#claude how about you just come for a visit in my dreams already and say it in my face

[coucou-art]

thinking about whether claude would genuinely love carina and why and how and when or would carina's love for him stay unrequited aaaghhhhhh unrequited love would be sad, yes, but still sadly romantic auhghh.... what would he think. would he think or see her at all or want to stay away from this creepy ghost mommy who has the power to look into his naked soul and summon death, or would he use her power to reach his goals and then say bye (I'm an asshole for thinking that but what if)

I wish he could just tell it straight instead of having to hypothesize about it myself for, like, ever

reasons why I still don't have a solid claurina story. it's all hypotheses

[bouwrites]

Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 39

Interlude: Albinean Mixed Infantry

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

9th of the Great Tree Moon, 1185

Veery,

I hope you visit Anna this year, because this is my reminder to you that our class reunion is this year! I am joking, of course. You have not forgotten to write since I got my first letter from you, so I know you will not now.

That said, I am afraid I have some bad news for you. The way things look right now, the war is not changing much between now and the Ethereal Moon. I said I would end the war before you came back, but I failed to do so. I am sorry for that. Honestly, I want you to know that you should not feel pressured to come back this year.

The rest of us have agreed to go to the monastery, despite it being abandoned and in ruins now. I even have word from Dorothea that she is going, though Petra is too busy in Brigid to make the trip. But you are not a part of the war, and I am aware that if Edelgard sees you again she will not spare you a second time. To come back before the war ends is dangerous for you, and I will not ask you to do so. If you want to stay in Albinea until the war is over, no one will bear any grudges for it. We all understand. I do hope to see you there, though. It has been far too long since I have seen you in person.

I should not mention this, but I will just ask Anna to be extra sure about the security of this letter. The truth is that I am scheming something. I feel the need to warn you, just in case you do come, because I do not want you to travel all this way and be blindsided when I drop it on everyone.

I firmly believe that Teach will come to our reunion. She promised, after all. No matter where she is or what is keeping her so busy, this is our chance to find her again. And when we do (and yes, even if she does not show) we will use Garreg Mach as a base and turn the tides of this war for good.

I likely will not be able to keep my word about ending the war before the millennium festival, but I promise you that it will not last one more year after that. Fódlan has suffered Edelgard’s war for long enough. With Teach’s help, we will put a stop to it.

You are under no obligation to join the fighting. I will not ask you to stay and join us in finishing this war. But please do consider coming to visit. None of us will hold you to your promise, considering the circumstances, but we would enjoy seeing you after all this time. I miss you terribly, and I will feel like quite the fool if Teach does not come. I might need your cute face to cheer me up if things do not go my way.

Your friend and brother,

C

Has it been nearly five years already? Veery doesn’t know how to feel about that. He almost feels as if no time at all has passed. It seems like just yesterday that he is walking the grounds of Garreg Mach, not over four years ago.

But he’ll be back soon. Even if Claude says he does not need to, Veery makes a promise to attend this reunion and he intends to keep it. What’s more… the more time that Veery spends with Caub, the more he sees Sadi and Hoarvug talk with Caub, learning each other’s languages and cultures and getting along, the more he craves to bring that camaraderie out into the open.

He dreams of Arcadia. He dreams of fire and blood. He dreams of flying. What troubles Veery is that he has no idea which of those three dreams will beat out the others if it comes down to it.

What matters more? His freedom and detachment, this solitary life of his (for despite his time with Caub, Sadi, and Hoarvug, he still spends the majority of his time as he always has, alone in the mountains), or a dream of a better world? Is Veery willing to go against everything he is to risk his life for a cause? A dream?

Veery will attend the reunion, but he cannot help but think of the war. He… wants to help. He wants to help Claude bring an end to it and change Fódlan. He wants to support Claude in making Arcadia a reality. But he is just not the kind of person to risk his life for dreams.

He likes his life here in Albinea. He’s happy now, away from Fódlan. Yes, his heart aches, missing his family and his friends, worrying whether they will survive the day, but he is happy where he is. He does not need to change the world.

But would it not be beautiful? A world where Veery and Caub can talk in the streets like Veery used to do with Sylvain? A world where Veery can go – fly – wherever he likes, beyond Albinea, beyond Fódlan, and not be ostracized?

Veery still wants to run those endless plains of Almyra. He hopes that, when the time comes, Claude will bring him to do so. But to do that, they must build Arcadia first.

Well, he has the spring and summer at least to decide. The Ethereal Moon is towards the beginning of winter. (Well, Fódlan’s winter.) To travel all the way to the monastery, Veery should set aside quite a bit of time to ensure he can make it, especially considering that Fódlan is still embroiled in war. Travel there will be slow because of it.

He makes a plan with Anna, discussing getting a ship and where he should land. Derdriu is the obvious choice, but it’s also the most crowded and Veery thinks he may want to avoid people, for the most part, until he gets to the monastery. He doesn’t know the climate around agell or him, the so-called cat saint, in particular, so he would rather not test the trust of the Fódlanders who see him suddenly return to their lands after his part in the beginning of this war.

If he can be sure that he’ll find Claude quickly in Derdriu, it’ll be different, but even then, he’s not sure he wants to push the connection between Claude and the cat saint by accident. He can ask Claude by letter about whether it will be okay, but Veery wants to keep his options open. Going to northern Faerghus, behind the lines where the fighting is, or even Sreng, and travelling south to the monastery on his own terms, hidden from most of the people, seems like a safer option to him.

Again, he has half the year to settle on a plan, so he feels no need to rush it. He does, however, need to let his friends here know that he will be leaving for a while.

Caub is by far the easiest to find when no agell gathering is taking place, so Veery starts with him. They just finish their practice when Veery broaches the topic. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Caub blinks up at him and grins widely. “Of course. Anything you need.”

Veery shakes his head, chuckling a little. “I don’t need anything. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be heading to Fódlan before winter. I made a promise back then that I’d come to a reunion that’s supposed to be this year. Most likely, I won’t be back at least until spring.” If he chooses not to fight. Veery isn’t eager to spend months in Fódlan, but even sitting quietly there is ultimately more feasible than trying to come back to Albinea in the depths of winter. It’s better to just wait it out.

“You’re going back to Fódlan?” Caub furrows his brow. “Aren’t they still at war?”

Veery nods. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Caub bites his lip and shifts from foot to foot for a moment. Something uncharacteristically somber overcomes him, a weight that Veery doesn’t see on his face so much as feel in the air. “…Will you fight with your friends?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Veery answers truthfully. “The last thing I want to do is fight a war. I got a taste of it just before I left and I…” He shakes his head. “But… Claude will create Arcadia. I believe in him, and in his dream, and… I don’t know if that’s something I should fight for.”

Caub nods slowly. “I’ll fight for it,” he says, firmly, after a moment’s pause. “I want to help create Arcadia. I don’t know Claude, but… if you trust him to make it, I will, too. If you decide to fight, will you bring me with you so that I can fight by your side?”

“You… what?” Veery blinks. “You want to fight in a war that has nothing to do with you?”

Caub blushes and rubs his neck. “Well… it doesn’t have nothing to do with me. Your friend is fighting for my dream, too. Just because he’s trying to build it in Fódlan doesn’t mean that it doesn’t matter to me. Besides, I… if you fight, I… want to be there. To protect you. Because I… well, you know. I care about you.”

Veery can only sigh. “I… thank you, Caub, but… you shouldn’t risk your life for this. Would your parents agree with you about going?”

“Ha… probably,” Caub says, smiling. “You know they encourage me to fight for what I believe in. There is nothing I believe in more than this. You saved my life, and you’re one of the most important people in my life. I couldn’t let you fight in a war without me, and it only goes doubly when I believe so much in what your side is fighting for.”

“Caub, this isn’t a small fight with bandits or poachers. We’re talking about a war. When Edelgard took Garreg Mach… there were so many bodies that they made barriers in the streets. We had to climb over corpses just to reach our next enemy. You have no idea what you’re asking to join.”

Caub ducks his head. “I know that,” he says. His voice is low, husky, so much deeper than those years ago. And there is something within it which makes Veery believe he does know exactly what he’s signing up for, even if Veery knows the horrors of war are impossible to fathom for those who do not witness them. “I understand how horrific war is. But I believe in that fight. I want to help. And I…” Hesitantly, he reaches up to cup Veery’s cheek in one callused hand. “I can’t sit back safe here while you fight. Please, let me stand by your side. That’s… that’s all I want. To be with you.”

Gods… now Veery is more conflicted than ever. To go and fight would be to risk both their lives. Veery doesn’t have the heart to come back to Albinea and tell Vick and Eva that their son is dead. He… doesn’t have the heart to watch Caub die.

And that’s the reality of war. So many people die, and so many more will before it’s over. Veery is praying that Claude survives, and dares not test his luck by hoping for any more, despite how desperately he wants to pray for the safety of all of his friends.

Dimitri is already dead, accused of a crime Veery refuses to believe he commits, and executed without even his lance in his hands. No word comes from Dedue after that, either, so Veery can only assume the worst. Despite Claude’s confidence that Professor Byleth will turn up, the possibility of her being dead as well is frankly more likely than the alternative. And those are only the ones Veery is close to and knows about. It’s a miracle that that number is so few.

But… Veery understands where Caub is coming from. That’s the problem. He also believes in Claude, in Arcadia, and hates that his family is fighting and that he can’t do anything to protect them. The simple desire to be by Claude’s side and do something to help him survive, and bring about his dream, is the entirety of Veery’s motivation to fight. It’s the only reason he’s even considering it.

But damn if it isn’t a powerful motivator. Five years of being helpless, no matter how happy he is in his helplessness, is more frustrating than Veery will admit. He thinks about Caub and his family, the respect and warmth that they welcome him, an agell, into their home with. He thinks about Sadi’s poor cub, murdered by poachers, even his own parents, who fall for no reason at all except that poachers can profit off of them.

Arcadia would put an end to that. Arcadia is a place where all, or at least the majority, are like Caub’s family. Where mothers don’t lose their children and children don’t lose their mothers to pointless hatred and greed. Where good people like Caub don’t have to hide in fear of being attacked themselves as some kind of sympathizer for a perceived enemy.

Claude can do it. Veery believes that with all his heart. Claude can build Arcadia. Veery has no desire to make himself a part of history, but he does worry, after this war is stalled for nearing on five years, that Claude might need help to build Arcadia. And Veery has already promised to support him.

So, shouldn’t he fight for him?

How much easier it is to ignore these feelings when he’s here in Albinea, separated from the conflict in Fódlan by a frigid sea. Now that he knows he will be back in Fódlan, it is impossible to cast the thoughts aside.

“Veery…” Caub says quietly, gently. “I know it will be difficult. I don’t care what mountains and dales lie ahead of us. I will do everything in my power to cut away the mountains and fill the dales, so that we might create a place where we can live without hiding.”

Veery sighs. “…Okay.” He closes his eyes, shakes his head, but then leans into Caub’s touch. “I won’t stop you. If this is really the path you want to walk…”

“It is,” Caub says, insistent. “To tell you the truth… I’ve thought about it for a while now. I… can’t leave you behind. Even to make Arcadia, I’d rather stay here with you. But I’ve thought about helping your friend, who you believe so much in. It’s… what I’ve been training for. I’d be honored to join that fight.”

“I understand.” Veery closes his hand around Caub’s and gently removes it from his cheek. “It’s not my place to tell you what to do.”

Caub chuckles. “Even if it’s not, I’ll listen.”

Veery shakes his head. “You shouldn’t. But it’s clear you’ve made this decision on your own. So, fine. If you want to fight, I’d be glad to have you with me. Though… I guess that means I’m fighting, too.” He sighs. “For Arcadia. For my family. Ugh. I’ve never been someone to fight for a cause.”

Caub laughs a little louder. “No, but that’s because you’re not fighting for a cause. You’re fighting for survival as you always have. Or rather, you’ve gone beyond survival and are now fighting to live. You deserve to live your life to its fullest, so you fight for yourself and your family, to survive and live the best lives you can.”

Veery smiles, stifling a chuckle. “That is not even almost survival, Caub. But… you might be right.”

Caub grins wide, squeezing Veery’s hand in his own as he does so. “Oh? Am I?”

“Maybe,” Veery says, pushing him playfully. It’s still selfish, to fight to live as he desires in the world he envisions. Not for the people, but for himself. But it is as Caub says. It’s… a little more than survival. “I’m not going to be the one telling your parents about this.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll tell them. Just let me know when we’re leaving, okay?”

“Heh… sure. I’ll let you know as soon as I confirm things with Anna.”

“To war?” Hoarvug bellows, grinning savagely. “Of course! We shall enter the flames and prove our might! Our strength will speak our wills into the earth and Chaos shall shape the world in answer!”

Sadi covers her face with a hand. “Honestly, Hoarvug… But, in this case, I actually agree. You’re going to fight for Arcadia, aren’t you? Then I’ll join you. I will tear through anyone and anything I have to to create that world where no more cubs will be killed so senselessly.”

Veery sighs. Somehow, he suspects that this is how this conversation will go. “I was not asking you to come,” Veery protests. “I was just telling you so that you’d know I’ll be gone for a while.”

“And you thought we’d let you run off to war without us?” Sadi scoffs. “Come now, little Veery. You know us better than that by now. Besides, I do not need you to ask. This is a chance for me to fight to change the world that took my son from me. If your Claude intends to build an Arcadia that includes the agell, I will see that an agell guides him on how to do so. I would go to Fódlan on my own if I thought I could manage alone.”

“You’ve shown your strength to me,” Hoarvug says. “The power of your ideals. You and your Arcadia defeated me before and marked me your battle-brother. You will not dive into battle without your brother at your side, Veery! There is nothing I want more than to wreak merry havoc with you!”

Because of course, that’s how they feel. Veery mostly expects this, honestly. Hoarvug still confounds him, but the general sentiment is clear enough, and Sadi is… not surprising at all.

Still. “Neither of you understand what you’re trying to get into,” Veery warns sternly. “War isn’t like our skirmishes with the humans. It’s…” He shakes his head, closing his eyes. Slowly he reaches out his hands, summoning in his mind’s eye the blood, the flames, the red, of Garreg Mach. The hopelessness as they were pushed back, the desperation, the despair as so, so many people perished. The nauseating, torturous pain of the demonic beasts. The red. “If you’re convinced of this path, at least listen to my heart so that we can all understand each other’s resolve.”

“A fine idea!” Hoarvug roars. “My heart is already yours, my battle-brother! Let us share!”

Hoarvug eagerly, and roughly, grabs Veery’s hand. When Veery listens for Hoarvug’s heart, he is not at all surprised at what he finds. Hoarvug is all bright, violent energy. It bursts from his heart in a way that’s almost playful, but still hits Veery with the force of Edelgard’s axe. It’s respect and optimism and jubilance and… and Hoarvug really does believe in Arcadia, doesn’t he? The distaste for humans, more broadly than the few he likes, is there, Veery can feel it, but also is… conviction. All the conviction that Veery lacks, and has lacked for his whole life, sits like a warm stone in Hoarvug’s heart.

It’s… by proxy of Hoarvug, but it’s the first time in Veery’s life that he feels certain. What a… lovely feeling. He can understand now why so many people are so afraid to lose it. That’s why it is so hard for people to change. Change begets uncertainty, and uncertainty is so destabilizing. Yet Hoarvug believes so firmly in his own and in Veery’s strength that he doesn’t even think twice about whether Veery’s ideals, what he’s going to fight for, is right or not.

It’s a path, no right or wrong. Just a path created by whomever is strong enough to carve it. Veery has long enjoyed the feeling of moving under his own power, relying on himself and only himself, on his muscles and energy and strength to bring him farther than he can imagine. This is… the same. It doesn’t matter what he believes in, only that he’s strong enough to get himself to the end of the path those beliefs guide him to.

Hoarvug… suddenly makes so much more sense to Veery. And when Veery pulls back to observe how his own heart affects Hoarvug, he does not see Hoarvug waver in the slightest.

On the contrary, Hoarvug beams at him, takes his head into his hands, presses their foreheads together, and says, “We warriors will shape the world in our image. You, my battle-brother, are the bravest of all warriors, and I will follow you until Chaos’ savage flames consume me.”

Veery smiles, finally finding some kind of understanding in Hoarvug. It’s easy to assume that, for someone like Hoarvug, Veery’s uncertainty and lack of resolve is something to look down on. But it isn’t. It’s another obstacle to overcome. It’s another battle, and warriors throw themselves into battle and come out the other side.

So, that’s why Hoarvug likes Veery so much. In Hoarvug’s heart, by Hoarvug’s ideals, Veery really is a warrior. He can’t say it occurs to him that Hoarvug might lie about that, but he can’t wrap his head around what that means until he gets this look at Hoarvug’s heart. He nods. “We will build Arcadia. With our own power.”

“That is what I want to hear!” Hoarvug roars. “Let us show those furless fighters in Fódlan our indomitable strength. They will learn that the agell will not be pushed aside.”

“Ha… that’s right. I’m glad to have you at my side, Hoarvug.”

“There is nowhere else I would rather be, my battle-brother!”

Veery bites his lip to stifle his chuckling and turns to Sadi. “And you? Will you listen to my heart?”

Sadi smiles gently, sadly, looking at him with distant eyes. “Of course.” She takes his hand and he listens.

Veery will never know the pain of a parent losing their child. Veery does not want children. He wants to live his life alone and happy and return to the earth and snow in peace. He can barely handle his family and friends, and most of them live across a sea on another continent. There is no possible way Veery can ever suffer the responsibility of raising a cub.

Yet, when he listens to Sadi’s heart, he feels her pain keenly. He feels her rage. It is as if the world itself is askew. He feels her outcry at the injustice, demanding that the world right itself, for there is no good world in which cubs like hers die so young, before even their mothers.

Veery feels her guilt, that she cannot save her son. It is so, so much worse than his own guilt at abandoning his family, but at its core it is the same. He understands. The guilt of surviving, of safety, when someone so important does not. How much worse it is, when it is not only someone so dearly loved, but someone so wholly reliant on her. How can she possibly excuse that failure which costs her cub his life?

She can’t.

The only recourse left is to tear the world asunder and build in its place something better. Something where no more cubs are threatened, and no more mothers fail that most important of tasks. There is no other path for her.

And there is no question of her conviction. War will not stop her. Nor will Veery.

And her respect, love, and concern for the scared little cub who grows up without a mother is not lost on Veery, either. When he listens to her heart, he cannot even pretend that he doesn’t understand. He does not need a mother, but she understands that, as well. And they both respect each other for this.

Sadi pulls away. She asks, “Are you satisfied?”

Veery nods. “I won’t ask if you’re prepared. Just be ready. We’ll be meeting with Claude and the others at Garreg Mach during the winter. We have… maybe until the snows come. Once I have a date confirmed with Anna for our ship, I’ll let you know right away.”

Sadi nods. “Good. I’ll ready myself.”

“As will I!” Hoarvug grins. “To war, then!”

“Oh,” Veery says, “and, just so you know, Caub is also insisting on coming.”

Sadi giggles. “I am not surprised. It will be a pleasure to see him again.”

“Of course, he is!” Hoarvug laughs. “I would be disappointed if he were not!”

Veery shakes his head, chuckling. It… really isn’t surprising, is it? Yet when Caub brings it up, Veery is completely caught off-guard, regardless.

Ah, well. Veery has informed those who will miss him, and somehow gathered allies along the way. And as each one shares their resolve with him, he finds his own solidifying. For a world in which he will know peace. His original goal, in the end. He never should have settled for this half-measure. Not that he regrets it, when it brings Caub and Sadi and Hoarvug into his life.

To war, then.

Caub redoubles his training.

Particularly, he sees the merits of bringing Albinean magic into a Fódlan war and spends many long days with Yrsa the seer to unlock all the power at his disposal. Of course, training so ardently for four years does mean he’s already competent with all manner of magics, but there are, apparently, a few spells that he has not yet mastered, but wants to before they leave for Fódlan. Namely, as he puts them in Fódlander spell naming conventions, Invoke and Rewarp.

Veery has absolutely no idea what those spells are. Though Caub is already capable of them, he doesn’t usually bring new spells into practical combat training with Veery, or even Veery’s magic training, since Albinean magic is fundamentally different, if he has not already mastered it. All Veery knows about these spells is that Caub is excited about them.

It won’t be the first magic Veery witnesses Caub perform that’s all but unheard of in Fódlan, so it’s not too surprising. While Caub learns healing from Veery and a very useful Ward spell from Anna, most of his other magic is learned from Yrsa.

Since magic in Albinea doesn’t typically play a part in war, most of what he learns from Yrsa is typical seer things. Reading omens, interpreting visions, a bunch of other odd and specific things that Veery doesn’t pretend to understand. That said, Caub, though a seer, is undoubtedly also a warrior, so those two things do overlap.

The first time Caub tosses his axe into the air and aims his hand at Veery in training, Veery is sure he is going to use a Nosferatu spell, but instead Veery finds his muscles locking up against his will, rooting him in place.

Caub is so excited about pulling it off in an actual spar that Veery doesn’t quite have the heart to tell him how utterly terrifying it is to be frozen in place like that.

Of course, since Veery masters Silence, all bets are off on who will cripple the other first – they end up agreeing, during normal spars, not to use those kinds of tricks, and practice them separately. Not that Veery spars with Caub often. It’s usually Vick who practices combat with him. But after deciding to go to war, Veery asks to join in, since he does not want to return to Claude out of practice.

(The first time Caub summons a ghost to fight alongside him, Veery nearly gives himself away to the nearby town he yowls so loud. Caub apologizes about a million times, saying he should have warned Veery before trying to use it. At least Veery knows what Invoke is, now.)

Caub is incredibly adept with his magic. The only problem is that, because he spends so much more focus on physical combat training, and because of how the Albinean method of magic works compared to the Fódlander method, his pool of reserve magic is lacking compared to any real mage. That limits his utility some, since spells in the Fódlander method will deplete his reserves more quickly, including healing. That and, because he only has the two expulsion points on his palms and doesn’t have the know-how, like Hanneman, to choose the right locations to make more, his fighting style, with a shield in one hand and an axe in the other, is a hindrance to him using his magic spontaneously.

Veery himself gains some experience with Albinean magics. He abstains from the visions and hallucinogens, and frankly sucks at that Freeze spell, but by the time Caub masters it, Veery is capable of pulling off Rewarp. He’s nowhere near as competent, and doesn’t like to use it, because Albinean magic, though extraordinarily magically efficient (another reason why Caub doesn’t build up a large magic reserve – he doesn’t need it) comes at the cost of physical pain and harm. Which is, obviously, the opposite of what Veery wants to be doing. He’ll take the more energetically expensive magic that doesn’t hurt.

But Caub is not the only one training for war. Sadi and Hoarvug come south to Veery’s territory sometime during the summer and they spend nearly all their free time training. During their breaks from training, and when they aren’t hunting or sleeping, they study Church Common under Veery’s careful instruction, that they might communicate with their future allies.

Sadi picks up the language surprisingly well, considering how short a time they have to devote to studying. Hoarvug… not so much, but he does, at least, get far enough to be understandable, and to understand others. It helps that it’s not the first time either of them are exposed to it. After they begin getting along with humans, they pick up things here and there. Most of it Albinean, granted, but both Veery and Caub, the two people they spend the most time with, speak Common as well, so there is some base to work from.

Veery and Caub speak almost exclusively Church Common in the months leading up to their departure, both to brush up on their own abilities and put Sadi and Hoarvug through the ringer in needing to learn quickly. It’s very frustrating but rewarding. It does not take long for their Common to develop to passable when they are forced to use it so practically on a daily basis.

They work well together, all assisting each other in growing stronger. They learn to act in concert and move as one. When they arrive in Fódlan and lend their strength to Claude, they will not be a force to be overlooked.

And then the day comes. The day of their departure from Albinea.

Sadi and Hoarvug wait further back, half-obscured by the forest but not hiding themselves. Three humans stand next to the large house, all expressing their best wishes to Caub.

“You are glory-bound, boy,” Vick says, holding Caub tightly. Despite his strong words, his voice trembles. “You’re a man, fighting for what you believe in. There is no greater honor for a father than to see his son grow to be such a fine man, and no greater honor for a warrior than to see his son so far surpass him. Go, find your glory, build your Arcadia, and show those Fódlanders the might of us Albineans. Spare no thought of home. I will keep this place, and your mother, safe.”

“Do everything you can for the one you love,” Eva says, taking her son into her arms. “Do not dare go with regrets.”

“I won’t, Ma,” Caub says. “If the fates allow it, I won’t.”

“I know,” she says, voice watery. “And there is no one better to trust you with than Veery. But a mother will always worry.”

Veery bites his lip and turns his eyes away. He is not worthy of Caub’s devotion. He is not worthy of this trust, when he is leading him into war. Vick and Eva should be screaming, denouncing Veery to their last breath, for taking their child and putting him in such danger.

And Caub should not march so readily to war for him. What if Veery cannot keep him safe? What if this is the last time Vick and Eva see their son?

“Our deaths are all woven into the tapestry of fate.”

Veery jumps, looking up at the woman who speaks so quietly to him. Like him, she is observing Caub’s goodbye patiently, allowing him the time he needs to part from his parents. Veery sighs. “You’re… Yrsa.”

She nods slowly. “Your victories, and your time of death, is preordained in fate’s tapestry,” she says, smiling enigmatically. “To fear the inevitable would be a waste. Do not look so discouraged when you have someone like him looking after you.”

Veery shakes his head. Inevitable? Yes. Death is inevitable. But the time of his death is not written. Veery’s choices will ultimately lead to his demise, whether it be under an axe on the battlefield or alone of old age. “I don’t believe in fate,” he tells Yrsa honestly. “Every step forward in our lives is carved out with our own power. We make our own paths. I… do not want him to follow on my path and…”

Yrsa tilts her head, smiling still. “Ah, but that is his choice alone, is it not? If the fates decree that his thread is to be cut in Fódlan, it is his own path that leads him there, not yours.”

It’s true that Veery can’t force Caub to stay and forget about Fódlan or their dream of Arcadia. Nor does Veery ask Caub to come. Veery originally has every intention of leaving Caub behind where he will be safe, but Caub insists on this path. “You’re right,” he admits. “I am not meant to be a leader. I… do not like the feeling of someone choosing to follow me.”

Yrsa nods. “You are unfettered,” she chuckles. “Famously, it is impossible to shackle a cat. I see you often in my visions, and Caub speaks of you even more. If it helps… the choice to follow is a choice as well. Those who follow you do so because they see something they want to be led by. You should not feel pressured to be anything but who you are.” Yrsa looks pointedly to Caub. “He follows you because he loves you as you already are. You will not disappoint him, nor are you responsible for him, so long as you stay true to yourself.”

Veery crosses his arms, mulling over her words. “You’re… I see your point. Thank you. That does help a little.”

“He is not a shackle on you,” Yrsa hums. “He is a man who chooses to follow in the path you carve and lend you his strength to move forward more quickly, whose thread is interwoven with yours in fate’s tapestry. For now, at least, while his beliefs and yours intersect. I do not foresee your threads untangling, but… if you truly are unfettered by fate, that may change.”

Veery purses his lips. “That…” He looks to Caub, takes in the grin sent his way. “I hope not. I don’t like dependence, but… I do not wish to part from him forever.”

Yrsa laughs. “Then let it be so! Use your strength and make that tapestry yourself.”

“I intend to.”

Caub comes over to say goodbye to Yrsa, and she smiles sagely at Veery before turning her attention to her disciple. It is not long before they are on the road. Yrsa does not speak to Veery again, nor does he speak to her.

But… she’s right. Veery sees people as shackles, chaining him down. He dreams of flying, of running free, unrestrained, and doesn’t think that dream is compatible with his choice to return to Fódlan to fight.

Yet the freedom to choose to be with someone is freedom, too. The freedom to push himself forward and cut through the walls between people is just as much freedom as the choice to isolate himself.

No matter what he or anyone else feels, the sun keeps turning in the sky. It warms the wicked and the just all the same. Veery no more shackles himself to Claude as Caub does to Veery. They simply see the same end goal, and their paths happen to line up as each of them moves ever onwards towards that goal.

What a delightful thought, that people can come together for a common cause, and stay together simply because they want to. No obligation, no restriction, no chains or fetters. It is their free will that brings their threads together, not any bindings.

That is the Arcadia that Veery wishes to build.

Newly resolved, Veery leads the way south, to the town where Anna lives. She smuggles them aboard a ship that departs promptly, after her own goodbyes.

And all of a sudden, Albinea is growing smaller on the horizon. Veery’s home becomes further and further away, but it is not so bad. This is the path that Veery is choosing, and he has companions by his side, old friends waiting for him, and a beautiful dream.

No more half-measures. No more contenting himself with good enough. Veery wonders how Claude and the others are doing and apologizes for making them wait these five long years. Five years ago, Veery comes to Fódlan with a dream of the divide between humans and agell crumbling. Today he sets sail once more for that very same dream. Not to run away, this time. Not to hide from fear. This time, he fights for this dream because that is the world that he wishes to live in.

No more. No less.

[lil-bumbum]

Sebastian x Neko reader pt. 2

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(Male reader)

Sorry for taking so long to write a part two I wasn't sure what I wanted to write for this.

(h/s)- hair style

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×3rd pov×

   It was finally a peaceful day at the Phantomhive manor. Well for (m/n) at least. The (h/c)-nette neko is laying in Sebastian's bed since he doesn't sleep or rarely does. The neko is curled up under the sheets in a deep sleep, letting out purrs and his ears twitching every once in a while. The door quietly opened revealing Sebastian in his usual Butler uniform.

    He walks toward the lump under the blankets. The only thing being visible is a tuft of (h/s) (h/c) hair. He lowers the blanket to (m/n)'s shoulders exposing his face. He gently stroked (m/n)'s face with his gloved hand. The neko purrs leaning into Sebastian's palm as the demon himself blushes. He smiles and begins to gently shake the sleeping neko. "Kitten, kitten it's time to wake up.", he says softly. "Ngh..", (m/n) groans out. "(m/n), love wake up.", Sebastian says to the now pouting boy.

    The said boy slowly sits up rubbing his eyes with his small hands, and yawning cutely. (M/n) swings his legs over the bed still not fully awake. Sebastian chuckles and runs his gloved fingers through the (h/c) mess that's  (m/n)'s hair. Sebastian soon finds his matching ears and rubs them. (M/n) purrs as he nuzzles into Sebastian's stomach, ears twitching in pleasure. But sadly that pleasure comes to an end as Sebastian back away to get (m/n) some clothes from the wardrobe near the bed.

    (M/n) stretches his arms out beside him letting out another yawn. "How did you sleep kitten?", Sebastian says placing a pile of clothes on the bed next to (m/n) and starts to unbutton his sleepwear. "Mmm, it was good.", (m/n) mumbles still a bit drowsy. "I'm glad.", Sebastian responds finishing the last button and moving on to the pants and socks. As Sebastian slips on the knee high socks he rubs circles on (m/n)'s soft, (s/c) thigh. He smirks when he the boys cheeks redden.

    Once Sebastian finishes dressing his lover he stands up and stares at (m/n). His kitten furrows his brows and tilts his head in confusion. Sebastian once again runs his fingers across (m/n)'s cheek and leans down kissing his cute nose. When Sebastian leans back up to his full height he holds out his hand patiently waiting for his half-cat lover to grab. When (m/n) does just that Sebastian gently pulls him to stand. The two walk out of the room Sebastian's arm now around (m/n)'s waist as they walk down the hall, walking to Ciel's office ((?)). Sebastian removes his arm from (m/n)'s waist and softly knocks on the door stating that it's him and (m/n). (((M/n) had been introduced to Ciel and they became great friends while (m/n) also works as a Butler alongside the rest of the Phantomhive manors crew.))

    ×(m/n)'s pov×

    After Sebastian knocked on the thick wooden doors a "come in" was said allowing to open the door and walk in. I quickly hide my ears in my hair and wrap my tail around my waist inside of my pants before the two unknown guests even turn around. My heart beating in my chest from the bit of panic I felt when I saw the two. "I didn't know we had guests my lord.", Sebastian says through gritted teeth with a fake smile on his face as he moves closer to me. I stare not knowing what the bloody hell is happening. "It was a surprise visit so.... SURPRISE!", a blond says turning around. He has light ocean blue eyes, and a purple and green outfit with very...... short shorts? Behind him is I'm guessing his Butler. He has golden eyes, black hair that's neatly parted, thin framed glasses sitting on top of  his nose, and your typical Butler uniform.

    "Hello Seba- oh, who's this?", the blonde says looking me up and down, licking his lips making me slightly uncomfortable but I thankfully manage to keep a friendly smile on my face. "He's a new member of the staff", Ciel mutters obviously annoyed at the blondes presence. "Is he now?", he says strutting over to me. "Hello, my name is (m/n) (l/n) it's a pleasure to meet you.", I say holding out my hand waiting for him to shake it. "The pleasures all mine I'm Alois trancy and that's Claude", he says lazily pointing at the golden eyed male. I put my hand down seeing that he obviously doesn't care.

    "Trancy I'm warning you", Ciel says sternly while rubbing his temples. "Oh hush.", Alois says waving him off. Alois walks around me with a hop in his step. "You're a cute aren't you? You could be mistaken as a noble.", he says. "T-thank you, Mr.Trancy",I stutter out, blushing. "Alois, just call me Alois.",he says a bit too sweetly. "As you wish Mr.Tr- I mean Alois.",I correct myself. He giggles and gets close to my face. "You have beautiful eyes.", he says stroking my cheek. "O-oh, thank you.", I'm not used to getting compliments from someone other than Sebastian who is glaring holes into Alois's soul.

    Alois brushes some hair behind my ear and rubs his thumb along my bottom lip. I blush not being used to this. Before I can take a step back Alois wraps him arms around my waist pulling me to him. I gasp not expecting that to happen. "I-u-um", I try to speak. Alois smirks and leans down his lips brushing against my neck making me shiver. I put my hands on his chest to gently push him back but he just holds me tighter.

    I look at Ciel silently pleading for help instead of going to Sebastian because it looks like he is going to rip this boy apart. Ciel sighs "Alois that's enough stop scaring him.", he says wanting them to leave already. I jump as I feel something wet on my neck. 'Did, did he just lick my neck!?", I scream mentally as Alois backs away licking his lips muttering "tasty~" under his breath. I shiver wanting to go back to bed so that I don't have to be around him. "Claude~", Alois says. The said male turns to him. "I want him!take him with us!", he says pointing at me, childishly stomping. 'Wait, what!?!", I think. Before I can even think of running I feel myself being thrown over someone's shoulder forcing the air out of me.

×Sebastian pov×

    Before Ciel had time to order me to stop them i had already taken out my butter knives. I got ready to throw but I hesitated. 'I don't want to hurt (m/n )', I think. They had run out of the house with me following behind. When I catch up I see something that makes my blood boil. The Trancy on top of MY (m/n). The brat is sitting on his back as he hisses and claws at the ground beneath him. I growl at what the Trancy brat says. "Ooh Claude look at what he is! I knew he was special! Maybe I could have some fun with him when we're done! Look at how cute he looks under me!", he giggles pushing (m/n)'s head into the ground as he groans in pain.

    I aim my knives at Alois but Claude gets in the way before they can hit him. (M/n) yelps in pain as Trancy pulls his hair painfully forcing his head back, I snap when I see tears running down (m/n)'s soft cheeks as he desperately claws at the air trying hit Trancy. 'I will not stop until my sweet (m/n) is safe in my arms'.

×TIMESKIP×

    ×Sebastian's pov×

    After that spoiled brat and his Butler retreated I put my arms around a whimpering (m/n). "Ssshh,sshh It's just me, I'm here now , you're safe I will never let then hurt you again.", I promise to him. I slip my arms around his waist and under his knees and pick him up, walking in the direction of the manor. I whisper into my love's ear to calm him down. Eventually he falls asleep in my arms.

    I lean down softly pressing my forehead to his making sure not to cause anymore pain. I kiss his soft lips and smile while staring at his sleeping form lovingly. Even thought his hair and clothes are a mess, his cheeks have small cuts here and there, his eyes red with dried tears trailing down his cheeks he still looks beautiful and innocent to me. He's not in anymore pain, his face relaxed and lips parted as he dreams about who knows what. I whisper in his ear promising to protect him and he softly smiles in sleep. He nuzzles into my neck as groans his ears cutely twitching as his tail wraps around one of my wrists. Finally some peace and quiet.

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[boundlesshart]

foundations

takes place between the wyvern moon and the ethereal moon

Judith warned him all those moons ago. “Your grandfather still thinks that you’re liable to get yourself killed at the Officers Academy.  Don’t try proving him right, otherwise I’ll have to come down and set you straight myself.”

It had been the night before the Knights of Seiros were due to arrive, to escort the heir of the Leicester Alliance to the Officers Academy alongside the prince and princess. Dimitri and Edelgard. Claude only knows their names, but already he thinks of them as friends. The old man hemmed and hawed for a year over if Claude would see this "Officers Academy" for himself, but the announcement of their attendance forced his hand. He didn't look happy. My joy is his pain, Claude had thought bitterly.

His own announcement had been quiet and subdued, per Oswald's insistence. Claude wanted celebrations. A feast, a party, a smile on his grandfather's face, not the mournful look of a man about to send his son to his death. And especially not some old woman breathing down his neck. "Uh-huh. And how would you find out?"

“Oh I’ll find out. I have eyes everywhere, boy. Don’t forget that.” Judith's words went in one ear and out the other, and Claude forgot them as soon as he waved her off. And so the conversation ended.

For all of Oswald's fretting, hardly anything terrible happened this year. Well, sure, there was the incident in the Sealed Forest, an incident that Claude had been very careful to avoid referencing in his letters back. Oswald write fairly frequently–once a moon, 'are you eating well, sleeping well, are you making friends?'. Judith writes, but less frequently. Only to chew him out for slacking in class, and those letters were always too timely.

Claude had a hunch. He always did–his upbringing fostered a habit of observing others and collecting hunches. The question was never if there were Daphnel spies watching his movements, but where they were. How far does this go? Who is spying for Judith von Daphnel, and how far does her reach go?

Then he gets punched in the face. And as it turns out, that reach is pretty damn far.

—————

"Stop your gawking, boy. It's unbecoming of Oswald's heir."

Claude forces his eyes away from Judith's face, but that only adds to the pot of roiling emotions inside of him. Confusion at seeing Judith so far from Daphnel territory. Embarrassment at being caught in a moment of weakness. Shock that she had come because she already knew what had happened to him, and the anger that ensued that yes, all this time, there had been eyes on him, watching. The privacy he thought he had, being away from Derdriu, had been a mirage all this time.

Upset isn't the word he's looking for to describe how he's feeling, but it's getting there.

He hasn't said a word to her since they were seated in the common room. That's not like Claude, but in privacy, with just him and his aunt, all of his carefully built rules and strategies fly out the window. Judith von Daphnel may not know all his tricks, but she knows them well enough to trap him if she feels the need to.

So when Claude finally speaks, it's honest, and carefully neutral. "What are you doing here?"

"Confirming a rumor," Judith answers simply, punctuated with a sip of her whiskey. "We got word back in Derdriu that you were coming back with a terrible injury on your face. And I'm sure you can imagine how Oswald reacted to that. But enough of that for now. First, let me get a closer look." Leaning over the table, Judith takes Claude's chin in her hand. Her touch is gentle but firm, as she carefully turns his head. A sympathetic tut. "Hmm. Not as bad as the report made it out to be. But it's hardly pretty. What did the healer say?"

"...That it'll heal." When Judith releases him, Claude resists the urge to rub over where her hand was. "Told me to avoid getting punched and visit the infirmary twice a week for checkups. In two moons' time, I'll only have a scar to remember it by."

"A scar?" Judith's raises her eyebrows, but only for a moment before she nods to herself. "Right, right, the gauntlet." Claude's eye twitches, but he lets her continue, "Well, the bright side is the report exaggerated things a bit. This is about what I expected for what happened. But seeing this for myself... well, I'm just glad you're holding up."

Holding up? That's a new one. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Delicate area and all. A black eye is one thing–we've all gotten one some way or another. Being the troublemaker you are, I'm sure you're familiar with those. Am I right?" Claude can't help but huff in laughter, and Judith smiles in return, "There you go, loosen up a bit. Broken bones near your eye, from that prince who can't get his Crest under control, it's a serious matter. When we heard... well, words can't explain it. The old man was beside himself. Ready to write a letter to Rufus about the incident. I was barely able to convince him otherwise."

"It wasn't that bad," Claude tries.

"I said it wasn't as bad as I thought, but you can hardly wave it away and call it nothing." More whiskey pours into her cup, and more water in his. "In any case, Oswald is right to have his concerns about his grandson. The most you can do right now is put up with it."

Claude frowns, though it pulls at his bruise. Of course. His dreams of leading Leicester and implementing his goals as its sovereign duke have keeps his mind focused on what matters. But even they can't erase what feels like ever-increasing restrictions on what he can or cannot do. The last thing Claude needs is more hurdles in a country that prides itself on erecting them.

Judith breaks the silence between them with a sharp thump, her glass hitting the wooden endtable. "Right! To business, then. Oswald sent with me clerics that will help with the healing process. Some of his own personal healers, so they're familiar with you as you should be of them. I'm certain the nurses here at the Officers Academy are quite skilled at what they do, but you know how he is.

"Yeah." Claude takes a sip of water to hide his sudden grimace. That's going to be conspicuous.

"The Ethereal Ball is in two moons," Judith adds. "It'll be tight, but I'm certain it will heal in time. Oswald also wrote letters for all your professors to excuse you from your exercise drills while you recover. I'll give them to you before I leave, so make sure you get it to them before classes resume."

"Mmm." More meddling. More silence.

"Did it hurt?"

Claude looks up at Judith, to the concerned look in her eyes. He ought to have an answer–he does, doesn't he?–but nothing comes out.

"I know you like to forge on ahead on your own," she continues carefully, "and that you have the confidence to believe in yourself even when we push against you. But you know that you're not alone in this, right?"

"...I know that."

"You have family to rely on when things go wrong. ...You also have people that are relying on you.  People to consider, and who shouldn't be left behind or ignored." There it is, the way Judith's voice hardens when she's trying to make a point. "Independence is an admirable trait to have, but there are times when you take it too far."

"...It's only that–I know my limits, and that I haven't hit them yet. Oswald, grandfather... he's so overbearing. And I know, I know, Godfrey!" Claude snaps when Judith opens her mouth. Of course, he regrets it soon after when her face falls, and her expression hardens as her voice had. But still he goes on, "I'm not him. Things won't end like it did with him. I don't need protection."

A pregnant pause. Judith making him wait, no doubt, and Claude steadily returns her gaze. He misstepped earlier, and no doubt he's paying for it now. It's fair of her, more than fair. Claude should know better than to throw the name of her dead husband back at her like some kind of curse.

She lets out a deep sigh. A tired sigh. "Alright. You've made your point. But some food for thought..." Judith takes another sip of her whiskey, swirling it in its cup. "There's a lot riding on you. There was a lot riding on Godfrey, too, and he broke under the pressure of it all." Another pause. "In some ways you have less support than he did, but you still have support. The Alliance is a country where no man can be allowed to forge ahead on his own. He is one of a group that works together for the betterment of all. That's the ideal, anyways... The sooner you learn that, the easier your time here will be. Just give it some thought, will you?"

—————

Judith's parting gift included Oswald's letters, but also a small pot of a brown, perfumed substance. "It's makeup. Don't give me that face," she scolds him, scowling. "When I was a girl attending the Officers Academy, the marketplace rarely had anything that could cover my blemishes without making me look like I came back from the dead." Then the pot is forced into his hands. "It'll be useful for you, better than an eyepatch in any case. The men of Derdriu cover their blemishes with this too, if it makes you feel any better."

It didn't, really. Not at the time. But Judith's gift was intended to be a tool, and so Claude tried to think of it as such. At least the scent of rosewater was a familiar one. A comforting one. It reminded him of his mother, and of Aunt Judith as well.

—————

Two weeks before the ball, the Riegan clerics returned to Derdriu. And in the early morning before it, Claude inspects himself in the mirror.

The bruising is long gone. His fingers scrape at the last bit of rose-scented paste clinging to the pot to cover the dark scar on his cheek. The skin already healed there, the clerics had explained to him. There is no way to undo its work. When Claude dabs makeup over it, though, the scar all but disappears. He tilts his head, smiles at himself in the mirror. Perfect.

Claude had his misgiving about this at first. But to be able to conceal his bruising and live his life normally, just as himself... when he writes to Judith for another pot, he'll have to let her know how invaluable that was to him.

He leaves his room shortly after, brushing past the stacks of papers on his desk. Underneath half-written essays and class notes are a set of unopened letters from Duke Riegan himself from two moons ago, buried and forgotten. No one that knew Claude von Riegan would think he'd actually hand those into his professors, Judith least of all.

[iturbide]

More Crest Control Edelgard in Heroes

(CheeseAndCake here) I just want to let you know that the CC!Edargard art is amazing, and it works as both a thank you and a bribe. Here is the accepted bribe’s payment!  More Crest Control Edelgard in Heroes snippets have been delivered! Enjoy!

(Also, Me? Shamelessly inserting my headcanon that Almyra uses non-gendered language? It’s more likely than you think.)

_______________________________________________________________

It’s only after a long, tense, chat with the Crèche Guardians that Edelgard allows herself to relax on the bench in the dining room, and return her dagger to its hiding place. She left it on the table where both parties could see- and neither could easily grab- as a sign of good will, which for the most part seems to have worked. 

The previous conversation wasn’t pleasant in the slightest, but it was something she needed to hear, and the distrust is warranted, since her past- and alternative- selves are here as well. 

Considering what they might have done, she’s surprised she wasn’t set on fire the moment she entered.

Most of the castle is empty by now, aside from the occasional hero on patrol, which suits her fine. The silence gives her room to think.

She doesn’t know how long she sits on the bench to process the meaning of the words said- each of them have their own cultures, their own beliefs, so many reject the title of god, some find it holding a different meaning, some- the dragonkin aren’t one collective unit- which isn’t surprising, but somehow still hard to grasp- they’re people.

And Edelgard refuses to leave this dining hall until she finds the idea at least slightly easier to understand. 

If it takes a while, and the Guardians are willing to talk again while she’s still processing, the least she can do is make sure the conversation’s on neutral grounds so it doesn’t feel like an invasion.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she wakes up, the sun is just starting to rise over the horizon, which is surprising, since she usually has night terrors, but Askr apparently has heroes that can control dreams, so it might not be that strange.

She’s just glad she removed most of her armour before approaching the Crèche, and that this place is apparently safe enough to fall asleep without armour. 

It’s only when she feels a small tug on her dress and looks down that she realises she’s not alone. 

She looks down, and sees a very sleepy child with pink hair under the table. The child holds her hands out, and makes what she assumes to be an ‘up’ gesture. 

Slowly, carefully, she picks up the child and paces her on the bench, and the child’s face scrunches before she moves onto Edelgard’s lap.

It’s only when the child looks directly at her face and cheerfully says “I’m Fae!” That Edelgard see’s the young girl’s forehead, remembers her visit to the Crèche, and realises she has a dragon child sitting on her lap.

For a moment, she swears her heart skips a few beats. Even now, despite everything, the word “dragon” in her mind still conjures an image of a fairy-tale creature, and not a… person. 

She shoves that disgusting line of thinking to the side, and forces herself to think of anything else. No bad thoughts around the child. Second thoughts are more important than the first.

The Grima’s were going to kill her. 

Think. She talked to Claude about this in Fodlan, didn’t she? Humanising comes from learning about the individuals. You are sitting in a room holding a- an adorable, tired, child with pink hair. Ask the child something. Anything. What’s a good thing to ask a child?

“So, Fae-“ Calm, casual, voice. Gentle, good, “What’s your… favourite colour?” 

She really needs to learn how to talk to children. 

If Claude ever found out about this, she’s going to strange him with his own sash. She could practically hear him saying “It’s a learning experience, Edelgard!” In the back of her mind.

Fae blinks a few times and smiles up at her. “Purple!”

“Oh, because of your hair? You have very pretty hair.” She didn’t make a move to ruffle the girl’s hair, but she shifted into what she hoped would be more comfortable for the little one.

“No! It’s the colour of mama and papa’s wings!” 

“That sounds-“ don’t panic, don’t panic, “- lovely. Did you get your wings from them?” -don’t panic. This is a small, fragile child, if you panic, she will cry. Think you your younger- don’t think of that, it will make you panic-

“Nope! Fae’s wings are-“ Fae yawns and stretches, before curling up against Edelgard’s chest, “-white! But! Fae still has feathers, like them!”

“They must be very beautiful.” This time, Edelgard makes sure to pat Fae on the head since she’s giving Edelgard the same look cats give her when they want affection. “Fae, did you stay up late to spy on your parents?” 

Because if there’s one thing all children do, no matter what their backgrounds, it’s staying up late to listen in on your parents.

“Hmmm…” Fae blinks slowly, and wriggles to get herself in a more comfortable position. “Yep!” 

And then Fae falls asleep. 

Edelgard has no idea how to move without waking up the child, and she’s pretty sure at this rate, no matter what, the entire Crèche is definitely going to kill her. 

“You look uncomfortable.” A new voice rings out, and instinctively, her right hand goes to her dagger and she tightens her grip on the child in her arms. 

Edelgard glances at the man with long red hair, relaxing as she realises he’s one of the Crèche’s caretakers. “I have no idea how to talk to children.” 

The man lets out a small, relieved smile, and sits next to her.

“Give it time. It will come.” He says casually. Then, he leans over the child in her arms, holds his hand out, and whispers, “Fae, come on, your mama and papa are going to panic if they realise you’re missing.”

Just like that, the small, half asleep, child practically falls into the man’s arms, and whispers “Warm.”

The man lets out a soft laugh and says, “I’ll be returning the little one to her parents. Thank you for looking after her. My name is Arvis.”

“It’s no problem. My name is Edelgard, though I’m guessing you’ve already ment several versions of me.” She nods in response as the man- Arvis- leaves the hall with Fae in his arms. 

—————————————

The next Crèche Caretaker she meets is named Lyon, a soft-spoken man with purple hair and kind eyes, who volunteered to talk to her about the Crèche’s activities after he saw her listening to Emmeryn. Apparently, that was what convinced him she was serious about wanting to understand the dragonkin and change. 

The conversation was mostly natural, talking about the children’s’ favourite fairy tales, their favourite games, so on and so forth, until Lyon spoke about his fallen self. 

Because Lyon- and the entire Crèche, apparently- use future tenses for his fallen self, but the guilt she can see in his eyes is an entirely different type.

“You’re lying.” She says it softly with a sigh, but perhaps it comes out blunter than intended. It needs to be said, because if what that implies is true, then she needs to know. No, she doesn’t need to know, but it’s something that will haunt her if she doesn’t at least ask.

“Pardon?” Thankfully, he doesn’t sound offended, only cautious and curious.  

“You don’t have the eyes of someone trying to fight their fate.” She explains, keeping her voice low, in case the former prince wants to keep it a secret, “Or someone resigned to it. You’re not from before you’re fallen self, you’re from after, aren’t you?”

Just for a moment, she sees a shadow pass over his face, and his eyes seem to become so much older and wiser. “…Yes.”

Hope is a dangerous, terrifying thing. It’s not something that Edelgrad believes in, but in that moment, it crawls through her stomach and into her mouth, and she can’t help asking, ��Did death bring you peace from the Demon King?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember, but…” He smiles, sadly as he looks at her. He doesn’t comment on the question. He doesn’t need to, “I can hope.”

—————————————

It’s rare to see Claude- and of the Claudes- on his own, since she usually sees him with the Crèche- who she’s giving space to approach her, no matter how hard the waiting is-  with the Grimas’ twins and the other tacticians, or with his Golden Deer, which she knows to stay away from, since most give her death glares she approaches. 

So, when she sees one of the older ones alone, she decides to ask him for a game. His strategies are always interesting and versatile, and she finds herself missing the matches they would play in their spare time. 

“Sun’s light warm you and wyverns’ sing, Claude, High Ruler. Would you be willing for a game of Shatranj?” She asks, giving her usual greeting as she approaches him. He’s standing next to an empty table big enough to fit the board on, and she knows he always carries a small set with him when he can.

for just a second when the words leave her lips, Claude’s expression perfectly matches a deer’s when it sees a hunter, and he slowly sits on the chair. His expression becomes a calm mask and doesn’t change, and that’s how she knows she surprised him. 

Claude. Surprised. She doesn’t know what to do with the information. 

“I should let you know, I’m not king yet,” Claude corrects, somewhat stained and somewhat gentle, as if he hasn’t completely thought his words though, “Brave me has that honour.”  

Oh. Oh, that’s embarrassment burning in her gut, but she can’t take back her words. Ruthlessly she shoves it down. There are better times for shame, and this isn’t one of them. 

 “Oh? I never did learn how to greet a prince.” Do it. Ask. Implications give nothing. Shame in asking is worthless. Somehow, the idea that she would have been too ashamed to ask before gives her what she needs to push on, “Would you be willing to teach me?” 

“Sure, it’s: ‘Heir of High Ruler’ if you want to be super formal about it, but most people just use ‘Heir’ for any child of a governing family.” She can tell Claude’s been caught off guard, but now that he knows where the conversation is going, he has it under control. “‘Wyverns’ sing’ is also only used after the person’s Rite of Challenge.”

“Ya-kessh?” She repeats, butchering the pronunciation. 

“No, Heir.” It rolls off his tongue naturally, and Edelgard bites the inside of her lip to stop her frustration and embarrassment from rising. Not the time, not the place.

“Heir-ch?” She says, forcing herself to try again. She can do this.

“Heir.” 

“Heir.” 

“There you go.” Claude responds with an easy smile. It’s not perfect, but Edelgard can practice later. 

Edelgard rolls her eyes. She’s worked for Claude often enough to know that type of smile isn’t completely real. “The offer for Shatranj is still there, Claude, Heir, do you accept?”

“With joy, Edelgard, Ruler of Land and People.”

“I lost that title years ago, Edelgard, Commander, is as formal as I’m going to allow you to go.” 

Claude’s smile becomes sharper as he places his pieces, and Edelgard allows herself to smile in return. This was going to be fun. 

In the end, she loses, again, which really isn’t surprising. Against someone like Claude, it doesn’t sting that much. 

 ______________________________________________________________

[AN: yes, Edelgard did 100% refer to the Robins as “the Grimas’ twins,” since she doesn’t really know their history.]

[On another note, how do you think the Bad End cast would react to CC!Edelgard? I’m not going to write anything for that, I’m just really curious.]

______________________________________________________________

[agent-cupcake]

First prize winner @elmentrysworld wanted a Claude x Yuri x Reader story that takes place after my Claude x Reader oneshot Aletheia. I’m splitting it up because my life has been… A lot these days and I wanted to post SOMETHING

I hope you enjoy it regardless?

Claude x Yuri x Reader - Part 1 of 2

This part is sfw, but the next part will not be

//

News spread throughout the palace like wildfire.  Even when it was meant to be kept quiet. No, especially then. Claude had a visitor. Mysterious, foreign, he came without notice and had been quickly hurried out of sight. It was strange to be sure. He hadn’t called for you, but Claude knew as well as you did that you’d find out and come anyway, no invitation needed. That was just the way of things, both of you were too nosy for your own good. The casual way in which you regarded the lapse of propriety once would have shocked you, but now it felt as natural as breathing.

It was his fault. Honesty, transparency, tearing down all the walls that would divide you.

Thinking about that made your chest ache in a hollow, bitter way. You still weren’t entirely sure where you were with him. Things had been unsteady since that night. Or, perhaps, too steady. He was so eager to get everything back to normal. And it worked. Mostly. When you were together, you could readily believe in everything Claude had told you. You could buy into his vision of what you were meant to be, who you were to him. But alone, well. Things were always harder when you were alone. Sometimes something frightening welled up within you. It was not the fear, or the anger, or the helplessness. It was the doubt create by the memory of those things.

You were almost able to ignore it, to cast aside your fractured memory of that night.

But that word was the kicker. Almost.

After being so flush with conviction, to be caught in uncertainty was agonizing.

It was his fault.

You shook that bitter thought from your head with a nearly violent jerk, taking advantage of the dark halls to cover the spastic movement. There were far more important things to focus on than your own personal melodrama. That was the way of it, of everything, wasn’t it?

A mysterious visitor. That would be a good distraction.

The door to Claude’s sitting room was cracked ever so slightly. A trap probably, left open just for you. Or you were reading too far into things. It didn’t matter much, as there was just enough space for you to pause, breath held and ears straining to listen through the narrow opening. There were voices from within, two of them. Male. Unaccented. You hesitated there, unable to make out any of the words, only aware of when they stopped abruptly.

“You can come in, you know,” Claude called from within, his voice raised enough to reach where you hovered. It caused you to start. A deserved surprise, all things considered. “How long were you hiding there?” Claude asked as you stepped past the threshold, not surprised to see that it was you. A trap, then. Or, more charitably —and Claude was so charitable— an invitation.  

“I wasn’t hiding,” you told him, although there was a certain unintended edge to the words that made them seem deflective. Claude sat in his usual chair, a big, comfortable throne of seat that was plush enough for him to take up any manner of unusual reading postures. In the chair across from him sat the guest, the second voice you’d been hearing.

Yuri Leclerc, apparently, had decided to visit. Instantly, every defense you were in possession of was thrown forward, your instincts recognizing the man as a threat before your mind could catch up. He was watching you with too-keen eyes and an unreadable expression. Yuri was the type of man that was almost always unreadable. Or smirking. Plotting, planning, not too unlike your king. Only, where Claude thrived in the sun dappled world of politics, Yuri was a shadowy figure in the night. The most formidable criminal player in Fódlan. And here he was, watching you approvingly in the familiar comfort of Claude’s sitting room like he belonged there.

A thousand questions jumped to mind, but you stifled them. That would be rude. After all, Yuri was a friend. Or so Claude said. You smiled. “I was merely trying to think of a good enough excuse so that when I interrupted, it wouldn’t seem so suspicious. Then you would so graciously invite me to join you.”

“And how’d that go?” Claude asked, playing into your game without blinking. “Did you think of one?”

”Oh, sure. I came to tell you about a strange visitor that’s come to the castle.” You looked at Yuri, meeting his eyes for as long as you could bear before looking away. Of all of the people Claude knew from Fódlan, he was the most interesting. And the most dangerous. You resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his eyes. “Very strange and mysterious. Probably a foreigner. Possibly dangerous.”

Claude laughed. “Right. Well, I’d hate to compromise on security. Would you like to join us?”

“If you insist,” you said, shutting the door fully behind you and taking in a big breath. “It’s been awhile, Yuri.”

“It seems that all of us have been quite busy,” he responded warmly, standing up to greet you. In all the time that had passed, you had forgotten about how pretty Yuri was. Or perhaps it just wasn’t something that you could remember, his image intangible and vague when you weren’t directly exposed to it, like the lingering tendrils of a dream that caught as fleeting fancy in the waking world. In fact, Yuri did possess a strange, elusive dream-like quality. At a glance, anyone could tell that he was most definitely from the west, what with that paper-white skin and light violet hair, his narrow features and that slim build. Considering his reputation, it was nearly paradoxical that he would be so strikingly feminine. But this, too, was a weapon.

You almost would have preferred he show up with a sword in your face. At least you would know how to react to that, would be able to keep a cool head.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Yuri took your hand, pressing a kiss to its back when he bowed. Although you knew this to be a western tradition of introduction —Claude had taught you all manner of western traditions— Yuri’s method was disarming. Far too charming to be authentic, but not slimy enough to read as deceptive.

“You too,” you said, bowing in turn while doing your best to keep from seeming affected by his demeanor. Yuri, just like Claude, was the type of man who enjoyed playing with people. It was, you supposed, apart of his charm. The type of charm that made your teeth clench.

“Yuri and I were just discussing his trip,” Claude said, seemingly oblivious to Yuri’s flirtatious greeting. Or dismissing it as Yuri’s usual antics. Or, no, Claude’s smirk told you that he was fully aware of your flustered reaction and found it entertaining. You pushed down the impulse to scowl at the man. “Apparently, a group of bandits has been making a nuisance of themselves along Fódlan’s Throat.”

“A group of bandits had been making a nuisance of themselves along Fódlan’s Throat,” Yuri corrected, sitting back down gracefully. You followed suit, albeit with far less poise. You didn’t believe yourself to be an awkward person per se, but he could make anyone look like a lumbering oaf by comparison. “When I heard that there was trouble with a group of Almyran merchants coming into Fódlan, I got permission from Holst to gather a group of my best men and follow a shipment coming out of Fódlan into Almyra.” His lip pulled back slightly, a slight expression of disgust. Just a blink later, it had passed, his face composed back into airy calm. “For all the trouble they caused, they were nothing but a lousy group of thugs without a single shred of sense between them. The only reason they’d done as much damage as they had was because of their terrain advantage.”

“And?” Claude prompted dryly. For all of his personal dramatics, he often lacked the patience to indulge anyone else’s.

Yuri smiled, undeterred. “Let’s just say they won’t be bothering anybody else.”

There was no question as to what that meant with that suggestive grin. You didn’t envy the bandits. Then again, you didn’t pity them, either. As far as you were concerned, men like that deserved what they got. For all of the many ways Claude disagreed with you about acts of violence and death, he obviously felt the same. Or maybe it was just okay when Yuri did it.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a reward for this good deed,” Claude said.

“I couldn’t possibly,” Yuri said with a wave of his hand. “Besides, several merchants have already made their appreciation abundantly clear. Their gratitude is all the reward I need. Besides, it wasn’t entirely unselfish. Bandits hurt my business, too.”

“You have my thanks all the same,” Claude said. “I mean that.”

“Will you be going back to Fódlan soon, then?” you asked. You didn’t meant to sound so eager, but the words came out that way all the same.

“I have business here, actually,” Yuri answered. One of his carefully manicured eyebrows raised. “Why, are you that eager to see me gone?”

Gods, his eyes practically cut through to your soul, twinkling in amusement. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said, trying to remain steady. “But, you know, having a foreigner hanging around during times like this could be inconvenient. There’s quite a bit of unrest already and your line of work is, well, it could cause issues here.” Not to mention the fact that you still didn’t know if you could trust him and were at least mostly certain that him being here could cause upset in your relationship with Claude. That last thought came out of nowhere, hitting you hard and leaving you breathless. You cast a side eye to Claude, jumping slightly when his gaze met yours. Too perceptive. You looked away.

“I promise not to cause any trouble,” Yuri said, putting on an air of sincerity despite the small smirk he still wore. “Besides, it was quite an ordeal to get here, my men and I need some rest before we can make the trip back. You wouldn’t be so cold as to ask me to put myself or my men at risk, now would you?”

Your eyes narrowed, but you shrugged. “That’s my opinion as an advisor, it has nothing to do with me being cold. In any case, it’s not up to me.” You looked at Claude pointedly. His expression was difficult to read, his fingers resting on his chin as he considered it.

“As long as you agree not to cause any trouble, I welcome you to stay as long as you would like,” Claude finally said to Yuri. “And since you seem so concerned about his presence,” he continued, turning to you, “why don’t you keep an eye on him? I’m sure Yuri could use a guide. Assuming that works for you, Yuri.”

“I have no objections,” he responded, flashing you a brilliant grin. “I look forward to getting to know you even better. Who knows, maybe we can even become friends.” Gods, did he have to say everything like it was a proposition? Even the word “friend” was heavy with implications when it came from his mouth. In spite of yourself, you felt your stomach clench, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“Claude,” you bit out between your teeth. “I’m not sure-”

“Great! Then its settled,” Claude said, cutting you off. “Well, it’s getting late and I am just beat. I’m gonna hit the hay.” He stood, stretching and yawning in an exaggerated way that only he could make look like anything less than a farcically bad performance. “Yuri, you’re more than welcome to take a room in the palace if you can find a maid to prepare one for you. They have a thing about outsiders so it might be somewhat of a hunt, but I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

“Wait a min-”

“Actually,” Yuri cut you off, standing. “I already have a place in town. Wouldn’t want to be too far from my men in case something goes wrong. I suppose that’s my not so subtle cue to leave.” He paused, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you. “I’m staying at the Silkstone Inn, in case you want to come keep an eye on me. I could use a guide to show me around the city.” He smirked. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

“That’s not necessary,” you said flatly.

“Heh, nevertheless. Goodnight.” Yuri tipped his head towards you. “Claude, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I hope we can catch up while I’m in town.”

“I’m sure I can find some time to entertain you. I’d love to swap secrets, for old times sake.”

“Now that sounds like fun. Until then.” Yuri didn’t wait for an answer, exiting without asking for Claude’s leave, dramatic cape flaring behind him.

Impudent scoundrel.

You stood. “Can we talk, Claude?”.

“Too tired,” Claude said, the words disfigured by another yawn. This one was far less convincing. Your eyes narrowed.

“You pawned me off to be a… A babysitter,” you said. “I had no idea he was going to be here, I didn’t plan for this at all.” You pulled in a large steadying breath, not that it did much to settle you. “Be honest, Claude, is this your way of punishing me?”

“I’m not punishing you,” Claude said, his facade of fatigue fading away as he read your expression, gaze holding yours. His eyes were too sharp, too astute. It made you uncomfortable, a sense of transparency rippling through you like a shiver. All the doubt you’d been secretly harboring was in your eyes. You knew it, and you knew that he did, too. “Truth be told, I didn’t know that Yuri would be coming, either. But… that’s not what you meant, is it?”

“It is,” you told him sharply, disliking that question intensely.

“No, no, this isn’t about Yuri. There’s something that’s been bothering you. After our little conversation the other night, I would have thought you’d be able to open up and tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t read your mind, you know.” Could have fooled you. He sighed, frowning. “You’re upset about something, I can tell that much. Are you… Angry with me? I hoped that it would get better, but it’s not, is it?”

A question. Yes or no. Simple.

Honesty was sweet and vile. Your hands clenched into tight fists and the taste of sugar was thick on your tongue, heat creeping in on the edges of your mind. It all came up, sugary bile in your throat and in your head. You hated yourself for your answer but he had asked you a question and expected the truth.

“I’m not angry with you,” you told him. “That’s the truth, you don’t even need to drug me to hear it. I’m not angry with you. How could I be? After all, you’re my king. My lover. For me, there is nobody else. And I’m-I’m okay with it, I’m not angry with you.” Words that had brewed as a cutting critique of his treatment, that you had meant to use to hurt Claude, ended up lacking any of the rage you had originally intended. That was the nature of the truth, the unpredictability of emotion. Looking into Claude’s eyes, you melted. The feeling wasn’t sweet, or feverish, or synthetic. Honesty was painful. Honesty was crippling. “How could I be angry with you?”

Claude’s expression fell. It might have been your intention in all the time those words had been brewing in your chest but actually seeing his pain nearly broke your heart.

“I’ve been going about this the wrong way, haven’t I?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. The silence was long and awkward, your words echoing in your mind, each pass creating a feedback of regret for having spoken in such a way. “Maybe we should take a break from this little scandal of ours. I’ve got the feeling you need some time to think.”

“Think about what?” you asked.

“What you want,” Claude said. At your scandalized expression, he was quick to continue, “I don’t mean give up your position, at least not for now, but we can’t continue on with this hanging over us. I’m asking you to help out a friend while he visits because I don’t trust anyone else to do it. That’s all there is to this.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture. “As to everything else… Please, just think about what it is that you really want. Whatever it is you choose,” he shrugged, “I suppose we’ll go from there.”

“After everything you’ve done,” you said, a block of ice in your stomach, “that’s it?”

“What? Not at all,” Claude said, seemingly surprised by your accusation. “But I can’t force you to feel something if you don’t. The heart wants what it wants, right? Right.” He yawned again, this one far more authentic. He really did look tired. You hadn’t noticed that before. “And right now, my heart wants a good night’s sleep. You should think about getting some, too. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”  

You winced.

“Don’t make that face, everything is gonna work out just fine.” Whether he was talking about Yuri or you or your relationship, you weren’t sure. Maybe all of it, maybe none. Claude kissed your cheek in a shockingly chaste way and didn’t invite you to his bed, even though you were half certain you’d have agreed despite everything. He bid you goodnight.

The wind teased you that night, billowing in your curtains and kissing chills onto your skin as you thrashed around in your bed in the search of a comfortable position. You thought about doubt, and choices, but did finally get to sleep. Small mercies.

[starshine583]

Le Paon Part 10

(Hello all! This is part 10, two weeks later, but I have to admit it’s slightly shorter than usual. The next chapter will be the same. I hope you enjoy reading nonetheless!)

Part 1 / Part 9 / Part 11

Allegra couldn’t help the ear-piercing squeal that escaped her lips as she stared at Marinette’s picture of Le Paon. Finally! After weeks of chasing that man’s tail around the city, they finally got a good- no, not just good, a great picture! This was incredible! She felt like bouncing around the room from pure joy, which she did, along with singing a happy little ‘victory tune’. It wasn’t appropriate for the school classroom, but dash it all if she cared what her teacher might think. They were on their routine break between classes anyway.

“I can’t believe you got this!” She exclaimed after a good few moments of staring at it. She wanted to memorize every detail. “I mean, how did you get it? The picture seems so close! It’s like he’s standing right next to you!”

Allegra was too excited to notice Marinette shifting uncomfortably next to her.

“W-Well, I was out on the balcony and.. and I saw him on one of the rooftops across the street. My phone just happened to have a good focusing feature.” The ravenette explained. 

Allegra’s features twisted into a scowl, though it wasn’t necessarily directed towards Marinette. “I wish I could get that lucky. You’d think after months of waiting, he might show up on my doorstep every-”

Her miniature rant was cut off by the vibration of Marinette’s phone. Someone had texted her, and from the pop-up notification at the top of the screen, it appeared to be.. Felix? Since when did he get her number? Since when did they text?

~My Father’s at home today, so you should be able to visit this afternoon after school hours. Does that work for you?~

Allegra squinted at the text. He was inviting her over to his house? 

“That’s scroundal.” She muttered. 

“What?”

Allegra snapped back to reality at Marinette’s voice. “Hm? Oh, nothing.”

She handed Marinette’s phone back, subtly checking the time as she did. It was important that no one- especially Felix -interrupt. “Do you like greenhouses?”

Marinette blinked. “Greenhouses?”

“Yeah! Claude and the rest of us are going to visit a greenhouse tomorrow, and I was wondering if you’d like to join us.” She requested, making sure to keep a light and sweet tone. Hopefully, Marinette wouldn’t remember the last time she asked her to go somewhere, not that the girl seemed to mind running into Felix so often.

Marinette hummed. “I think that should work. I don’t remember having anything else to do tomorrow besides school.”

Allegra clapped her hands together as the bell rang above them. “Wonderful! I’ll tell the boys.”

Marinette nodded and gave a quick goodbye as she left to go back to class. Conveniently, Felix walked in right after her exit.

“Felix!” Allegra nearly cooed. “How do you feel about greenhouses?”

Felix paused at his desk and rose a brow at her. “I’d say that I liked them until you asked that question.”

Allegra only smiled. “Why don’t you join us this fine Thursday on our trip to the greenhouse?”

Felix sat down, pulling his bag onto his lap to rummage through it. “As fun as that sounds, I’ll have to refuse.” 

She let out a long, wistful sigh as she sat down next to him. Claude wouldn’t mind sharing his seat with her for a minute. “What a shame. I’ll tell Marinette you couldn’t come then.”

Felix twitched next to her, and she felt her smile widen. Checkmate. 

Unfortunately, she had to go back to her seat after that, but Allegra still counted it as a success. Felix didn’t agree to go with them out loud, but somehow, she knew he would be there. 

~~~~~~

Marinette clutched her sketchbook to her chest as she stared up at the large, metal gates of the Agreste Mansion. Despite it being the middle of the day, she couldn’t help finding the sight a bit eerie. Normally, one would find gates like this outside an abandoned house on the outskirts of town, not in the middle of Paris as if it were as natural as a mailbox.

A compartment opened to her right, and Marinette jumped back with a slight squeal when a silver bulb shot out at her. Something red in the middle of the bulb seemed to shrink and expand a few times as it circled her. A camera, she realized. It had to be one of those built-in cameras that she’d heard about.

~Name?~

Marinette faltered at the sharp tone. “Ah, u-um..”

The camera inched closer, somehow appearing to glare at her. ~Name?~

She swallowed. “M-Marinette.”

A pause. 

~You are not on our schedule for-~

~Oh, cut it out, will you?~

Marinette blinked. Was that Felix?

~Apologies, Marinette. Our secretary’s not that bright.~

A click emitted from the metal gates, and they swung open, allowing her to enter. Marinette spared the camera one last glance as it retreated to its compartment in the wall before starting forward. 

Felix greeted her at the entrance. “Sorry about the camera. Father can get a bit carried away when it comes to security. ‘Overprotective’, if you will.”

Marinette gave a tight smile. This whole situation didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t remember the security being this overbearing last time she visited for her and Adrien’s history report. Paris had some criminal activity, yes, but surely cameras and two-story sized walls weren’t necessary. Who was M. Agreste trying to keep out?

Or keep in? She thought, her gaze flicking to Felix as he closed the front door behind them. He mentioned a few weeks ago the lengths that M. Agreste would go to keep them at home. Marinette can understand wanting to keep one’s children close, but this is a little.. excessive, especially considering the fact that she’s barely seen their father around the house as it is.

Felix showed her to his father’s office, and Marinette briefly noticed a woman sitting at a desk not too far away, the barest hint of a scowl adorning her lips as she typed away on her computer. That, Marinette assumed, must be the secretary that had talked to her over the camera earlier. 

Her attention was turned back to Felix when he pushed open the office door. It wasn’t until they were inside that Marinette realized she was holding her breath. This was M. Agreste, after all. He was known world wide for his fashion achievements, and his company was one to be coveted. Honestly, she could only ever dream of reaching his level of success, and here she was, about to meet him face to face for the first time. 

“Father, this is Marinette, the one I told you about.” Felix introduced. 

A slight blush brushed Marinette’s cheeks at the thought of Felix talking about her, but she tried to push the feeling aside. Right now, she needed to focus on making a good first impression. 

Gabriel’s gaze flicked to her briefly, but he kept his main focus on his screen. “Ah, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. Of course.”

Marinette rose a brow. “Of course”? That’s it? She didn’t expect any sort of special treatment, but she liked to have some common courtesy. He could have at least put a light note into his tone instead of sounding as enthusiastic as a rock. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, M. Agreste.” She finally said, an equally cold tone of her own. Two could play at this game.

She caught Felix giving her a surprised look out of the corner of her eye, which was understandable. Marinette didn’t tend to hold a sharp tongue, but sometimes, exceptions needed to be made.

Gabriel looked up at her as well, and that’s when she stiffened. In hindsight, this was his mansion that she was standing in. If anyone had a right to practically ignore her, it would be him. Nevertheless, Marinette had already made her position clear, and she wasn’t going to back down now. 

Her shoulders straightened as M. Agreste’s hollow, grey eyes assessed her. “You’re from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, correct?”

Marinette forced a neutral expression. How did he know that? She supposed her last name made it obvious, but still. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He nodded. “Your designs are impressive, albeit a bit rough. With guidance and practice, I’m sure you can inspire a new era of fashion. Have you anything else to show me?”

Marinette took a step forward, offering him her notebook. The tense silence that followed had her fidgeting with her hands as he flips through her designs. His expression didn’t even change while he studied the pages. What kind of robot of a man was he, anyway? Or were her designs just not good enough?

Finally, Gabriel nodded again and handed the notebook back to her. “Splendid. I appreciate the visit.” 

Something about his tone- or lack thereof- made her more irritated than pleased about the compliment. They’d barely said two words to each other. Was this his way of blowing her off? She simply couldn’t tell. 

Felix, obviously used to this behavior, nodded as well and lightly grabbed her arm for them to leave.

“Felix, next time you intend to bring someone new to my mansion, I’d prefer to look into it myself first.” Gabriel remarked as they reached the door.

“Of course, Father.” Felix said, opening the door for them to make a quiet exit. 

Marinette, however, didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was too bewildered to do anything other than stare at Gabriel with a quizzical expression. “Look into it myself first”? “My mansion”? She could explain away his need to look into visitors, controlling as that may be, but for him to act like he alone owned everything here was outrageous. Whether he bought the place himself or not, Felix and Adrien were his sons, and this was their home too. Let’s not even mention that she was not, in fact, “new to his mansion”.

Actually, no. Marinette thought. Let’s mention that.

She turned away from Felix, ignoring his panicked expression, and smiled a nice, sweet, sugary smile. “With all due respect, M. Agreste, I’ve visited this mansion before. Adrien and I worked on a history project together.”

Gabriel rose a brow. “What history project?”

Marinette barely held back a scoff, though her smile remained. “You didn’t know about your own son’s history project?”

Admittedly, her tone was harsher than she had meant it to be, but that didn’t mean she regretted what she said. Her parents knew her entire schedule, all of her interests, and they certainly knew about her visit to the Agreste’s to work on their group history project.

Gabriel, however, narrowed his eyes at the confrontation. “I have Nathalie and Gorilla to keep track of that for me.”

It took every ounce of self control she had not to snap at him right then.

“I don’t mean to argue,” She began calmly, “But is it really wise to hire someone to care for your own children?”

Gabriel shot her a full-fledged glare. “Felix and Adrien are my children. I am their father, and I will decide what’s best for them.”

Marinette huffed. She tried being polite, tried helping him see reason. The boys may not be her responsibility, but she wasn’t going to stand back and watch them be mistreated like this. “A father doesn’t lock his children up in a mansion and leave employees to care for them.”

“They have everything they need here!” He yelled.

“Except a loving parent who cares for them!” Marinette spat back. “The only way you haven’t abandoned them is by physically leaving. But you’re practically there by holding yourself up in your office all day.”

Gabriel scoffed. “You best mind your tone, Mademoiselle. I don’t have to explain myself to you nor anyone else. Now take your leave before my patience runs dry.”

Marinette’s fists clenched at her sides. How could someone be so stubborn and so arrogant? Why did this man even decide to have kids in the first place?

A light touch on her wrist brought her gaze back to Felix. He didn’t say anything, and his expression didn’t change, but she could see the pleading in his eyes. 

A sigh passed her lips, and she shot one last look at Gabriel before marching through the office doors. 

Another time. She promised herself as Felix trailed behind her. Another time.

~~~~~~

Felix quietly closed the office door behind him, not wanting to disturb Father any more than they already had.

"Well, that didn't go as planned." He muttered to himself. Inviting Marinette over was supposed to impress his Father, not twist his candy-cane tie into a knot. Though, in all honesty, Felix couldn't say he was disappointed. He'd never seen Marinette so utterly enraged before. That girl had turned to ice faster than he could blink, and Felix would be lying if he said he wasn't just a tad love-struck. For someone who usually stumbled over a simple "hello", her tonguelashing towards his Father could be considered quite a feat. Truly magnificent. 

Felix turned around to tell her this himself, but stopped short when he saw her. She was standing in front of him, a dazed look in her eyes as she clutched her shirt, almost like she was trying to hold her own heart. 

Cautiously, he stepped forward. “Marinette? Are you alright?” 

No response.

“Marinette?” He tried again, starting to get worried.

“I yelled at him.”

“Pardon?”

Finally, she looked at him, and he immediately wished that she hadn’t. Her beautiful blue eyes were hollow, haunted. It made his blood run cold. 

“I yelled at him.” She repeated. “I yelled at your Father. What was I thinking? What if he calls security? I’ll never be allowed to talk to you again. My fashion dream is probably ruined-”

“Woah, hey, hey-” Felix tried to sooth, taking her by the shoulders. (Gently, of course) “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Father’s not going to call security.”

Marinette dug her hands through her hair. “But what if he does? What if I just got you into huge trouble? What if he pulls you and Adrien out of school?”

He pulled her hands out of her hair. “Can I hug you?”

“I- what?” 

“Can I hug you?” Felix said slowly.

She stared at him for a minute, a little confused, but nodded. 

Felix sighed and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her back. “Just take a deep breath. I promise you that everything’s going to be okay.”

She buried her face into his shirt and sniffled, and he reached up to gently stroke her hair as he felt the wetness of her tears sink into his shoulders. 

“I actually wanted to thank you.” 

Her head jerked back a bit from shock. “Thank me? For what?”

“For sticking up for me and Adrien. Not many people have the courage to stand up to my Father like that, but I’m glad you did.”

Marinette sniffed again and wiped away a stray tear. “I’d do it again if you asked.”

Felix smiled, pulling her back into another hug. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he did know one thing: he loved Marinette, and he would do everything he could to keep her from crying like this again.

Tag List:  @im-here-for-the-content @novicevoice @mewwitch@minightrose @frostymoon11 @multishipper1needshalp@unabashedbookworm @unholykrow @trubel43@kaydenth3gayden @stardustrevoutionx @legendaryneckjudgestudent @aurordraws @crazylittlemunchkin @uwuteamleader @chocolatecustarddanish @iambi-thilla-meena @corabeth11 @asainfrustration13  @chrismarium @agumon1123 @luciferge @yue-caelum @persephonebutkore @constancetruggle @fanficaddict4ever @johnlockfeelz @imfreakingmagical @tinybrie @procrastinatingrightnow @bee-wrecker @dontcallmecedge @shadowhex99 @daminette-is-life @thethirdwheelfriend @myazael @sizzling-fairy-oil @sparkle9510 @chaosace​ @the-navistar-carol​ @sannsibarr​ @grumpy-vixen-kitten​ @hauntedfreakdeputyhero​ @utcaro​ @more-or-less-human-i-guess @mlbutatbspofsalt

[insidetheacademy]

Say You Love Me || v

pairings: peter parker x reader (both are 18+!)

summary: y/n settles down in paris and met a new friend! also peter has a surprise

warnings: wet dREAAAMS

gif credits: tomholandd

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

-

the flight to Paris was okay except for a baby that was crying super loud. jeez, babies shouldnt be allow to travel you thought to yourself. after you had arrived, you went straight to this beautiful cottage that was apparently the company’s property. you said goodbye and thank you to the taxi driver and took a good look at the house infront of you. this is it, you’re gonna have to spend your time in this house for God knows how long.

you dragged your suitcase in and set it aside. you explored the interior of the house before going to the backyard. it was beautiful. there was a visible river and someone who used to lived here definitely took a good care of it since theres flowers and everything that you had seen in a fairytale. you werent gonna lie, you do feel like you’re a pauper. you took out your phone and captured the photo to upload to your Instagram. you captioned it “la vie en rose”, cliché but you had planned about taking photos and making your captions in french since you got on the airplane.

you head inside to take out all of your paintings essential. you felt inspired just by looking at the view there. you took one of the chair from the garden and sit down and started painting on your easel. you startled when you felt someone tapped your shoulder, you turned around and saw a tall pale man. he looks like he’s from around here.

“hey! y/n right?” he asked smiling wide, you took out your earphone “yeah? and who are you?” you asked confusingly, “Jules? we’re supposed to be working together?” he said trying to refresh your brain but you were still confused. “did they not tell you about me?” Jules asked, you shook your head and said a small sorry. you must have slipped over the email when they said that. you feel so stupid right now,

Jules explained everything and apparently he’s your new roommate. he was supposed to help you do a big painting for Claude Monet. you invited him inside to make a cup of tea for the both of you. “so, where are you from, Jules?” you cusped your teacup, “I live 30 minutes away from here. they wanted me to be here all the time to complete the painting as fast as possible and I couldnt say no,” Jules said.

after an hour and a half of talking with Jules, you really feel right at home with him. you two just met but you really feel a connection between him. you also found out that during his free time, he’s a guitarist and does gigs here and there to make extra pocket money. he said he’s in a band thats called “The Rejects Club” you laughed hard when he told you that because it sounded so high school-ish. but in his defence, he did say that the band formed when they were still in high school.

it was close to dinnertime, you didnt want to eat as you already eat a croissant that you quickly grabbed from the airport but Jules insisted to make cook for the both of you, you couldnt say no when his voice sounded so velvety and is like a warm cup of coffee with marshmallows on top. you were sitting on the couch with the both of your legs on top of the coffee table scrolling through instagram when Peter replied to your story, “how’s Paris so far?” he asked, “it was tiring but tomorrow’s gonna be more tiring,” you said.

whatever Jules was cooking definitely made your stomach growl with anticipation. you werent hungry but whatever he was making definitely made you hungry. you stood up from the couch to look at what Jules was cooking and it was pasta. to be accurate; an aglio olio. it smelled so delicious. you wanted to help so you took out the plates from the cupboard and set it down on the table.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“you know I love you right?” Peter said his lips nearing yours, you looked into his eyes and nodded. the kissed turned into a passionate and fiery kiss. he had your body against the wall, he was cusping your jaw with his left hand and the other underneath your shirt, you let out a moan and he squeezed tits.

“jump,” he said through the kiss and you obeyed not wanting to destroy the moment that you were having, he sets you down on the silk bed and continues to take of your clothes, he kissed from your collarbones to the place that you needed him the most, “y/n!” someone said, but you were so lost you thought it was Peter that was calling you but the familiar new voice kept coming closer and closer as you woke up.

you woke up with sweat forming on your forehead and your alarm ringing so goddamn loud, “jesus, are you okay?” Jules asked, “what time is it?” you looked around frantically trying to look for the clock, “its 10:30am! we were supposed to leave the house 15 minutes ago, y/n!” your eyes went wide and picked a floral strap dress and a cream coloured turtleneck. you went to the shower without having second thoughts.

you put your clothes on and quickly grabbed your shoes along with a pair of socks and your handbag. you locked the door and ran to Jules’ car. you were breathing heavily as you strapped your seatbelt on. “I can’t believe we’re late!” you said flabbergastedly, “yeah, I know! what time did you even go to bed?” Jules was clearly annoyed. seems like he’s the type of person to arrive right on time.

“I slept right after we had dinner! I don’t know why I couldn’t hear the alarm. God, I feel so stupid” You put your socks on and your shoes. You took out your lipstick and put them on. “Who is Peter, anyway?” Jules asked absentmindedly, you looked at him trying to find out how he knew that name and in hopes that he’s just fucking around but he’s not.

you closed your compact mirror, “he’s a friend of mine,” “a friend, huh?” Jules scoffed, “I didn’t know a friend moans another friend name in their sleep,” your face flushed with red as he said those words. “what the hell, Jules?! I could’ve went days without knowing that you heard me having wet dreams about my friend!” you cover your face in shame. you couldnt believe that he had hear you moaning Peter’s name

“Oh my gosh, I feel like I could just bury myself right here,” you said, “Relax, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Jules said taking your hands into his, giving you a warm smile.

you two had arrived at this building that was filled with paintings but not by those famous painters just paintings by painters that were starting out. “Ah darlings!” you heard a middle aged woman walking towards you with both of her hands wide open, obviously ready to hug the both of us to death.

“you must be Ms y/n!” she cupped your face and kissed your cheeks, what a weird way to greet somebody but thats how it is, “and you must be Jules!” she took a step back and took a good look of you and Jules’ faces. she introduced herself as Mrs. Autry. she walked the both of you around the office and explained about how everything works.

“I am so excited for the two of you to work with us,” she smiles warmly, “let me know if you need anything sweethearts!” she bid her goodbye and went to another direction. you and Jules walked to the nearest café and sat down there. you ordered a frappacino whilst Jules ordered a latte.

every now and then you somehow were reminded of how you dreamed of Peter. not only dreamed of him but in such an inappropriate way. you don’t like him anymore, you just don’t know why he’s haunting you this badly. should you stop being friends with him? it feels so awkward now that you dreamed of him banging you. “so what should we do?” Jules voice brought you back down to earth, you stuttered trying to come up with something.

he could tell by the look in your eyes that theres something wrong, “you know you can tell me anything right, y/n?” Jules said, he’s definitely good in reading someone’s body language. “i wont judge, y/n,” he reassures you, you took a deep breath and let everything out.

everytime you talked he would listen, he’s there for you, always looking into your eyes to keep the conversation going, you also mentioned about how Peter was a dick when he found out you were coming here, Jules said “what a dick, do you want me to punch him if he ever comes here?” Jules offered you then laughed at his attempt trying to make you feel better.

you both went home and went straight to each other’s room because you were so tired. you didnt realised how much walking there was gonna be today. you took out your phone and saw MJ messaged you, “hey!!! I have great news! I’m coming to Paris next month!” you smiled to yourself, woah, did MJ missed you that much already?

you typed back “I know you miss me but you don’t have to, you know?” “Haha, very funny, y/l/n,” you chuckled and asked her “why are you coming here?” a three dots appeared and her response was “I just wanted to go there and experienced a real trip. not like when we get to go there and it was cancelled,” you still remember when the school trip cancelled going to Paris because apparently they got “upgraded” to go to Prague.

you smiled when you remembered thats how you found out Peter was Spider-man. “well, you’re going to love Paris,” you replied to MJ. you also gave her your current home address in Paris so she can visit you! she thought it was a lovely idea.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“can’t you please to do this for me, MJ?” Peter begged MJ, basically down on his knees. “fine! but if everything went wrong do not blame me!” MJ gave in. Peter was planning to meet you in Paris but he wants it to be a surprise. something you’re going to remember till you’re dead.

Peter have missed you so much and he swore he could go crazy if he couldn’t see your face for another month. Peter was so excited that you gave a thumbs up and that you even gave MJ your address in Paris. he wonders to himself what could go wrong?

“there, I’ve done it, now can you please leave?” MJ crosses her arms, pissed that Peter hadwoken her up in the middle of the night because he couldnt keep it in his pants about his “love” for you. atleast thats what MJ teased him about. he never quite really admit it but MJ could see it and told him that he’s not fooling anybody with those goo goo eyes.

“thank you, MJ. i’ll find a way to repay you. i promise.” Peter said while crouching on her window, “you better, Parker, or you wont see the light of day ever again.” MJ threatens jokingly at Peter. he laughs and there he goes, he shot his webs to another building.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

a/n: hi sorry i know this is short and boring but i have so much on my plate right now but to make it up, I’ll try to post the next chapter tonight or tomorrow! again so SORRY its boring skdjsks but please do leave your thoughts!

say you love me taglist:

@imawkwardandhereweare @canyonmoonspidey @thebadassbitchqueen @thequeenreaders @averyfosterthoughts @a--1--1--3

[msbluebell]

I really liked the picture you reblogged with the Sothis Cult worshipping Byleth/Cult!AU. How do you think that would come about? Maybe Jeralt decides not to leave and Byleth is raised in the church (maybe in secret for safety reasons?) and then is debuted when the Lords join the school? Because what better way to ensure the Goddess is safe then to socialize them with the future leaders of Fodlan? ;D

Byleth being raised in the Church, under Rhea’s strict care, is probably exactly how such a situation would come about.

As far as Rhea is concerned, Byleth is the success that she’s finally reached, a clear, living, body for the Goddess that can hold the power. All she has to do is wait for Byleth to be grown enough to sit on the throne, and then she’ll finally have her mother back. 

Rhea’s interactions with Byleth, and her supports, clearly show exactly what she sees in them. Byleth is her mother, reborn. It’s up to interpretation whether she sees Byleth, themselves, as the Goddess just without memory, or sees a living body walking around that will house her mother.

I think, based on her dialog and the scene where she cradles a wounded Byleth in her lap and tries to comfort them, and based on her repeated use of the phrase “...you are my...”, I believe that she does, in fact, see Byleth as her mother reincarnated into another form and just bereft of the memories that make them Sothis.

...and she’s not even wrong if that’s what she believes, because that’s exactly the situation.

So as far as Rhea is concerned, she basically has her mother, the Goddess Sothis, back. They just need time for the Divine power to awaken.

As much as Rhea would like to keep Byleth secret, it’s pretty obvious that there’s a kid she favors running around. Especially with Jeralt freely having the ability to raise the kid himself within Garreg Mach. Everyone knows Rhea favors the child, for whatever reason. Most speculated, at first, that there was a blood relation of some sort.

But then Byleth starts getting older. 

Byleth is a strange child. They don’t smile, or cry, or do things a child would typically do. They seem almost too old for their small body, and their gaze pierces the soul. They’re almost too skilled at swords and magics, and it’s somewhat unnerving. 

Rhea clothes Byleth in the types of outfits Sothis used to wear. Long blue dresses, anklets, braids in the hair, and flowers and crown. She makes a lot of the clothes herself.

Jeralt is...unnerved by the way Rhea dotes on Byleth, the way she dresses her. He tried to ignore it at first. After all, Rhea created their mother, so that kinda make her Byleth’s family, their grandmother or something...right? And she clearly knows more about clothes and stuff for kids than he does.

But it’s...creepy. He knows something is up with his kid, he knows Rhea knows what it is, and there’s only so long he can go without answers.

He demands to know one knight, after Byleth is tucked away in bed, in an apartment Rhea had personally constructed for them, that he meets her to ask what in the name of the flames is going on with his kid. 

Rhea is vague at first, but Jeralt is pissed, and persistent. She finally opens up after hours of needling. 

Byleth is the goddess reborn, and once she’s grown, she’ll awaken her powers and memories.

It was supposed to be said in private, in confidence, in secret.

The nun that overheard them from where she hid behind the turn of the wall either didn’t care, or didn’t realize. She just rushed off to tell the others what she heard from the Divine Archbishop herself.

By noon half of Garreg Mach has heard the rumor, whether they believe or not is mixed, because it was just one nun that spread the word, but still, half believe and are looking at tiny Byleth with her too fine clothes and her too serious face in a different light. Half the monastery is convinced now, and start treating her as they would the goddess herself.

There’s fierce debate over the matter, accusations of blasphemy. Jeralt is becoming more and more creeped out by this, especially when people start thinking he should be sainted or something. He’s heard the word “Father of the Divine” uttered when he walks by and he doesn’t like it.

Things really start getting out of hand with fights and debates. It gets to the point where Rhea has no choice but to speak on the matter.

It’s too late to hide the news, so she confirms everything.

It...makes things so much worse. Now it goes from half the people worshiping this child to ALL of them. The skeptics are isolated and shunned by their peers, rumor has spread beyond the walls, devout believers are flocking the doors, and even those who don’t believe are visiting just to get a look at this “goddess”. 

Jeralt tries to set fire to the place and run away with Byleth, but there are too many people to do that now.

It gets to the point where they have to hide Byleth for the next several years in the most private and exclusive part of Garreg Mach and refuse to debut her. Seteth is brought in to help handle the overwhelming demands to see her and help run the suddenly much larger establishment.

Years pass like this, with Rhea refusing to let anyone see the “Goddess Reborn”, stating that she’s not ready.

Things get pretty cultist within the church itself, despite Seteth and Jeralt’s best attempts to stop that shit. Jeralt can’t take two steps outside without someone trying to get him to pass a prayer on to his kid.

Then, Byleth starts having the dreams. About the war, and the girl on the throne that wears the same outfit as her.

Rhea is delighted, but Jeralt can only despair.

Jeralt is out in Rumire Village, trying to solve an issue with bandits, when he meets the Lords and saves them. They recognize him, and it’s the first time in years he’s been recognized as the Blade Breaker than the Divine Father, and skepticism they all seem to have for the latter title makes him like them instantly.

He personally escorts them to the school.

When he gets there, Rhea, without his permission, decided to fucking debut his kid as the Goddess Reborn in front of the whole damn school and he may very fucking well kill everyone in this monastery out of sheer fucking frustration.

Rhea pulls him and the three little Lords aside and states she intents to have Byleth in a house of the kid’s own choosing, as a way to interact with humanity now that she was coming in to her own power. Jeralt doesn’t have to patience left not to snap at Rhea in front of the kids, especially with the way that Edelgard kid is eyeing Byleth like they’re a roach, or that Claude kid raises a skeptical eyebrow and looks at them like a lion that found it’s prey, or that Dimitri kid can only smile skeptically. He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on anymore, and Rhea should have waited for him. What is she even thinking.

It’s going to be a fight, later, but Byleth is right there, looking at the lords, and then at him, silently asking for his opinion. 

“I don’t know, pick the Blue Lions I guess, I don’t care.” Jeralt waves off, because he’s going to have a fight with Rhea when this is over, and Blue Lions seems least harmful for now.

Byleth nods silently and walks up to Dimitri, choosing to go with him to the Blue Lion house as a classmate. Dimitri, can only nod, bewildered, and try and tentatively treat her with the respect a supposed Goddess deserves. Though he, too, is skeptical of all this.

Some students already believed. Marianne approached silently, eyes tearful when she met Byleth, and Ignatz nearly dropped his paintbrush he was so eager. Mercedes takes one look at Byleth and doesn’t know whether to bow or not, or even if she should speak. She wasn’t ready for this honor. Felix only scoffs, not believing for a moment in all of this.

He’s the first person to every bluntly ask Byleth if she’s really a goddess.

“I don’t know.” Byleth replies, and that’s all she ever says on the matter. 

(It’s not a shock to her when Sothis awakens at last and she learns the truth, she’s been prepared for years).

Dimitri tries to make the other students treat Byleth normally...but it’s...difficult for them, to say the least.

It only becomes more difficult as time goes on, and Byleth pulls some impossibly impressive feats.

Still, Dimitri tries to treat her like anyone else, because he needs to, maybe, or because he doesn’t believe (or because he thinks he’s falling in love with that smile and he can’t let himself believe, or else he’ll lose her), but the evidence is mounting up higher and higher.

Until there’s a moment, where she rips a hole in the sky, that no one can reasonably deny it any longer.

[steph-writing]

Fem Byleth x Claude wedding...? Please

I got this ask a while ago but I needed the F E E L S to do it justice. And I can only hope I did it justice because THIS COUPLE!!!!!! DESERVES!!!!!! THE WORLD!!!!!! 😭😍 And I’m not used to 3rd POV writing so shit if I screwed up my bad lmao enjoy ;)

AO3 link

“Claude, you will not see the bride before she walks in!” Hilda barks at Claude for what feels like the hundredth time as she catches him trying to sneak in the room where Byleth is getting ready. “Get out of here before I chop off your favorite toy and ruin Byleth’s honeymoon.”

“Now, there’s no need to get aggressive, is there?” Claude tries to laugh it off but it’s clear as day from the way his stance shifts that he’s taking her threats very seriously.

But as he turns to try and make his escape back to the dining hall, a very smiley and a very annoyed Raphael and Lorenz block his exit.

“Hey Claude-”

“What exactly made you think you will marry Byleth dressed like that?” Lorenz interrupts Raphael’s warm-hearted exchange with nothing but sheer exasperation on his voice.

Letting out a deep breath, Hilda drops the axe she was wielding menacingly moments ago and smiles at the guys. “Good, you’re here. Could you please drag Claude’s sorry ass out of here? I need to check on Byleth.”

Not waiting for their reply, she storms off down the hall.

“I just wanted to talk with my fiancée, is that some sort of crime?” Claude tries to sound nonchalant, but it’s to no avail.

“I’m not sure you grasp the magnitude of the event that’s about to unfold!” Shaking his head, Lorenz, motions Raphael to grab Claude and start leading him away as they walk back to his room to finish getting him ready.

“This wedding is not only your joyous and, might I add, much delayed love union with Byleth, but also the joining of two great nations! Fódlan and Almyra were never amicable to each other, but that is bound to change with a romantic union of the leader of our free nation and the King of Almyra. You ought to show some respect and dignity to carry out your duties today!

“Besides, how do you think Byleth would feel if she could see just how little you seem to care to your appearance for today? Oh my, is that sauce I see on your shirt? Claude, this is unacceptable!

“Have you any idea what it would look like if…”

Lorenz keeps talking until they get there, all the way on the other side of the Monastery, but doesn’t seem to realize Claude, thrown over Raphael’s shoulder for good measure, has fallen asleep to the sound of his nagging, and only wakes up when Raphael puts him down non-ceremoniously on the chair while Lorenz hits his closet to find something he deems suitable for Claude to wear for his wedding.

*

Meanwhile, Hilda deals with something she never expected to see.

“What if he doesn’t show up? Or worse, if he says no? Or that it was all just a joke? What if he doesn’t really love me and this is just an overelaborated prank?”

Byleth is pacing around so fast that Hilda is having a hard time believing her former Professor even has the ability to talk so much and so fast all at once.

“Byleth, will you just calm down?” She storms up to the bride, stopping her at once and proceeding to fix the diadem on her hair.

“But Hilda, I-”

“I know, I know. It all seems very easy until it gets down to it, right? You get all these doubts and uncertainties and it makes you want to run far, far away and never look back.” Byleth nods slowly, biting down on her lip so hard she can almost taste the metal on her blood. “I’ve been there, remember? And you were there to knock some sense into me while I was already getting my wyvern ready to fly away.”

They both laugh softly at the memory. It is true, Byleth can still remember the tears on Hilda’s eyes as she questioned all she and her now husband ever went through and whether she was forcing him into their marriage.

“I was silly for doubting then, and you’re being even more now.” Gently pushing Byleth back to the chair, Hilda grabs some makeup and starts giving her some finishing touches. “My husband is a bit slow on that aspect, we both know that. But Claude’s different. He never hid how much he cares for you, nor how much he loves you.”

Byleth sighs, a small smile tugging the corners of her lips, and Hilda feels a pride tug on her now very pregnant belly. She was making her little boy proud by soothing his godmother at this time of need.

“I was outside kicking him out of here because he couldn’t stand not to see you until the ceremony, you know? He’s with Lorenz and Raphael now, and we both know those two won’t let anything happen to our boy. You can rest assured that he’ll be on that altar, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was already there, honestly.”

“It’s just… there’s so much that could go wrong.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a Golden Deer wedding if it all ran smoothly. We are quite the troublemakers, Professor.”

Winking mischievously at Byleth, Hilda focuses on finishing her makeup, the ceremony is just around the corner, and everything better be working out because she will not run around to fix everyone’s mess with a belly this big.

But she’d sure as hell make her husband do it.

As Hilda turns around to grab a different lip tint color, Byleth seems to gather her strength and rushes what’s been eating at her from the inside.

“Hilda, there’s something I haven’t told anyone yet…”

*

Finally, it’s time.

Claude can’t stop fidgeting on the altar, counting the seconds until Byleth walks through the Cathedral’s door. He hasn’t seen her all day, and ever since he came back, he’s tried to hear her laugh at least once a day. But today when he woke up, she was already gone, and the guys were already ready to drag him all around until the ceremony.

He managed to sneak away a few times, but a very pregnant and menacing Hilda blocked his every attempt at seeing his fiancée.

They lived in Derdriu but decided to hold the wedding on the Monastery for several reasons. It was here they shared their first kiss, all those years ago before the battle where Byleth disappeared. It was here where they were reunited, where they shared their first touches, where he heard her cries of pleasure for the first time, where they declared their love for each other… and where he proposed before leaving for Almyra.

He looks around the room and sees all of their friends sitting there, eager to see their union at long last, all happy smiles and teary eyes.

Dorothea, Manuela and Annette are next to the piano, ready to sing the entrance song when Byleth walks in.

Everyone attended, there are Blue Lions, Black Eagles and Golden Deers spread out, sitting next to each other… Claude can’t help but feel proud of his soon-to-be wife.

She really did help create a unified Fódlan, if you look at everyone on this room, you’d never say they weren’t always united.

He wishes, however, that Dimitri and Dedue could’ve been here. Even Edelgard and Hubert… but he knows that they’d be proud of what he and Byleth are accomplishing in Fódlan, and it brings a smile to his face.

Even the Almyrans have showed up for his wedding, some of them even mingling and chatting with the guests from Fódlan – the way it’s supposed to be. Looking at his parents sitting on the end of the front row, he can’t help but feel his heart break a bit.

Byleth doesn’t have any blood relatives left. He knows she still thinks of Jeralt, she told him as much, and every time he sees that forlorn look on her eyes when she visits his grave when they come to the monastery, he swears over and over again that he’ll give her the biggest and happiest family she’s ever seen.

Lorenz shifts next to him, and he notices he’s making room for Hilda to get on the other side of the altar as the maid of honor usually does. He also notices Seteth and Lorenz are quirking their eyebrows at Hilda, which he soon does too when he sees the huge smile that’s on her face.

“What…”

Claude’s question dies on his lips when the huge doors crack open, and the music starts playing.

The sun is shining bright, and it causes a halo of light to surround Byleth’s white dress as she steps on the threshold.

By all the Gods in this world, how is it that she’s looking even more beautiful than usual? Claude asks himself, all else forgotten. There’s a certain… glow on her, he can’t look away. Is it magic? It must be.

As Byleth walks in on Alois’s arm, he only partially notices how the old man is bawling his eyes out. He remembers how emotional he got when Byleth asked him to walk her on the aisle as her father figure. And he’s sure the song the girls are singing is very emotional and has nice lyrics, but he can’t hear them. He can’t see anyone else.

All he sees is Byleth.

All he feels is love.

All he wants is to hold her in his arms and swear before every God and Goddess out there that he will never let her go again, that his life is hers and that he promises to spend eternity making her happier each day.

Her hair cascades down her back in soft curls, the golden diadem crowning her head making her look like a Queen, his Queen. And her dress hugs her every curve, making her look so tempting it should be a sin to walk in a church like that.

When she reaches the altar, he’s dazzled by her smile, by the sheer love that’s on her eyes, a look he’s sure is a clear reflection of his. Claude’s hardly able to spare a glance to Alois when he takes Byleth’s hands in his, but he’s sure the man didn’t notice through all the tears on his face.

Seteth begins the ceremony, a mix of Fódlan and Almyran traditions, and Claude’s sure it must be lovely, but he can’t stop looking at Byleth, and she can’t stop looking at him. It’s only when it’s time for his vows that he finds his voice again.

“I vow to love you, protect you, and stand by you. Now and forever. My anamchara, I will never leave you, for my life is yours and without you I can’t ever be. I never thought I’d need someone as much as I need you, and never have I thought that I’d enjoy sharing so much of myself, my dreams and my life with someone. Thank you for trusting me, for being my friend, for being my teach, and for being my love. I promise to give you all I am, and to be your friend, your lover, and your family. Now and forever.”

Byleth’s eyes are so marred with tears, her voice wavers when it’s her turn.

“I vow to love you, protect you, and stand by you. Now and forever. Finding you was like finding a piece of me I always knew was missing. Thank you for being there for me when I needed someone, for being my shoulder to cry on and the one to make me laugh even in the darkest times. My anamchara,” she says the word with that cute accent that always makes Claude’s heart hammer on his chest, “I love you more than I ever thought it to be possible. I promise to give you all I am, and to be your friend, your lover and your family. Now and forever.”

Claude’s lips quiver at her vow, and as they exchange their rings, both of their hands shake at their overjoyed anticipation of a life together at last.

At the sound of all their friends’ cheer, Claude pulls Byleth against his chest by her waist, and they share the purest of smiles before he leans down to kiss her with all the love he can muster.

Pulling their lips apart, Claude still can’t let go of his wife. Wife. He thinks the word to himself over and over, adoring the feel of it, only to have his thoughts interrupted by her small voice whispering against his neck.

“Claude, I…”

“What is it?” He senses her hesitation and tilts her head up with a gentle finger under her chin. She knows she can tell him whatever, he’ll still be there for her.

“I’m pregnant.”

His smile falters for a moment, but before Byleth can even look away, he breaks out in laughter, and pulls her even closer, lifting her as he spins around hugging her, which is enough for her to loosen up and laugh alongside him, both basking on the joy of the chance of starting their own family.

Today is, without a shadow of doubt, the best day in Claude’s life.

And as they walk down the aisle into their new life, they know they’ll love each other until the end of this world.

[fe-husband-heaven]

fluff with dimitri except we're married to him?

Phewww! I wrote something a little lengthy hee hee

but i couldn't help it dndndn I loved married life asks so much, they're so cute! My hoe side for Dimitri shows up a little in this so pardon-

_________________________________________

“Dimitri.”

…Perhaps if I stay quiet…

“Dimitri...Dimitri, ignoring me won't make me relent.”

He sighed like he was giving up, but his grip around your waist only tightened.

“...Must I truly?”

“Yes, I'm sure Seteth will be quite cross if he finds out we've done nothing but laze about all day in bed.”

Dimitri made a displeased face, clearly not happy to relinquish the warmth of your body, or his bed.

Tangled together on the bed, the two of you were a mess of limbs and blankets. He very much preferred it this way, with you trapped nestled in his arms, and the sun filtering through the gaps of the blue curtains.

Laughing lightly at his expression, you playfully punched his shoulders, encouraging him to let you go. He did not,rather, in response, he buried his face in your hair, closed his eyes, and inhaled your scent blissfully.

“..Surely, there must be some rule against pulling the King from his spouse before twelve.” He murmured.

“Dimitri, It is noon.”

A pause.

“...Before two.”

You shook your head amusedly at his antics, and he reflexively pulled back a little when your hair tickled his chin. Taking advantage of this, you pressed a kiss to his lips before rolling out of his arms. Dimitri has an absolute death grip. Were he not a King with duties, you are quite sure he'd keep you locked in his hold, he had really come to love sleeping by your side.

He has told you before how he had been tormented at night by horrid nightmares. Sleep had become torturous, and he had begged for daylight to come sooner.

Now, he had someone to keep those very dreams away. Someone to thread their fingers through his hair and lull him into a peaceful rest. 

There were still times where we he awoke in a cold sweat, the abruptivity of the way he sat up would wake you as well. Without fail each time, he'd apologize for it instead of worrying about himself. He was still as selfless as ever and it only made you want to care for him more.

Dipping your knee a little into the bed, you tugged lightly at his arm, careful to stay just far enough away to escape if he tried to pull you back into bed before stepping away fully just to be sure.

"Alright, c'mon! You had plenty of fun last night, it's time we get to work!"

He flushed and a look of minuscule shock at your unflinching mention of something so intimate had him sputter a little.

"T-that's rather unfair, Y/N…I.."

He looked away, finding the white walls of the bedroom more interesting.

"..I should hope you also..um...e-enjoyed..Oh for goodness sake, I am King..!..Heavens, what would the people say if they saw their ruler blushing like a schoolboy…"

You struggled to hold back laughter at the image, especially when Mr.Blaiddyd grabbed a pillow to shove his face into, in hopes of hiding his reddening face. Though, the way his blush crawled to his ears, gave him away.

You sighed your laughter away, and relished in how relaxed he looked. How long it had been since he was given rest…The war had taken its toll before, during, and after.

The bed creaked under Dimitri when he finally decided to leave the comfort that was his bed. Now, it was your turn to turn a little red. He was toned, no doubt from the arduous battles he'd endured but it didn't make his abs any smaller…

He was also half dressed (Your doing) and the little clothing he did wear gave a tiny peek past his navel. His hair was an absolute mess but for whatever reason, it only added to your attraction.

If you squinted, you could almost see sparkles surrounding him-

"P-please stop staring."

It seemed Dimitri's day was to start with a constant stream of blood rushing to his cheeks. He was never good at handling blatant affection, let alone the unhidden gawking of the person he loves so much. Normally, he'd be nothing short of oblivious to other people's attraction but after having spent so much time by each others side, he knew you like the back of his hand.

He stood in front of you now, and you stepped forward to wrap your arms around him in a hug, your chin rested on his chest, you looked up at him, smiling.

"Oh? But what am I to do when my husband is the handsomest man in the land?"

His own arms found their way around your waist, a hug being his reward for getting out of bed.

"Handsomest? Oh, Y/N, you exaggerate, but thank you regardless."

"Uh, excuse me??"

Your sudden change in tone, surprised him a little, but his smile returned when he heard your next words, in the most sarcastic of tones.

"That's my husband you speak of, I shall allow no further defamation, hmph."

Dimitri laughed softly and craned his neck down for a kiss. His hand traveled to hold your cheek in place for it to last longer before he held your hands in his own.

"How is it that I always feel as though I were on top of the world when I'm with you…"

He was speaking more to himself, but his eyes were looking into your own, lovingly. If he could see just how lovestruck he appeared, he'd be embarrassed all over again but instead, his view was filled with you returning the same swooning look.

He was gently thumbing your knuckles now,  and coupled with his expression, it reminded you of the day you were wed.

He'd had that same absolutely adoring look, albeit he was a little more tearful laying his eyes upon his bride in white then than he was about his wife in pyjamas now...Regardless! He had held your hands in the same fashion, surrounded by the cheers of his old classmates and the whistles of Sylvain, he thumbed your gloved hands and wished the priest would simply hurry so he could kiss you already.

It had been a grandiose event, blues, golds, and a crying Dedue (the best man) adorned the reception. Ashe had assisted Dedue in cooking for the wedding guests, Duscur's finest dishes were served that day. Alois had prepared a toast full of corny jokes that had Dimitri bellowing in laughter and Felix scowling in disapproval. Mercedes and Annette had done their absolute best to doll you up and they had their own fit of crying when they saw their dear friend's finished look. 

Ingrid had helped organize most of it and yelled at Sylvain whenever necessary to get him back on track whenever tables were to be moved.

(Reminding him also that it was strictly FORBIDDEN to flirt with the bride)

Many of the old students originally from other houses visited as well. Petra had brought souvenirs from her homeland, Ignatz came with a promise to paint the new queen and king and gift them the piece as a wedding present, and Linhardt...well he fell asleep midway through but he came!

The night had been filled with merriment and it only got more chaotic when Claude had made his grand entrance, insisting that Dimitri simply must dance with the bride though Dimitri suspected he only wanted to see him squirm as he had not danced with anyone since before the war.

Manuela had gotten drunk alongside Hanneman which was a huge surprise until they started bickering even in their alcohol induced states…

The disorder was quelled when Professor Byleth threatened detention to his old students, and not a peep was heard thereafter other than Alois's bellowing laughter and mention that the professor never changes.

All in all, it was to be expected that a wedding with so many...ahem, colorful characters would also display the same amount of personality.

Even then, though the very view of you being lead down the aisle by Gilbert was imprinted on his mind for eternity, the moment when the festivities ended and he could have you all to himself was his most treasured memory of that night.

Away from everyone who wished to steal you away for a dance, he could at last be alone with you and revel in his beloved's company. 

You still tease him every now and then about how he fumbled in removing your dress before eventually tearing it with his monstrous strength but at that time he had certainly made up for it afterwards.

Regardless of his inexperience shining through beforehand, he still found the memory of your first time as husband and wife, precious.

Not much had changed since then other than Dimitri's upgrade from Boar Prince to Boar King but it seemed the honeymoon phase had yet to pass either of you if the way Dimitri's lips were once again being moved against your own was any indication.

For a moment, you thought you might have lost and he might just have gotten you back into that bed but a knock on the door interrupted the two of you.

"Y/N, Dimitri, I know you're in there! It is high past morning now, I have let you rest long enough. Your duties await you, your subjects will not rule themselves."

Seteth-

And an annoyed sounding Seteth too-

Perhaps it was the way you panicked but Dimitri was incentivised to scramble for his clothes when you started to.

Only for you to both trip when you heard Manuela walk by,

"Oh Seteth, leave them be. We have to have an heir to the throne eventually~"

[erosjock]

27 Ways to Get Over a Breakup, Like, Right Now

Going through a breakup is low-key the best time to rebrand yourself. You can be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want to do, and try anything you want to try without having to consider anyone but yourself.

But considering breakups = losing someone who was consistently in your life, it can be easy to dwell on the past instead of looking at what your future self can bring to the table. Completely understandable.

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So to help you cope with all things breakup (since, hi, your future best self is waiting), we’ve sourced a bunch of tangible, practical ways you can actually get over someone according to experts who want to help. Because yes, sometimes buying yourself flowers at the grocery store is a lil start.

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1. Shower daily. I know this seems small, but trust, it makes all the difference. “Prioritizing your hygiene and taking pride in how you look can often make you feel better inside,” says licensed clinical psychologist Kristie Norwood. So get yourself a morning and nighttime routine that requires a rinse in the shower. After all, shower thoughts are the best kind of thoughts, and it might be super therapeutic. Small wins are the best wins.

2. Create a vision board. Yup, it’s time to paint a badass picture of what your future is about to look like. (Time to get on that manifesting kick). “After breakups, it’s important to figure out what your life will look like without the relationship as it was,” says Norwood. So pick up some magazines—yes, full permission to grab some Cosmos— and cut out images that you put into art your life goals and desires.

3. Treat yourself to a new sex toy. Luckily for you, vibrators come completely drama-free (and in some cases, are better than the real deal). “Cleanse yourself of any negative energy through an orgasm,” says sex educator Yael Rosenstock Gonzalez. An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away (...that’s the saying, right?).

4. Go to therapy It’s time to make an appointment for therapy, suggests licensed clinical social worker Amalia Miralrío. Especially considering an unbiased perspective could offer you insight that you weren’t able to process yourself. Get started with some free options here.



Benefits of the No Contact Rule Post-Breakup

5. Buy yourself a big bouquet of pink roses. Put them in a vase, water them, and wait for them to wilt. When it’s time to throw them out, check in with your feelings. Guess what? By the time those roses die, you’ll already feel better. Then, keep buying yourself roses, recommends Veronica Yip, a San Diego resident who swears by this hack.

6. Visit a rage room. It’s…a legit thing. “Get out all your anger and smash objects to your heart’s content,” recommends Lauren Cook, who holds a master’s in marriage and family therapy.

7. Go on that vacation you’ve been dying to—even if it’s by yourself. “Getting away to an exotic location or somewhere peaceful is a potent source of distraction,” says therapist Rev. Sheri Heller. What’s better than lounging beachside with a good book, frozen drank, and the ocean waves? Talk about self-care.

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8. Rearrange your home. Get rid of all those bad memories. “A new look creates space for new memories. Out with the old, inviting the new,” recommends Krysta Monet creator and founder of The Feminine Truth.

9. Purge your relationship junk drawer. Yes, this includes that ticket stub you’ve kept from your first date. “You don’t need the reminders of a relationship that is no longer,” says Robyn Koenig, professional dating coach and CEO at Rare Find.

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10. Write hate mail to your ex. But don’t actually send it (and tell your sister not to either, à la Lara Jean). “The caveat is not to mail the letter but to do a ceremonial burning to get rid of the toxic energy,” recommends Samantha Gregory, author of No More Crumbs: How to Stop Dating for Crumbs and Get the Cake You Finally Deserve.

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11. Say yes to everything. “This is especially useful if you’ve been in a long-term relationship where you’ve compromised and negotiated what you ate, where you went, what you watched, and who you socialized with,” says Trish McDermott, CEO of Meetopolis Dating. “Who are you and what makes just *you* happy? Now is the time to find out.”

12. Eat alone. Whether you take yourself out to your favorite Thai place or make a home-cooked dinner, sit at the table and eat in silence. “Becoming comfortable with newly found silence is part of the recovery process,” says Megan Cannon, owner of Back to Balance Counseling.

13. Sign up for a boxing class—or any other type of fighting class. “Sometimes you need to find an outlet to divert the negative energies you get after a breakup,” says Celia Schweyer, dating and relationship expert at DatingScout. Trust, punching the eff out of something will *def* help with this added stress.

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14. Block them from your Instagram/Snapchat. If the temptation to see if they’ve been paying attention to your Stories is too much, just block them. This way, when you do start to get out there and share your day-to-day activities again, you’ll know there’s zero part of you that’s performatively “acting over it” in the hopes your ex will see it.

15. Don’t shit-talk your ex too much. Sure, it feels good to trash-talk your ex with your besties, and hearing that you were better than them from the start feels like a drug, but don’t rely on it. Hearing your friends bring down someone who made you feel shitty feels like it should be justified in the grand karmic scheme of things, but your health and happiness need not be contingent on someone else’s pain and suffering.

16. Don’t immediately suggest to “stay friends”—and if they do, tell them you need to think about it. This is an impulse because you don’t want to seem like you care too much about the breakup. Because you’re so chill. You’re so chill that your heart isn’t beating. Aaand, you’re dead. But truthfully, during this stilted, awkward breaking-up period, it’s hard to tell whether you’ll be able to be friends. Generally, one person wants to be friends and the other wants to be more. Gotta work that shit out before it can be a healthy friendship…if it ever can be. You’re not admitting defeat by not staying friends with them.

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17. Spend a lot of time outside. It’s a cliché, but fresh air really does clear your head. So does, you know, seeing the sun every once in a while. Take at least two hours from each day just to leave your Cave of Forgotten Dreams and interact with The Outside.

18. Know it’s okay to rely on your friends. Breakups can make even the strongest people feel like they’re worthless or not good enough. Hang out with people who appreciate you and remind you of what a good person you are. “This is when having a strong support network is essential because friends can show you that you still matter and that you still belong,” Burns says. “When your self-esteem is at an all-time low, these are the people who can help empower you while you work on defining your own self-worth.”

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19. Eat your night cheese. Yep, you have full permission to pull a Liz Lemon and work on your night cheese during a breakup. Fran Walfish, PsyD, a Beverly Hills–based psychotherapist and relationship expert, says that drinking milk or eating turkey, cheese, yogurt, or ice cream before bed can calm you down due to the ingredient tryptophan—a natural calming agent that relaxes you without medication.

20. Rebound with one incredibly hot suitor, if that’s what you want, and then give yourself some time to decompress and remember who you are. If you’ve had one rebound, you’ve had them all, in this woman’s opinion.

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21. If you start dating someone else, take it really slow. Dude. You just ended a relationship and your heart flipped over and exploded like a tanker in a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie. If you take it step-by-step and enjoy it as a casual thing for a while, that’ll give you some time to evaluate whether you’re actually ready to be with someone again or if you’re just ready to have really hot sex with them in an elevator once in a while.

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22. Establish a bedtime routine. When you’re going through a breakup, learning to be proud of the little things can really keep you going. And honestly, what screams “I have my shit together” more than getting enough sleep every night? Walfish recommends going to bed at the same time and setting your alarm for the same time every day. Avoid looking at screens (TV, computer, cell phone) for half an hour before bed. Not only does the light from screens keep you awake, but how many times has some unexpected drama on the timeline or an innocent Instagram scroll accidentally spiraled into a two-hour deep-dive of their life?

23. If you get a Facebook invite to their best friend’s party...stay home, put on a face mask, eat Chinese food, and watch Stranger Things. Going to that party still makes it all about your ex—not your emotional well-being. And seeing them will just pick open the scab.

24. Don’t scheme to get them back, scheme to get yourself back. Get some solid book recs, join a pickup sports game, go on a trip somewhere with a girlfriend. Paint your bathroom—I don’t care. Just do something for yourself.

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25. Avoid posting the details on Facebook. Or Twitter. Or Instagram. Or Tumblr. Live ya life! Airing your grievances on social media is not good for anyone, and it’ll be embarrassing later. Who’s gonna read it, anyway? Aunt Maggie? That girl you met during Welcome Week?

26. Take baths. Baths are half wallowing and half cleansing/pampering and thus are perfect for breakups. When’s the last time you really filled up your tub (clean it first, please) and had a good soak with a glass (bottle) of wine? Showers are not for the recently dumped.

27. Stop blaming yourself and thinking things like, If only I had watched more Bourne movies/had dyed my hair blonde/had given more rim jobs/were cooler. It takes two to tango.

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Porsche is one of the sex and relationship editors who can tell you exactly which vibrators are worth the splurge, why you’re still dreaming about your ex, and tips on how to have the best sex of your life (including what word you should spell with your hips during cowgirl sex)—oh, and you can follow her on Instagram here.

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©2021 RIOT Magazine Media, Inc. All Rights Reserved.

[manirons]

Happy Ending

Word Count: 1,201 Words Pairing: Claude von Riegan/Reader Summary: You weren’t a fan of the whole ‘long distance lovers’ thing.

A/N: Minor spoilers for Claude’s romance stuff, so read at your own peril. Written when I finished Claude's route a few days ago and, don't get me wrong, it was super good and I love Golden Deer house with all my HEART. But that ending? Lacked the romance I required. So I got passionate and wrote this. 

 Also found here on Ao3! 

Follow my new imagines blog @fireemblem3himagines!

You almost couldn’t bear to let Claude go.

You know he had responsibilities, a dream that he wished to achieve, but the thought of no longer having him at your side tore at your heart and shredded it to pieces. You’d think you’d be used to it at this point, you’d been so busy fighting battles it’s not as though you got to be with him often, but now that the war was over and rebuilding efforts were beginning, you thought you might at least have a few days where the two of you could just… be.

“Hey, I’ll be back before you know it.” The words aren’t entirely encouraging even if you know he means it, because he had long ago learned that he couldn’t lie to you. He doesn’t push you away or rush you as you cry into his shoulder, something you felt silly for doing; how much death and destruction had you seen, and you were crying over just a temporary separation? How selfish were you appearing to your lover now?

Once you do manage to tear yourself away, tears drying on your cheeks as you finally manage to bundle your emotions back together, Claude gives you an amused, but fond, look. He leans down to press a few kisses to your lips, lingering as though he doesn’t want to leave either, before he finally manages to tear himself away. The two of you probably looked like a touch-starved, lovesick couple who couldn’t get enough of each other, but if this was all you could get out of him for Goddess knows how long… you were going to milk it for all it’s worth.

A year passes, and your love for him never withers, the same being said of his love for you.

There’s a lot of work to be done still, and Claude hadn’t initially taken you with him to Almyra because he felt you were a necessary presence in Fódlan; Byleth needed your help, along with the other Golden Deer house members, to rebuild and breathe new life into the area. All you had of him for now was the ring he’d given you before he left, and a letter he’d sent a few months after he’d become King of Almyra. With how often he’d dart around feelings when the two of you were in the early stages of flirting, you’re surprised at how easily he manages to write his feelings on paper, and it’s enough to keep you moving forward.

You take it upon yourself one day to finally take your destiny into your own hands.

Things were finally settling down in Fódlan, and though there was still more to be done, the nobles could handle that. You were a commoner without huge family influences, and most of your role had been morale supporting and helping out where you could, but now you could tell that perhaps it was time for you to move elsewhere. You say your goodbye’s to your dearest friends, all of them understanding why you must go, promising to write back as soon as you arrived at your destination.

It’s not a dangerous journey, not after all that you’d already been through, but it leaves you full of silly worries. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if his reaction to seeing you again is negative, like he scolds you for being selfish and not waiting for him to come for you when he was ready? There were two sides to this relationship, though, and even if he didn’t wish for you to stay, how much could a visit hurt? If he loved you, he’d be happy to see you, wouldn’t he?

There was a dilemma about how to get to him without alerting guards thinking you’re some type of assassin, but you’re pleased to see the familiar faces of Judith and the former King when you first approach what would hopefully be your new home.

“I always knew.” Nader boasted, “The kiddo couldn’t hide that from me if he tried.”

He points you towards where Claude is, thankfully alone, and you thank him for his help before entering the room.

You can’t help but smile when you see him, even when he doesn’t notice you at first. He seems to be focused on a map, plotting out new trade routes or something of the sort, always hard at work. You have to admire him quietly before you break his concentration, you’d always thought he looked rather handsome when scheming, which was almost all the time. You take a few more quiet steps, peering around him curiously, before deciding to speak.  

“You know, as much as you liked to say you were an outsider, you look rather comfortable in such a regal outfit.”

You’re pleased that, for once, you manage to take Claude by surprise.

His finger, previously tracing a road, freezes as he slowly stands upright, not facing you quite yet but you can see his shoulders shaking. As much as you’d love to revel in that if they were tears of joy, his laughter soon breaks through the room and ruins your romantic daydream. You don’t mind it, though, because you loved him, and you loved everything about him.

“I knew you weren’t a patient person, but to think you’d travel all this way for me.”

He turns towards you and your heart aches, even though he’s right in front of you. You want nothing more than to run into his arms right now but you also wanted him to make the next move; you’d traveled a long way to come see him, it was about time he started to do some of the leg work. You’re pleased that perhaps Claude won’t ruin all the romantic daydreams you’ve had about him as he quickly approaches, arms wrapping around you in a tight, ‘I’ll never let you go again’ hug. Your bury your face in his chest and grab ahold of the fabric on his chest, his one arm remaining wrapped around your waist to keep you flush against him while his other hand is laced through your hair, encouraging you to stay pressed against his chest.

You remember in his letters how he stated he dreamed of you every night, how every good thing he did for his Kingdom made him happy because he knew it was one step closer to the two of you being together again. That he heard your voice in his head on the tough days, telling him he couldn’t stop now, and that at night when anxious thoughts plagued him, he thought of you laying by his side, his head on your chest as you stroked his hair and told him things would be okay.

It was about time that became a reality.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily this time. Now that I have you again, I’m not going anywhere.” Your words are strong, muffled a bit by his clothing, but he still understands.

“I don’t think I could send you away again even if I had to.” He whispered, pulling away just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Welcome home, my Queen.”

[ohprettyweeper-fics]

The Last Bandito: Vulture Generation

Part Eleven: Denounce Vialism

Summary: Tyler and Ildri’s calm day is interrupted by information from Josh; Quinn is visited by Berit; two members of The Conference discuss the citizens’ reaction to The Vial.  Word Count: 2145  Warnings:   Angst A/N: Book #2 of The Last Bandito series. Prompts are in bold; translations are from Google Translate.

Masterlist

Several days passed without incident. It was the longest time that had passed since their arrival to Trench without a cause for worry — which, in itself, caused Ildri to worry. 

“It feels like the calm before the storm,” she confided in Tyler. 

He shook his head. “It’s a slow down. One we all sorely need. We should appreciate it for what it is.”

Ildri drew in a deep breath; he didn’t know the things that she knew. He could only speculate as to what was coming next. Tyler’s hand squeezed hers, and Ildri couldn’t shatter the hope he had begun to build. So, she forced as much of a smile as she could. 

“You’re right. We should take the opportunity to breathe. What should we do with our day?”

Quinn hid out in her apartment for three days after leaving the hospital. She knew that The Conference had to be looking for her, but the alert had not been spread over the city. 

“How could they,” she muttered to herself while she set water to boil for tea, “then everyone would know The Vial is a crock.”

The longer she was away from the hospital, the more her health improved. The Heathen virus was fading, as she had suspected. If The Vial had done her any favors, it was to bolster her genetic virus to work harder to overcome any foreign substance in her body — the ‘cure’ and the Heathen virus both. With that surge, the dearg-due within her began to surface at any given time. Quinn was thankful she had already been learning to control the monster before all of this happened. 

She knew she wasn’t going to be able to hide out here forever. Eventually, the same men that had been waiting for them in Ildri’s apartment after rescuing Tyler and Josh from Old Dema would come for her here. It was only a matter of time. 

The tea bag made soft noises as Quinn dunked it in and out of the hot water a couple of times before letting it settle and steep. She put two pieces of bread in the toaster, then stood back to wait for her small meal to be ready. 

In the same moment the toast popped up, a knock sounded on the door. Quinn’s breath caught in her throat; her cheeks heated as the monster swirled to life within her. 

“Stop it,” she whispered. 

Through the peephole, she could see Berit standing in the hallway. The threat of the visiting nurse was real, but Quinn wasn’t worried that Berit would be able to overtake her. If anything, the concern was Berit convincing Quinn to return to the hospital. 

“What do you want?” Quinn asked, almost before she had opened the door all the way. 

Berit stepped into the apartment. “Only to see that you’re all right.”

The door was still open; Quinn motioned to it. “You’ve done that. I’m fine.”

Berit pushed the door closed. “Quinn, you don’t understand. The Vial is being met with immense pushback from citizens. The Conference is scrambling, trying to get results — positive results — to give to the people so that they can see that this cure, this vaccine, is real. It works.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Quinn asked. “The Vial is a hoax! When you and the doctor injected it into me, my monster bucked against it. It’s poison, Berit. How many Heathens have they tried that on before they released it to the public?”

“More than a hundred.”

Quinn narrowed her eyes. “And how many of them are still alive today?”

Berit swallowed hard. “None.”

Quinn scoffed. “None. Not one. And you let them inject me with that? I could have died! Why did you convince me to stay? I wanted to leave. I wanted to die my way — which now I know wouldn’t have happened. My body is fighting the remnants of the Heathen virus on its own, just as I told you. So why. Tell me that. Why convince me to stay?”

Berit’s eyes filled with the tears of someone who has no choice but to, finally, share the truth. 

“There are a group of us who support The Conference without question. We have been deeply involved in the development of The Vial. We’ve invested time, money, whatever resources we could offer. Heathens and other non-humans, Quinn, it’s not how life is meant to be lived. The Bishops go against nature when they inject their own citizens with The Serum. We believe that the efforts of The Conference to cleanse the Heathens and —”

Quinn held up a hand. “Cleanse? I’m sorry, but I have to ask again — do you hear yourself? You’re talking in terms historically associated with genocide! The Heathens are not all loyal to the Bishops. If they were, the Bandito camp would not be growing as it is.” She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. “I was born this way. Ildri was born the way she is. What about her? What about me? Are we abominations in need of cleansing, too?”

Berit was quiet; that was enough of a response for Quinn. She asked the nurse to leave, and Berit didn’t argue. Before Quinn could close the door, Berit turned back quickly. 

“They know you’re here. They’ll come for you. If you come back with me —”

But Quinn interrupted her again. “You convinced me once, Berit, but you won’t convince me again.”

With the door shut and locked, her tea and toast forgotten, Quinn scrambled to pack as much as she could. She hadn’t thought she would come back here before, but this time, there would truly be no returning. 

After closing the door behind her for the last time, Quinn turned to tape a note to the door before leaving New Dema for Trench. Only two words were written on the note but the words would leave a clear idea of where she stood when they came to find her. 

When Tyler and Ildri returned from their walk, Josh and Savea were waiting for them. Ildri exchanged a glance with Tyler before stopping in front of the other two. 

“We have to talk,” Josh sighed. “I had a dream about Faylinn. Not a good dream.”

Ildri’s eyes met Savea’s in a silent apology. “Is she alive?”

Josh shook his head. “I don’t know. Do you want the details?”

Did she? “No. I’ll have to go into New Dema, back to the apartment. Try to figure out where she went in New York.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tyler offered, leaving no room for questions. 

Ildri nodded her agreement and went to their tent for a couple of things she would need for the errand. Josh was quick on their heels, offering to go as well. 

“No,” Ildri answered quickly, again meeting Savea’s eyes. “Tyler and I will go. It’s not a mission, it’s an errand. Stay here, in case someone shows up in Trench. We’ll be back soon.”

Josh’s shoulder’s immediately tensed and he turned away without another word. Tyler frowned, but Ildri pretended not to see his silent question as she tied the bandana around her neck before pulling it up over her mouth and nose. 

“Vialism,” Claude Chevalley announced, dropping the day’s newspaper on Andre’s desk, “they’re calling the vaccine campaign vialism. The patient that received the injection at the hospital has left for Trench. ‘Denounce vialism’ — that’s what the note on her door said when officers went to retrieve her. We don’t know yet if she’s gone to Old Dema or to the encampment, but the nurse who cared for her says the patient refused to come back willingly.”

Andre took measured breaths as he skimmed over the newspaper article. “What would you have me do about it, Claude? The people are unhappy. We cannot deceive them with the results of the injection, of the trials of the injection. If we do that, we are no better than the Bishops. We are no better than the life we left behind.”

The other man glanced over his shoulder at Velika, who’s typing had slowly stopped as the exchange took place. Her eyes were wide and full of fear; Claude gave her a kind smile and asked her to put on a new pot of coffee in the staff lounge. 

“Of course, Mr. Chevalley.”

The young woman hurried out of the room. Claude raised a brow at Andre, who waved away his colleague’s fears. 

“She only has concern for the wellbeing of herself and her family. Velika is, perhaps, the only innocent soul left here in the city.” Andre sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll ask you again. What would you have me do about the Vialism issue? It’s a movement. Something we must manage in the sense of not allowing it to create chaos, yes, but it is not something we can stop the people — our people — from believing. Just as the Bishops could not stop us from believing there was a better life outside of the walls.”

Claude nodded. “When we were Banditos, brother, they called that a movement as well. They lost our trust, our loyalty. Are we next to lose these things of our citizens?”

“Not if we handle this with care — care, mind you, means not only with caution, but with the best interest of the people at heart. If they are concerned of The Vial, we will give them the information they want. No medication is perfect in its initial formation, but if we assure them we are seeking to do better, to improve the formula … they’ve no reason not to trust us.”

Claude picked up the newspaper and backed towards the door; Velika returned and resumed her position at the desk. 

“I hope you’re right, brother. I hope you’re right.”

The moment they entered the apartment — one she had never planned on returning to — Ildri wished she had never come here. A million memories hit her all at once, good and bad and in between; she had to stop at the top of the stairs to catch her breath before she could make herself remember why she had come in the first place. 

“If they’ve left anything,” she told Tyler, “there should be a stack of mail on the kitchen counter. Will you go through that and see what you can find?”

Tyler nodded, squeezing her elbow gently before going in search of the pile of mail. Ildri watched after him for a few steps before she turned toward her cousin’s part of the house. 

Faylinn’s room wasn’t empty, which told Ildri that her cousin planned to return — or had planned to return. There were still clothes in the drawers, some of her favorite jewelry heirlooms in an old jewelry box, and a picture of them as children taped to the vanity mirror. 

Ildri plucked the picture away from the mirror, leaving a scrap of tape behind. The picture had been taken only a few months after Ildri had been adopted. She and Faylinn hadn’t been quite the fast friends she and Tyler had been, but they had grown close in only a couple of months’ time. The nearness in age helped. In this photo, they were seated together on their grandmother’s sofa, smiling with big, toothy grins. Judging by their t-shirt and shorts, it must have been summer. A nearby window showed that it was dark outside, but the room was well-lit. 

What a contrast those two little girls were in appearance. Faylinn with her bright, happy eyes and naturally orange-red hair. Ildri’s dark eyes were already masking secrets then, and her hair was as dark a shade of brown as nature could muster. In that moment though, she was happy. She remembered that much for certain. The differences between them didn’t matter — hadn’t mattered until the night Faylinn followed her to Old Dema. 

When you realize who you are, then maybe you’ll understand. The last thing she had said to Faylinn. Had her cousin realized who she was? She was a citizen of New Dema. The cousin of a half-Heathen, half-human. The closest family member of the last Bandito child. Faylinn had always been a believer in what New Dema was supposed to stand for; she never would have been loyal to the exile if she had not been acting out of fear. She would have fought it, right by Ildri’s side in Trench. 

“Nothing in the stack of letters,” Tyler announced, “but I found this in her desk drawer.”

Ildri shoved the picture into her jacket pocket and took the letter from Tyler. The name and contact information for the publishing company was in the letterhead. Ildri nodded. 

“We’ll start with this information and hope for the best. Let’s see if the phone line is still connected.”

Tags: @nonsenseverses​​​ @tylersheavydirtysoul​​​ @apurdyfulmind​​​ @adversaryproject​​​

[iturbide]

Oh, 12 would be a great one for Claude and, really, any of the Golden Deer. Like, when he opens up to them that he’s Almyran, they want to show him that he’s more than welcome and he’ll always be their trusted leader and beloved friend. Maybe they organize a mounted archery contest? Tending to wyverns? I recall Claude enjoying a celebration in Almyra that was a ceremonial dance around a huge fire (my memory is a bit fuzzy, I am embarrassed to say as a Claude lover). I bet you have some ideas!

You know you’re right any of the Golden Deer would be great

so since i can’t pick why not all of them

12. Following their family traditions that they enjoy. 

“Lady Judith!!”

She stopped, touching her rapier as she turned toward the sound of running steps…and relaxed, folding her arms over her chest as seven mismatched fighters came stumbling to a halt before her.  She recognized them, of course: it would be hard not to, given that they were all generals in the Alliance army now, not to mention Claude’s old housemates from his days at Garreg Mach.  “Should I be worried?” she asked.

“Did you know Claude’s Almyran!?” Raphael asked excitedly.

Some aunt she’d be, if she didn’t.  But she only quirked a brow politely and nodded.  “I did.”

“Why did you never make mention of that!?” Lorenz demanded.

It was hard to keep her hand off her sword.  “What does it matter where he came from, boy?” she shot back.

“It matters a lot!!” Leonie insisted, hands fisted at her sides.

“He’s been here in the Alliance for, what, six years?” Hilda ventured, counting off on her fingers.  Seven, in truth, though Judith made no effort to correct her.  “And this whole time he’s never had any way to see his family!  I’d be a wreck if I couldn’t go home once in a while to visit my father and brother.”

“He must have been so lonely, all this time,” Marianne murmured, folding her hands, “being so far from home, with nothing to remember it by…”

…well this had certainly taken a different turn than she expected.  “What are you saying, exactly?”

“Claude’s been working so hard, trying to keep us ahead of the Empire, making sure the Alliance has what it needs to survive and win – the least we can do is show we appreciate it,” Lysithea huffed.

“And, well, what better way than trying to make him feel at home?” Ignatz added, adjusting his glasses.  “Only…none of know all that much about Almyra.  I heard from Cyril once that it has vast open plains, but…I doubt I could capture a likeness without having seen it myself.”

“My brother collects battle standards from skirmishes at the Locket, but that’s not much to go on where fashion and decoration are concerned, either,” Hilda sighed.

“We were hoping you might know more,” Leonie said.  “I mean, if you knew Claude’s Almyran, maybe you know what it’s like there.  What kind of food they have, that sort of thing.”

“With the Empire so close, we know he can’t go home, but…maybe if we could bring a little bit of home to him…” Mariane ventured.

“So will you help us out, Lady Judith?” Raphael asked.  “Please?”

Judith smiled, running a hand back through her hair.  Lucky Claude, having friends like these at his back.  “Well, I can’t claim to know much,” she cautioned, “but I’ll gladly tell you everything I can.”

///

Claude sighed, rubbing his eyes as the ink started to blur on the page.  It was getting hard to stay focused, which usually meant it was time to get up and go do something else…but things had been weird lately.  Tense, in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  His old housemates from the Golden Deer had been acting extra flighty, giving him a wide berth every time they happened to cross paths and making excuses whenever he tried to talk with them before beating a hasty retreat.  Even Hilda, who usually loved shirking her chores to take breaks with him, had waved him off twice, saying she was in the middle of something (despite all evidence to the contrary).

It hadn’t been this way before Fort Merceus.  But then, nobody had known about his Almyran heritage, either.

Raking his hands through his hair, he leaned back so far that his seat threatened to tip over.  He’d been so certain that if anyone could bridge the divide between Fodlan and Almyra, it was his old house…and it hurt to realize that his secrecy at the academy had been justified.  

Admittedly, none of this was what he’d wanted to focus on while he stepped back from his Enbarr siege tactics.

A knock came at the door, and he tipped his chair forward, sprawling across the map.  “Come in,” he mumbled.

He wasn’t actually sure if he’d been loud enough to hear.  But the door opened anyway, and Judith came striding in, grinning ear to ear.  “You busy?”

“Kind of,” he grumbled.

“Too bad,” she replied.  “Even Master Tacticians need breaks, and you look like you could use one.”

“Please don’t call me that,” he groaned.

“Would you rather I call you ‘boy’?”

“Like you do to Lorenz?  No, thank you,” he scoffed, shoving himself more or less upright and trying to ignore the chorus of pops that accompanied his stretch; if his own regret at sitting too long weren’t bad enough, her glare only compounded it.

“You definitely need a break,” she declared.  Any stronger and it would have been an order.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed.  “I need to check on the wyverns anyway.”

“That sounds like more work,” she warned.

“At least I won’t be hunched over a desk, though, right?”

“That’s not the point.”

“You didn’t say what kind of break I needed.”

“Smart-ass,” she snorted, hooking his arm in hers and dragging him out the door, away from the stairs leading up to the roof where the wyverns had taken roost and toward the gate leading out of the fort they’d occupied on the march toward Enbarr.  The rain that had forced their stop had long-since passed, but the dry ground and the clear skies above promised that they’d be free to resume the march with the sunrise.  It would be a perfect night for stargazing, if he could escape Judith–

The aroma of wild garlic and roast fish almost knocked him off his feet.  As it was, only Judith’s hold on his arm kept him stumbling in the right direction.  There was a bright blaze visible through the trees, too big to be a campfire…and as they broke through the undergrowth, he realized it was a bonfire – a small one, filling the clearing with the sweet scent of cedar smoke.  “What is this?” he asked.

“What’s it look like?” Judith grinned.

“It looks like I’m dreaming,” he replied, rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand.

“Well, I can assure you that it’s real,” she laughed.  “Now you’d better hurry up if you want to eat, I don’t know how long they can hold Raphael off.”

As if on cue, Hilda appeared at his side, grabbing hold of his other arm.  “Thanks, Lady Judith!” she giggled, dragging him toward the fire.  “We were starting to worry you’d never show up!”

“…did I miss something?” he asked.

She didn’t answer with anything but a smile.  But as the firelight drove the darkness back, he realized that she was wearing a sash not so different from his own, complete with bright patterns and dangling ornaments.  As the rest of the Golden Deer gathered around, he realized they all had them, the traditional green and gold accented with different colors for each of them.  And they were all looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

He couldn’t find words for a minute.  He just stared at them, every one of them smiling (even Lorenz!) and bearing familiar traces of his homeland.  “What is this?” he asked again.

“It’s a party!” Raphael laughed.

“A celebration,” Lysithea corrected.

“Lady Judith told us about an Almyran fire festival,” Ignatz added, adjusting his glasses.  “We couldn’t find everything she mentioned, but we tried to get as close as we could.”

“I got the food together,” Leonie beamed.  “Spent most of today fishing and foraging and cooking, and I think it all turned out pretty great.”

“Sure did,” Raph agreed.  “I got to taste test after I got the fire going!”

“I didn’t have enough time to make whole outfits,” Hilda sighed, “but I at least managed to make sashes for everybody.  I tried to base it off yours, but I’ve never seen you take yours off, so I had to do a little guess-work.”

“But…but what is it for?” Claude asked, still hopelessly confused.

“It’s for you,” Marianne replied, playing with her sash.  “You’ve been working so hard lately, preparing for Enbarr…we wanted to thank you.”

“And what better way than by giving you something from home?” Lysithea asked.

Claude couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across his own face.  “…did Judith happen to mention that the Festival of Fire is part of the New Year celebration?”

They all stopped and looked nervously at one another.  “I…can’t seem to recall,” Lorenz replied awkwardly. 

“I’ve gotta say, you couldn’t have picked a better celebration,” Claude beamed.  “The Festival of Fire always precedes the New Year festivities.  It’s about burning away problems and bad luck so that we can go into the New Year without worries to drag us down.  Andwe’re working our way toward a new dawn, aren’t we?  One free from Imperial rule.  This’ll make sure we come at the battle free of any burdens.”

Their anxiety melted away as he spoke, and by the time he finished their smiles were brighter than the bonfire.  “Will you tell us more about it?” Ignatz asked eagerly.  “The festival, and the New Year?”

“Of course I will – I’ll even teach you how to jump the bonfire without setting yourself on fire,” he winked.  “Thank you all.  This is…amazing.”

“We’re glad you like it,” Hilda giggled.  “It’s the least we could do for you.”

If this was their least, he couldn’t help but wonder what else they might have done.  This was already more than he’d expected.  More than he’d ever thought to ask for.  And as Leonie led the way around the fire to the blankets laid out with a feast fit for an Almyran table, he felt the warmth of their company burn away all his old fears.

50 Wordless Ways to Say ‘I Love You’

[four-loose-screws]

Their Sealed Pasts - FE4 Short Story Translation - Section 1

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

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

I consider this a “section” and not a “part” because it’s a break that I defined myself. This short story was not broken up into parts by the author.

T/W: Half-sibling incest. Direct implications of sex, but no explicit scenes.

———————————

Their Sealed Pasts

Short Story #5 of Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War - The Last of the Earth Dragon Tribe

Section 1

It was love at first sight.

The young man really should have asked himself why.

However, this was the first time that he’d ever been in love, so he didn’t even think to question it.

The young woman looked terrified. The expression clouded her beauty a bit, but she’d already stolen his heart, so it did not change how he felt about her at all.

‘I want to take away whatever is that’s scaring her. I want to know just how beautiful her smile is.’

He raised his hand, ordering the butler that had brought her in to leave the room.

The butler explained that he’d found her standing in front of the villa that morning, looking completely lost.

When he’d tried to ask her some questions, she didn’t answer, but he guessed from her exquisite dress and finely crafted circlet that she must be of royal lineage. That was why he’d chosen to bring her before his lord.

When he was finished, he left the room.

The young man told the young woman,“You may sit here for now.”

She sat in the chair without saying a word.

"Could you tell me your name, please?"

She simply stared back, looking very confused.

"You're right, I should introduce myself first, shouldn't I? I am Duke Arvis of Velthomer. Now it's your turn."

She furrowed her brows and mumbled, "D? D…"

"'D'? That's it? Just 'D'?" He asked as cheerfully as he could.

"De… De…" It appeared to be on the tip of her tongue.

'Impossible! She can't even remember her own name!?'

Finally, she made progress. "De… Deir… Deir…"

"Deir? Sounds like you're almost there! Deir. Now what's the last part?"

"Deir… Deir… Deirdre!"

"Deirdre? What a beautiful name you have, Deirdre. Now, can you tell me your parents' names?"

Her eyebrows furrowed once again.

However, this time, not even the first sound came out of her mouth.

Finally, she said, sadly, "I can't remember."

"I see. How about your home, then? Do you remember where you live?"

She paused again. "I'm sorry. I don't remember at all."

"You have no need to apologize. You must have undergone some kind of shock and lost your memory. You can stay at this villa until you remember. I'm sure that'll be in two, maybe three day's time at most. After that, I'll take you to your parents."

"Thank you." She finally looked relaxed.

To Arvis, her face in that moment was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

ー

It was early winter of Gran Year 758, and Arvis was very busy.

The large-scale plan that he had been working on for years was now in its final stages.

And that plan was to dismantle the current political structure of Jugdral, and build a utopia.

Not only was he Sage Warrior Fjalar's successor, but the blood of the Loptyrian Emperor Galle also coursed through his veins.

He’d learned of his Loptyrian bloodline on the night of his fifteenth birthday, when he was visited by Bishop Manfroy of the Loptr Church. If the world were to ever find out the truth, then he'd be burned at the stake.

It worried him for a long, long time, until finally, he decided that he would create a society without discrimination. 

'This is something that only I, who shares the blood of both a Crusader and Loptous, can do.'

To make his utopia a reality, he decided that he had to completely destroy the world as it was. At that time, he had not even turned twenty yet, and had no idea what just what kind of tragedies would have to occur for that to happen. He'd simply been a boy drunk on his newfound sense of purpose.

To destroy the world as it was, he decided to use the Loptr Church, whose power over Jugdral was growing stronger and stronger by the day.

'Once I create my ideal society, the Loptr Church will be naught but one officially recognized religion. Nothing more, nothing less. Just by promising them that much, they have granted me power that I could have never dreamed of. And I am the only one who could have thought of such a plan.'

The Loptr Church's priests planted seeds of dissatisfaction and jealousy into the hearts of the many rulers and influential nobles of Jugdral. Those seeds budded and blossomed into a war that spread across the entire continent, dismantling the old system's authority and order in one fell swoop. Now, it was time to reap in the harvest.

Grannvale's sole inheritor to the throne, Prince Kurt, had been assassinated, and Duke Byron was scapegoated for that crime. After that, his son, Prince Sigurd, had been accused of plotting a rebellion alongside High Priest Claud.

Sigurd and his troops fled to Silesse, where Queen Rahna welcomed them. But word was that civil war would soon break out in Silesse, and it was a win-win situation for Arvis, no matter which side emerged victorious. All Silesse had to do was go to war. Then, he could send a large army to pick off the winner, and end the fighting for good. He would leave that to Dukes Lombard and Reptor.

Since the prince's death, the entire country of Grannvale was in a state not unlike that of an illness. Even if he stayed quiet, the country would fall right into his hands.

ー

Arvis ordered his butler to treat Deirdre as a distinguished guest, then left for the royal palace.

Besides him, there were two other people who had power in the Grannvalian government, Dukes Lombard and Reptor. While their titles were equal to his, ever since Prince Kurth's assassination, Arvis had clearly been the one on top.

Arvis entered the government meeting room, heard the reports that the representatives from each area of Jugdral had to give, then announced his decisions and gave his orders. After that, he managed to squeeze in lunch, and his work continued on into the afternoon.

He finally finished just before four, choosing to cancel all his evening appointments, and return to his villa.

He found Manfroy waiting for him in his room, who reported that Silesse's Duke Maios had finally attacked Sigurd's army.

Everything was going according to plan.

Once he was done giving his report, Manfroy disappeared into the wall.

Since the beginning, Manfroy had always come and gone like a shadow. It annoyed Arvis that someone came into his bedroom as he pleased, but it was necessary to keep his involvement with the Loptr Church a secret.

'Once the Loptr Church is officially recognized, I won't allow it anymore.'

Arvis took off his Roten Ritter uniform, and chose his attire for his dinner with Deirdre.

He put on slim grey pants, a matching vest, and a blue coat, then finished off his look with a red cravat that fit with the current fashions popular among the nobles.

'With this, I won't look too formal.' He thought as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Deirdre was already waiting for him at the dining room table.

"How are you doing, Deirdre? Has your memory returned to you yet?"

She shook her head.

"Don't worry. You'll get it back soon."

The butler poured each of them a glass of fine Grannvalian wine.

"Let's propose a toast, shall we? May your memory return soon!"

She smiled slightly.

He could tell that she was happy, even if only a little bit.

Once dinner was served, he was so concerned about what she thought of him, that he didn't remember how the food tasted at all.

The biggest problem was coming up with things to talk about.

When eating with someone for the first time, it's best to ask about the other person. But without her memories, there was nothing he could ask her about.

He had little choice other than to share court gossip.

He told her of a man who'd confessed his love to a beautiful woman, who then flatly turned him down; of two nobles who'd fought over the same woman, both putting each other down to win the girl, only for her to refuse them both; and of a young wife with an elderly husband who was having a secret affair.

He was happy that she seemed to be interested in his conversations, as he'd worried that she wouldn't be.

Before he knew it, it was time for dessert.

"Shall we eat together again tomorrow night?"

She nodded happily in response.

It was the best day of his life.

ー

They began to eat together every night.

He could sense that she liked him.

On the night of the third day, he found himself considering confessing his feelings over and over again. However, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

'This love is the greatest feeling in the world.' He thought, and desired to do whatever it took to take their relationship to the next level.

Her memory had yet to return. He began to wish that she would return his feelings more than he wished for her to get her memory back.

ー

It was the night of the tenth day.

When they finished their meal and he retired to his room for the night, Manfroy appeared before him.

"What are you doing here at this hour? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing has happened."

"Then why are you here?"

"It’s so unlike you to question me like this, Lord Arvis..."

“Don’t act all high-and-mighty with me! What is it you want to speak with me about!?”

"The beautiful young woman you found."

"What about her?"

"Last night, she started leaving her bedroom door unlocked."

"You creep! What reason would you have to spy on her!?"

"She is waiting for you. Her unlocked door is sure proof of that. Surely you'll return her feelings, won't you?"

"Get out of my sight, Manfroy, and mind your own business."

"I apologize for upsetting you. As you wish, I will won’t go near her room ever again. Take care of yourself." He said before his body turned into a shadow and disappeared.

Arvis hated it when people trespassed in private places, and was extremely agitated by Manfroy’s spontaneous visit.

He got into bed, but couldn't sleep.

It was only natural that he couldn't keep his mind off of Deirdre.

"She is waiting for you." Manfroy's words echoed in his head.

Part of him felt that Manfroy was right, but another part of him felt that Manfroy was wrong.

Then, he thought, 'What if she is actually waiting for me, then what?'

Once that thought crossed his mind, he couldn't get it out of his head.

He thought through every little thing she had done that night. Her every word, her every expression, and her every action.

Those words, those expressions, those actions…

‘She wouldn’t talk to me or look at me the way she does if she didn’t love me too… Everything she does points to one truth… She is waiting for me.'

Lust, and the desire to figure out just what was going between them, swirled around in his head, leading him to one conclusion.

'If she did leave her door unlocked and Manfroy is right, then she just forgot to lock it. I need to check and see if he was telling the truth.'

He got out of bed, grabbed a candlestick, and went to her room.

He worried about how he would explain himself if he ran into anyone, but fortunately, he didn't.

He stopped and stood in front of her door.

'I should just go back right now,' he thought, but then continued, 'No, it's best I check first.'

When he put his hand on the doorknob, his heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it.

The knob turned.

He pushed the door and heard it click open.

‘It really is unlocked. I’ll have to tell her in the morning to be more careful from now on.’ He thought as he began to close the door.

‘But if she is awake, then what if she noticed that someone opened her door? I need to go in and check whether or not she’s sleeping. If she is, I’ll just go back to my room, but if she’s awake, I’ll need to explain to her why I opened her door.’

He walked inside her room and closed the door.

He noticed her bed, next to the window.

He tiptoed over to it, and saw her sleeping.

‘She looks so perfect when she’s asleep.’ He thought. ‘I love you, Deirdre.’

Satisfied, he turned around to return to his room.

But then, her eyes opened.

‘Oh no! I woke her up!’

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, and just stood there.

There was no way she couldn’t know that he was there.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I couldn't sleep…"

"Why?"

"I-I couldn't stop thinking about you."

'I’m not telling her the whole truth. I need to tell her about the lock.' He thought, but then saw her pale arms come out from under her blanket.

She was reaching for him.

She brought her hands up to his face, then wrapped her arms around his neck.

They kissed long and hard before he even realized what was happening.

"I love you, Deirdre."

"I love you, too."

They kissed again.

There was nothing left for them to say to each other.

Arvis took off his shirt and climbed into her bed.   

He had been cold, so the blanket was so warm that it surprised him. And her body was just as warm…

He hugged her as tightly as he could.

Then, he unbuttoned the front of her nightgown, and pressed his naked chest against her own.

"Marry me, Deirdre." He breathed, wanting to convey his true feelings before making love to her.