear head, a solitary wooden desk, two equally simple chairs stationed on both sides. They take their seats.

“Hubert Duck, President of Pillowvile.” The hoodie wearing triplet acknowledges. 

“Llewellyn Duck, holder of the title of Current and Forever After Ruler of Cushion Island.” Huey responds. “How have you and your partner’s endeavours fared following your sudden departure from Pillowvile? A severing I did very little to oppose, might I add.”

  “Yes, very little.” Louie’s previous smile turns into an almost sarcastic imitation of thoughtfulness. “Well it seems that my business partner’s ingenuity and my business savviness has brought us quite a bit of success, as clear when you compare our charts here.” The confidence oozing duck raises both his arms to reveal two staunchly different pieces of cardboard. Both demonstrated crudely drawn line charts, one with an elegant example of calligraphy spelling out Cushion Island while the other, spelling Pillowvile, could be described as anything but. The former diagram demonstrated a staunch uptick following a point labelled “When we got smarter and left Pillowvile.” The former followed a similar pattern, the line taking a steep dive after a period called “Our smarter halves leave Pillowvile.”

“Uhm…” The self-appointed president of Pillowvile attempts to assess the borderline illegible data. “Very… interesting. But, you can’t run a country like a business dear sibling of mine, way more goes into it.”

“Yet you’ve called ME to discuss negotiations.”

Huey bites his lip, the concise retort robbing him of his high ground. “Well, I wanted to talk to both of Cushion Island’s political powers, yet I see only one.”

“You seem one partner short as well.” Louie correctly assesses. 

“Dewford had other businesses to attend to.”

“I’m sure he does.” A grin carves itself forcefully onto a self-assured Louie. “So what did you want to discuss?”

“Well I thought-”

“Pfft- Sorry I just can’t keep it a secret!” The previously reserved negotiator bursts, his body slamming and rolling as his lung expands into a chuckle, “We caught Dewey sneaking through our blueprints, Webby’s currently trying to get a confession from him. I was supposed to lead you on for a cooler reveal but it’s just TOO funny!” He continues between his glee infused snorts.

“Oh…” Huey attempts to speak, left paralyzed in his brothers all consuming laughter.

.

.

.

.

“You better start talking unless you want to go on another trip into Mr. Cuddles’s play place!” A high pitched demand pierces. 

Dewey hung from a collection of patched together blankets, one end tied tightly on his ankle and the other on the insurmountably tall ceiling of this pillow comprised room. Poorly lit and suffocatingly warm and dry, the restrained friend cackles and hacks, coughing wildly as the rope pulled tighter on his body. His feathers filled with lint and tangled plushies, all courtesy of the deep and dark alleyways of the play place. A pool of dolls and toys which hide their bloodlust in their disarmingly soft fur.

“NO! NO! PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO MR. CUDDLES ANYMORE!” The prisoner whines wildly. 

“Are you sure? Cause he sure wants to talk to you!” Webby, her expression contorted with malice, drops her prey closer to the pit. 

“I’LL TALK, I’LL TALK, PLEASE JUST DON’T DROP ME ANY CLOSER!”

For a second the tensed and thick air is complemented with horrid silence. But slowly and surely the rope is reeled back higher. 

“Man I’m good at this job.” Webby congratulates herself.

In between his terrified gasps for air, Dewey is able to speak, “I don’t remember exactly what I came here to do, but if you give me my phone I can read off what Huey wanted me to do.”

“Hmm…” The prison guard contemplates the statement a bit longer. “Yeah that seems believable. Here you go.” The girl chipperly walks to the hanging duck, allowing him to clutch the device before retreating. 

“Thanks.” Still hanging upside down, Dewford lets the bright light of his electronic’s screen envelop him, slamming his finger across it until opening the previous chat log he had shared with Huey. He scans through it, reading the last message. “Did u find the weak point? Waiting for your signal” Dewey sighs as the options placed before him thin out. Without thinking, the cornered duck types as fast and haphazardly as someone could, sending the following message: “THE STRINGS BEEN TIED, DO IT, DO IT!” Just as his thumb forces send, his body clutches, his eyes slamming shut waiting for the sudden impacts and his inevitable fall into the pit. Instead, the shime of a new message received echoes.

“What was that?” Webby notices, a particular doll turning in her hand, causing the tied duck to flinch.

Panic stabs through the already hindered operative, his eyes darting to the message which oh so terribly inconvenienced him. “You’re still inside, the plan was for you to escape.” 

“It looks like you DO want to spend more time with Mr. Cuddles!” The threat curses with the power of a million witches.

“DO IT NOW, JUST DO IT NOW!” The message sends in the moment of panic, his finger pushing over the final button just as it’s stolen from his hand by a ravenous Webbigail. 

A moment of anticipation follows as the messages are read back to Webby’s unknowing eyes. Them widening in horror as the realization washes her.

“You deal with him Mr. Cuddles! I have to go!” She hardly finishes her sentences as her feet trail off.

“NO! DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM!”

.

.

.

.

.

A notification rings across Huey’s phone, his body still stunned from the sudden reveal his youngest triplet cast over him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to replicate Cushion Island, it’s perhaps the most perfect pillow fort ever created.” Another, of the plentiful, boasts Louie has thrown in the last couple minutes. “I mean look at it.” He directs attention behind him, walls upon walls of multi-colored furniture and cushions hoard the view. The wooden walls that previously housed now rest infected by the stuffing of these misused decorations. 

During the monologue, Huey lends a peek at the message Dewey had left for him. Dread befalls the brother, all of his soul used to avoid any sorrow. “You’re the bravest man I know, Dewford.” He whispers.

“What was that?”

Hubert readies his left arm, an arm which had yet to be seen by anyone since arrival. He sighs. “You say that Cushion Island is perfect?”

“As perfect as they come… why?” The creeping suspicion the question arises prevents any hubris.

“I ask because you and Webby actually left your blueprints back in Pillowville, and I wouldn’t really call it perfect.”

The snarky response Louie had planned catches itself at his throat, a worried gulp tossing it back under.

“There was a little design flaw I doubt you knew about in your infrastructure. Poor Webby had a tall order building the whole pillow fort by herself. Especially when you left such a glaring issue in the foundation. All of Cushion Island is being supported by a single sofa cushion.” Huey raises his right hand, revealing a beautifully drawn blueprint, a red circle signalling the sad truth that, yes, one cushion balanced the whole country wide fort. “You’re a shrewd businessman, sure, but when it comes to ruling a country…” Huey finally raises the elusive left hand, clutched between his fingers was the end of an elongated piece of string. “-you need a little bit more.”

A combination of shock and hatred form in the previously egocentric Llewellyn, that manic gaze following the string which, as he feared, led directly into his beautiful Cushion Island. Additionally, as he stares bitterly to the entrance of his magnum opus, the distant figure of his business partner runs frantically towards him. Her arms flail as she attempts to catch the attention of Louie, who already knew it was too late. 

“FOR PILLOWVILLE!” Huey screeches as he pulls the string, the movement creating an orchestra of falling pillows and walls. Destruction as far as the eye could see, pain resonating in the echoing screams of those that lived in its warm housing. A domino effect of crumbling dreams and desires. As the final blanket floats over, Louie crumbles to his knees. 

Pity does enter the victor’s heart, his body moving in satisfied strides towards his grovelling competitor. Huey lays his hand over his fallen brethren. “May this be a warning to all others who dare defy the power of Pillowville.”

Louie stares back towards him before solemnly returning his view to the ground that used to house his home. “I spent my whole allowance building that.”

“In war we all lose.”

Huey’s illustrious Pilloville was soon discredited and destroyed as punishment for its president’s multiple breaches of the Geneva Conventions. 

 His second in command, Dewey Duck, was eventually found retreating in the remains of Cushion Island, hiding in the rubble. When asked on the matter, the former ruler informed our reporter that he was fleeing from one “Mr. Cuddles.” This figure has yet to be found.

When asked about the demolition of what he had previously called “the love of his life,” Louie inquired “The what?”

 Webbigail, the labeled business partner of Llewellyn Duck, has since been spotted waterboarding various stuffed animals. Some theorize she is training for something bigger. 

[gascon-en-exil]

Why would CF be considered bad? The devs say that it's the route about fighting for what you believe in, even if others get in your way. You may have to take down good people, but in the end her route ends with no more gods', nothing dangerous lurking anymore, etc. It doesn't seem like a bad route other than maybe killing good people.

I take it you mean “morally bad” rather than “badly written,” although the two are not mutually exclusive. I’d say that the CF we have is bad in both senses of the terms, and that a better-written CF would been have even more obviously morally objectionable but would have succeeded on that basis - a proper villain route where you get to enjoy being a genocidal conqueror (possibly with a side of your self-insert getting to sleep with your preferred flavor of villainous archetype between Edelgard, Hubert, and Jeritza).

Now, as for why it is, despite the muddled presentation, a villain route:

There are still dangers lurking in Fòdlan, and they’re called the Agarthans. CF is the only route where Thales survives, and where you make the least progress in dismantling his organization. AM gets him and potentially Myson in addition to Cornelia, while VW and SS leave out Cornelia but take care of Thales and raid Shambhala with VW additionally getting rid of zombie Nemesis and the Elites along with a handful of low-ranking Agarthans. CF kicks the Agarthans back to a postgame war waged entirely in character endings, which is neither satisfying as a player nor likely to remove the threat entirely, based on CF’s parallels with Genealogy of the Holy War (see below).

Fòdlan only has one (mainline) goddess, and she’s still alive at the end of CF. I’m not really sure where people got the impression that Rhea or any of the Nabateans consider themselves gods, but they don’t. Killing Rhea in CF causes Sothis’s Crest stone to disappear for no apparent reason (note that Rhea also dies by default in SS if you don’t raise your support with her, and yet Byleth’s hair does not revert to its original color in that ending), but Sothis herself “lives” because you can still S rank her in CF. This is two logical inconsistencies stacked on one another, the first being the bit about the disappearing Crest stone and the second being that Byleth survived its disappearance even though based on what we know of their birth their heart would not beat without the stone…meaning they should have died in that moment. When it comes to moral arguments however, Fire Emblem does not as a whole posit that the world would be any better or less prone to conflict without its gods. The “gods” of Fates and Echoes are really dragons undergoing mental deterioration in their old age, something Rhea does not show signs of except maybe in SS, and that only because the game realizes it still needs a final boss. In Radiant Dawn meanwhile, the game that evidently inspired Edelgard’s speech in the CF ending cutscene, Ike himself acknowledges the value of gods, and Ashera is not truly killed but is allowed to combine with Yune and become a complete entity again.

“Killing good people” is kind of a big deal. CF has the highest named character body count of any route, and although it lets you spare some of the people on its hit list you have to go out of your way to allow Claude, Seteth, and Flayn to live. You can never spare Dimitri, with the best you can do for him saving him from a humiliating execution at Edelgard’s hands and Dedue from becoming a Demonic Beast at the same time and letting them die together. CF Dimitri also doesn’t undergo the same trauma he experiences during the timeskip of the other routes, leaving him comparatively lucid and composed and thereby making all the route’s attempts to paint him as this violent madman who needs to be put down as little more than propaganda intended to rationalize conquering Faerghus and killing its king. Everything about CF positions it as the route of a conqueror; you invade two sovereign countries, take out their leaders, trample them underfoot (literally represented by the ending tapestry), and absorb them into a continental Empire. The bit about returning Fòdlan to the control of humans - incidentally also the goal of the Agarthans - means in this case dragon genocide, allowing you to participate in an event similar to the Scouring of Elibe’s backstory while also, like the Elibe games, forcing you to consider the ethical ramifications of such an act by giving you multiple examples of dragons who aren’t crazed monsters who need to be killed to ensure humanity’s survival.

The argument from Arvis. I went into it here, but the gist is that Edelgard’s similarities to FE’s original Flame Emperor are too significant to be ignored and notably do not make for a flattering comparison. Arvis also fights for his beliefs, a desire to unify Jugdral and create a better world with himself as emperor. In the process he allies himself with an assortment of unscrupulous backstabbing nobles as well as a shadowy cult that opposes a revered divine being and in the process commits multiple acts of murder up to and including most of the playable cast of the FE4′s first generation. He is no less an antagonist or a villain because he has arguably sympathetic ideals, and it’s only in the second generation when, broken and impotent (on account of the machinations of the aforementioned cult who only grew stronger under his reign - makes you wonder about CF’s postgame war, doesn’t it?) and with a new crop of playable characters coming for his head, he somewhat redeems himself by secretly delivering the divine sword Tyrfing to Seliph - tacitly acknowledging the inevitability of his impending death and that he was wrong in murdering Tyrfing’s previous wielder, Seliph’s father Sigurd, to advance his ambitions. Edelgard frustrates a lot of longtime fans of the series precisely because she never has any moment remotely similar to this, where her beliefs and actions are ever questioned in any meaningful way that forces her to confront what she’s doing. That’s to be expected when Arvis at the same point in his story was riding high off his triumph and couldn’t yet see how it would all unravel, but the constant echo chamber of Edelgard and her yes-men Hubert and Byleth is considerably more grating because it’s always in the player’s face. This brings me to…

CF isn’t about fighting for what you believe in, unless what you believe in is just Edelgard. The developers could make the argument that that’s the driving force behind Edelgard’s actions on any route, but choosing CF is never framed that way for the player via Byleth. It’s a spur-of-the-moment, purely emotional decision that asks you simply whether you should kill Edelgard for invading the Holy Tomb with an army and attempting to steal the Crest stones therein (which are, as a reminder, the remains of Rhea’s slaughtered kin - she’s got a pretty good reason to be as angry as she is). You’re not asked to reckon with the morality of Edelgard’s actions in that moment, and the game does its best to encourage you to forget about everything else she did as the Flame Emperor by simply never bringing up any of it ever again. This is why there are still fans arguing that Edelgard didn’t intend to have Dimitri and Claude assassinated in the Prologue, or that she wasn’t complicit in Flayn’s kidnapping, the experiments on the Remire villagers and students, and Jeralt’s death. The game refuses to let you judge her actions for what they are, even in some dialogue options in non-CF routes where you’re forced to pick one of two options sympathetic to Edelgard. Edelgard herself expresses surprise if you side with her, but there’s no explanation given for Byleth’s choice other than that they believe in her. Fates’s Conquest route has repeated moments where Corrin regrets siding with the family who raised them despite the presence of a more rational alternative (or two), as if they’re only there because they were railroaded into it by the player; Three Houses has the opposite problem, where it’s more prepared to question your decision if you take the less emotionally-driven option and side against Edelgard. To put it bluntly, the only reason from a storytelling/characterization perspective to pick CF is because you like Edelgard - possibly as an object for self-insert romance since the route itself leans hard into that interpretation even if you don’t S rank her.

[dmclemblems]

Nopes really whitewashed almost everyone tbh. Edelgard for one. Duke Aegir and Count Gloucester don't even seem as bad; I even agree with Count Gloucester that Claude isn't to be trusted in GW! SB tries to convince you that Lonato not bad, actually, and that Ashe will ditch Faerghus for Lonato. Gustave reunited with Annette way earlier this time around (this isn't whitewashing, it's more that he has a faster character arc lol). Felix is also way nicer in general, Hubert less aggressive, etc.

To an extent I don't mind them adding in humane traits for some of those characters. They shouldn't be all black and white, good or evil. Most real people aren't like that and in a story like the one they're telling in the Fodlan games it'd be odd to have so many characters specifically on one end. It's one thing to have a small few at best, but I do enjoy seeing aspects of characters that are good when we've only heard bad things about them.

That said I do agree that they made some characters a lot softer and kinder like Hubert. Felix makes sense imo because things happened differently in this timeline. He became the Duke very early and presumably spent a lot more time with Rodrigue and grew into his position. With Dimitri I think it's that maturity that he's grown into that helped reduce how cruel he was.

Rather than just making some of them kinder and whatnot though, I noticed they took a lot of characterization away from some character. For example, Dorothea, Raphael and Caspar were... pretty bland. Normally I like Dorothea but I borderline couldn't stand her in this game. All she does is bitch and moan about the war that she willingly fights in this game and worries about Edelgard constantly at camp. There's basically nothing to her character in the main story outside of simping for Edelgard and I feel like the only reason she's recruitable in AG is because she's so popular and they figured they should make her recruitable in all routes. Her supports with Flayn would be cute if not for Dorothea going on about how she thinks she should've died with the other soldiers and how much she laments being there. She fought for Edelgard because she wanted to, which makes Flayn directly her enemy and yet she acts fine and dandy around Flayn in their supports. If not for the context in the rest of the game their supports could've been cute, but I can't really see it that way with all the things Dorothea goes on about.

Lonato is definitely worse in this game imo if only for the fact that he's willing to go along with the guilt tripping against Ashe. The whole thing came off as even worse than Houses made it out to be.

There's a lot of give and take with the characters in this game that I've noticed. Some of them are worse at the expense of making others better. Hilda for example I like a lot more in this game and she feels more like a real person than her Houses counterpart, but Dorothea only seemed kind of decent to me in some of her supports. Caspar was reduced to not caring who or what he fought for other than the Empire, even if it was being led by Thales and people were burning entire villages to the ground and murdering all the residents (even though his father even told him he could flee and he wouldn't blame him for it).

I'm okay with seeing characters like Erwin have some good traits and qualities. It's one thing that he seems scummy in Houses, but that doesn't mean he's devoid of all humane traits. I can see it working out that his people would love him/his leadership but he's doing underhanded things behind the scenes when he doesn't trust other nobles (like the former Duke Riegan and how he didn't like or trust him. You could argue he did it out of concern for the Alliance based on what we know in Hopes while still acknowledging that it was a scummy way to go about things).

Ludwig is a special case in AG because in SB he's still total trash. Pretty sure SB Ludwig had zero redeeming qualities lol. Like I mentioned before, I feel like they needed to use him because they had nobody else they could use to take the same role Cornelia and Shahid had in their respective routes. AG gave him more opportunity to not be quite as awful. It makes sense to me because if he was just total scum of the earth, I can't see how Ferdinand would even care about him, father or not. In Houses he's distraught at his father's death, so there had to be something there.

Matthias though to a point I do agree was altered a little bit on the "too good" side. He tried to get Sylvain to go alone to stop the remaining bandits from Miklan's group and Sylvain expresses to Byleth that there's no way he's doing that and thinks it's weird of his father to even suggest that. The way he also mentions Matthias to be "pulling his weight" in the timeskip makes it sounds like he... doesn't do very much for the Kingdom? Like, my impression of him from Houses was that he was a total dick but very loyal to Faerghus. Like, he'd do what he had to do for his country but was so emotionally detached that his own son didn't expect much of anything from him. He's kind of in a similar boat as Erwin, where I do like seeing the humane aspects of them but it feels like they really pushed toward the good side instead of the middle (when it would've been totally fine if they made them a bit better than how Houses portrayed them but not quite so seemingly kind).

Yuri kind of seemed a little less... scheme-y and antagonistic (even jokingly/tauntingly/teasingly), so I do prefer him in Houses.

[mittelfrank-divas]

Ever think about how vulnerable Edelgard must have felt with her missing memories? A preteen crown princess with freshly healed scars thrust into the middle of a sensitive political situation, not being able to remember which of the people around her she knows, which she trusts, which treated her well when she wasn’t the declared heir?

How she’d know when people are lying to her but struggle to determine why they were lying. Is the maid who claims she’s served in the palace for years lying because she’s trying to make a good impression on the new princess, or because she’s a spy? (If she’s a spy, who on the endless list of possibilities is she a spy for?) Is the noble expressing sympathy over the sudden death of her brother (”a fever they say, how sad, didn’t your sister go the same way?”) insincere because he knows the truth of how and why her siblings died, or is he insincere because he’s an asshole? Is the too-old man courting her hand claiming he’s known her since she was a child because he is trying to gain her trust or because he really is that creepy?

Does she remember the uncle who raised her? Her real uncle, the one who gave up everything to go into exile with his niece? Does she remember him well enough to know the difference between him and the creature who wears his face?

Does she remember her siblings as anything other than children crying in the dark? Does she look at paintings of them and try to guess at which names match their faces? Does she recall which sister taught her how to tie those ribbons in her hair? Does she know which of them held her hand the longest in the dungeons?

How paranoid she must have grown, questioning every gesture, mistrusting every kindness. No wonder she is disdainful of expressions of sympathy. No wonder her only friend and confidante for so long was somebody who deals in facts and logic. Notice how Edelgard recites facts about noble houses as though she memorized them in a book, never embellishing with personal anecdotes. How even the story of how her parents met one another is like a fairy tale written out of rumor and speculation, one she acknowledges might not be accurate. How much of her own life did she have to read up on?

(How many times did she go to Hubert to ask him what is real? How much of his job is just helping her keep the facts straight?)

How she clings to the facts as they are written when her own memory fails her. “Is it possible that we’ve met before?” she asks Dimitri in Abyss, before quickly rejecting the notion. Impossible. It doesn’t line up with the history that she has pieced together from public knowledge.

(If he’d said yes, would she have believed him? So many people have told her they were so many things to her in the past. So many have lied.)

How paranoid she must have remained still, coming to Garreg Mach. Could she trust her own Black Eagles? Duke Aegir, snake that he is, certainly would have bid his heir to keep an eye on the crown princess. Did House Bergliez enlist their second-born to ensure the war plan was carried out successfully? Is House Varley’s mystery daughter an agent of the church? Is every one of them who they say they are, or are they a house of Monicas, monsters walking around with stolen faces?

(They’re not like the other houses, all wrapped up in each other’s history, full of childhood friendships and rivalries. Edelgard is a stranger to her own house, and -- how refreshing that is, that none of them pretend otherwise, that they do not force her to pretend to know them.)

And yet she constantly exudes confidence. She has to. Weakness and uncertainty are not traits she’s allowed to have. So she swallows her fear and feigns absolute certainty, and at night, she reads history books to memorize her own father’s deeds. 

[huberts-private-counsel-archive]

i know you've written ferdibert angst before....but how about turning the tables? with hubert left behind instead of ferdinand?

:) so remember that post I reblogged from @ferdinands-love-club ? Well... you asked for this anon. I've been working on this on and off all day, so I hope you're happy with what you've got

‐-----‐------

It wasn't enough time. Though, in reality, Hubert should've realized from the beginning that no amount of time shorter than an eternity would be enough.

Still, it wasn't enough.

They only had a few more years together, rather than the decades that they should've. They were scarcely able to enjoy the peace that followed before the damned Goddes saw fit to tear them apart.

They may have needed to fight the war against Those Who Slithered, and yet...Hubert couldn't. Selfishly, selfishly, he wanted to spend more time with Ferdinand. Wanted to learn more about the other man, wanted to see if he was just as bright and open in expressing his love as he was in practically everything else.

Lady Edelgard had allowed him leave, just for this. The look in her eyes told him all he needed to know.

They had spent those years together, spending nearly every moment together. Even the days where they needed to take care of one thing or another, they did it together, Hubert being unwilling to spend more time away from Ferdinand when he knew there wasn't long.

And even with the time they spent, even with the affection Hubert had learned to openly give in return for the affection Ferdinand already gifted him, even with Professor Hanneman and Linhardt looking to try and reverse the effects...

...it wasn't enough. If the Goddess truly existed, she must have been laughing in his face as she took his sun and extinguished his light.

Hubert had watched as Ferdinand steadily grew weaker, as he lost his breath more easily and simple tasks grew more exhausting, as his body grew weaker and his light more dim. He watched with a sorrow and fury more potent than anything ever before, a sadness as to who he knew he'd soon lose and a rage that he was too useless to do anything about it.

Hubert had sat by Ferdinand's bedside when he no longer had the strength to move around. Even then, Ferdinand's eyes still lit up when he laughed, still brightened just gazing at Hubert, as if somehow the sight of him was enough to make up for everything he had been through.

"Come now, Hubert." Ferdinand had to pause to catch his breath. He had to do that a lot lately. "In all my years of knowing you.....I have never known you to look so dour."

Hubert had felt his face twist into a scowl, though both he and Ferdinand knew it to be insincere. "Dour? Tch. You of all people should know why I'm..."

Hubert trailed off. Somehow voicing it was always just too much for him to bear, despite all he had done. Ferdinand understood what he meant though - he always had.

"Hubert. You've lived without me before. I know you will be able to do it again." Ferdinand had said calmly, far more steadily than he had any right to be.

Hubert might have been able to live without him before, but that was also before he knew Ferdinand. Knew what it meant to be privy to every side of him, what it meant to be able to bask in the warmth he gave so freely without even a thought to himself. What it meant to love him. And now that he knew, Hubert knew he would never be able to live properly without him.

"That is the furthest thing from the truth," Hubert had begun, the scowl shifting into something more sorrowful neither had wanted to acknowledge. "I may have accomplished such an impossible feat before, but I would not be able to do so again."

Ferdinand had laughed at that. It was a weak one, a far cry from the loud and boisterous laugh he'd often let out at the simplest of things, but it warmed Hubert's heart all the same. "The great Hubert von Vestra, so easily bested by a challenge?"

"Only because I do not have the wonderful Ferdinand von Aegir by my side," Hubert had replied without thinking, taking Ferdinand's hand in his as he let out a soft smile. The rings on their fingers clinked as they connected, though neither of them had paid it mind at the moment.

But now, the noise Hubert had paid no mind to once upon a time would never be heard again, no matter how much Hubert longed for it. For the bearer of the other ring laid six feet under, resting eternally when he should have been able to laugh and speak and breathe and live right by his side.

And in place of the warmth he once felt, all Hubert felt was a numbing cold.

[extremepineapple2]

(very long, sorry) I personally dont like Edelgard (pre-relase she reminded me of Mitsuru from P3, one of my favorite characters of all time, and boy was I dissapointed in her when the game came out), I just find her too arrogant and unsympathetic in her treatment of anyone that isn't Byleth. Even in CF, which is supposed to be her as her best self, she's still so inherently dismissive and nonchalant about her supposed 'comrades' (1/7)

and it gives off a wibe that she honestly thinks she’s too good for anyone but the player slash Byleth. This is a direct quote from her B support: “Because of you, I feel I can walk my fated path without losing myself. If I were alone, I might have lost perspective and become a harsh ruler with a heart of ice.” Even if you don’t pick CF, its still very possible that, outside of Silver Snow, she has a group of people that honestly care and fight for her, yet without Byleth she’s ‘alone’. (2/7)      

Without Byleth, she becomes an evil tyrant. Even if she has Hubert, that she has known since childhood, or Ferdinand, that has done his best since academy days to challenge her and try to make her the best person she can be, or Dorothea, or Petra, or Bernadetta, or anyone else, they’re just not good enough for her. She keeps lamenting about how lonely she is, but its not like she doesn’t have people that try and reach out for her. (3/7)             

Its Edelgard herself that wont accept anyone other than the player slash Byleth as her emotional support. Yes, she’s supposed to have trust issues due to trauma, but I’m not sold on the idea that she immidietly fixates on Byleth as the one person she can trust considering that in two out of four routes they can have litteraly zero interactions outside of maybe two cutscenes. And even in the Black Eagles pre timeskip, for someone thats supposed to have such problem with trust, (4/7)      

she sure immidietly opens up to Byleth about her past torture hah.  And in CF, where I expected some sort of character growth and her opening up to others about her past and TWSITD, the only person she ever openes up to is STILL Byleth. The only person outside of her and Hubert that get to know about TWSITD is Byleth. The only people that get to know about the torture and experiments she went through is Byleth (even with a recrutied Lysitha, and I find it frankly horrible that (5/7)            

Edelgard would use Lysithea in her war knowing full well Lysithea was experimented on by TWSITD. Edelgard full on has Lysethia further the goal of the very people that murdered her siblings and shortened her lifespan without her knowledge like what the fuck). The only person that gets to know the truth about Arianrhod is Byleth, etc etc.I don’t think they intended to have Edelgard come off as taking everyone but Byleth for granted, but to me it just looks like the entirety of CF (6/7)             

is pandering to the importance of the player at the expense of Edelgards possible character growth and relationship with other characters. (7/7)  

Doesn’t surprise Edelgard initially reminded you of Mitsuru. They either have similar voices or the same voice actress (I haven’t checked - but her voice does sound similar to Mitsuru’s). I can definitely understand that being disappointed that Edelgard wasn’t more like Mitsuru in actuality. Aside from a few surface traits they are very different.

The bond between Byleth and Edelgard was done pretty poorly - the very first support with her has her open up with you about her trauma when by her own words, she hasn’t told anyone else. Edelgard has only known Byleth for a few months at most at that point. She even acknowledged that her trusting you with this information is weird (”I suppose there’s something in the air tonight”). No reason given for why you trusts the mysterious professor instead of her allies who have known her for longer. She doesn’t even mention you saving her as a reason.

One of the ways they tried to differentiate Edelgard from the other Lords is that she doesn’t trust people and yet she trusts you in the first support conversation… for some reason.

Not only does she begin to tell you your past in the first support, the first support ended with her telling you to forget what she told you but then in the second support she continues to tell you your past without you even asking. What?

Now Dimitri telling Byleth some of his past in the first support conversation? Absolutely fine. Dimitri’s character flaw is set up to be him placing his trust too much into people. He also tells OTHER people besides Byleth about his path. Byleth isn’t the nexus of Dimitri’s universe like Byleth is to Edelgard’s.

I do fully agree that they made Edelgard worship the player to the detriment of the story and characters.

[astraseason]

@valorwilled​ sent... 1, 5, 9, 14, 22 let the salt flow through u too pepper ( prompt. )

      What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get? 

corrin/xander is a big one, because............ guys, adopted siblings are still siblings. the entire point of fates is choosing your “birth” siblings or your adoptive ones. i get doing it for yourself in a playthrough, because that’s fair, have fun, but to seriously, actively ship it is... uh... ( on that note, corrin/royals in general is really weird, ESPECIALLY in birthright ohhhhhhh my god, stepsiblings are also still siblings-- )

it just feels like the entire premise of the game goes out the window because you’re h.orny on main for x character.

i also don’t understand ( or like, for that matter ) the concept of first gen/second gen. it’s gross. like. in awakening there’s something of a disconnect since the kids haven’t been born yet-- but like... that’s still your friend’s kid? your living, breathing friend that’s right there? like, are they okay with this? lucina’s the worst offender for this because she DOES exist by the time the reveal happens-- and chrom actively treats her the same as the baby back in ylisse. how does he not run you through on the spot if you go after her?!

and in fates it’s even worse because it’s not like a future version of your friend’s potential kid, that’s straight up your friend’s kid. or, you know, your niece or nephew. :’) intsys... why do you do this...

there’s more but i’ll be here all day if i sit here questioning everything people like.

      Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you? 

lmao......... chrobin, actually. it’s not that i dislike it or anything, it’s a legitimately wonderful ship, it’s just... the oversaturation has really put me off. i’m just...... bored of it now? i’m not a fan of edeleth either, that’s more because a lot of the time i don’t like how i see it portrayed.

i didn’t ship it to begin with but i’m also really sick of sylvix and ferdibert too. especially the latter, since like 8/10 times people only seem to take interest in hubert as an accessory to ferdinand and i just-- no........ he’s so much more...

     Most disliked character(s)? Why? 

uhhhhh as far as characters themselves go, without outside influence from the fandom... rhea and gilbert??? like, there are characters i dislike, but i don’t have the energy to really care about them.

but rhea and gilbert are the two who came to mind first, so there we go?

i don’t think i have to explain why i dislike them, either. anyone who knows me knows why i don’t like them.

i’m... also really starting to dislike dimitri outside of bp’s portrayal, sighs into my hands.

      Unpopular opinion about your fandom? 

you’re allowed to like things and still criticize and discuss their flaws. it does not make you a jerk or less of a fan. you are allowed to like what or who you like, and accepting and acknowledging their flaws and using your critical thinking does not negate that, i promise. 

...i guess that’s an unpopular opinion in the fandom, but. y’know. close enough. yes, i’m still very salty over this.

     Popular character you hate?

sylvain... whoops. i kinda went from the neutral ‘eh, he’s not a character i’m invested in :/’ towards him to ‘sylvain what the fuck’ upon seeing his supports with byleth, and then... well, a lot of it is also negative association with a person in the fandom who’s hurt me before. i mean, i’ll write with any sylvains who pop up, you’re all valid, but... i just... i’m sorry. i don’t like him. please change my mind-- or at least, give me a better association with the character.