#claude’s my current favourite house leader but i have a feeling i’m going to like edelgard

[oriorchids]

fear the deer or smth idk i’ve had this game for 2 weeks and it’s consumed my brain

[candlelight27]

The Golden Deer And The Alabaster Doe

Summary:  After the war, everyone changed, including Marianne, who is trying to find her happy ever after. This leads her to visit Claude in Almyra, where he's been for years.

Warnings: Explicit sex - quite tame and vanilla though, friends to lovers, post timeskip, SMUT, Fluff.

Pairings: Marianne von Edmund/Claude von Riegan

Word Count: 4361

AO3: The Golden Deer And The Alabaster Doe

A/N: I’m working on the Sylvain series but needed to get this out of my chest. Claude is my best boy after all... welp, hope you enjoy it anyways <3

Marianne arrived at night, when the sky of the desert is filled with stars and the cold makes its way to you bones.

Her camel stopped at the big doors of stone, where two guards let her enter the city. The place, so different from her homeland, was in complete silence. There were a few torches lighting their way to the palace.

Marianne felt a familiar thrill in her heart, one she hadn’t felt in a long time. Ever since the war ended – the last time she had seen Claude. She recalled the sweet but distant memories of Garreg Mach, how Claude tried his best to understand her, to observe her, how she had convinced her to pursue what she wanted, even if she felt undeserving. The Almyran was so persuasive she almost confessed her love to him. Yet that bliss was cut short when war broke out and the death and duty was all she had time to think of. In that moment, all they could have been together was plucked out of her.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed by. She had matured, no longer as tortured as her younger self, and she had learnt to make herself useful next to Margrave Edmund. In fact, her adoptive father harboured the hope that she would inherit his lands at his passing. That understanding between father and daughter was what made Marianne take a chance, a step against all she had done when she felt undeserving of living.

This was the first time Marianne had done something remotely selfish. She asked her father for permission to travel to Almyra, and he accepted without objection. Then, she wrote a letter to Claude. She spent hours that night writing and crumpling papers. Too cold, too intrusive, too improper, too needy – nothing was good enough. In the morning, feeling more like herself, she wrote the first thing that came to her mind and sent it.

And a few weeks later Claude sent back a letter welcoming to his home in Almyra, right where she was headed.

The closer they were to the palace, the more nervous she was. Lost in thoughts about protocols and rules, memories and hopes for the future, almost without realising where she was, the small procession arrived and entered the enormous building.

The entrance hall left her in awe. It was as big as Garreg Mach’s had been but decorated with infinitely more opulence. From the ceiling hung silks made in confines of the East, while the lamps had been made with the finest gold and silver from Faerghus, surely a kind present from the actual King, Dimitri. Marianne walked along a rug whose intricate pattern was coloured yellow and green. She scanned the place, looking for someone among the emptiness. On the other edge of the stay, just opposite to where she was looking at, a shadow was moving in the darkness. She turned her head to the sound.

“You can go back to you posts. Thank you for escorting our guest.” The rich voice reverberated throughout the stay. Marianne couldn’t supress the smile that crept to her lips when she recognized the person who had come to greet her.

Claude stepped into the light, the fire of the candles and lamps kissing his tanned skin and colouring his eyes of amber. Her pulse shot up.

He was just as handsome as Marianne remembered him. His clever eyes were tired, yet they carried the glint of a man filled with content. After all, Almyra’s relationship with Fódland had never been better than at the current time, and house Goneril was favouring a long-lasting peace by the hands of Hilda. She felt a pang of jealousy noticing they must have seen each other frequently.

“The servants are in bed. I hope you don’t mind that only your old friend is here to welcome you”, started Claude at ease, as if he had seen her the previous day and not many years ago.

“I actually prefer it that way,” she answered sweetly. Claude approached her with slow and deliberate steps. Discreetly, he observed her and captured her featured with his pupils.

“May I take you to your room?”, he asked, offering his hand for her to take it. She nodded and accepted. The Almyran man linked his arm to hers to guide her across the mosaic of corridors and doors.

For the first time in forever, Claude was nervous – and after a hundred of meetings with a lot of older men and women who belittled him, he had forgotten the feel. Marianne was more beautiful than he remembered. In their academy days, she used to be like a fawn walking through life wobbly and unsure, tender, innocent, scared, a prey. Yet now, the animal he’d use to describe her would be doe. She was graceful and majestic. If he didn’t know better, Claude would think he was before none other than the queen of Fódland – which would had been a shame, because it would mean Dimitri was her husband. Still, all the differences Claude spotted hadn’t change her core at all. She had that caring air, that serenity she always had. And she had a brightness he couldn’t decipher.

The first surprise Marianne gave him was the she was the one to start the a conversation.

He had been convinced he’d have to make an effort to ease her and make her comfortable in order to coat any monosyllable out of her. He had been ready, he prepared questions, pieces of news. But the soon-to-be heir of Mangrave Edmund spoke first.

“How have you been, Claude? We haven’t seen each other in… ages. We have to catch up.”

Marianne even looked at him in the eye, totally disarming him. Not that she could notice, because he knew how to compose himself in a matter of seconds. Some things never change, and Claude would never reveal his cards so soon. Yet, he had to admit, it was truly amusing.

“Frankly, I’ve been busy. So busy.” Claude sighed. “Working on a political alliance with Fódland wasn’t easy and keeping a durable peace while pleasing every part is turning out to be a complete challenge. I’m not complaining, things are going great and according to plan… but it’s like I don’t have time to myself anymore.”

“It’s comprehensible you feel that way, Claude”, Marianne said, with a certainty in her tone he had never heard. It did soothe him. “You are pouring you heart on your mission. You are dedicating your life to your people. I know it’s hard, but it’s what make you a good king.”

“You seem to be informed of my affairs,” Claude tried her, testing the waters.

“I am.” Her simple reply didn’t leave him much to use.

“Did you miss me that much?”

“Me? I…” Marianne doubted what she could say. But the new self she found within her relied on sincerity and worried little about the aftermath when she didn’t have anything to lose. “Yes, Claude. I missed you.” She let out a giggle out of nervousness, ringing bells for Claude. “I can’t lie, I was quite bored when you disappeared off to Almyra.”

“The call of duty”, he shrugged. “Had I known that… and I would have visited.”

After what felt like an eternity walking – and conversing –, Claude stopped before a dark wooden door.

“This is your room,” he stated.

The former Golden Deer leader was ready to call it a day and go to bed. He was indeed tired. A part of him wanted his lovely visitor to beg him to stay, to chat a bit more, mirroring his own wishes, but Marianne had never been that kind of person. But what if? He didn’t walk away, he just stood still, as if something was telling him Marianne only needed a little push to do the second thing remotely selfish she had ever done in her life.

“Are you busy tomorrow?”, she murmured the question tentatively.

“Actually, no. I took some days off meetings to attend a very special guest that was coming from Fódland”, he smiled.

“Then why don’t you stay a little while? I’d love to talk to you a little bit more. It feels like the old days.”

She curled her toes in her shoes, anxious. But of course, he wasn’t going to deny her. Her hunch about Claude was correct. So, he muttered a confident ‘sure’, hiding his surprise, and opened the door for her. She slid past Claude and took in her new stay for the next few months.

She marvelled at the beauty and exquisiteness of the decoration. Every little detail, like the flowers, similar to the ones she had in her room at Garreg Mach, like the small statue of the goddess, like some books beautifully bounded and regarding Fódland’s matters, all those details suggested Claude had personally made all the arrangements to make her feel at home. And it made her heart throb. A teapot caught her eye, as its scent reached her.

“Is that lavender tea?”, she asked, eyes wide.

“Yes, it is.” Claude’s back was facing Marianne and he composed a satisfied smile at her surprise.

“How did you know it was my favourite?”

“I have my ways.” Claude realized in that moment that he loved the sound of her voice when she was pleased, and he hadn’t heard it before. It made him want to fulfil her every wish right there and then. “Go on, help yourself.”

Marianne poured two cups of tea. The Almyran took a seat in a mahogany chair, its legs sculpted like the claws of a lion, and took the warm cups in his hands.

Marianne couldn’t help but stare at him. He was no longer the Claude she remembered, not quite the same. He was a grown man, shaped by a war and the power of a king. His shoulders were broad and strong, and the muscles of his arms, hardened by the use of his bow, couldn’t be hidden by his loose clothes. The cheeks of the young girl from Fódland turned crimson. When did her thoughts shelter lechery? But she forgot all her modesty as her eyes reached his shaped jaw, angles covered with facial hair styled in the fashion of his land. His irises instantly captivated her, watching her every move. They looked like they were made from seawater. He had the kindest gaze she had ever seen in a man of his position, and that could never change.

“I have to be honest here,” Claude started, putting the cup away, “but your letter a month ago stating that you were coming was the last thing I was expecting.” He laughed, a perfect song to Marianne’s ears. “I thought I’d never see you again. Or that I’d have to go there by myself to finally see you… any of the Golden Deer, I mean. I’ve been meaning to send you a letter… or something. But I never found the time.”

“Don’t worry. I’m here, after all,” she tried to soothe him, sipping her tea. He opened his mouth, then closed it as if he regretted even thinking what he wanted to say.

“I can’t believe I choose to be a coward now of all times.” He shook his head from side to side.

“You are not a coward, Claude. In the name of the Goddess, what are you talking about?”

“Yes, yes. You are right. I haven’t said anything.” Claude smiled, but he was hiding something, and it twinkled in his eyes, trying to get out. He tried to lighten up the mood distracting her attention. “Are you married?”

“No!” Marianne blushed, then giggled, as if it was the oddest question in the world.

“But you must have thousands of proposals.”

“I’ve had a few.” She ignored his comment, and the question in her heart of he’d propose to her given the right circumstances. “But father… I mean Margrave Edmund said he wanted me to decide. I rejected them because I didn’t know them.”

“Quite the peculiar Margrave, not after benefits, but her daughter’s happiness,” Claude pointed out.

“And you?”, asked Marianne, her eyes round with curiosity. “Are you married?”

“Wouldn’t have you heard about it if I were?”, he laughed again, yet then a bitter tongue coated his tongue. “No, of course not. Although… people are pestering me. You know, a king must have babies and wives – well, one at least. Ever since Dimitri’s wedding with Byleth, it’s been a nonstop pressure to find someone.”

Marianne put her teacup away and took Claude’s hands in hers. She would have wanted to hug him and press him against her chest, to tell him that everything was going to be fine. It was obvious that the man was affected by the situation. Yet the only thing she could do was showing compassion with that small touch. Still, her pale hands comforted him immensely.

“You’ll find love when you least expect it. Don’t listen to them. And don’t let it concern you that much.”

“Finding love isn’t really what’s concerning me,” he ended up confessing at last. Marianne doubted if she should press him to continue, but curiosity got the best of her.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s… the person I love might not love me back. I don’t deserve her.” Marianne furrowed her brows. She was about to talk, but Claude cut her right before she did. “And even if that worked… I don’t think she’d be happy to leave all she has behind in order to be with me. It’s not that easy, Marianne.”

“You are reminding me of when I was young.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why don’t you begin at the beginning?”

“And that is?”

“Confessing your love”, she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I told you I become a coward when the most important decisions ought to be made. I wouldn’t… even if she was… right in front of me right now.”

Marianne then committed another act that surprised herself. It wasn’t exactly selfish, but it was definitely something she wouldn’t have dared to think about some years ago. She was completely sure Claude was talking about her. His glance was declaring his love for her out loud. The way he looked and melted at her touch was revealing the truth behind his secrecy.

Before performing any action, she thought of the consequences. Should she be wrong, would he be mad? Probably not. And if he was, what was the worst that could happen? She’d have to leave Almyra eventually and she’d never hear of him again. But it was probably the exact same thing that would be happening if she didn’t do anything.

She was feeling self-conscious. Her legs were shaking. She couldn’t even breathe. But she didn’t let any of those impediments deter her. She had decided she was going to be the master of her fate, so she would take the chance.

Slowly, Marianne leant in, her eyes closed. The silent of the night wrapped around them. And then, when she finally reached his lips, she kissed him.

Claude stayed still, which she considered a small victory. Her rosy lips were unbelievably tender on his own. He could have sworn time had stopped right away. How could someone so precious as her want him? He didn’t have the answer. He was handsome, but he was sure that was not the only feature a girl like Marianne would be looking for. But he was one to seize his opportunities, so he kissed her back and let his eyelids fall.

The kiss soon turned desperate. Claude placed his hands on the back of her head as he caressed her blue locks, and Marianne just melted in his touch. And a kiss became two, three, and many more. They were tentative, indecisive; they were trying to figure out what the other wanted, neither of them believing what was happening. Between breathy moans, the Almyran dared to use his tongue to seek hers. He’d swear he could spend the rest of his life like that.

“Claude…”, Marianne murmured with her sweet voice.

“What are we doing, Marianne?”, asked Claude, assaulted by his uncertainty.

“Whatever you want,” she smiled, “whatever we want.” The were so close, their nose were almost touching.

“I… Do you love me?” Claude felt so vulnerable he wanted to cry. But he needed to know.

“With all my heart, Claude. I love you.”

Claude then stood up. In a manner as delicate as a rose petal, he undid Marianne’s updo. Her silky, periwinkle hair fell down her back and shoulders like a waterfall. His hands took her cheeks and dove in to kiss her once again.

She fell back on the soft mattress slowly. During the few seconds they stayed apart, his dexterous fingers loosened all the bows, knots and buttons holding her dress together. One of his digits drew a line from her jaw to her clavicle, paying special attention to her neck. Marianne felt how her nipples got hard against the fabric of her clothes.

His next movement was taking off the loose white shirt he was wearing. The gaze of Marianne, his old friend – and now, lover –, was intense, like the one a hungry beast would display. Her pupils were completely black and taken by desire. Marianne herself discarded her dress, too impatient to wait. Her heart was thriving, and she had never felt more alive. She rose to her knees, letting Claude take a good look at her.

Claude thought she was breath-taking. He couldn’t fix his gaze anywhere else. She reminded him of the white marble statues of the goddess he could find around Fódland, with the difference that Marianne could be someone whom he could give his devotion. Her pale skin was practically glowing under the candlelight. Where could he start? One night was not enough to put into practice all the ideas that were crossing his mind.

“Can I touch you?”, was the only thing that he managed to vocalize.

“Please.”

He grabbed one of her tempting breasts, kneading it while he left a trail of kisses that led to the other. Marianne trembled and whined, too overwhelmed to understand all those sensations yet willing to indulge and pursue those pleasures.

Claude licked his lover’s perk nipple. She gripped his dark locks of hair, then moved to scratch his back. Claude felt his leather pants were too tight when his bulge started growing at every scratch Marianne gave him. Still, he didn’t stop and grew even bolder placing his wide hand upon the apex of her thighs.

“You like what I’m doing, don’t you?”, he smirked to himself. “You’re already pretty wet.”

“Not playing shy anymore?”, she answered, with that unprecedented confidence Claude was starting to love.

“I’ve got better things to play with”, said Claude, and as a reward he gained a laugh of her fair mouth.

As he slid a finger into her wetness, she took his face with both hands to plant a hot kiss on his lips. He responded eagerly, offering his tongue, and putting in a second one without any resistance. Marianne welcomed the addition vocally. There was fire in her veins, and bolts of delight went all over her body.

The more adventurous his movements were, the more her hunger grew. Claude was making her feel things she had never felt, yet something within her wanted more. And she wasn’t dumb, she knew Claude was starting to get uncomfortable under his pants.

“Why don’t you take your pants off?”, her voice was the perfect mixture between suggestiveness and purity. She was going to drive him crazy.

“My sweet Marianne, I’ll gladly comply your orders.”

“Is the king tired of commanding other people?”, the tease rolled out of her mouth effortlessly.

“Perhaps.”

“My poor king.” Oh, what Claude would give to hear Marianne saying that while he made love to her.

When he undid his belt and buttons, Marianne kept provoking him. She scratched the skin under his navel with her sharp nails. Claude inhaled loudly. He might have never been this turned on in his life.

“Are you sure this is what you want? There’s no going back once we do this.”

“There is no going back since you crossed the doorstep, Claude,” she said as she guided him to the bed. He threw his pants on the floor.

“How could have you changed so much?” He stuttered. “It’s not that I don’t like it. Or, well, it’s not that you changed entirely. But-” Marianne stopped his rambling.

“I’m merely making the decisions that will make me happy.”

“This might not have a happy ending”, he pointed out.

“If that happens, at least we’ll have something to remember.” She made a pained face but gained her smiled back rapidly. “And right now, I feel beyond happy.”

“You… you are right. Let’s indulge.”

Claude now stood proud and naked. She admired his erection, because it was the first time she saw one in that situation. Claude laughed at her wide eyes, and gleefully Marianne led him on top of her. Claude kissed her once more – and if it had been up to him, he’d kissed her until the end of time – and she noticed his hard member pressing against her thighs.

Having his body caging her and taking in his warmth made her head go dizzy. For Claude, on the other hand, it was as if a spell had been suddenly broken. The contrast of her alabaster frame and his skin of sun and desert, his hardness and her softness, it was as if someone had made her just for him. He felt greedy, but overall, he felt whole.

“Go on,” she mumbled. “I need you inside of me.”

Claude entered her in a slow rhythm to be able to watch her face. He wanted to make sure there wasn’t any pain, and so far, her face only had shown pleasure. The Almyran felt overwhelmed sunk in her essence, but it didn’t distract him. Her expressions were precious to him, and he wanted to see every detail.

“Does it feel good?”, he asked concerned.

“Yes… it feels different from your fingers.”

“Good different…?” He stopped.

“Too good. Don’t- Keep going, my king.”

His member twitched. He laughed to mask the aphrodisiac that name was to him, and then he started thrusting. Once more, he was being careful, but it wasn’t as easy as before. He was constant, but it was difficult to keep a pace.

“I love this, Claude. My king.”

Marianne was completely lost in the moment. She accustomed herself to his manhood quickly and waggled her hips to chase the close promise of her orgasm. The hot pleasure was constant, as if Claude was her other half and they just clicked perfectly. They were so close that all his body rubbed against her, and it was doing indescribable things to her.

Just like their conversations used to be, she was timid but concise and clear, while Claude was an organized mess of passion. Marianne couldn’t contain herself and roamed his back with her nails. She was beginning in the devotion of the flesh, but she was sure she just needed a little push to come.

“You are screaming, Marianne.”

“Does it matter?” She had been so absorbed, she had neglected on keeping it quiet. But she didn’t want to get him into trouble.

“No, who’s going to scold us, anyways? Besides, I adore the way you call me.”

He pushed himself firmly, over and over. He heard the echo of his name and almost lost his mind. Abruptly he grasped her thigh and lifted it, allowing his bulge to dive in deeper. He squeezed her flesh, leaving red marks where his fingers were, making Marianne go wilder.

“Please, Claude, make me come.”

He didn’t need any more cues, and he kept going, trying angles, pinching everything he could reach, kissing and biting her neck, until Marianne’s eyes were blurry. She tried to keep up, making her hips meet his when she could, but when she felt the rush of her peak, she let herself go. The repetitive clench of her wetness was enough to make Claude come too. Still, he had enough sense in him to take himself out and finish on her stomach.

A couple of seconds later, when Claude caught his breath, he reached for a cloth and dutifully cleaned her. She was gasping in the afterglow but looking sharply every move Claude made. He kissed her shoulder.

“We have things to talk about,” Claude began. “I love you, Marianne.”

“I love you too, Claude, but everything you want to ask me can wait until morning.” She extended one of her lover’s arms, using it to rest her head, and placed the other around her waist, so he was hugging her form. “But something tells me you already know the answers.”

“I’m worried about how we are going to make it work,” he confessed. He was surprised at her calmness, but if he was being honest, it was appeasing him.

“We’ll come up with something as long as we don’t give up. And I don’t intend to give you up.” She turned her head and looked him in the eyes. “I don’t want this to be a beautiful memory to hang on the wall of memories. I want to be on your side forever.”

“What about Mangrave Edmund?”, he asked.

“Claude, don’t anticipate problems we might not encounter.” She composed a smile, her eyes closed halfway. She was captivating him. “Do you want this to be a thing of one night?”

“No! No. Marianne I want to marry you. Who knows for how long I’ve wanted. I’m just… Since the war ended and took so much from us, I’m scared of losing any happiness. Of losing you.” He kissed her cheek. “Okay, I’ll trust you on this, since you seem so sure. Just, don’t disappear, please.”

“Try to sleep, Claude. I’m here.”

Claude closed his eyes and he fell asleep as he hadn’t in years.

[letters-from-the-three-houses]

GODDD I /LOVE/ your edelgard x dimitri stuff so much omfg... all this potential for tenderness and angst between these two is just so *chefs kiss* im shy but can i request a deeper look into what edelgard might like about dimitri (physical, personality, etc) i imagine being the heiress makes her a bit detached, and she never got to feel like a normal girl with a crush... let her love and my poor soft boy be appreciated

thank you!!!! i’m grateful for the praise, anon, but that explanation of yours is a chef’s kiss all to itself! claude would know and he would be entertained by it. in the original draft of the other post, i said he’d think of eddie/dimitri as his favourite source of melodrama, but i got rid of it bc it didn’t flow well with the rest of the hcs

this turned out to be longer than i expected (holy smokes), so thank goodness the read more finally works again

enjoy!

p.s. for those who don’t know yet, it’s currently my fourth favourite season of the year—midterm season—hence why the blog’s been running slow these days. i’ll be back to normal speed once the second week of july rolls around. so just in time for the two week countdown! i’ll still doing my best to work on requests in my spare time, but studying’s important and i’m going to get me some good grades 🕶️

edelgard’s initial impression of him was that he was much too like herself

with a slight frown and a straight stature, he looked regal, imposing, and dignified

calculating and cool, wary and doubting

she could see herself in him and it put her on her guard

so when she introduced herself for the first time, she made sure to act as aloof at possible

“i am edelgard von hresvelg,” she said, a hand on her chest as she bowed. “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, prince dimitri”

she expected him to do the same, a well-practiced propriety that only the heir of faerghus could have

so when he grinned, she froze

“well met,” he told her, genuity dripping from his voice. “but really, the honour is entirely mine. i’ve heard only the best things about you, and though i had no doubt they were true, your prowess against those bandits only solidified the claim”

it made her more uneasy than she’d admit, but she masked her discomfort with a passive expression

and during their entire trip to the monastery, she stole secret glances his way, still confused and trying to understand their interaction

whenever he caught her eye, he simply smiled and nodded at her

it was all so baffling

and it bugged her so much that when they were already in the academy, she continued her habit of studying him

she couldn’t understand how someone so…innocent could make it this far on their own

she got her answer one day when she found him laughing and joking around with his housemates

and realization clicked

there, she thought

he could act so open because he believed he had people he could trust to watch his back

and for a moment, all she felt was pity

it was foolish of him

naive

didn’t he know that putting too much faith in someone made it easier for them to stab you in the back?

whenever he was around, she couldn’t help but watch him—like she was waiting for a train wreck to happen

surely this would all fall apart

sooner or later, his so-called ‘friends’ would show their true selves and intentions

but no matter how long she waited, nothing happened

and she began to think

maybe

just maybe

his housemates really treated him like he hasn’t the prince of faerghus

but instead, like he has their equal

like he was just…him

the idea was rather foreign to her, but if she was being fully honest, it was intriguing

she still thought it was unwise

but she was curious to know how it was possible

was it something about dimitri in particular? or was it perhaps because the people in faerghus were just more trusting in nature?

she wondered what it’d be like if adrestia was like that

(and at that, she shook her head and forced herself to turn away)

(nonsense; that line of thinking would surely get her into trouble)

(and yet, she couldn’t help but sneak another glance, watching the way his face brightened when he laughed)

because of interest, or perhaps habit—what else would it be?—she continued studying his every move and mannerism

whenever she talked with him, she memorized his expressions

in an argument, his brows pinched together as he frowned, showing every crease and wrinkle of disagreement

when he was taken aback, pale skin giving way to a warm blush, he stuttered and stumbled on his words

when she quipped a joke, rare as it was, his eyes shone in awe, mouth slightly ajar, before he schooled his features into a smile

it was hard to look away from

and the image of him, light and happy, would remain at the forefront of her mind for the rest of the day

from then on, she sometimes daydreamed about him

reimagining the emotions that would flit on his face

and how, even if he’d try to hide them, they would bleed through with his bad acting

how he’d try to pretend he hadn’t just jumped five feet in the air in surprise

or how he’d clear his throat to divert the attention from his reddening ears

she’d breathe out a laugh before realizing what she was doing, and she’d snap out of it to redirect her thoughts elsewhere

it didn’t stop people from noticing

whenever she was in that mood, staring out into space with a pensive look, hubert would ask, “my lady, are you alright?”

and she’d jolt back to her senses, replying with a “most certainly” before going back to her book

or petra would look on, quizzical at edelgard’s constant sighing, and say, “distraction by something, lady edelgard?”

“no,” she’d say after a moment’s pause. “it’s nothing. sorry, petra, what were you saying about practice?”

it was rather subtle, but the moments and slip ups compounded as the days went on, and the eagles were all worried about what was happening

they finally realized what it was during one of the house tournaments

usually, when the match was against the deer, edelgard would study her housemate’s every move, noting any mistakes and areas for improvement that she’d touch upon later

but when it was against the lions, their leader seemed almost…expectant?

even when the match was bernadetta vs. mercedes—and edelgard was taking careful consideration to make sure bernadetta got the encouragement she needed

her gaze would keep sliding over

so, following edelgard’s line of sight, they noticed she was looking at dimitri

dorothea gasped

caspar elbowed linhardt so hard he almost toppled over

hubert and petra blinked in realization

and ferdinand, disgusted, had a look on his face that said, ‘out of all the people she could have chosen, she chose him? seriously?’

but they watched in silence, eyes flitting back and forth between the two leaders

meanwhile, edelgard was unaware of what was going on behind her

and when bernadetta won, she stiffened as dimitri came over to relay his congratulations

he grinned, almost cheeky. “as expected from your members, edelgard. after all, they learn from the best”

she stared for a moment, a bubbly feeling rising up in her stomach, before she turned her gaze to the training grounds. “yes, quite. you’d best keep up lest you get left in the dust”

“of course. i suspect we’ll be training hard for the next few weeks.” he laughed and it was light, like cold air on a winter’s morning. “still, it’s no loss to lose to you”

her eyes flashed at that, ready to retort

was that an insult?

was he implying they were too insignificant to even be considered proper opponents?

but when she focused on him, she stopped, the argument dying on her lips

because once again, dimitri was staring at her with an earnestness that told her he had utmost faith in her abilities

again, he didn’t bother to hide the full extent of his feelings

but unlike the first time, it didn’t make her uncomfortable

instead, it made her feel…warm?

almost happy?

she softened, about to respond in kind when she realized what was happening

and she hardened her expression before clipping out, “then i suppose matches aren’t the only thing you’ll lose, if your pride has already slipped from you. farewell”

then she turned around, calling to her house to tell them they were leaving

(caspar almost screamed, “what are you doing?!” but linhardt clamped a hand over his mouth)

for the next few days, the eagles secretly monitored edelgard, noting the times when she stopped in her tracks to stare at something

or when her lips would twitch upwards

or when she’d look almost…longing

and they would find dimitri in the area

but whenever they tried to subtly talk about it—"so, have you been thinking about anyone lately?“—edelgard would look at them like she didn’t understand

finally, it dawned on them: he was her first crush

(ferdinand sighed and said it wasn’t worth the effort, but dorothea dragged him along anyway and told him it was for the greater good)

they began to be more overt, name dropping dimitri into conversations and saying good things about him

“he’s talented and smart. he gets top marks in his house, doesn’t he?”

“yeah. and he certainly doesn’t slack off in training”

“he’s also really considerate! just the other day, i saw him help someone who tripped and had all their books flying all over the place. when they tried to apologize to him, he said it was no trouble and even offered to carry some of their stuff to their next class”

“huh, he’s pretty cool”

edelgard would nod along, a smile playing on her face as she felt proud that people were acknowledging his strong qualities

one day, they asked back, “what do you think about him?”

and she stopped in her tracks, heart in staccato, as she simply said, “he’s much too nice for his own good”

too trusting

too honest

too expressive

she thought of his eyes, always crinkled at the corners when he looked at her

his voice, smooth and velvety, when he leaned over to speak in her ear

his awe, clear and evident, when he praised her for her hard work

it made her insides all warm and fuzzy, but she didn’t say that out loud

(it was hard for the others to really guess what she meant by that, though they supposed her wistful tone was answer enough)

and they continued upping their game so she could finally realize that she liked him as more than a friend

dorothea lent her some romance novels, making her listen to explanations of how wonderful it would be to fall in love, all the while ranting about the symptoms that edelgard herself had shown

“sneaking glances when you think they aren’t looking, holding your breath when they get too close to you, straightening your clothes when you see them at a distance—”

caspar would try to make her jealous by relaying gossip about the other people dimitri was close with

“his childhood friends must know a whole lot about him! do you think they have some embarrassing stories they can share?”

bernadetta, cooking way too many extra sweets, would say, “maybe you could give this to someone you know? there are too many to eat by myself…”

(edelgard shared it with the rest of her housemates first, then the professors, then claude, then dimitri, who gave her such a sweet smile in return that her skin turned warm)

(her housemates only shook their heads and sighed, but at least it was progress)

(and by this point, claude picked up the signals, sending the eagles a thumbs up in solidarity to tell them he’d do his part whenever he could)

it almost seemed hopeless, really, because edelgard just didn’t seem to understand her own feelings

but claude would have none of it

and instead of all the secretive mumbo jumbo, he went straight for the kill

“hey,” he whispered one day, after one of the interlord meetings, “do you like dimitri?”

she glanced at him, then the boy in question. her heart pattered at the word ‘like’. “of course i do. don’t you?”

“that’s not what i meant. i meant, you know—” he leaned in like he was going to tell her a secret, eyebrows wiggling all the while. “—romantically”

she almost choked. “what?”

the outburst caused dimitri to look at them, concerned, the question on his face asking, ‘are you okay?’

and she nodded at him, a bit embarrassed, before turning back to claude. “where did that come from?” she hissed under her breath

he chuckled. “don’t tell me you thought i didn’t notice. you sneak glances whenever you think he isn’t looking and you hang onto every word he says. it’s pretty obvious”

“what does that have to do with me liking him like…that?”

“um, because people who like someone act just like that? so you like him?”

“that’s…that’s nonsense”

he slung his arm over her shoulders. “oh come on, eddie—”

“don’t call me that”

“—i know you’re smarter than that. you’ve probably already figured it out but you just don’t want to admit it. ’course, i’d be bummed out myself if i found out i had a crush on our resident noodle boy—”

“don’t call him that”

he eyed her glare with amusement. “wow,” he chirped, “i knew it was bad, but i didn’t know it was this bad”

“is something the matter?” dimitri called from the other side. “the two of you have been whispering furiously to yourselves this past little while, and it’s showing no signs of stopping.” he frowned and tilted his head. “is it something i should know about?”

claude grinned. “yeah, definitely, we were talking about—”

“claude!”

“—the fine intricacies of human emotion. fascinating subject. very deep. the two of you should discuss it sometime”

then, with a wink and an exaggerated wave, he said “ciao!” and made a speedy getaway

whether it was because of the awkward conversation she just had or because of the fact that dimitri made his way to stand much too close to her, she couldn’t get the heat off of her face

“that was odd,” he said. “though to be fair, he’s always weird”

“quite,” she mumbled

he sent her a sheepish look. “i’ll apologize on his behalf”

“it’s not you who should be sorry. you don’t even know what you’re saying it for”

“yes, but it’s for the discomfort you felt. it’s not something i enjoy seeing on your face”

why was he so nice? claude’s words repeated over and over and over again

“thank you then.” she tried to keep her voice even. “i appreciate it”

he returned it with a soft smile. “it was the least i could do for you,” he told her, voice no louder than a murmur, and all she could do was curl her toes. “well, i best be going. i won’t be able to win against you if i idle around, yes?”

you don’t have to, she wanted to say. you could stay here with me

instead, she nodded. “of course.” and in spite of herself: “do try your best, dimitri, but i’m afraid the future is already set in stone”

it was playful, a rarity from her, and his eyes widened for a moment before he laughed. “then i suppose i’m unfortunate enough to attempt defying the fates.” he bowed, low, with only the deepest of respect in his stance. “until then, my lady”

when he left, her mind raced through all that had been said and done

from the moment she had laid eyes on him

to her growing fondness

to her housemate’s hints and claude’s words

to now, heart beating wildly against her chest

she couldn’t deny it any longer

she liked him

and for the first time in her life, within the quiet walls of a room she had all to herself

away from the eyes

away from the judgments

away from the adrestian throne

she let herself grin silly

a/n: dimitri is unknowingly smooth. but for everyone’s sake, do not tell him how smooth he is. because once you do, he becomes way too self-conscious about it and turns into a bumbling mess

[asks are open!]

[kalinary]

so black eagles are your favorites--first house, i get it (golden deer was my first, so i completely understand the bias!!). but who are your favorites from blue lions and golden deer?? and who's your fave of the three lords?

For blue lions I only just started that play through but I would have to go with Ingrid and annete. Im hoping I'll get to know the other characters better but those are the two I know the most about at the moment.

For golden deer I finished that play through a couple of days ago and I would have to go with Marianne. Hilda, Claude and leonie are close seconds though. Marianne I really like because she goes from shy and hating herself to finding something to live for. I love getting to see that growth in her character.

For favourite leader it would have to be Edelgard (sorry Claude). Although Claude is second followed by Dimitri. Although in Dimitri's defense I've only seen the futures in which he loses himself. A sad end for any character. I'm hoping to see more of him in my current playthough though.

As to why Edelgard is my favourite, it's partially that first playthough bias. But it's also because she's strong and driven. She does what she thinks is right even though it would cause the whole world to turn against her. That and even in verdant wind when you finally defeat her she wants you to end it. To end the fighting and bloodshed. She never wanted to start the war but she saw it as the only way to free the people of fodlan, to cast off both the church and those who slither in the dark. That and no matter what happened the war was inevitable, if edelgard didn't start it those who slither in the dark would have. Edelgard was the pawn in the game being played between twsitd and the church, her only hope was to reach the other side of the board and become the queen. Casting off both sides and forging a new path.

But I think this turned into more of a rant then I wanted it to. This game causes a lot of feelings and emotions. I think I'll end it here though.

[bloodbaptisedarchive-blog]

REALLY  LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY. RULES. repost ,   don’t  reblog !    tag 10 ! good  luck !       TAGGED. @judgmentcast​, holy SHIT.       TAGGING. literally ANYONE who’s up for a bit of a challenge.

BASICS.  FULL  NAME :  Harmon Mallory James.  NICKNAME :  James, Mr. James, Senior Advisor Harmon James.  AGE : Forty-two.  BIRTHDAY :   October 17th, 1998.  ETHNIC  GROUP : Caucasian.  NATIONALITY :  American.  LANGUAGE / S : English.  SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :   Homosexual.            ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION :  Homoromantic.  RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :  In a secret, long-term relationship with Minister Edwidge Owens.  CLASS : Upper class.  HOME  TOWN / AREA :   He was born in Boston, Massachusetts.  CURRENT  HOME : Washington, DC.  PROFESSION : Senior Advisor to the Leader of the New Founding Fathers.

PHYSICAL.  HAIR : Red. Much lighter when he was younger. Wavy.  EYES : Bright blue, sunken.  NOSE : Long with a slight downward hook.  FACE :  Defined smile lines, and other various lines and freckles.  LIPS :   Thin, small, and chapped.  COMPLEXION :  Pale, sickly, with light freckles peppered along his face.  BLEMISHES :  Nothing noticeable.  SCARS : A few on his face, a couple from various other incidents. Burn scars on his hands.  TATTOOS : None.  HEIGHT : 6'6".  WEIGHT : 185 lbs.  BUILD :    Slender, defined muscles in his arms, chest and legs. Sharp shoulders.  FEATURES :  Wide, sunken eyes. Large, gentle hands, folded at his chest. Painted fingernails. Intimidating stature.  ALLERGIES :  N/A.  USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  Straightens his waves and slicks the whole thing back, parting it to the left.  USUAL  FACE  LOOK :  Expressionless. Ivory makeup still shows the freckles on his face. Though expressionless, he always tends to look alert, on his guard.   USUAL  CLOTHING : A suit, including a vest, ironed to crispness the day before. Suitable colours are grey, black, or beige. Ties, usually blue or red. A silver cross around his neck. Edwidge's promise ring on his middle left finger. Nails painted usually nude shades. Black or brown shoes shined until you can see your face in them.

PSYCHOLOGY.

 FEAR / S :  Fear of imperfection. A slight fear of disappointment. Fear of being outed.  ASPIRATION / S : To purge and purify: to rid the country of those that depend on them, them being the NFFA, the government, the healthcare system, housing, welfare. To make his superiors see that he can one day be as good as any of them. To lead the New Founding Fathers of America.  POSITIVE  TRAITS : Loyal, peaceful, spiritual, efficent, disciplined, aware, calm, intelligent, self-confident.  NEGATIVE  TRAITS :  Hypocritical, overzealous, judgemental, blindly obidient, sadistic, insensitive, remorseless, blunt, withdrawn.  MBTI : ISTJ, the Logistician.  ZODIAC :  Libra.  TEMPERAMENT :  Melancholic.  SOUL  TYPE / S :  Thinker.  ANIMALS :  A wide-eyed owl, constantly observing.  VICE  HABIT / S :   Vanity, a bit more concern about his appearance than most men his age. Overly critical of those in a lower position than him, even though he was once one of them.    FAITH : What the NFFA deems to be Christian.  GHOSTS ? : Yes.  AFTERLIFE ? : Absolutely. He needs to go home sometime.  REINCARNATION ? :  Possibly.  ALIENS ? : No.  POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT :  Right-wing.  ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE :  He has more than he knows what to do with.  SOCIOPOLITICAL  POSITION : One of the 1%.  EDUCATION  LEVEL : University.

FAMILY.  FATHER :   Richard Allen James, the chief communications officer of ARCON and the first press secretary of the New Founding Fathers. Deceased.  MOTHER :  Caroline Ann James, a talented pianist and violinist, with dreams of playing with a famous orchestra. Still living.  SIBLINGS : Seven. Sarah, Mary, Caleb, Lucas, Joanna, Michael & Hannah. Harmon is sixth.  EXTENDED  FAMILY : Aunts, uncles, several cousins, and a total of twenty-seven nieces & nephews.  NAME  MEANING / S : Harmon, "man of the army." Mallory, "ill fated."  HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? :   Unknown. There is a place named Harmon mentioned in the Bible, but this place name is debatable. It's been thought of that Harmon James is a pun on "harming James," James being a leader of the early Church.

FAVOURITES.  BOOK :  Other than the Bible, specifically the Old Testament, he enjoys a good true crime novel now and again. Also, political biographies.  MOVIE : Dramas, documentaries and psychological thrillers.  5  SONGS :  (these remind me of him, not his own favourites.) The Sisters of Mercy - Driven Like The Snow. Frank Tovey - New Jerusalem. Cloudeater - Hollow. Fad Gadget - Under The Flag II. Nathan Whitehead - The Sacrifice.  DEITY :  A God who encourages a yearly slaughter of His creation.  HOLIDAY :    That blessed night, the one night the country does their bidding.  MONTH :  March.  SEASON :  Winter.  PLACE :  His home, Our Lady of Sorrows, or the NFFA's headquarters.  WEATHER :  Cloudy, foggy; a brisk morning that beckons snowfall.  SOUND : The echo of footsteps walking across a marble floor. A choir of unintelligeble words. Wind whistling through telephone wires. Silence. The scream of a man, strapped down, a knife plunging into his heart. A siren.  SCENT / S :  The smoke from an extinguished flame. Stale. Eau de cologne. Hair gel.  TASTE / S :  Blood. Luxurious foods. Tea. Ice.    FEEL / S :  A shiver running down your spine. The touch of a hand when no one's around. The feeling someone's watching you when you're alone. Blood on your lips. A cold wind. Emptiness.  ANIMAL / S : An owl seems to be the only thing I think of. Maybe an eagle. Harmon seems like a bird.  NUMBER : Six. He's the sixth in his family, he stands at six feet and six inches tall...  COLOUR : Blue, to show his loyalty to the NFFA. Red, the colour staining his hands. White, for the supposed purity of his soul.

EXTRA.  TALENTS :  His intelligence. His written communication skills. Most of his oral communication skills, his stutter stands in his way. Good with weapons. His knowledge of the human anatomy. He's fairly good at ice skating. Singing.  BAD  AT : Having a social life. Drawing. Being an enjoyable person. Smiling.  TURN  ONS :  Men in positions of power. Voices that draw you in. Strong hands. Blood. Twisting a knife inside of a martyr.  TURN  OFFS :   Anyone lower than his class.  HOBBIES :    Choir. Anything that involves assisting the NFFA.  TROPES :   Badass Long Robe. Dissonant Serenity. Giggling Villain.  AESTHETIC  TAGS :  Blurry images. Graveyards. Blood covering hands, covering the Cross. Knives. Pale, trembling hands. Waves of blue.  GPOY  QUOTES :  "You are never here. You are always almost there."

FC INFO.  MAIN  FC / S :  Christopher James Baker.  ALT  FC / S : Mark Strickson (possibly.)  OLDER  FC / S :   Not sure, but Robert Redford currently is a possibility.  YOUNGER  FC / S : Freddie Fox.  VOICE  CLAIM / S : CJB in "True Detective."  GENDERBENT  FC / S :  Lisa Pelikan.

MUN QUESTIONS.  Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ?            A1 : He has a movie, but he's not the focal point. He has his big moments though! I'd like to see more of Harmon in The Purge 4, since that will be more focused around the NFFA. The story of how a man becomes the way he is today, desensitised to death, wanting destruction, yearning for violence. What made him be this way? What would it be called? No idea.  Q2 :   what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ?            A2 :  Ambient. Echoes where none of the words can be understood. A soft organ playing in the background. Suddenly, the music becomes a bit more intense...  Q3 :   why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ?            A3 :  I watched The Purge: Election Year, and immediately fell in love with him. I knew I had to do something, and this is what I chose to do.  Q4 :   what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ?            A4: June 30th, 2016. Around 9:00pm. I'm sitting front and centre watching the newest Purge film, a sequel in a franchise I've loved for three years. Charlie Roan is delivered to Our Lady of Sorrows. All of a sudden, this tall, thin, creepy fucker in a long blue robe makes his debut. Just the kind of character I love. I walked home that night, wrote "Harmon James can own my ass, what the fuck" into my phone, and knew this was the beginning of something beautiful.  Q5 :   describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse.            A5 : He's everything I hate in a person. He dislikes everyone who isn't like him. He's almost every -phobic or -ist in the damn book.  Q6 :   what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ?            A6 : We have blue eyes, and we laugh similarly. That's it.  Q7 :   how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ?            A7 : Harmon James would want me sacrificed.  Q8 :   what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ?    A8 :  Edwidge Owens. Thomas Roseland. Caleb Warrens. Harlan Coy. Claude Frollo. Richard Miller. Curtis Stafford. Leo Barnes. Charlie Roan. Ambrosia Reynolds. If I could ever actually get to plotting with other people, them as well.  Q9 :   what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ?          A9 :  Watching Harmon's scenes! Listening to songs that remind me of him, like the Election Year soundtrack. Scrolling through the archive on his aesthetic blog. Being outside in the cold.  Q10 :   how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ?            A10 : I forgot about this for a good month. So a long time. Thanks, Ocelot. xo