#caldarus x farmer

[dreamtydraw]

I love the winter season, I swear it's so cool I love winter....

Myliane is cleaning him from snow every morning....

Putting it under the cute to avoid spoiling people but I couldn't help myself and doodled my version of human Caldarus based on the color leaks

[qalanthe]

Caldarus x farmer fanart (leaked design spoilers under the cut‼️)

[meanderingsofmistria]

Dance for Joy

Caldarus x gn! farmer

Word count: 902

Warnings: not proofread and honestly kinda rushed, but I was listening to some dance music and felt inspiration. Enjoy!

(I cannot wait for the day that I can smooch the dragon. Lemme plssss give the dragon a smooch)

    “Dance for me. Please.” 

     These words would have been jarring to hear no matter who it came from, but the word ‘jarring’ took on a whole new meaning when this phrase was spoken by Caldarus of all people. Or, well, creatures?

     “Why…” The farmer asks, their confused gaze falling upon the regal statue, an impressive carving standing tall and proud. 

     “The people of Mistria are joyous people-”

     “Even…”

     “Yes. Even March. Even he finds joy in this life. Though I, like many, cannot see it. I can feel it, though. Deep within me, I can feel when he is prideful, when he fashions a blade just to his liking. I can feel Lady Adeline’s desperation when her thoughts are about Mistria’s future and fate. I can feel Holt’s excitement as he thinks of a new joke to share. I can feel the joy of the people as they dance around each other at the seasonal festivals, and how their excitement and merriment are shared with each other as they enjoy themselves. And…I can feel your desire to join them, to dance alongside them. I can feel that, and I can see how you hesitate. I see and feel, yes, but I cannot understand.”

     The farmer remained silent, taking in the new information. They considered Caldarus their friends at this point. Their daily banter and amicable exchanges have slowly made them forget his true heritage. They heard his stories daily, grinned as he recalled some of his past, but at this moment they truly remembered that he was a dragon. 

     “I enjoy dancing, I do. But I don’t enjoy it when others watch me dance. I feel out of place and I get embarrassed, so even if I work up the courage to dance with them, I don’t think I would feel happy doing it.”

     The Guardian of Mistria grew silent. His words were often so expressive that one could easily overlook the fact that he didn’t have the ability to show any expressions on his stone face.

     “Farmer, tell me. Would you find joy in dancing if I were to avert my gaze. I wish only for your joy, for you to dance freely.”

     “Why?”

     Again, the farmer is met with a brief silence.

     “I feel the joy of the inhabitants of Mistria. I feel their content and their happiness. I revel in their joy and laughter…though I find myself yearning to feel yours as well.”

     This time the Guardian is met with silence from the farmer.

     “You…” The farmer pauses, collecting their thoughts. “...you yearn for …my joy?” They ask, hesitantly, as if waiting for the punchline to a joke made at their expense.

     “Yes. Although if I were to put more thought into it, I feel as though craving would better encompass my feelings on the matter.”

     A silence is shared between the two. One lost in raging thoughts, the other calmly navigating through them. 

     “There…isn’t any music. How shall I dance?”

     Caldarus was made of stone, yet the farmer swore they could see him light up.

     “I am of the opinion that the sounds of nature provide the most brilliant music. However…I may remember some music from a long time ago. Music that could be used for dancing. I am not the best singer, but I can follow a tune just fine.”

     “You’d sing for me?”

     “If you dance for me, yes, I shall sing for you.”

     “How shall I dance?”

     “You may dance however you wish, farmer. My only request is that you may feel joy in your dance.”

     The farmer smiles wistfully, feeling that aforementioned joy creep up on them.

     “Very well o’ Guardian of Mistria.” They took a dramatic bow before the statue. “Sing and I shall dance for you. Caldarus chuckled heartily, amused by their theatrics. 

     The Guardian and the farmer made good on their vow to each other, singing and dancing for hours upon hours. Even as the day turned to night, the stars provided a spotlight for their performance. The farmer danced and danced, laughing and smiling, singing along as best they could as they talked and shared stories.

     As the night continued, the Guardian Dragon found himself yearning, craving for something he could not yet have. The farmer danced beautifully. They were not classically trained, nor was their technique flawless…but they were having fun. And Caldarus felt odd about that. An odd feeling bubbling up from deep inside of him. He craved…he wanted that joy. He looked upon the farmer and watched as they danced…he wanted to dance beside them. He wanted them to look upon him with a joyous smile and dance alongside him. He wanted to hold them, smile at them, and be joyful in their presence. Ah to feel that joy, the joy of dancing. The joy of loving.

     The night progressed wonderfully, up until a point when the farmer suddenly collapsed from exhaustion, sometime around 2am, if he recalled correctly. They stopped, but he still sang. He sang to them throughout the night, until he could not sing anymore. He was regaining strength, thanks to the farmer and their offerings of essence, but he could not remain conscious for as long as he hoped. No, he could not dance with them, nor could he smile at them. But he could sing for them, if only a little, in hopes that they would dance for him another night.

(Thanks for reading! Feel free to request!)

[ookikufurikabutte]

wayneradiotv voice: gubgar react to rock

(my personal design for him while we wait)

[ayachaska]

bcuz ofc the only marriage candidate i'm going for is a lonely statue

like, he needs some tea time too

[marchofmistria]

A Nice Contrast

A/N: This is my first Fields of Mistria fic so I hope you like it! It's based off March's autumn dialogue when you speak to him at the forge and he tells you that it's nice and warm in contrast to the cold outside <3

Planning to cross-post this to AO3, and will update this post with the link when I do.

Summary: March helps you warm up by the forge when it starts to cool down in Mistria.

Word Count: 2,127

Tags: March x Reader, gender-neutral reader (2nd person), hurt/comfort, fluff

The summer bled into autumn and it was officially cold in Mistria. You felt like you barely had time to catch up, and the first two seasons you spent in the town sped by so fast you could scarcely remember to enjoy the season before it was over. Days at the beach with friends felt long and restful in the moment, and now they let out to a short and cool autumn when a farmer's work is hardest. Your wardrobe had yet to catch up to the change in Mistrian weather, however, and unpacking your warmer clothes was on the to-do list. However, a late start to the day after a late night in the mines and that plan was gone.

It was already 2PM by the time you had finished your daily tasks on your farm. The crops were watered and they had just begun to peer out of the dark soil. Your animals were fed and seemed happy. You sat down for a moment next to Caldarus, chatting with him as you untied your hair and changed out of your farming gloves. There were errands to do today, after all, and Mistria certainly did not rest for you.

As you fell into the swing of the day, your morning plans were quickly and totally forgotten. You didn't have much of a chance to notice; you felt warm from running around the whole town for hours. These townsfolk sure knew how to run you to the ground. First it was a delivery for Balor, then a chat with Nora before returning to Balor, then a trip to the museum to discuss a new finding with Eiland and Errol, some fishing for Reina's new dish at the Inn tonight, and a quick trip to the mines to repair a chip in the metal of your shovel.

Your body had gotten stronger in the last few months since arriving to the small town, but you felt exhausted regardless. Days felt like they ended too soon as is, but as you left the mines, you were truly surprised by the incoming dark. How did it get so late so fast?

The feeling really set in once you set off to the forge to smelt your findings. The breeze blew your hair back and out of your face, exposing your shoulders further and starting a chill down your arms. You felt thirsty and very hungry and realized you missed lunch and would miss dinner if you didn't hurry.

Wanting to catch March before he left the forge for his own dinner, you hurried on, wrapping your arms protectively around your shoulders for some mock-warmth. It did little to help, and you had begun to feel a bit lightheaded.

March seemed to be finishing his work day just as you were arriving, although you knew he would leave the forge hot for you to use at all hours. He had grown accustomed to your habits, knowing how busy you were throughout the day and that you might come to the forge even late at night to squeeze as much into the day as you could before you passed out from exhaustion.

When you finally stumbled up to him, he addressed you with a curt "Hey," his usual attempt at appearing nonchalant. Just as he had grown accustomed to your habits, you had gotten to know his as well. You had gotten pretty good at giving whatever he gave you right back to him, and your conversations were at the point of total ease.

But rather than shooting the shit with him as you usually did, well enough to break down his boundaries to show even some vulnerability (a shock to anyone who had ever spoken to March), you ignored his greeting and rested your hand on the anvil for support. At this point, you felt like it was the only thing supporting your weight up.

March, who often couldn't help but observe you closely whenever you were near him, noticed right away and rushed over to you. His brows knit together, he put a strong arm under your arm for you to lean into. You all but collapsed into his support for a moment, before regaining a bit of strength and using your legs to lift yourself up a bit more again.

"What's wrong?" March asked, an arm still around your torso in case you fully passed out on him. His heart beat faster, worry showing on every feature. As soon as your head stopped spinning a moment later, you looked into his eyes and saw his concern. He couldn't even try and hide his real feelings like he usually did.

You blushed as soon as you realized how close your faces were to each other. The closest they'd ever been, you both quickly noted before pulling away from each other slightly. March did not withdraw his support though, despite the blush that was tinging the tips of his ears.

"Hey, did you hear me? What's wrong? Should I call Valen?" March asked again, concern growing as you didn't answer his first question. Your mind swam back into focus when March reached his hand up, moving your hair out of your face to feel your forehead with his hand. You closed your eyes at the warmth. His hands were rough against the skin of your forehead, but the warmth spread throughout your body.

"O-oh, sorry! I just got dizzy for a second..." You finally stuttered out. The crease between March's brows lessened slightly, but was still visible. He didn't move his hand away from your face. "I think I'm just tired from the mines, and I realized I didn't eat much today. I'll be fine though."

"What the hell? Why didn't you eat anything, dumbass?" March all but barked at you. You couldn't help but smile a bit to yourself. So this is what it looks like when March worried about you...

"Charming as ever, March," you replied quietly, hoping to ease some of his worry and show that you really were okay. But as soon as that signature smirk reappeared, pulling up the corner of his lips, it was gone as you tried to walk again and stumbled once more. The dizziness was back, and you were worried that he may be right about the fever after all.

"Hey, hey... you should sit down. Don't try and stand up again," March commanded, lowering you gently to the ground. You didn't think March was capable of touching anything so gently, let alone you. He kneeled down at your side and made sure you were comfortable with your back propped against the outer wall of his house. "You're freezing... why aren't you dressed more warmly?"

You had nearly forgotten how chilly you'd gotten, and his comment caused a shiver to run down your spine. March had you scoot a bit closer to the fire in the forge. "It's warm by the forge," March said quietly, taking your hands in his and pulling them a bit closer to the fire in an attempt to warm you up a bit faster. "You shouldn't hang around in the cold too long. Especially in what you're wearing! What were you thinking?"

"March, I'm fine. I promise. I'm just a bit tired." You said weakly, hoping to provide reassurance once more (even though you didn't want him to let go of your hands quite yet. The warmth felt too good, both from the forge and from your closeness.)

"Like hell you are. You're gonna sit here while I go find Valen, got it?" You didn't dare defy him while looking into his sharp eyes. "Will you be okay a few minutes alone?" he said, the softness seeping through yet again. Your head was reeling from this contrast alone, and you nodded. March looked back at you one more time as if to verify the truth, his eyes softening as you leaned your head back to rest against the side of the house once more. Just before he left, he took off his brown jacket, throwing it on your lap before he turned and walked to Valen's clinic with speed.

As you waited for March to return with the doctor, you shrugged the jacket onto your cold shoulders. You couldn't help but note how comforting it smelled. It was the same pleasant smell you noticed when March leaned closer to you as you worked at the forge, observing your work and chiming in with helpful comments. It was also the same smell you enjoyed when March all but pulled you to his side at the Inn when he had a couple of beers in him. The warmth spread from your nose to the rest of your body. The smell of a crackling fire, leather, a bit of sweat (not at all unpleasant), and even... chocolate.

You had nearly fallen asleep in the pleasure of the smell alone when you heard March's deep voice coming up the cobblestone path to you. "—seemed like she was gonna faint. She told me she hadn't eaten anything all day, and looked like she was freezing her ass off."

Without a greeting, Valen knelt down to you eye level, checking your forehead with her hand before asking to put a thermometer in your mouth. You noticed how different her hands felt from March's. Soft, gentle, and a bit cold. Clinical was the right word.

"March, please go down to the Inn and grab them a bowl of soup, would you? That would be just the thing, I think." March went right away, as if he was tempted to do just that before Valen had given him the instruction.

"Y/N, you need to take better care of yourself. This behavior is a bit concerning to me, and it seems to March as well. Which, alone, says something, no?" Valen smiled knowingly. She gave you a bottle of water to sip on, and asked if you were still feeling dizzy. You were not. Just plain tired.

"You're running yourself to the ground with work, which I can't say I'm too happy about in the first place. But to make matters worse, skipping meals? Not dressing for the cold weather?" Valen chastised lightly. You were embarrassed that your lack of self-care had caught up with you, and now it was a problem for others as well. You hadn't meant to make anyone worry, which you expressed to Valen.

"You're right. It won't happen again. I'll make sure to take better care of myself," you said softly. "Sorry to make you worry..." Valen chuckled, surprised by your humbleness. "No need to apologize to me. We just want you to be healthy. You may not realize it, but everyone in this town has really grown to care for you. I know you want to take on everyone's problems, but I really think people would be more grateful if you watched out for yourself before you burn out all your energy."

Cheeks burning, all you could muster was a nod of your head. March returned with the soup in his hands. The steam that rose from it looked so incredibly appealing. March sat down next to you. "Have enough strength to hold the bowl or do I need to feed you?" March scoffed.

You shook your head, offering a small smile and thanking Valen again when she told you to monitor your condition and find her right away if you felt bad again. March sat next to you as you took spoonful after spoonful of the delicious vegetable soup. March said nothing, but in the silence you could tell he was making sure you finished every drop in the bowl. As soon as you had taken the last spoonful, March removed the bowl from your hands and set it down on the floor. "I'll bring this back later," said March.

"Do you think you can stand? I'll walk you back to your house," March sighed, extending his hand out for you to grab. The combination of the soup, the fire in the forge, and the presence of March next to you made you regain much of your strength. You grabbed March's hand and used it as leverage to pull yourself up to stand. Still wearing his brown leather jacket, the two of you set off in the direction of your farm.

It was only after March saw your front door close behind you and the lights flip on in your bedroom that he turned to head back home. Something about the thought of his jacket in your bedroom made his heart beat faster, and you both fell asleep that night heated by the feeling of each others proximity that lingered and left its warmth in you through the entire night.

[atoltia]

As the wind blows, remember that I'll come home to you.

started listening to "No Choice" by Fly By Midnight and this happened :')

March x Gender Neutral Adventurer/Farmer

-0-

You had to leave.

You didn't want to, of course you didn't, but you had to.

You were an adventurer first before you became a farmer, before you decided it was time to leave the thrill of adventure. To let your body rest, to abandon the horrors that you've seen in your years on the road and settle into this little town.

The life you had built here was nice, far nicer than you ever expected it would. You made friends, you found community. You were settling down.

But you, of all people, knew it wasn't going to last.

The missive arrived days after the last snowfall of spring. You thought it was another mail from Adeline or another letter from Errol asking to meet you and Eiland at the museum. Or maybe it was from March - you hoped it was - telling you that your ass better be at the inn that night.

A chill ran down your spine when you opened the mailbox. A single envelope sat inside, snug, the golden filigree emblazoned over the plush red on the quality paper glinted once the sunlight You didn't have to see the seal, didn't have to see the signature. Didn't have to see to know the colors of your guild.

But you were retired, right? You made sure of that. Made sure that you were off the ledgers, made sure that you would no longer be contacted.

And yet here it was, the ghosts of your past sitting prettily in the mailbox on the land that you so carefully tended.

There was a punch in your gut, a deep clutch at the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to open the envelope. Felt you already know what it said. But you did. You had to.

And felt your heart ice over.

Aldaria was at war. Every soldier, every adventurer within the central kingdom's guilds, every able combatant, retired or otherwise, are required to go to the frontlines.

No one is exempted.

Those who are to run will be deemed as traitors to the Crown and will be put to death.

Fuck.

-0-

The grief of it hit you quickly.

So much that you sat at the stone bench, one that you placed by Caldarus. You didn't think you could talk, didn't think you could form any of the words. Caldarus didn't pry. You thought he could sense what it was, anyway.

You didn't know how much time passed by. Didn't care. Not even hunger, not even the rain.

You had to leave. Immediately.

Adeline and Eiland were horrified. Elsie was rendered speechless. All of you were in tears.

You packed up quickly. It wasn't as if you had a lot of belongings, anyway, even though you've already spent several months here in Mistria. It had to be quick, it had to be soon, as your heart couldn't take it anymore.

The goodbyes were the most difficult of it. More tears, more fear. Hugs, promises to come back.

But you couldn't quite look at everyone in the eye. One person, at the back of the inn, just staring. Dark, dark eyes devoid of emotion. You noticed that his drink remained untouched, his food already cold. You didn't want to say goodbye, not to him. But you needed to.

You took him aside late into the night. His body was rigid, his eyes ice cold.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tried for a weak smile. "I guess you're right. I didn't even reach winter."

"Don't." His voice was hard, shaky. "Don't fucking blame yourself for this."

"March, I-"

He grabbed your shoulders, hard, looked directly into your eyes. "Don't die,' he murmured. "And come back when this is all done. Are we clear?"

The silence descended upon both of you as you stared at each other. Sighed. Weakly smiled.

"Clear."

And you knew, neither of you wanted to think of that promise being broken.

-0-

The day you left was a particularly rainy day.

Mistria was quiet, as if the joyous energy that usually engulfed the town was washed clean.

People tried to resume their routines, their normal, but watching you leave on horseback, alone while getting soaked, was one of the most difficult sights most of them had in recent years. And yet life has to move on. Days, weeks, months had to pass.

March was not handling it well.

He managed to easily slide back into routine. Being a tradesman, the work was never-ending, especially since he decided to expand their enterprise by accepting orders from the other surrounding towns.

It made sense to expand, especially since Mistria already rose up the ranks quickly in the months the farmer was here. Wartime was an opportunity for more profits. Times were changing and he had to catch up.

(And it wasn't because he just wanted the work to keep his mind off of you.)

Every hit of the hammer to the anvil was a second that he wasn't thinking about you.

Every nail, every screw, every project was something to keep your smile, the crinkle of delight in your eye when you give him another gift, the way the sunlight streaked your hair, out of his mind.

He didn't want to smell your scent the moment he picks up the blanket you made him. He didn't want to think about you when he eats something that you liked. He didn't want to remember the feeling of you, all the curves and angles of your body, the callouses of your hands, the scars that littered your body. He didn't want to see even the barest of glimpses of you in his dreams.

And yet he couldn't escape it. Couldn't escape the way his heart weighed him down. Couldn't escape the dull thrum of longing at the back of his head.

So he worked.

And worked.

And worked no matter how much Olric told him to take a break. No matter how much his body screamed at him to stop. Not even when Valen put her foot down and demanded he rest.

Because his hand shook when he struck that hammer. His breath hitched when he stepped away from the anvil. Because his eyes teared up when his back hit against the wall when the entirety of you consumed him, assaulted his senses, his memory.

"Fuck!"

He threw his hammer down as he crumpled to the ground, shoving his head into his lap as he breathed in the way you showed him how.

When were you coming back? He just wanted you back.

-0-

They were keeping up with the current events, of course.

It was slow all around, as messengers didn't always come or the roads were blocked off. But Balor, through his contacts, made sure that Mistria got the news as soon as possible.

The North Everett Garrison fell to the enemy a week ago and proved a heavy blow to the kingdom. Massive body counts on both sides. No news yet on those who fell.

They hoped, prayed, that you weren't there. That you weren't one of the ones who died. That you were still alive and well.

It's been over a year since you left and they still hoped.

It was three weeks after the news that another messenger arrived.

March snarled when the knock on the door came. The shop was closed, goddammit. Why can't people just leave him the fuck alone? He shoved open the door, stopped when Adeline and Eiland stood outside.

Dread pooled at the base of his stomach, his body crumbling into a cold sweat. In Adeline's hand was a familiar helmet. The perfect, silver helmet that he made for you over a year ago.

-0-

They said they couldn't find you.

When the garrison fell, it was immediately reclaimed by the arriving forces. For days, the soldiers and holy people recovered and identified the dead.

But there was nothing else that they could find of you. They only found the helmet, damaged and bloody, with March's trademark on it. By the time the forces managed to collect as much as they could, you were listed as one of the missing, potentially (probably) dead.

It was enough to send him into a spiral.

March hasn't left his room in days. The meals Olric left by his door barely touched. For days he held the helmet, his hands raw from keeping it close and tight to his chest.

His usual proud eyes were dull, the shine of it diminishing slowly ever since you left. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. This was supposed to be your start at a new life, a new beginning. He saw the grief in your eyes when you first moved in. He saw the twitchiness. He saw the strain. And he saw the way you let the shadows of your past eventually fall.

Only to be thrown back again against your will.

He couldn't feel anything. Just that steady throbbing, the heavy pulling of his heart down, down, to the depths of his despair. Couldn't feel the sunlight that streamed through his window. Couldn't feel the cold of the stone floor. Could barely feel the weight of the helmet on his lap.

Time didn't exist anymore. Every single breath he took was like inhaling shattered glass. The world seemed to have lost all color.

"March?"

"Go away, Olric."

"It's not Olric."

He whipped his head back, confusion marring itself on his face. With effort, he hauled himself off of the ground.

Opened the door.

It's been a while since you've seen him.

He's a bit thinner, a little gaunt, which worried you. A shadow of a beard rested on his face as he stood there, wide eyed, as he held your helmet in his hands.

He was just as handsome as you remembered him to be. You smiled.

"Hey, March."

He had you in his arms not one second later. You felt the shudder run through his body as his strong hands pulled you tight into his embrace. This was something that you dreamed off, the one thing that pushed you through, pushed you to survive. The thought of coming back to him was the light in your darkest days.

"March-"

"Quiet."

He took his time with you. Embracing you. Taking in your scent, memorizing your body once again. You had new scars, new injuries. But he doesn't care.

You were here and that's what mattered.

"March," you murmured as you buried you face into his shoulder, your bandaged hands digging into him like a vice. "I'm home."

He breathed in, sobbed out a sigh. Smiled.

"Welcome home, farmer."

-0-

hello, if you like my stuff i have more on my masterlist! :DD

also feel free to send some requests. I'm currently in a March headspace rn but I'm willing to try other characters too o: (might take a while to get to them tho since I'm gonna be in a convention crunch time qwq)

[reveriesofadoration]

♧The dragon's circlet♧

(Caldarus x Farmer Dove)

This *vaguely waves to whatever this is. It includes a dragon that's down bad for one of his worshippers (not an au Dove does worship him)

" Could you wear it for me? I merely wish to uncover my faded memories..."

"As you wish, my lord.."

Caldarus watched as she removed her daffodil bandana and carefully set it aside on the picnic blanket. If he still had a heart, it would have been rendered useless after poounding so hard it fell out of his chest. Her green hair reminded him of spring, and oh, how he wished he could feel it. Just once had to be enough to get rid of such a want.

Her brows knit together as she tried to wipe away a tedious stain, and he has to say he's ever so thankful he is trapped within stone and can not show how he reacted to such a cute face. For he is sure it would only embarass him further and he unfortunately always wore his feelings on his sleeve.

"Please pardon me for the wait, my lord. I merely wished to rid it of any blemish, " She said with a relieved smile. "I'll wear it now."

What happened next? Caldarus does not remember.....

For the poor dragon fainted from shock at the sight of his crush looking absolutely radiant.

Oh, Caldarus.... you are truly in it deep, aren't you?

[qalanthe]

HELP I CANT STOP DRAWING CALDARUS X FARMER FANART (this is my own caldarus human design, not a leak)

[meanderingsofmistria]

Masterlist

This will be my master list for my Fields of Mistria writings!

I right mostly gender neutral farmer, but if you would like to request specific pronouns, I’d be more than happy to oblige!

I write for all bachelors and bachelorettes, as well as other npcs!

Requests are open and welcome!

Caldarus x Farmer

Dance for Joy (gn! Farmer. Fluff! When Caldarus wants to see the farmer dance, how will they react?)