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pemfrost · 3 years ago

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Dimiclaude- arranged marriage ?

I had something else in mind completely, but then I saw a preview for "married at first sight" and decided to do a modern AU. Never seen the show, so I just made the rest up. Hope you like it!

Dimitri assessed himself in the ornate mirror again, acutely aware of the cameras capturing his every movement, every emotion. Even his wildest daydreams never once included a television camera crew filming his wedding. Yet, the chaos helped keep his attention far from the very real vows he was about to make to a man he had never met.

The venue was fantastic, he couldn't have selected something better himself. It warmed his heart to know the man he would be marrying found an outdoor wedding ideal as well, and where better than a vineyard overlooking a lush valley? So far, everything was perfect. Perfect venue, perfect weather, perfect suit, and, if all went well, he would leave with the perfect husband.

Sylvain's laughter announced his arrival, and Dimitri wasn't surprised to find the Producer, Manuela, fawning over him. "Heya, Dimitri! Whoa, Felix wasn't joking when he said you're dressed to the nines."

Manuela laughed, a practiced sound. "Of course, we couldn't have our star looking anything less than his best on his wedding day!" She clapped her hands together, "Alright, we need to film some camera confessionals to splice into the intro and before the breaks. Are you ready?"

Dimitri nodded, not trusting his voice. Dedue, his best man, had left to take a personal call. He was his rock through the whole process, by his side from the day he caved into Sylvain's suggestion and signed up for the matchmaking television show. Dedue's calm presence kept him centered while he waited months for a match to be made.

"Alright," Manuela clapped again, bringing his attention to the camera now in front of him. "First question: How are you feeling now?"

Dimitri inhaled and mentally repeated the general rules Manuela gave him for talking to the camera. He didn't want to redo the shots like he often had to at the beginning of the process. Being in front of the camera was nothing new for him, but filming reality television was very different from filming one of his movies.

"Right now… I am still in disbelief. I gave up finding love years ago, and to have this chance…" He looked away from the camera. "Knowing the man waiting for me at the altar is there because experts have determined we are compatible… Knowing he is not here because of my family name or my wealth means so much."

"Good, good. Question two" Do you think getting married will impact your career?"

"I hope not. My movies have been successful because of my talent, and while I am very aware of my… fan club… I believe they will be happy if I am happy."

"Question three: any pushback from your family during this process?"

"Only concern from my friends, but they support me going through with this. One of them is actually why I signed up for it- after a lot of cajoling. And some alcohol to calm my nerves."

Someone with a clipboard and earpiece grabbed Manuela's attention, and she motioned for him to walk around for some action shots as she disappeared out the door. He complied, but was disappointed to note Sylvain had slipped away during his interview. Typical; the man couldn't stay still on a normal day.

He walked to the window, looking out at the vineyard. Two small guest houses sat on the estate, built so couples could get ready for their wedding separately. There was no chance he would accidentally see his fiancé, and even if he did, how would he tell him apart from the other guests and crew milling about the property?

Would he like the man they chose for him? After so many interviews, personality tests, and various questionnaires, he sure hoped so. More importantly, would he like Dimitri? Was his custom Brioni suit too much? Would the non traditional deep blue be acceptable? His life was often a whirlwind when he was filming a movie, could his husband handle it? It was one of the most common relationship killer for him, and had been one of the first things he mentioned when he first signed up for the show. Had they remembered to take it into account?

"Good, good." Manuela's voice filled the room once more. "We can throw a voice over this, the audience will eat up that pensive staring out the window. Dimitri, are you ready?"

"Ready?"

"To get married, silly. We're about to start."

It was time already?

"Dimitri." Dedue's strong voice came from the doorway. He turned his gaze to Manuela, "May we have a moment?"

"Of course." She motioned for the camera to keep rolling and Dimitri sighed. Even with her out of the room, he needed to be camera ready.

"Dimitri," Dedue said again as he pulled Dimitri into a tight embrace. How in his head was he if he hadn't noticed Dedue crossing the room? "Breathe."

"Aww, are you guys having a moment I wasn't invited to?" Sylvain appeared at his side as he pulled away from Dedue. Immediately, he pulled Dimitri into a hug of his own. "If this doesn't work, then I had nothing to do with it. If you fall madly in love, then you're welcome."

Dimitri chuckled and pulled away from the embrace. Lingering just out of reach stood Felix. He knew better than to try and hug his prickly friend, instead he nodded towards him. "Thank you all. I could not imagine doing this without your support."

"Not having a change of heart, are we?" Manuela's head peeked into the room.

Dimitri forced a smile through his anxiety. "No. Let's go meet my future husband."

Manuela ushered him outside and into a covered golf cart. As they were driven up the hill to where he would get married, she double checked the microphone hidden in his Boutonniere. "Alright, so this venue is a tricky one since it's outside. There are two curtain boxes set up opposite each other. You will both step through them on cue and walk towards each other and meet in the middle at the altar. Got it?"

Dimitri nodded as the cart came to a stop. Manuela exited first then motioned for him to follow her. She pointed to where he should stand, and he strained his neck to catch a glimpse of anything before the white curtains blocked his view. A similar curtain was on the other side as she'd said. Chairs were set up for the few guests each brought with them, but were currently empty.

As he stood behind the curtains, Dimitri strained to hear what was going on. He couldn't see the chairs or the altar, but after a few minutes the sounds of soft chatter floated to him. The altar was just beyond a thin fabric. His husband was just beyond thin fabric.

Dimitri focused on his breathing. It was real. He was about to marry someone who's name he didn't know. While he thought he worked through his anxiety over it, he clearly had not. What did he do with his hands? What if he tripped as he walked to the altar?

Before he could continue to spiral further, Manuela was signaling him to walk out. He hesitated. His friends were out there, his husband's friends were out there. His husband was out there. With a deep breath, Dimitri pushed the curtain aside and stepped out.

He paid no attention to the people to his left, focused only on the man already standing across from him. Gorgeous did not do the man justice, and once Dimitri stepped out his face lit up, flashing Dimitri a wide smile. There was something familiar about him, something Dimitri couldn’t yet place as distracted as he was by the way his green eyes danced.

His husband stepped forward, breaking the spell he put over Dimitri. When they met in the middle, between the altar and their friends, Dimitri thought it was too good to be true.

Remembering himself, Dimitri smiled down and introduced himself. "H-hello, I am Dimitri."

"Whoa," the man said. "I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but it really is you." Dimitri's heart began to sink, afraid he was just another fanboy until he continued. "I'm Claude."

Oh- it clicked. Claude Von Riegan, lead singer of the band The Golden Deer. "This is really happening."

Claude smiled, "Yeah, it suuure is."

Dimitri wanted to talk to him, ask so many questions- touch him. But they were not alone up at the altar and a soft voice startled them both out of the moment they were sharing. "Welcome, everyone. I am Byleth, the officiant for this joyous occasion."

They paused to give Dimitri and Claude a moment to catch their bearings. Dimitri risked a glance to his friends, and was relieved to find them looking content. Annette gave him a thumbs up at the same time Sylvain wolf whistled. Claude's side was just as lively, and Dimitri recognized members of his band in the front row.

Byleth continued, bringing their focus back to them. "We welcome Claude Von Riegan and Dimitri Blaiddyd-"

Dimitri couldn’t focus on their speech, too busy getting lost in Claude's eyes. He had enough sense about him to respond to the vows when prompted, and was endlessly glad they didn't have to write their own.

"Now, I pronounce you married. You may now kiss your groom, forever sealing your union."

Dimitri was eager to do so, his nerves falling away when Claude's lips found his. He completely forgot about the cameras as he eagerly returned the kiss, and nearly groaned when Claude pulled away.

Cheers rang out from their friends. He heard Sylvain's shout of, "Power couple!" over everyone else.

They were ushered down the aisle, through their friends' congratulations and into another covered cart. Claude's hand found his as they were driven to where the reception was being held, and Dimitri squeezed it in silent answer.

"Hey?" Claude looked at him, a smile tugging playfully at his lips.

"Yes?"

"We're married," Claude said, nudging his shoulder into Dimitri's.

Dimitri leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on Claude's cheek. "Yes, we are." He brushed his knuckles along his husband's cheek before diving for his lips.

He couldn't be happier with the outcome, and looked forward to getting to know his new husband, and starting their life together.

Thanks for reading!!

#dimiclaude #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von reigen #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #pem writes #this is too much fluff I feel sticky

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omgkalyppso · 4 years ago

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for the fe3h asks, 32. Favourite teatime? and 40. Who would you like to see Judith or Nader have supports with?

Thank youuu!

32. My favorite tea time is Claude.

Love and a cough. cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.

Idk. There’s something to be able to see the character accused of constantly lying blushing. Blushing isn’t love, but it’s on the list of things you can’t conceal. I like seeing him happy.

But shout out to Flayn. I loved how often I got to choose: Fish and the sea… AND so many of her Final Conversations would be good little ficlets and one shots:

"I desire to see the ocean again–it is difficult being so far away from it"

"Have you any idea how many types of fish there are? It is unthinkable–their different sizes, shapes, colors… I find it fascinating!"

"Whenever I look at you, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. I wonder why that is."

"I have a fear of sleeping. I worry that I will awake, and everyone I know and love will have vanished."

40. OH! Fun. And uh. LONG. Forgive me. I could have just kept going. But I needed to stop myself at 3 because. Long.

Judith

Claude. She may not be his aunt as I’ve written in my fic, but I think a good C support would still be him asking after his family, trying to figure out what stories shared by his mother or read in histories are true or embellished. Leading to a B support of him asking why his uncle had no proper heir (during training. lets get a few taunts out of Judith here), and whether her own life was less lonely now that she had him to worry about. An A Support could address a little more of the Almyran v Fodlan conflict, and her rage at him involving Nader, to try and make her a little more sympathetic. An A+ Support could trigger just before Enbarr, with apologies and expressions of pride, declarations of allegiance, and confessions of worry.

Ingrid. C support, Judith walks in on Ingrid, head in her hand, reading a letter. “Uh-oh, I know that look.” Judith can presume heartbreak and Ingrid can confess the letter is from her father, and Judith can shrug sadly “Different kind of heartbreak then.” And ask if she wants to talk about it. Cue Ingrid’s usual spiel. Perhaps a reveal of why Galatea is in the Kingdom and not the Alliance, why they were granted this piece of unfertile land. Apologies from a powerless position of family drama. B support, Ingrid decides that she doesn’t forgive Judith, but that’s fine because she can fix things, whether by marriage or becoming a knight. Judith seems unoffended, and challenges Ingrid to a duel. A support can start with Judith observing that Ingrid’s done well with her strength and her prospects, she may have rejected those suitors long ago, but she’s seen how Ingrid lights up when certain members in their company are around. Ingrid can claim that marriage is the farthest thing from her mind while the war goes on, but then observes that Judith has never married, and Judith can assure her that she needn’t. That whether you were promised to someone, or whether you’ve chosen them, all relationships can end unexpectedly, and if who you have to rely on is yourself, and your friends, then there’s no shame in that. And that she hopes Ingrid can rely on her regardless of the path she chooses.

Manuela. C Support is also drinking but Judith thinks it’s a date until she arrives and Manuela thinks she can look more alluring than the soldier by her side while looking at the soldier boys. Judith and Manuela could totally pull off a version of the bandage me up while fondly calling me rash and foolhardy until we accidentally make eye contact for a little too long trope for a B support. A Support, Manuela can observe she didn’t think she’d ever see Judith again after the war began, Judith can agree, and can ask after how Manuela’s doing, as the only people who look more weary than healers during war are the dying. Manuela can insist she’s fine, and that maybe when everything is over, she’ll even find a reason to sing again, because she’s uncertain whether she could stay here any longer, in Garreg Mach, where the world fell and now the students she taught sought to kill each other. (Assuming Judith is only available in VW) “I was supposed to be something of a mentor to the Flame Emperor, you know? I don’t think it would be appropriate to try my hand at teaching again.” And Judith can offer her a place to start again. “That might be nice.”

Nader

Claude. For C Support, we start with Claude either making small concentration noises or humming (perhaps an Annette song). “What do you think you’re doing?!” Shattering glass and perhaps sizzling noises. Claude complains about Nader keeping it down, and speaks loud and awkward for anyone eavesdropping some excuse related to the organization of house Riegan. Saying more quietly afterwards that it’s a harmless poison. Nader is grim about the contradiction, and Claude is insistent that it wouldn’t kill anybody, just slow their heart for a day or so, for easy transportation, or for the sake of hiding. He knows how it is. Nader can grab Claude by his collar and insist that while he might think he’s smart with his number of contingencies, he’s being wasteful of his youth if he’s thinking of poisoning himself for the sake of hiding - and it’s time to train. B Support can take place after Flayn’s disappearance and can have a mini montage of Claude in the library, Nader in the background; Claude in a classroom, Nader in the background; Claude in a hall, Nader in the background. Until we get to the dining hall, where Claude sighs and asks that unless Nader has business with him, can he please sit somewhere else? Nader can pretend to ignore him and say some rude things about bland boiled vegetables, and follow up with something about how, while it was strange that the Death Knight focused upon young ladies, there was something to be said about blood and magic and Crests here in Fodlan, and he would be irresponsible to not watch over Claude more closely for the coming weeks. Claude can point out that no other student has to suffer this, and that he knows better than any of them how to outrun a threat. Nader would concede, and it would be terse. A comment that he’d have been Nardel up to this, and instead we could just have “Oh you remember Nardel” in his cutscene instead, and Nader is just . trying to remember what it felt like to go by another name. Their A Support, hm. I guess it would come after Merceus, and we just wouldn’t have Judith shooing him away. “You didn’t tell them?” Nader is surprised, concerned. “You saw how they reacted.” Claude is nonchalant, hurt but recalculating his expectations. “I saw how you organized a victory at Merceus, how your enemies had to bring down the sky to stop us. Your allies are neither weak nor cowardly, but I still hesitate to call them warriors. If they can neither feel the bond of battle nor in breaking bread, then they will never be friends of yours. You had me bring soldiers halfway around the world to die for these people-” “The troubles in Fodlan won’t be contained here if the-” “What makes you say that? They always have been, before.” “I am proof that they’re not, Nader. Me. Look at me. Their conflicts reached Almyra decades ago. You know I’m not the only victim.” “I would not call you a victim.” “Heh. Slip of the tongue.” “For better or worse then. There are people loyal to you, and I will always march ahead of them. May our victories bring peace.” “Thank you. I’ll bring us home. I’ve always intended to bring us home, it’s just that this war has...” “I know, kiddo. I know.”

Seteth. C Support, an interview in Seteth’s office. Seteth, “I’m surprised House Riegan speaks so highly of a retainer of Almyran-descent. But I can find no reason to fault you, or withhold you your duties. You will have as much reign of the Academy as the students, though you may find yourself more highly scrutinized by the guards.” Nader, nodding, “Prudent.” “You seem amused. Have I said something untoward?” Nader, chuckling, “Not at all. If anything you’re amazingly polite. I’d been half prepared to be turned around at the gates.” “I could still arrange for your removal, but there have been ... stranger admittances to the Academy as of late.” “Ah! You’re speaking of your latest professor-?” “I will not gossip.” “Of course. Too polite.” Forehead vein bulging Seteth, “The kindness of the Goddess is to be emulated. Gossip is rarely kind, whether it is polite is irrelevant.” B Support, in the stables Nader asks how old Seteth was when he learned to ride a wyvern. Seteth says he was a young man, that it feels like an age ago. Nader expresses the same, that it is a coming of age in Almyra. He asks the name of Seteth’s wyvern, who introduces a beast but is very clear that he does not own one, that they belong to the Church, which Nader finds rather sad. Seteth assures him that it is no bother, that the Church has meant much to him since his wife’s passing, and that if all the Church has given him and Flayn has a price, he will pay it a thousand times over. Nader will comment that watching over a child or sibling can make you feel grateful for water, when all are worthy to it, and that Seteth shouldn’t lose sight of this. That the students will face challenges beyond his control, Flayn included, and every helping hand is not a demand for recompense. Seteth will bristle a little, but agree. B+ Support, Nader gives Seteth a little wooden or jade wyvern, pick your poison (I like jade). “What’s this?” “A wyvern, for yourself. To have. To name. To sell, if you’d rather. It just felt ... appropriate, for you to have one.” When Seteth doesn’t respond for a long time, Nader can apologize, he wasn’t aware of there being a rule in the Church of Seiros about gifts, but if Seteth’s silence is because he can’t find the words to refuse, but Seteth will say no, it’s just unexpected. That it’s a lovely gift and that he’s honored Nader would have given him any thought. Nader says he is learning that trust can be earned off the battlefield as much as on it, and that he’s glad to have friends to think of. Seteth can comment that it was perhaps rude of him not to ask before, and ask for Nader’s wyvern’s name. It can be supplied and attributed to an Almyran constellation. Their A Support, after Merceus, in a field at night. They share a bottle of wine and Nader is pointing out the relevant constellation. Seteth agrees that he sees it. Nader says he’s surprised Seteth still came to sit with him, after everything. Seteth confesses that he was surprised to discover that Nader had been going by a fake name ... and that his victories should be a matter of personal conflict, but that he too has killed people in Fodlan, the Goddess’ chosen people, and the saints had yet to strike him down. He drinks, and giggles. “It will be good to meet you, Nader.” “There may be things I cannot tell you, but I should say you know me well enough.” “Well enough for what?” “To call me a friend?” “You know I ... I lost your wyvern. When we fled the monastery, all those years ago. I may not be the most trustworthy of friends.” “Time will tell,” Nader concedes, drinking. He continues, “But for now, I would have you at my back, come ruin and consequence.” “To the present,” Seteth toasts. “To the present.”

Cyril. C Support, Nader asks Cyril where he was taken from? Cyril asks him why it matters. Nader instead asks if there are other Almyrans working in the monastery? Cyril says it’s none of his business. Nader is surprised, and comments upon whatever laborous task they have Cyril performing, and Cyril will reply that he’s strong enough to do his work. Nader says he didn’t mean to suggest otherwise, he was just trying to - but Cyril will cut him off, saying he’s known men like him, he’s lived under men like him, that he might think he can show up and make demands of him just because he’s an Almyran, but that he works for Lady Rhea now, and his time is accounted for, he doesn’t owe Nader anything. Cue some version of Nader being left alone to observe that “that could’ve gone better.” B Support, starts in a black screen with the sound of breaking wood. Cyril is in the training grounds and his last three arrows missed their target. “Your left arm is too low,” Nader observes. Cyril jumps and scowls. “I have a teacher.” Nader raises his hands in surrender, “Then by all means.” The sound of a bow being pulled taut, and then being straightened. Cyril comments, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” “Is this part of your duties?” “I need to be as prepared to defend Lady Rhea.” A missed shot. “From what?” asks Nader. “From anything,” Cyril answers. “That’s a lot to ask of anyone,” Nader observes. He continues, “But alright. Strong enough to defend one person? That’s a simple goal. It’s not as though you need to be strong enough to defend all of Garreg Mach, all of Fodlan, all of Almyra.” Cyril is catching his breath, “There’s a lot of people in Almyra.” “There is. Do you think they’re all like me?” “No,” Cyril answers, and explains, “no I know ya’ a bit now. There are men worse than you.” Nader chuckles sadly, “That’s true. Why don’t you try again?” “Yeah, alright. And then I should get back to work.” “Back to work?” “I’m supposed to be - err - I still need to clean the fireplace in the back.” Nader steps forward with a sigh. Cyril objects, “Hey what are you-?” “Your arm,” Nader repeats, “it’s too low. I thought it was your posture-” “What else would it be?” “You’re exhausted.” “Am not! I could go for hours yet.” “I don’t think your teacher would appreciate you practicing under these conditions.” Cyril makes the shot. Stares down Nader, walks off muttering, “Shows what you know.” A Support HAS TO FEATURE an apology from Nader that they were unable to defend Lady Rhea. Cyril insists it’s fine, because they’re going to get her back. Nader does not fight him on this point. He compliments what a fine fighter he’s become, and Cyril concedes that Nader’s been honorable too. That it isn’t the will of the Goddess for him to be arguing all the time, and that he shouldn’t have been so quick to distrust him. Nader thanks him, but isn’t smiling about it. He asks Cyril what his goals are for after Lady Rhea returns, and Cyril says he’ll defend her, as he always intended to, so that nothing like this happens ever again. Nader suggests that he consider that, rather than showing his devotion at Garreg Mach, that he could always emulate those virtues he sees in Lady Rhea at the border, where there are people and children like he was, who will need help navigating both Fodlan and Almyra when the war is done, and that he would be glad to support him, if he should ever find himself out that way. Cyril says he’d have to think about it, but that ... he does appreciate what Nader’s trying to do.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #long post #my writing #why not put it in that tag this is fucking long enough #seteth fe3h #nader the undefeated

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fe-semi-decent-scenarios · 5 years ago

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Oh my gosh I love your Ashe x reader! So wholesome 💝 could I get a one-shot of Ashe and the reader where the reader asks him to have tea time with her, and she puts so much effort into the tea and snacks in order to confess to him?

[Hello! sorry that this request took some time. I’ve recently gotten into watching ‘The Great British Baking Show,’ and now I find myself learning how to make tarts vs. doing anything productive lol. On the bright side I learned how to make a gnash icing! I did my best with this one, and it’s a bit lengthy to make up for the wait. I wrote it from s/o’s p.o.v because somehow that just happened(I normally don’t opt. for first person). It’s not my best work, but I hope you like it!]

Ashe Ubert x Reader: {Tea over Troubles}

Premise: Much has happened in the short time you’ve spent at the monastery. One thing in-particular being a snag in your heart for a certain freckle faced sweetheart. Being the tongue-tied romantic you are, can some evening snacks smooth over an otherwise awkward confession?

“I’ll take one bag of mint brew please,” I said while reaching into my pocket. It was rather early in the morning, so the market was only just opening. Not too often do I show up around here before noon because of classes, but today is an exception. At my voice the shopkeeper tipped his hat at me in a greeting, before sifting through his wares.

“Sure thing. That’ll be 300 gold,” He said and pulled out a small sack. I took it gratefully and handed him the desired amount. It’s a bit pricier than what I usually go for, but on special occasions money is not something to mull over. In the distance the monastery clock chimed to signal the start of class, and I hurriedly shoved the sack into my bag.

“Thank you! I’ll be around next week for my order of Almyran pine,” I toss him a wave before leaving, and in turn the man does the same. Though next week I hopefully won’t have to visit at such an ungodly hour.

By the time I arrive class had already started. Professor Byleth stood stark in front of the chalk board, and it appeared that they were in the middle of a lesson on trajectory for the long-range fighters in our group. While their back was turned, I took the opportunity to slowly creep into the room. The door creaked just a smidge, drawing a few of my peers' attention. Felix glares my way but that’s no shock. What better thing could he do with his time then judge me? Luckily, I sit second from the back next to Sylvain. Reaching it undetected goes well enough. Though said tablemate is a chatterbox who’s laugh cost all my stealth points.

“You’re late (Y/N), this is unlike you,” The professor said. Sylvain’s snorty laugh drew their attention. It seemed that as I tried to calm my seatmate down, they maneuvered to stand in front of our table. Not the best situation to be caught in.

“I’m so sorry professor. I couldn’t find my books this morning,” I lied. Not an obvious one, but my tense posture might be a giveaway. If it was, they didn’t seem to care.

“I see, just try not to let it happen again,” They said and left me no room to reply before returning to the board. As if a puppeteer let go of my string my posture slumped, and from my side came a nudge. I ignore it only for Sylvain to wrap one of his arms over my shoulder. Across the room Ingrid lets out an irritated sigh; at least with me he won’t leave a mess for her to clean up. That poor girl.

“So…where were you really,” He pressed his face closer to my own, and from the corner of my eye I could see that cocky smirk of his.

“In my room?” I said, playing dumb.

“Do you expect me to believe that?” He said, but then his eyes widened a fraction “don’t tell me you were seeing someone? Now this is good,” his tone dropped an octave at the end. Utter mortification overtook my features, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes in disgust. All that did for him was solidify his theory.

“Could you get your mind out of the gutter?!” I snapped, but then remembered where we were “Honestly, Sylvain. Nock it off,” I whisper while pulling away entirely. He then shrugs his shoulders and turns back to face the board.

“My mind is exactly where it should- Ow!” His shriek startled me, and despite my own interests I join him in inspecting behind us. As Sylvain rubs the back of his head all I can do is assume someone flicked him. Maybe threw something? Alright then, the pencil on the floor supports the second option.

“Now what was that for?” He asked the two behind us. Ashe looked up from his textbook with one eyebrow quirked. He questioned what Sylvain meant, while at his side Annette clearly had a guilty conscience as she twiddled with the hems of her sleeves. That’s when I had to hold back my own smile. If Ashe knows nothing, then what could he have been reading from an upside-down textbook?

“Focus you two! This is important,” The professor cuts the interaction short, and when Sylvain turns, I can’t help but catch Ashe’s shoulders slump. How cute.

As usual the professor’s malicious lessons wear us all dry. By the end of the day we’re all like savages scouring for fresh game to cook up. Well, not exactly. We just need a few hours of sleep and maybe a glass of water. The only one of us who’s still fully attentive at this hour is Dedue. It’s…a bit unnerving how he can go so long with perfect posture.

“Class is dismissed. Remember that we have a mock battle next week, so be sure to brush up on formation placement for when I’m not there to guide you,” The professor concludes our lesson, and with a wave of the wrist people begin to file out. I wave goodbye to those sitting near me, and instead approach the professor’s pew. They glance up from the papers they’re reading and signal me to speak.

“Excuse me, Professor. Can I have a moment of your time for a personal issue?” I ask, and they place the papers down.

“I assume this has to do with why you were late today,” I nod.

“Alright, go on”

“Well, as you know things have been a bit rough for Ashe since the incident with the western church. I wanted to cheer him up, so I went out this morning to buy his favorite tea. I also wanted to get him something nice to eat…but I don’t know what he might like,” My words come out rushed and a bit uneven. The professor looks at me as if to say, ��now how does this involve me?’ and I shakily move to tuck any hair stragglers behind my ear. Yeah, that surly couldn’t have made my feelings more obvious. I’m just a mastermind with words, aren’t I?

“You eat meals with him often after training, right? Any ideas?” I elaborate, and for a moment they pause to think.

“Sweet bread. He orders it often as a dessert,” They said, and give me an encouraging pat on the shoulder. With a large grin I snatch up my schoolbag and bid them farewell. The professor may not be the most expressive person, but that doesn’t mean they’re not supportive.

“Thank you, professor!”

After that catastrophe I began to make my way towards the mess hall. If luck is on my side, then the chefs won’t have any issue loaning out the kitchen to me for a few hours later this evening. As I walk the greenhouse comes into view, and perhaps it was a sign. What better way to cheer someone up than with flowers? With that in mind I change my course with a skip in my step and enter the garden in hopes of crafting a small bouquet. Though instead I’m met with a pleasant surprise.

“Ashe, Dedue! Fancy meeting you here,” I approach the duo, who are harvesting out of the vegetable gardens. At my presence Ashe jolts, and nearly drops the basket he was holding. Dedue was quick to respond and steadied him easily.

“O-oh! (Y/N) don’t do that, you nearly scared the wits out of me,” Ashe puts his free arm to his chest with a relieved sigh, and I can’t help but giggle. I nearly forgot he was the easily startled type; my bad.

“Haha I’m sorry guys. I hope that I’m not interrupting, just a few minutes and I’ll be out of your hair,” I said, and bypassed them to peruse the flora section of the garden. It was hard to pick out a distinct aroma, as the mass amount of plants seemed to overtake the room with the scent of wet soil. Someone must have watered recently.

“There is no need to rush. We are only collecting morfis plums for the head chef,” Dedue said, and continued to fill the basket Ashe was carrying.

“Dedue is right. Please, take your time,” Ashe said as well; once the basket was full, he began to carry it to the exit. As he walked, I noticed small patches of dirt littered over his uniform.

“That seems to be enough. Thank you for your help Dedue, I can deliver them from here,” He opened the door, and waved goodbye to the both of us before taking his leave. With every step small bits of dirt fell onto the floor in his wake.

“Then I will take my leave as well. Goodbye (Y/N),” Dedue moved to follow, but hastily I called out to him.

“Dedue hang on one moment!” He halted but did not turn away from the door.

“Yes?”

“I know this is kind of sudden, but do you perhaps know what Ashe’s favorite flower is? I wanted to prepare him a present,” I said a bit softer than before. Just as the professor did, he paused in thought. Then he pointed to the small bed of violets planted in the corner.

“Hm. I do not know, but I am under the belief that he prefers violets,” I couldn’t suppress my urge to hug him, so I did. I gave him a swift side squeeze and ran over to crouch by the blooms. Just a few in a vase would be perfect!

“Dedue you are the best! Just…don’t tell him that I’m doing this? Please?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder to meet his eyes. He remained expressionless as usual, but I could still hear the amusement in his voice.

“There is no benefit in ruining a surprise. I will not speak of it,” He bowed, and then dismissed himself.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then” I cheered, “bye! Thanks again Dedue,”

That evening had been spent productively, and by ‘productively’ I mean ‘making multiple sweet breads till one came edible’. It turns out that baking bread wasn’t as easy as it sounded, and that the chefs really don’t like when you make a calamity of their kitchen. After endless attempts I did manage to make something of…substance? If anything, Ashe will have a good laugh from it. By the end of the night there was flour lodged in places that I honestly didn’t know it could reach. The time from cleaning the kitchen to arriving at my room remains a blur, but the fresh loaf stored on my desk makes it all worth it.

When I manage to clean myself up for class, I arrive to see a bit of a twist on the normal set-up. Where I’d normally find my lover-boy classmate sat Ashe, and next to Anette was the missing flirt in question. They spoke idle chatter while waiting for the professor to arrive, so instead of interrupting I advanced towards my seat. With a newfound morning wind, I pulled out my usual chair.

“Hey, I didn’t hear anything about a new seating arrangement,” I spoke out to no one, but when I sat down Ashe turned towards my way. His hair appeared tamed for once and after catching my gaze he moved to comb it back with his hand. As I’ve said before: too cute.

“Good morning, the professor thought it would be a nice change of pace,” he said, a bit too cheery for this early, “I uhm…hope that it’s no issue?”

“Issue? You mean blessing. Now I can focus without Sylvain chatting my ear off” I leaned against the desk in hopes of getting more comfortable. At my dismissal of the new yet welcome change, he moved to unpack his things. Had he really waited to see if I was in favor of this?

“That’s very true. I’m also glad that we share a table now. I like having you as my partner,” a pause, a recollection, and then panic, “I-I mean for w-work! Partner for work!” His voice became more of a squeak as he moved to correct himself. From behind me Sylvain kicked at my ankles, without a doubt congratulating me on flustering the boy. As Ashe continued to scramble for his dignity, my head began to feel a bit heavy on my palm. Staying up into the morning hours wasn’t one of my brightest ideas, but what’s done is done.

“Say…are you alright? You seem out of it,” Placing the last of his things on his desk, Ashe turned to face me. It’s only normal that he’d ask, given my appearance and his caring nature. With a small smile, I attempted to shoo away his concern.

“Just didn’t sleep well, it’s fine. Would you maybe like to hang out later during free hour? You know, take a break from school for a bit,” Changing the topic was a good move considering how his face lit up. All remise of concern wiped away in favor of his face going flush.

“If it would help you feel better than I would love to,” he eagerly replied, “N-not to say that I would say ‘no’ otherwise. I’ll just be quiet now” Perhaps confessing isn’t as difficult as others make it seem. If he gets excited over simply spending time together, than tonight might cause him to collapse.

After dinner had been over with, I set my sights on assuring that everything was set and ready. The rooms that the monastery provided for its students were small but shouldn’t be too cramped if it’s only two people. Unfortunately, being fancy wasn’t a luxury I could afford, and the plain table I had borrowed from the infirmary made me feel small. After some searching, I decided to use an old shawl as a makeshift tablecloth and placed the vase of violets on the center. After slicing the loaf and plating the bread, I made quick work of seeping the tea. It wasn’t as decorative as what we see in the mess hall, but it’s the thought that counts. With not much time left I swiftly attempted to fix my hair, but a soft knocking cut it short.

“(Y/N)? It’s Ashe,” Ashe spoke from the other side. In a panic I looked for a comb, but alas luck was not on my side.

“Coming!” I moved to open the door, but paused at the last second, “Hey, could you maybe, not face the door when I open it?” I asked, and Ashe’s confusion came through the door just fine despite not being able to see him.

“Uhm, sure? Can I ask why?” His voice came apprehensive.

“Just do it please” I said, and soon came shuffling from the other side of the door. With a quick glance back to assure everything was set, I cracked the door open to make sure he followed directions. Just as expected he faced the other way. His hands locked together behind his back, making his unease apparent. Cautiously I reached to cover his eyes with my hands, and despite jolting in surprise he did not pull away.

“W-what are you doing? (Y/N), is that you?” He moved to place his hands over my own, ushering me to slowly pull him backwards in a rush. Although it was clumsily, he still followed. His hands were clammy against mine, yet my condition was no better. Next to the chill night air my rose-tinted cheeks burned noticeably.

“Yes, yes” I whispered in anticipation and turned him to face the table, “Now open!”

Once he caught sight of the room it was as if he glowed. In all honesty this is possibly the first time I have seen him this happy, which made all the effort worth the prize. One step at a time he approached the table with the cheesiest grin stretching his cheeks. After a moment he reached to delicately pluck a flower from the vase.

“Oh my- what’s all this for?” He asked, lifting the violet to his nose. As he did so I maneuvered my way to serve the tea.

“For you of course” I said, handing him a now filled cup and pulling out one of the seats. He sat down obediently, much to my delight. He placed the flower back in the vase as I took my seat across the table.

“M-me?” He lifted the cup to take a sip, only to pause with it hovering near his face “I love this scent…” As he took in the scenery, I took the liberty of pouring my own cup. One look at his face gave away how touched he was, which meant that my plan was a success. Slowly he lifted the cup to his lips and contently hummed with closed eyes.

“I know you do. I did a bit of detective work in hopes you’d like it,” I said, and nudged the plate of sweetbread closer to him. He reached out to take it hesitantly. Perhaps all this made him uncomfortable? A bit pushy? As he placed the plate in front of him Ashe’s eyes seemed to dart across the room, eyeing at anything and everything not in my general direction.

“I don’t know what to say…” He said, finally looking my way “You’ve gone to all this trouble and I have nothing to give” He once again moved to pick a violet. The sight was…charming to say the least. I could only offer a supportive chuckle in response. What else could you do when laying your heart bare.

“Then don’t say anything,” With one final breath, I placed the now empty cup back on its saucer. His own gaze seemed ignorant of what was going on: unreadable. Perhaps that was a good thing; better to go in blind than already know the outcome.

“Ashe, I care about you. I want you to be happy, and I know this can’t undo all the hardship that you have had to face” Silence. With a shaky sigh I steeled myself for the worst, “But, when I thought of what I could do this is what came up. I’m no deity, but I figured this is something in my power” Good enough. As I spoke my eyes shut to gather some courage, but in the long run it was ineffective. From Ashe came no answer, not even a peep. All I could do was steel myself for rejection…until a warm hand encased my own. I peered my eyes open to see that my grip on the teacup had intensified, and two calloused hands worked to sooth my tense disposition.

“Thank you. I can say from the bottom of my heart that this makes me feel-well, loved...” One hand moved to cup my chin and lead my gaze to meet two puffy green eyes. Had he been crying?

“I’m trying to find the right words but it’s so hard,” his forehead inched to lean against my own. His eyes fluttered shut, and ever small detail from the laugh lines decorating his forehead to the minuscule healing scrap along his cheek became apparent.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I care about you, ever so much” he breathed out, and I could feel my own tears begin to streak down my cheeks. With a slight tilt I leaned in to peck his nose, something he wasn’t expecting clearly. His eyes peered to gaze into my own, and before I knew I was smiling.

“In a romantic way?” I asked teasingly, reaching up to hold the hand he settled on my cheek.

“Yes, very much so”

#fe3h ashe #ashe ubert #ashe duran #ashe x reader #ashe ubert x reader #blue lions #fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h imagines #fe3h scenarios #fe: three houses

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imagine-that-one-thing · 5 years ago

Text

Her Majesty. || One.

Her Royal Highness.

My life has been pretty good, well, as good as can be expected for someone of my reign. My childhood was spent at the manor, running in and out of the gardens and exploring each and every room the manor had, including the ones that were regarded as private.

My closet was constantly adorned with the latest and most modest fashionable pieces and I was lucky enough to receive an utmost education. By the age of five, I was considered bilingual. I grew up alongside the elite; I played amongst the seats of parliament, the rulers and the soon to be rulers of Great Britain and the world.

Buckingham Palace was never my favourite place of residence but I can't complain too much, growing up we seemed to bounce from residence to residence depending on the season and what duties obliged to be satisfied. My favourite accommodation is encompassed by 100 acres of gardens, Hillsborough Castle in County Down, a short distance from Belfast. The only times we visit the castle are when my parents are in Northern Ireland which proves to be scarcely ever now. As a child, we used to visit and have vacation time down there, essentially for me to explore the gardens and to get lost in them for hours.

I remember the groan of my security team when they'd have to stand and watch me play in the gardens endlessly for hours and chase me around until I was tired out.

Then there's Windsor Castle, established on an immense hill next to the River Thames, 20 miles west of London. In my personal opinion, it is still better than the palace or manor as I call it. Then again, it's essentially because I don't spend as much time at Windsor, my time spent at Windsor is normally during Easter, during Royal Ascot and the Order of the Garter in June, and during Christmas, it really depends on my parent's schedules.

Despite the endless travel, the odd childhood perspectives, things have been relatively tranquil and wonderful.

Up until now....

I stand amongst the crowd-pleasers of royalties, dukes, princes, princesses, duchesses, baronesses, you name it, they're all gathered here this evening at the request of my mother and father, mainly my mother and her divine interests informal meetings in the palace. A lot of people would find joy in hosting events, me on the other hand, I am not a fan of it. I have been apart of hosting events from since I could walk. I remember when I was younger I would sneak away from the maids and the staff and peer over the edges of the stairs to look down at everyone gathered in their beautiful dresses and suit and ties. I used to dream of the days it was me. Now that it is me, I would do anything to go back to being the same little girl who ran freely amongst the gardens for hours and didn't have to make sure whether she was wearing the right hat for the right event or not.

"Kensington Palace can now publicly announce additional details about the forthcoming tour of Belgium this spring. We now know that the tour will begin on Sunday 10th April and conclude on Saturday 16th April. The visit to Belgium will allow us to continue a relationship between two Royal Families by meeting The King and Queen. This tour, coming shortly before the abdication, will also allow, Princess Anastasia Annette Leanor, Duchess of Edinburgh, to begin her royal duties as soon to be, her royal highness, Queen of England."

I stare at my Father as he announces the plans for the next few weeks, plans that are about to change my life. By my father, the King of England, expressing his abdication means that I will be reining sooner than I had thought, sooner than I had wanted. I stand statue-like, unaware of how it is deemed okay to announce the news without telling me first. I am sure they had to go through the Kensington Palace publicist or whatever the hell he is.

Then again, the King outranks everyone and can deem anything acceptable.

I hadn't intended to begin my royal duties so soon, in fact, I don't want the duties of Queen at all.

Everyone has this impression that having a royal title is a blessing and an achievement everybody who isn't born into it desires. Every girl dreams of becoming a princess and wearing the tiara, but royalty isn't about carrying a crown and parading around in lovely gowns that cost more than the average apparel. Being born into royalty and not having a typically normal life, in my opinion, is more of a curse than a blessing.

Having a title of any sort has forced me to grow up quicker than others, my tea parties weren't like every other average youngsters' tea party, mine was surrounded by teddy bears and a security guard who had to watch my every move. I'm held to higher standards than most and there are days I wish the standards of which I'm held to, would be diminished. I don't want to have to follow royal protocol for every occasion or to make sure my hair is brushed for the Queen on a Sunday morning breakfast. I don't want to constantly have a security team following my every move. I don't want to have to use hidden tunnels to get around the palace or to get to town without being noticed. I don't want my claim of Queen.

My title, although it will become quite powerful, it is a title I don't wish to represent. I just have no choice. I have to keep the family name alive within the monarchy.

While my father continues to speak to the guests around me, I can't help but feel overwhelmed. I had always assumed I'd be the first to know about my father stepping down from the royal obligations and I didn't expect to be told publicly. I thought I would be told in private, perhaps at dinner or on one evening when before my Father goes to bed. It would have been more courteous to tell me in another fashion, but the king and queen deemed this to be more suitable. Sometimes, the king and queen forget their royal responsibilities shouldn't cross over into parental duties. As parents, they should have told me in a better way.

My father finished his speech and everyone goes back to mingling and discussing everything possible— the only genuine thing about these events is that there are normal conversations, sometimes. I always manage to eavesdrop on a few conversations that are interesting.

Due to royal protocol, I put on a smile and a brave face; I politely exchange words with those at the event and do everything that my parents have instilled in me to do.

I smile graciously as my father and another prince come towards me. For a moment, I think about travelling in the opposite direction, but I know I can't, it would be too informal and cause too much of a scene.

God forbid if the princess ever makes a scene.

"Anastasia," my father grins, giving me his signalled glare that is a good indication that he wants for me to stay and not run off like my thoughts are wanting me to.

"Father," I respond courteously, my eyes side-eyeing towards my security guard who is observing intently as he stands with his back to the wall, his hands folded in front of him as he stands tall with nystagmic eyes. I swear his eyes never miss a beat.

"Princess Anastasia, it's an honour to see you again," the prince, who I'm sure my father is trying to play matchmaker with, greets me.

I hold back the heavy sigh that's desiring to escape my lips and I force myself to proffer him a genuine smile, "It's nice to see you." I lie through my teeth to save myself from having to listen to my father to express his disappointment in me.

"I hear you're becoming Queen. Every Queen needs a King by her side."

"Actually—" I begin, but I stop when I see my father's eyes narrow to crinkled stilts and his lips purse into a fine line. I am forced to bite my tongue on my true thoughts, "Actually, every good Queen needs a well-fitted crown," I half-heartedly joke, attempting to recover from the fact I want to tell him a Queen doesn't require a King, it's merely just suggested a Queen has a King.

The prince chuckles, "I'm sure they'll see fit to your crowning needs."

"Mhm," I hum, "it has been nice seeing you, but I'm afraid I have to cut this short, mum," I begin before I clear my throat, "The Queen," I correct myself, recovering from my small mishap, "Asked me to do her a favour." I politely dismiss my father and the prince who I can only assume is wanting to slither himself closer to stepping up his title.

I swallow hard the moment my father and the prince walk away and I finally have a minute to breathe and process the things that have occurred.

As I glance towards my guard, it dawns on me that now that I will soon be reigning Queen, it will be expected of me to-be-wed and find a man that is suitable enough not only for my own personal needs but suitable enough for the royal monarchy. Essentially, I have to locate Prince Charming, literally.

I make my way around the crowd of individuals and wander out of the ballroom area, "Princess," I hear my name being called but I don't want to turn around and face the music. "Princess," the voice again summons and I can't help but disregard him.

"Princess Anastasia, stop right there," the tone of voice my bodyguard uses causes me to stop, and it's not out of fear or because of the fact he only has to say one word before the whole palace is in lockdown and I can't move. It's because I know that tone of voice anywhere, it's sincere and it's laced with nothing but concern.

I turn around on my heel as my bodyguard shifts his eyes around, "Where are you going?"

I lift my shoulders into a shrug. I don't really have a destination, it was more so me hammering my heels against the marble flooring until I found some common ground where I could ultimately breathe again. "You know you can't roam the palace right now."

"Yes," I sigh, "I know, I know the rules and the protocol and the safety precautions," I murmur with a heavy breath.

His eyes relax and he takes another glimpse around to make sure we are alone before he clears his throat, "What's wrong?"

I inhale a deep breath and blow out slowly, "I can't talk about it here," I respond in a whisper, my eyes already beginning to gloss over as the rippling thoughts of everything hits me all at once.

He nods and examines the area around us, "Come with me," he instructs, tenderly urging his hand in the small of my back before escorting me away.

We stay reserved as we walk a few halls and pass several doors to various quarters while he keeps his integrity and stays alert.

We stop at the all so familiar place of the balcony, he opens the doors and enables me to step out before he is right behind me and closes the doors. "We aren't allowed here."

"Never stopped us before," he responds, "You're safe, everyone is down in the West Wing, this is the East, there's a guard right below us. I'm trained for a reason, you know?"

I nod and chuckle, I am aware he is trained for a reason, the man is trained in the use of firearms and unarmed combat, advanced driving and emergency first aid as well as close protection basics; I have all faith in him. "I know, I trust you," I respond courteously.

I trust him, there's a reason he's my bodyguard, he's intelligent, he has swift reflexes and he knows every position of every security member in every residence of ours. Let's not forget I have seen him practising with the 9mm Glock 17 pistols— the man is more accurate than my father— and my father has quite the shot.

"What's the matter? Congratulations on becoming Queen soon."

"That's what's the matter," I grumble, attempting to dismiss the lump in my throat that is threatening to suffocate me. "I can't do it."

"You can, Anastasia, have faith in yourself."

I shake my head, "There's too much involved with it. I don't think I can physically do this." It's easy for someone to say they want to be a Princess or a Queen because it's made out to be a glamorous lifestyle but it comes with harbouring a lot of stress and responsibilities.

"You can, you're just freaked out at the moment."

"No," I stare down at the space between us, "I can't. You don't get it."

I can't really expect anyone to understand what's surging through my thoughts at the concept of reining a country.

"Anastasia, I will never fully understand this world, but—"

I cut Harry off, promptly, "There are no buts, Harry, they're already wanting to marry me off to a royal Prince!" I raise my voice but immediately apologise for my tone.

"It's okay," he benevolently takes my hands with his, and I feel him draw me that little bit closer. "Is that why you were side-eyeing me when that Duke or prince was talking to you?"

I nod my head, feeling defeated and lost. "Harry, they're going to want me to get married."

Harry grows withdrawn for a moment, his eyes fading to grey as he comes to realise just what I'm trying to tell him. Me becoming Queen abolishes mine and his relationship.

He's not royalty.

The monarch and the people wouldn't regard him fit for King.

"Well, do you want me to propose now or later?" Harry questions in a joking way. His humour perhaps being the only thing to come to mind with this matter.

I roll my eyes, "Even if we were ready, we couldn't."

"And why not?" Harry questions, cocking his head to the side and waiting for my response.

"Harry, my father is already trying to introduce me to a Prince."

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, "Well, I'm charming, I think I fit the criteria."

Despite his attempts to alleviate the mood; I'm not delighted. "Harry, this isn't a joke. You're my bodyguard, not a prince."

"Who the bloody hell cares? I'm just as worthy as dating you as any other man, title or not," Harry mutters, pointing out the fact he's just as legitimate as any other man.

I know he is, I know he's deserving of dating me whether he has a title or not, I don't care about any of that, but my family and the people do.

"I know," I breathe out. "But the monarch won't approve. Duties of the Monarch is to ensure the succession by having children. I have to get married to ensure the succession which means I have to have a king."

"So, I can be King consort or Prince consort, whatever the bloody hell it is."

I'm not sure why he isn't concerned about the fact our relationship is about to be thrown into turbulent mayhem. Him marrying me would throw everything into a prominent mess.

When I don't reply to Harry's comment, he takes it as his queue to speak again. "I need to get you back to the West Wing."

"I don't want to go back and finish my duties."

"I know, but you have to," Harry informs me, his voice sweet-sounding as he grants me a meagre but comforting grin.

I profoundly sigh and pout my blossom-pink lips, "are you going back into security mode?"

"I have to, sweetheart," he kisses my forehead, "someone has to keep you safe," he adds with a wink.

I roll my eyes at him, "Can I get a kiss?"

He hums for a moment, a cocky smirk dangling in the corner of his lips. "Am I allowed to kiss the soon to be Queen?"

"For Christ sake, kiss me," I mutter through a faint chuckle before he mildly lures me in and kisses me, leaving me with that syrupy-sweet aftertaste, "Thank you," I murmur against his orchid-pink and satin soft lips before he puts distance between us.

"Come on, Princess, it's time to go back," Harry opens the door for me and I step back inside, his hand clasping to the small of my back and guiding me until we reach areas we can be viewed.

The moment I'm compelled to go back to my princess obligations and we are recognized, Harry retreats to his bodyguard temperament after a swift "good luck," before watching over me.

♔♔♔

As the night goes on, I fake my way through smiles and laughter, the infinite questions and remarks about my soon to be title being nothing but bothersome to me. But, I take it all with a grain of salt.

Who would have thought my world would feel as though it was crashing down on me the minute the notion of me becoming Queen came into play?

When the manor is only holding a few guests, I'm told I'm permitted to leave the ballroom and do as I please— which is sleep. I grin towards Harry and his lips curve upwards gradually. He's not permitted to bestow much emotion when he's on duty, but every now and again I can get a smile out of him, at least half of one. "You seem pleased," Harry notes as he moves away from the wall and takes my side.

"I'm happy to have my royal responsibilities over with," I respond as he opens the door for me, "You should be happy too, your guarding duties are over," I add, reminding him of the fact that for a few hours, he isn't my guard but just another person.

Harry snickers as the door closes behind him, "My duties don't finish until you're in your bedroom safely."

"Harry, I highly doubt anything will happen between now and the bedroom." I can't deny the fact I find it ludicrous that I have to be escorted to my bedroom but I do understand the reasoning behind it. We can never be too certain that someone hasn't wandered off through the palace to stir some sort of trouble.

"Princess, you never know."

I know he's right, he seems to always be right. "Harry, I hate when you call me princess."

"Sorry," Harry clears his throat, "But, you know I have to unless we are entirely alone."

I nod with a small exhalation, "I know, have you heard any news about my next event?" I question, remembering I haven't touched base with anyone on what event is next. I customarily have an itinerary and I'm not joking, I get one monthly from the publicist team.

"I haven't, but the head of security has also been busy and hasn't told me about the big events. Isn't it the trooping of colours?"

"No," I shake my head, "That's in June, darling."

"I can never remember. I'll have to see. I do know we travel soon, they're getting the other ten guards prepared to travel," Harry informs me.

Each travelling experience is endured by a Royal Navy doctor and 8-12 British bodyguard, and sometimes private secretaries add to the entourage along with our press officer and communications chief, it just depends on the circumstances.

"Travelling with you is such a bore." I roll my eyes as we round a corner and his arm drapes around me while we are no longer in the view of anyone besides the head of security, who is monitoring the security cameras. He's the only one who knows about the relationship between Harry and I and it's for obvious purposes.

Harry scoffs, "How is it a bore to travel with me?"

Travelling as a royal, is a bore, period.

There are so many damn rules that have to be followed. Growing up, I was never permitted to fly in the same aircraft as my father; two heirs should never fly on the same flight together so that the royal lineage is protected. Even though my father was King and I was the heir, he still never signed off on me being on the same flights as he.

He has to oversee everything and seldom grants permission.

I can't help but raise a brow at Harry's question, surely he knows that he isn't the simplest person to travel with. When we tour, he is similar to a hawk; he is ten times more vigilant than what he is now. "Can't do anything with you hovering over me, can barely sightsee."

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug. He knows that he hovers, but it is part of his job description as part of the Royalty and Specialist Protection. "Love, it's my job to keep you safe and as a boyfriend, it's my honour to make sure you're protected."

"It's still boring."

"Well, I'm sorry it's dull. Maybe we can change that a bit? I'll see if we can sightsee after greeting dignitaries." Harry suggests but I know better than to believe him when he says we can change it a bit. He can't substitute direct schedules and orders.

"Coming from the man that hasn't changed his cologne in six years."

"Oi, be nice," Harry snickers as we reach my bedroom doors and I turn to face him. "It's a good scent," Harry defends his cologne of six years.

I hum with a smirk before I lean up and kiss his warm cheek, "Want to spend the night and leave through the secret door in the morning?" I offer but Harry shakes his head.

"I can't, love. I have to go report to the head of security," Harry informs me as he takes a swift look around to make sure we are alone, "Goodnight, Anastasia, have a good rest and try not to stress, okay?"

"There are no promises, being a princess is hard," I half-joke with a wink, his hands travelling to rest on my hips.

Harry sneers and flicks lint off his suit, "Being your guard is hard," Harry chuckles, "Goodnight, I love you."

"I love you, too. Don't get your ass chewed by your boss," I can't help but grin, knowing very well and good he isn't going to get his ass chewed about anything, but it is fun to speculate the concept of it happening.

Harry is too good at his job to get his ass chewed, the man is everywhere, he is always, and I mean, always, watching. I don't think anything manages to get past him when it comes to me.

Even when he is off duty he is cautious and making sure that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Harry rolls his eyes at me before he kisses my forehead, "Goodnight, Princess," Harry turns from boyfriend to security guard within an instant before he leads away from me with his tall erect posture— leaving me with just my thoughts as I enter my bedroom— that although considerably spacious and decorated is dull and hollow.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles prompt #harry styles prompts #imagine harry styles #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles preference #harry styles preferences #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots

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fallout4holmes · 4 years ago

Text

Nuka-World 6

We had a visitor the next morning. Mags Black left her two cronies at the base of the artificial mountain as she took the lift up herself. I don't know what she said to Gage to get him to stay put on the ground, but he wasn't happy about it.

Holmes had just finished his morning cigarette and a minimal breakfast. He stood as she stepped off the lift, "Ah. Ms. Black."

The raider boss raised an eyebrow, "Miz? It's like you're trying to stand out. You're the Overboss now, Mister Holmes, you get to be on a first name basis with everyone."

Holmes lit another cigarette and said with exaggerated politeness, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Mags smirked, "You can blame it on giving the Disciples The Galactic Zone. I don't know what you're planning, but I want my people to come out on top at the end."

"At the moment, avoiding the animosity of an amusement park full of raiders is my primary concern."

"Bullshit," she said pleasantly. "You're the General of the Minutemen, the frozen vault-dweller that destroyed the Institute. I heard about your almost-war with the Brotherhood too, how you kicked them out of the Commonwealth after destroying their toys." She gestured to me, “Most of the raiders in Nuka-World are from west of here, where the Institute never had a presence. They think your friend is just a nifty robot bodyguard. Creepy, but nothing more. Those of us from the Commonwealth though?” She smiled, sinister, “We know exactly what he is. William and I know better than most. You never did find that janitor that went missing, did you Nick? What was her name, Amelia?”

“Annette,” I corrected, tried not to rise to the bait. “Not usually a fan of kicking folks out beyond the Wall, but in the case of you and your brother I’m glad Diamond City did.”

“Funnily enough, so are we. This suits us much better.” She said it smoothly, nothing but charm, but you don’t last long in my line of work if you can’t tell a bluff when you see one. She turned her attention back to Holmes, “Either your rumored nobility is all an act to get you into a place of power, or you’re going to throw a wrench into the fragile gears of this place. If it turns out to be the first one, you may want to consider showing my people a bit of favor before ugly rumors of synths and interfering Minutemen start circulating the park. If it’s the second one, well. Just know that every Operator in this park is watching.”

Holmes glowered, “I don’t respond well to threats.”

“As long as you respond,” Mags said, and took the lift back down.

As soon as she was down, Gage came up. "Mags pissed?"

"A touch upset," Holmes offered me a cigarette, which I took. "I was a little surprised she remembered you, Valentine."

"Guess it's hard to forget a face like this," I said dryly.

"What the hell are you two goin' on about?" Gage sighed.

"Nothing important," Holmes said, "just the Operators being unhappy with me. They can have the next park, it doesn't matter."

"Giving 'em the next park might look like you were intimidated," Gage said.

"What is the next park?" Holmes asked.

"Figured we'd hit Dry Rock Gulch."

"Hm, the American 'Old West' theme. A fake gold mining operation should suit the Operators, don't you think, Valentine?"

I chuckled, "I think the implication is gonna go over their heads, but we might as well check it out and get it over with."

Holmes agreed and we headed off. We made it to the park’s gate when I heard something moving through the earth, sort of like the sound a mole rat makes just before it leaps out and bites you. Only these weren’t mole rats.

A handful of big red worms with mouths that took up the whole head attacked, surprising the hell out of me and Holmes and earning an annoyed growl from Gage. They weren’t much of a fight, but, “Well that was unpleasant,” I said.

“You never seen bloodworms before?” Gage asked, skeptical.

I shook my head, “We don't get these things back east.”

“Better get used to ‘em, they’re a fucking menace around here.”

Hopefully we wouldn’t be staying long enough for me to get used to them, but I kept that to myself. I glanced around as we entered the park, the Old West frontier outpost aesthetic turned kitsch.

“How’s it go,” Gage sarcastically drawled, “This town ain’t big enough for you and me… ah, never mind.”

Holmes chuckled. “Let’s ask the local law enforcement for information,” he pointed to a protectron wearing a sheriff’s hat.

“Hope y'all are having a good day here at Nuka-World. Ready to saddle up and ride into the old wild west?” the protectron said.

“Great,” Gage grumbled, “More dumb robots.”

The protectron was unperturbed, “I'm the sheriff of these parts, and I need your help getting rid of those no good outlaws holed up in Mad Mulligan's Mine!”

“This is why I hate robots,” Gage huffed. “They don’t even know the world ended, this playtime shit is annoying.”

The protectron’s park personality programming stopped, “Processing: Hostile visitor. Ignore and continue explanation for the sake of the other guests.”

I laughed.

The sheriff continued his job, “The door to Mad Mulligan's Mine is locked up. I got a spare key in a safe by the theater, but wouldn't you know, I plum forgot what the combination to the safe was! You'll need to talk to my three amigos: Doc Phosphate, One-Eyed Ike, and the Giddyup Kid. Prove to them you're tough enough to take on the outlaws, and they'll give you their part of the combination. Good luck, little doggie! And don't forget your complimentary deputy uniform, courtesy of Nuka-Cola!”

The sheriff handed Holmes a costume, who promptly handed it to Gage, who scowled before realizing, “You got a weird ass sense of humor, boss,” and tossed it away. As we walked he asked, “We really gotta do all that, talk to three other robots just to get a key?”

“I suppose we could simply hang a banner and be done with the place,” Holmes said.

Gage shook his head, “Not with the bloodworms. Gotta torch the nest first, otherwise whoever moves in is gonna be pissed to hell you gave ‘em an infested base.”

Holmes made casual eye contact with me. He’d been hoping for a raider-bloodworm showdown.

“I mean,” Gage was still talking, “why do we need this fucking key in the first place? Can’t we just blast the door open?”

“I try not to do anything rash if I can avoid it,” Holmes said, “and surely you don’t think we’ll be bested by a few challenges designed for children?”

“I’m starting to second-guess making you Overboss,” Gage grumbled.

“Perhaps you should have considered that possibility before enthroning a stranger you know precious little about, against his will,” Holmes steely replied.

“I can deal with an ass of a boss,” Gage played it cool, “as long as he gets done what needs to get done.”

We did the tasks for the park protectrons, fighting bloodworms, overgrown crickets, and giant ants along the way. Once we had the key, we headed for Mad Mulligan's Mine… a roller-coaster.

Gage had kept pretty quiet til then, "People actually stood in line and waited for this crap?" He scoffed, "Bunch of suckers."

"Roller-coasters were a popular attraction,” I commented flatly, “though I can’t say I ever saw the appeal.”

Holmes gestured for quiet as we headed into the ride. The lobby held a souvenir shop and the entrance to the tunnels that would lead folks to the boarding area, decorated to look like you’re walking through a mine out of a Saturday morning western. Back then it probably lacked the dead bodies, of course. Holmes and I had heard rumors of traders who hid from Colter’s raiders in Dry Rock Gulch. We found ‘em. Bloodworms saw to it they didn’t have long to enjoy their freedom.

The boarding area was a massive pit littered with brahmin corpses, bulging with bloodworm larvae. In the middle of the pit was the massive queen herself.

“I believe we’ve found the nest,” Holmes said.

“No shit, boss,” Gage scoffed.

“Valentine and I will take care of the queen, you exterminate everything hiding in those brahmin.”

Gage nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

I might be getting too old for fighting overgrown monsters in caves… but every time I think that, I know it’s not really true. Or it is, and I’m too stubborn to admit it. Anyway, we got the job done but the queen did a number on my leg. At least we know that Nuka-Town’s got a competent mechanic. I could walk, which is saying something, just going to have a limp until whatever got whacked out of place could get realigned. Gage was going to make a remark, but wisely shut up when Holmes glared at him.

We let the Sheriff know the job was done, got paid, which was a nice surprise, and Holmes climbed up to the top of the theater to hoist a flag with a black heart in a bullseye, bleeding gold.

“Gave in to the Operators after all, huh?” Gage said once Holmes was back on the ground. He didn’t sound accusatory, which was kind of weird, just like he was making conversation. Which was also kind of weird.

“If I have to secure Mags Black’s silence with a token gesture,” Holmes said, “then so be it.”

Gage shrugged, “Just let ‘em know you’re the Overboss, not some do-good General.”

“Gage, you conned me into this mess for the purpose of bringing the gangs together, yes? How does strutting around threatening violence serve that purpose?”

“Because we’re raiders?? That’s the language these idiots speak. You gotta treat ‘em right, but make sure they know you can end them at any time.”

Holmes made a considering sound and headed out of the park, “I often thought that if raiders could ever organize, they would be a force to be reckoned with. It seems I was right.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Gage exclaimed, relieved as if Holmes had finally come around. He didn’t know that every time the topic came up, it was followed with a list of possible ways the Minutemen would eliminate that threat.

Unfortunately, none of the hypothetical scenarios ever involved the General and his partner effectively being held hostage, with no way to call for help.

#fallout4holmes #fallout 4 #nuka world #nick valentine #sherlock holmes #fan fiction #catching up on past posts

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crackimagines · 6 years ago

Text

A Professor’s Daily Life (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Edit: PART 2 HERE!

Edit 2: SEQUEL HERE!

When we vomit about 40 flowers onto a student, fish for an unholy amount of time, and sprint faster than the speed of light across the Monastery, that’s normal to us because game shenanigans.

But, what does that look like to the students of the Blue Lions?

The bell rung, and the long day had finally ended.

The students of the Blue Lions were finished with a grueling week of lectures that neither they or the professor were excited to learn about, but had to regardless.

Now that it was over, everyone decided to group up and talk about what they were feeling.

“Jeez, I thought that would never end! I know this important to learn but...” Annette griped.

“I know, I was almost ready to pass out!” Ashe responded while tidying up his papers.

While everyone chimed in their two cents, Sylvain had a troubled look on him, which made Ingrid tap him on the shoulder.

“Sylvain, is something the matter?” she asked.

Everyone turned to him, and began tapping his chin.

“Ya know,” Sylvain said. “I’ve been thinking lately-”

“What, about girls?” Felix sarcastically asked, already rolling his eyes.

“No, actually. It’s about the professor. Something’s been bugging me about him.”

Dimitri shrugged and replied.

“Whatever it is, he was just as thrilled as us to discuss the topic, so I say give him a-”

“No, not that. That I get,” Sylvain interjected. “It’s about what he does.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?” Dedue asked.

“...Wait, you guys seriously don’t know what I’m talking about? I’m talking about how different he seems during lectures and his days off!”

“Um, I assumed that’s natural. He can’t be professional a hundred percent of the time. After all, even people like him need breaks!” Mercedes said.

“Well yeah, but...Does that mean none of you have ever seen him on a day off?”

Everyone looked at each other and shrugged.

They said the only times they really saw him during days off was when he personally went to talk to them, invite them to tea and lunch, or when they had a problem.

“What’s your problem with the professor?” Ingrid asked.

“You’re not making a lot of sense either, Sylvain,” Ashe added.

“I mean just like...how-gah forget it! Tomorrow’s a day off, right? I need you all to come with me!”

“Tch, to hell with that.” Felix said. “I need to be training, so-”

“Please! I know I sound crazy, but I can’t be the only one imagining this! You need to understand why it’s been plaguing me, I’M BEGGING YOU ALL!”

Sylvain was grabbing Felix’s collar shouting in desperation which made Felix shove him off.

“Ugh, fine! If it means you’ll shut up!”

The Next Morning...

The class had gathered around a small barricade of boxes, watching his personal quarters.

(Felix) “...This is so dumb.”

(Sylvain) “Quiet you, he should be getting up by now!”

(Ingrid) “...Um, just how much have you watched this routine?”

(Ashe) “Listen Sylvain, maybe we should just get you a cup of-

SLAM!

Everyone suddenly turned to his room, which he bolted out of, dashing at a full tilt sprint, faster than they’ve seen anyone in their life run.

They noticed the door had opened up on it’s own, and closed itself as well making everyone do a double take on what they had just witnessed.

(Dedue) “W-What was that...?!”

(Annette) “I think that was the professor!”

(Dimitri) “If it was, then that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen him run! I don’t think he goes that fast on the battlefield!”

(Felix) “Where the hell did he go?!”

(Mercedes) “I-I see his outline! It’s bolting towards the greenhouse!”

(Sylvain) “AFTER HIM!”

Everyone hopped over their barricade and began chasing after the professor, going to the side of the building, watching him with the greenhouse keeper.

(Keeper) “Hello, Profe-”

Byleth said nothing in response as he dumped flower seeds in front of her, alongside a pouch of about 3,000 gold.

Everyone’s eyes widened, seeing him nonchalantly throw money like that, much less at flowers.

It looked like she was about to say something else, but Byleth stepped back and pulled out a map of the academy.

(Ingrid) “...What is he-”

Fast Travel to this location? [YES] NO

Right before their eyes, he vanished into thin air.

(Ingrid) “-BY THE GODDESS!”

They all rushed in, looking for any sign of their professor.

(Mercedes) “U-Um...! Our professor isn’t a mage, right?”

(Dimitri) “N-Not at all! He’s a swordmaster!”

(Annette) “Then how did he just teleport?!”

(Sylvain) “SEE?! SEE?! THIS IS WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT!”

(Felix) “Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?!”

(Sylvain) “CAUSE YOU WOULDN’T HAVE BELIEVED ME!”

(Dedue) “Ma’am, do you know about this?”

“...”

The keeper was dead silent, not even moving an inch.

(Ashe) “T-That doesn’t matter! Where did he go?!”

They all went outside, looking for any sign of their now mystical professor.

(Sylvain) “I-I think I saw a blur just dash near the marketplace!”

They all sprinted towards the market, and saw him at the Batallion’s guild. He pulled out what seemed to be a measly 100 coins, and a wave of troopers appeared before him, and disappeared suddenly.

(Guildmaster) “Need any more refilled?”

(Everyone) “...”

(Dimitri) “Wait a second, THIS is how we get our battalions?!”

(Ingrid) “T-That can’t be right! From what I understand, our platoons must cost hundreds of thousands of gold to replace the manpower each time our forces replenish! How does he pay more for flowers than he does for our troopers?!”

“Greetings, Professor’s students!”

Everyone turned around to see the Gatekeeper waving at them with a smile.

(Gatekeeper) “What brings you all here?”

(Ashe) “Um, it’s about the professor! He-”

(Gatekeeper) “He’s just making his daily rounds is all. I heard you guys talking, well more like shouting really. You all seem so concerned of how much he spends on flowers and stuff.”

(Mercedes) “Y-Yes! It makes no sense how he pays that much versus how much he pays for mercenaries!”

(Gatekeeper) “Bah, that’s nothing! You should see him buy tea bags! He buys so much it amounts to 10,000 gold!”

Everyone’s jaw hit the floor.

(Everyone) “WHAT?!”

(Ashe) “...Oh my...T-Then all those times he’s bought me my favorite tea!”

They all realized that the Professor had only been buying them their favorite teas. Somehow catered each and every one of them despite them never bringing it up at any time.

(Sylvain) “Uh, b-before that! Do you know where he runs...er uh, as crazy as it sounds-”

(Gatekeeper) “Teleports to? Should be around...Ah right, Black Eagles class now.”

(Dimitri) “Wait a second, how do you know-”

(Felix) “He did it again!”

They all turned around, and he was nowhere to be seen.

(Dedue) “WITH ALL DUE HASTE!”

They all nodded and ran for the classrooms.

Once they finally reached it, they were running out of breath at that point.

Panting heavily, they desperately tried to find the Professor with him nowhere in sight.

(Sylvain) “D-Did he already-”

Without warning, Byleth materialized in front of them, making everyone scream.

Somehow not noticing them, he immediately dashed towards Dorothea who was standing out in the courtyard.

(Dorothea) “Oh, hello Professor! What can I-”

Before she finished that sentence, Byleth pulled out a massive bag, and dumped it over Dorothea, dozens and dozens of flowers and miscellaneous gifts showered her, feathers and coins and the such.

Everyone stood in awe, as Dorothea didn’t even flinch at it, keeping her smile up the entire time, saying “Thanks!” rapidly with each item hitting her hat.

(Byleth) “Hey, want to join my class?”

(Dorothea) “Sure thing, Professor! I look forward to it!”

(Everyone) “HUH?!”

Byleth turned around and finally noticed them, making everyone ready to jump out of pure terror with his blank stare.

He had his sights set on Dimitri and walked slowly towards him.

(Dimitri) “P-PROFESSOR! A-AHEM! Professor, what can I-”

Putting the massive bag on the ground, Byleth pulled out an item.

(Byleth) “Is this yours, Dimitri?”

Dimitri looked at the item, then at the bag, suddenly realizing it had swords, paintings, food, flowers, and literally any item you could name, it was in there.

(Dimitri) “N-No...! Professor why do you have-”

Not even bothering to respond, he ran away again at the speed of sound leaving them all in the dust.

(Mercedes) “Ah darn, here we go again...”

(Ingrid) “DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY!”

They all attempted to run after him again, but they were so out of breath that a few of them collapsed onto their knees, everyone stopping to make sure they didn’t puncture a lung.

(Felix) “How in... the hell... does he run so fast?!... And why doesn’t he do that during battles?!”

Mercedes gently patted Annette in the back while trying to not topple over herself.

(Mercedes) “T-There there, Annette...!”

(Annette) “So...tired!”

(Ashe) “A-Alright Sylvain, we believe you! I don’t think we can take much more of this!”

(Sylvain) “Right let’s...call it...a day!”

Everyone was about to leave until they noticed something.

(Dedue) “...Where is his highness and Ingrid?!”

They looked around, suddenly realizing the two were nowhere to be found.

(Mercedes) “Huh?! T-They were right behind us!”

Dining Hall...

(Dimitri) “Ugh...WHAT IN THE-”

(Ingrid) “How in the?! Where did every-”

They stopped talking when they realized Byleth was in front of them, holding a plate of food they enjoyed. They looked down and realized they had their plates as well, and noticed they were in the dining hall.

Deciding against freaking out, they both smiled.

(Dimitri) “A-Ah, thank you for the food.”

(Ingrid) “N-Nothing b-beats my favorite food!”

Once they smiled, they were suddenly transported back to the group, landing on top of each other.

(Ashe) “OH MY GOSH!”

(Felix) “What in the damned hell is going on?! Where did you two come fro-No! Where did you two even go?!”

(Sylvain) “Oh to hell with this! EVERYONE, WE’RE TAKING SHELTER IN THE CLASSROOM!”

Dedue picked up Dimitri while Mercedes and Annette helped Ingrid to the classroom, shutting their doors. Everyone took a deep breath, making sure everyone was accounted for.

(Sylvain) “I-I’ve never seen it affect people directly like that! Let’s j-just camp out here until night! He’s usually not active that time!”

(Mercedes) “...Goddess, please help us!”

The next day on the beginning of new lectures, Byleth noted that when he introduced Dorothea as their new classmate, they didn’t seem exactly surprised. In fact, they seemed fearful of him, somehow.

He didn’t really recall doing anything to freak them out.

#shitpost #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses imagines #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses headcanons #byleth #blue lions #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #felix hugo fraldarius #sylvain jose gautier #ashe duran #mercedes von martlitz #annette fantine dominique #ingrid brandol galatea #dedue molinaro #gatekeeper

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7-wonders · 5 years ago

Note

Duncan sitting on the couch doing some work while the pregnant reader is knitting some stuff for their first child. He absolutely adores her work tells her how proud he is and how he can‘t wait to be a father. - Have a lovely christmas 🎄 I absolutely love your blog 😊

STOP THIS IS CUTE

(are you guys okay with me still publishing Christmas-y oneshots?)

Duncan’s always been overprotective, but after finding out that you’re pregnant, that overprotectiveness increases by 1000. It doesn’t help your case that you work for the Shepherd businesses; when Annette learns that Duncan wants you to stop working because of the pregnancy, she wholeheartedly agrees with him. You do manage to persuade both your husband and your mother-in-law that you’re not going to break just from working a few hours a week, but that’s about the only leeway that you’re granted.

With all of the free time that you now have, you’ve had to come up with some ways to bide your time. You’ve read all the books that were on your “to read” list, watched any show/movie that may have interested you, and attempted to cook whenever Duncan isn’t home and forces you to relax. An unexpected hobby that you’ve picked up, and that you’ve really enjoyed, is knitting.

You know that you look like an old lady when you knit, but it’s relaxing and passes the time quicker than just staring at the wall and waiting for Duncan to get home. Plus, this knitting project is fulfilling, since it’s for your baby.

Growing up, every child in your family got a homemade blanket from your great grandmother when they were born. You still have yours, carefully tucked in a box in your childhood bedroom, as do your siblings and cousins. Although your great grandmother passed away years ago, you thought it would be sweet to continue the tradition for the next generation.

As your pregnancy’s progressed, Duncan’s started working from home more often. No matter how often you assure him that both you and the baby are perfectly fine, it just makes him feel better to physically be there with you. Honestly, you find it kind of cute (and marriage is all about picking your battles, but you won’t tell Duncan that).

Today, like most days lately, is a relaxed one. You’d done some reading and answered emails while Duncan was on a conference call before both of you ended up on the couch. After you had taken a nap (if there’s one good thing about pregnancy, it’s that you have an excuse to take as many naps as you want, for as long as you want), you had decided to pull out your knitting project while Duncan did some more work.

It’s comfortable, with light music playing over the living room speakers as you’re nestled into Duncan’s side. The more that your bump’s made an appearance, the more that Duncan has felt the need to keep a hand on you at all times. Whenever you’ve questioned him about it, he’s always responded that he needs to make sure you’re okay since “you’re carrying the most precious cargo.” If he’s like this when you’re still growing the baby, you can’t imagine how he’s going to be after you give birth.

You don’t realize that Duncan’s watching you until he wraps an arm around you and kisses the top of your head. Smiling, you look up at him to see him staring down at you with an endless amount of love in his gaze. People have always warned you that the sparks will one day go out and you’ll have to work to reignite them, but you’ve yet to experience that in your marriage, and you’re pretty sure that you won’t.

“That’s beautiful, love,” Duncan mutters into your ear.

“Thank you! I’m not even close to being done with it, but it’s getting there.”

“You’re making a blanket for our child. As if I wasn’t immensely proud of you already.”

“Proud of me?”

“Absolutely. You’re making such a sacrifice by carrying our baby,” you smirk, knowing how Duncan loves to say ‘our baby,’ “and you still look so strong and beautiful while doing it.”

You can’t help it when your eyes tear up, the damn hormones making you cry at almost everything lately. “Even though I can’t see my toes?”

“Especially because you can’t see your toes.” You giggle when he lifts your shirt up below your breasts so he can caress your belly. “I’m going to miss your cute bump, but I can’t wait until the baby’s actually here and in our arms.”

“You’re gonna be such a good dad,” you say, carding your fingers through his hair. “I know you’re worried about being a parent, but I’m so excited to see how naturally you slip into being a dad. You already love our baby so much, and you take such good care of both of us.”

“I love you,” Duncan looks up at you in between the kisses he lays on your bump, “and I love our baby. I can promise you that, no matter what obstacles the future may throw at us, our baby will never doubt how much we love them.”

This is getting too emotional for you, so you playfully drop your knitting over his eyes. “Get up before I start crying, because I won’t be able to stop then.”

Although Duncan’s still smiling as he tugs your shirt back down, you laugh at the slight tinge of fear in his eyes at the thought of dealing with another one of your mood swings. Pregnancy may be a magical, beautiful thing, but it certainly tests the limits of Duncan’s patience.

#Duncan Shepherd #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x reader #hoc #hoc imagine #house of cards #house of cards imagine

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sweetcinnamcn · 4 years ago

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Family Dinner || Self-Para

Summary - Ian and his three older siblings come home for a family dinner after which his mother gives him a talking to plus a little something something for the upcoming Bachelor Auction.

WC: 2,630

Without Tommy there to back him up, Ian slips into old habits too easily. It’s hard for him to not let his brothers’ joshing get to him, and each quip at his expense makes Ian’s smile that much more strained. Everything from “Hey Schoolboy!” to bets on how much cum he’s been guzzling seems to be on the table tonight, and since they’re drinking they’re a bit more abrasive about it too. Ian really doesn’t like being around his brothers when they’re drinking.

“Huh, buddy?” Ian had retreated inwards and completely zoned out of the conversation. It wasn’t until Harrison clapped him on the back that he even realized all three of his siblings were looking at him. His mouth falls agape as he tries to think of something—anything—to say, but Donovan’s snort beats him to the chase.

“Space cadet strikes again. How’s the view from the clouds Lieutenant Dumbass?” he chortles, both his brothers laughing boisterously now. Ian laughs along with obviously less zeal.

Annette only shakes her head, moderately eye-rolling at her brothers. “Please don’t mess with him like that. Ian’s no fun when he starts to turtle up.” While he’s sure she means well, comments like that only ever get his big brothers laughing at him harder. This is why Ian doesn’t enjoy family dinners without his younger in attendance.

“What’s wrong, Annie? Junior too busy to be his white knight so you’ve got to fill the vacancy?”

“Not that he needs it. He’s a grown man and we’re just kidding around. Ian knows it. Look at him! Life of the party!” Harrison points right to the smile glued to Ian’s face. That gets a smile out of Annette which she attempts to hide by taking a sip from her wine glass. Harrison and Donovan never hide when they’re laughing at him. This is why he needs his little brother. Ian always feels invisible, pushed aside, belittled, and a bunch of other things he’s not good at vocalizing whenever he’s at home. Tommy always knew how to save him.

“Have you guys spoken to him recently? I know he’s super busy, but I can’t ever get him on the phone anymore—”

“Time zones, buddy. We’ve been over this. England is a few hours ahead of us, so you can’t just call him whenever.” So what if Ian has to count on his fingers to get an idea of what time it is for Tommy, it’s not like he forgets he has to! Though … he doesn’t say anything to reject the implication about his understanding of time zones either.

“Nah, he’s been dodging me too! He goes and claims a princess and suddenly “His Highness” is too good for us.”

“His Grace. Tommy is only going to be a duke by marriage and—”

“Yeah ok, we get that you’re jealous of his royal assent, but seriously Annie couldn’t you at least try to not sound bitter whenever he comes up?”

That’s how things have always been between his siblings. They have a brash, witty sense of humor and even Annette’s found a way to navigate those waters effectively. She can take it and dish it out without sacrificing the austerity she places in her classification. Ian was never as good as her. All he could ever do was smile through it all. As they continue to bicker amongst themselves and Ian starts to wish that Mother let him at least have a glass of wine like Annette got, he sees his father come into the room. He can’t help his sigh of relief.

“Boys, mind the volume. Really, I don’t know why she lets you drink on empty stomachs. You both get so belligerent!” It’s only a gentle scolding on his part, no hints of genuine irritation are found on his face. His brothers know this as well and both take a large swallow of their beers in response. Walter McCallister, the perfect claim for a woman like Clarice, the perfect father to both wrangle and console the children she bore as they needed. Ian’s always felt closer to his father, and for more reasons than their shared classification. He was hoping to get a chance to speak with him privately at some point before dinner was over, but hasn’t gotten to yet. “Dinner is about to be served. Why don’t you all wash up and come take a seat? Your mother is hungry and she is not in a patient mood tonight,” Walter informs before Ian can get a chance to say something. All buzzed except Ian, the McCallister children file out of the room. Ian starts to perk up a bit after his father gives him a gentle shoulder pat on his way out.

Dinner was delicious, and in typical McCallister fashion, it ends as they always do. As soon as Clarice puts her utensil down, Ian, Annette, and Walter all get up from their spots to clear the table. The Dominants will continue to sit and chat for a while. They’ll drink and have fun waiting for the others to bring dessert and coffee if desired. Those three only get dessert as an occasional reward, so none for them tonight much to Ian’s disappointment. There’s a delicious-looking lemon cake in the kitchen just calling his name. He’s even so bold as to try and finger swipe some icing off of it, but Annette slaps his hand away before he gets a chance. Ian is mid pout when a single command makes him go rigid.

“Ian, darling,” Clarice calls out from the dining room. “I’ll be taking my dessert in my study. Be a dear and bring it up to me.” The tension in the kitchen is palpable. Annette and Walter keep cleaning, but even Ian knows they’ve each got a nervously watchful eye on him. Being alone with Mother in her study only means one thing: prepared to get chewed out.

“Yes Ma’am,” he responds, dejectedly cutting a suitable piece of cake for Mother and bringing it up. He has to suffer the typical “Ooo you’re in trouble”’s from his lounging brothers as he walks by. It’s not like they’re kids anymore so he doesn’t understand why they get such a kick out of it, but much like when they were, Ian shrugs away from their scrutiny so hard that it looks like he’s trying to make his head disappear. ‘Turtling’ as Annette so aptly put it, warranting even more joshing at his expense while he hurries to Mother’s study.

A deep sigh at the door and then a knock, Ian’s typical ritual. He can’t remember a time in his life when he left this room feeling good. He enters once prompted and sets the cake down in front of her, then steps back from her desk and stands there, waiting patiently. This is a common routine and Ian’s had plenty of practice, though he does think that her having him watch her eat it is a bit much. It feels like a punishment. Then again, so have their last few chats.

“Mm! That was absolutely divine. I swear, your father’s skills in the kitchen have never once diminished over the years. I do wish you could’ve enjoyed some…” Her voice and expression are cheery, but her eyes seem very cold. Even the way Clarice cleans the fork intimidates Ian. She’s quite skilled at making him feel naked in a not-fun way. “…then again, you haven’t been a very good boy, have you?”

“No Ma’am, I have not,” he says without hesitation. Confessing it out loud hurts so much. In a single sentence, weeks of “good boys” have been erased. Until he gets claimed, there’s only one Dominant who gets to dictate how well Ian’s behaving, and Clarice McCallister’s margins for grading are very clear.

“Huh,” is her only response, those cold eyes of hers repeating every scathing critique she’s voiced recently. There’s no need to rehash them, Ian knows full and well how he’s failed and why he’s failed. “Ian, I’ve been very patient with you. Men in our family attending Lowell has been a great honor for generations. You are the very first to turn that honor into an embarrassment. You should feel embarrassed by your inability to get claimed. It’s no one’s fault but your own.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I’d be able to reimburse myself for nine years of tuition.”

“I know. I’m—” A single quirk of Clarice’s eyebrow is all it takes for the words to die on Ian’s tongue. He looks down at his feet, unable to handle her disapproving gaze. He feels choked up like a hot coal is burning through his throat. The ground below starts to look blurry as well. Ian is doing his best not to cry. He knows Mother hates seeing that. “I’m trying really hard. I help out and I talk to a lot of Dominants. I have a lot of friends! But I … I don’t know why no Dominant wants me. I do everything you suggest and it—”

“Maybe you should spend less time screwing around with taken locals and put your energies towards getting serious about getting claimed.” He visibly winces at that interruption, because in his heart he knows there’s a lot of truth to it. “At this point, I’m not sure which is more humiliating. The fact that you’ve been there for nearly a decade, or the fact that your highest accolade is getting labeled as the school slut.” That one hurts even more, but he has a tool to use. Luckily, in his increasingly stressed frame of mind, he remembers to take it out of the toolbox his therapist has been helping him build.

“Dr. Addams says—”

“I’m the one paying for your little headcase pow wows with Dr. Addams. The last thing I want thrown in my face right now is whatever Freudian bullshit he told you to spout at me.”

“I-I just—”

“Would you quit mumbling like an idiot? Don’t slouch like that. Stand up straight, hold your head up high. If you have something to say, use your voice, Ian. How many times do I have to tell you this? Appearance is everything. Fix yourself, now!” He lifts his head but has to sniffle. Ian is full-on crying by the end of that and he just couldn’t hold his tears back any longer. Clarice’s eye-roll in response only makes him feel worse. “My sensitive little boy, what are we going to do with you?” she sighs, shaking her head. Ian stands perfectly still, trying to compose himself even though he knows he’s failing. The night has been a lot for him and he’s feeling raw from it all, but he knows what’s coming when Mother stands and walks around her desk. He’s thankful for it.

For all her talk about hating hysterics, she’s very good at dealing with Ian’s. She tenderly grasps the back of his head and brings his face into her neck, embracing her son. Ian wraps his large frame around her in turn, sobbing uncontrollably now that he’s been given the all-clear. He’s incoherent, inconsolable, but Clarice’s soothing touches calm Ian down. When she feels he’s gotten enough of it out of his system, she pushes him back gently by his shoulders. One hand goes to cup his pitiful face, stroking his cheek with her thumb as he whimpers out the last of his outpouring. “Ian, it’s just you. Even Tommy’s grown up and done it now. Not to mention he’s taken our ‘marrying up’ speeches seriously. I mean, he’s claimed into royalty! It’s bad for my image to have you still at Lowell with not even a prospect while all your other siblings have done so well. We need to change that, right?”

“Y-Yes Ma’am. I’ll try harder.” Eventually, she smiles and he smiles through his teary eyes in return. He must’ve finally said the right thing.

“Good boy.” There it is, the two words that uplift him more than everything else. A single phrase is capable of washing away all the cold pricklies and replacing them with warm fuzzies. He’s feeling better already. “But what am I always telling you?”

“My looks are my most important asset?”

“Exactly!” she praises. “You’re such a beautiful boy. Though, you could probably benefit from shedding some weight. Did you have to get so bulky?” Ian’s used to criticism being attached to Mother’s compliments. Her standards are extremely high. “I don’t expect you to be able to come up with a solution, which is why I’m going to help you. When Harrison was at Lowell, I did something for him before the Bachelor Auction. I’ve decided I’m going to do the same for you.”

He starts to wipe his face and continues to compose himself when Clarice turns around to her desk. He can’t see what she’s scribbling out, but after hearing some paper tear he figures what she’s doing. “Now, I know I’ve expressed my hesitation about doing this before, but Ian the auction has only ever resulted in you being a glorified whore for a night. How many times were you purchased by someone who had actual intentions of claiming you?” Out of eight times, the answer is none, and the pause it takes for him to mull this over is long enough for the rhetorical nature of Clarice’s question to be apparent. “My point exactly. This year, you’re taking matters into your own hands.”

Ian looks at the check, amazed at the amount. He’s never held that much money in his life, and it means the world to him that Mother has faith in his ability to do this.

“But Ma’am—”

“No buts, just promise me you’ll spend it wisely. Don’t waste this opportunity. Choose a Dominant carefully, one you have a shot with. It’s okay to think of a game plan too. In fact, you should ask Annie for tips. I’ve never seen anyone wrap a Dominant around their finger quite like her.”

Ian nods, sniffling still but smiling nonetheless. “Thank you, Mother. I won’t let you down. I’m gonna get a great date and I’ll get claimed. This will be my last year at Lowell, I promise.” Clarice smiles and dismisses Ian with a nod. He holds the check to his chest, feeling like he’s living a dream. Mother is right, this year he’s not leaving anything to chance. He’s going to make the right choice and finally get claimed.

The next couple of days on campus, Ian tried to keep his ear to the ground and figure out who he’d focus his bidding efforts on. Annie gave him some tips for how to plan the date in a way that’ll keep a Dominant interested, but that doesn’t help him choose. It’s not until he gets some alone time in the game room that he makes up his mind. Feeling the green of the pool table reminds Ian of a memory he hasn’t visited recently, only because he failed to find the need. But now … it’s giving him inspiration. “It’s settled then. I know what I’m going to do,” he says to himself, resolute in a way that’s almost uncharacteristic. Ian isn’t sure if he’s going to be able to live up to his promises by going for who he’s thinking, but he’s sure that it’s the best option given his predicament. “The Bachelor Auction is just around the corner. I have to make sure I’m ready. I’m going to land a Dominant, bring him home, and Mother will be so proud she’ll call me a good boy a whole bunch. I’m sure of it.”

#family dinner;;#self para

1 note · View note

nicolewrites · 5 years ago

Text

i’ve never loved (like this)

@tsunnychan this is your fault. have some more sylvgrid.

Rating: T+ Genre: Romance, Friendship Characters: [Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea], Byleth/My Unit, Dorothea Arnault Words: 5,661

"Sylvain is minding his own business in the kitchen, only half reading the paper he needs to have reviewed by tomorrow, when Dorothea decides to ruin his day completely. And by Dorothea, he means the outfit that Dorothea picked out for Ingrid to specifically to ruin his day." / modern au sylgrid

AO3 | FFN

Sylvain is minding his own business in the kitchen, only half reading the paper he needs to have reviewed by tomorrow, when Dorothea decides to ruin his day completely. And by Dorothea, he means the outfit that Dorothea picked out specifically to ruin his day because Ingrid is wearing an icy blue dress that’s all gauzy and flowy and had a deep v-neck that’s the cause of a few problems. It also shows off her legs marvellously that’s the cause of the rest of his problems.

Sylvain nearly drops his coffee when he sees Ingrid and he does let his tablet slip through his grip and clatter on the countertop.

Ingrid stares at him quizzically as Dorothea emerges from her room behind her, already smirking at Sylvain. Sylvain coughs to himself and tries to refocus on the paper he had been reading, but now that Ingrid is here and she is dressed like that, his brain is completely fried.

“Ready to go?” Ingrid asks him.

Sylvain forces a grin that he hopes doesn’t look too lovesick and he turns off his tablet. He takes another sip of coffee before reaching over the counter to place the mug in the sink. He stands off the barstool and pats his pockets for his keys and his phone: both are present.

“Absolutely,” he agrees. “You look nice,” he compliments. The compliment is definitely directed at Ingrid, but Dorothea gives him a sharp smile as she links one arm with Sylvain and the other with Ingrid, placing herself in between the two childhood friends. “Thank you for noticing,” she says breezily.

Sylvain is tall enough that he can see over the top of Dorothea’s head to Ingrid, but Ingrid isn’t looking at him as she tugs Dorothea towards the apartment door. Dorothea releases Sylvain and walks with Ingrid as the two girls start to pick out shoes.

Sylvain is already wearing shoes: pointed brown dress shoes that were way more money than they had any business being, but they look sharp, so he’s not going to complain. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and spins them around his finger as he watches Dorothea practically bully Ingrid into a pair of strappy white pumps before putting on her red heels herself.

Dorothea darts out the door then, snagging her coat as she goes, leaving Ingrid and Sylvain alone for one moment. Ingrid sighs heavily, staring at the shoes and the four inches of height they give her. Sylvain smiles faintly. Just because she’s dolled up, doesn’t mean that she’s not the same old Ingrid he knows so well.

“You don’t have to wear them,” he reminds her.

Ingrid lifts her gaze to him and sweeps it over his outfit critically: tailored grey suit, pointed shoes, and a black dress shirt but no tie. She shakes her head.

“It’s fine,” she disagrees. “I asked her to help me with this and they do match the dress.”

Sylvain shrugs. He’s about to say something potentially stupid and friendship ruining when Dorothea pokes her head back into the apartment.

“Coming?”

Ingrid straightens her shoulders. “Yes,” she assures and then she’s disappearing out the door of the apartment, leaving Sylvain to turn the lights off and lock the door.

The girls are waiting at the elevator for him and Sylvain swoops in to push the down button to call the elevator. Dorothea chats easily and Sylvain responds when she directs the conversation towards him, but he spends most of his time trying not to stare at his best friend.

- ~ -

The Blaiddyd Manor is all lit up and bustling with life by the time that Sylvain turns into the long driveway. Dorothea coos at the vibrancy of the event while Ingrid answers her questions about the house and the guest list and the occasion.

Sylvain has barely parked the car and gotten out when there are tiny arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing as a tiny woman squeals in delight. He has time to gently pat the firecracker that is Annette Dominic on the back twice before she’s darting away from him to hug Ingrid and Dorothea and to gush over how pretty they both look.

Annette is wearing a sparkly gold dress that, combined with her fiery hair, makes her hard to miss, even if she is absolutely tiny. Sylvain watches the girls for a moment with a faint smile before he turns to the man following Annette.

“Hey Fe,” he greets.

Felix’s arms are crossed and eyes narrowed, but he is wearing a light grey dress shirt and tailored black suit pants. His hair is also braided back into an updo that was definitely done by his tiny firecracker girlfriend.

“Sylvain,” he practically grunts.

Sylvain laughs and pulls Felix into a hug. Felix resists, pulling at Sylvain’s arms for the entire time, but it’s been that way as long as they’ve known each other. Sylvain pats Felix one more time on the back before releasing him.

Dorothea and Ingrid have managed to curb Annette’s enthusiasm and the three girls have walked around the car to join Sylvain and Felix. Ingrid hugs Felix too, and he does actually almost reciprocate her hug. Dorothea doesn’t try to hug Felix, just flashing him a wide smile that makes him narrow his eyes. Sylvain almost laughs.

He looks up at the Blaiddyd Manor and grins widely. He slings an arm around Ingrid and one around Felix. “Going to be a weird party this year,” he says brightly.

Felix makes a face. “I hate this party.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes. “It won’t be that weird, Sylvain,” she says.

He shrugs and pulls them both forward. “I dunno. Last time we were all here, Felix was still living with us.”

Annette laughs and grabs her boyfriend’s hand, pulling him free of Sylvain so that the two of them were walking together. “Well, too bad for you,” she teases.

Ingrid ducks out from under Sylvain’s arm once Felix is gone and he tries not to be too disappointed by it. She darts forward to walk next to Felix and Annette and the three start up a conversation. Dorothea links her arm through his once Ingrid is gone, smirking.

“Stop that,” he grumbles, still watching Ingrid.

“Oh absolutely not,” she replies cheerfully.

“I hate you,” he mutters quietly.

“No you don’t,” Dorothea sings back playfully.

Sylvain shuts up and escorts his and Ingrid’s friend to the front of the manner. Ingrid presents all of their invitations to the man at the door and they are waved through into the grand foyer.

The foyer is different from how it has been in years past. Instead of gaudy decorations dripping from every available surface, the decor is much sparser but just as eye-catching. It’s mostly silver this year, a contrast from the usual ostentatious gold. Sylvain likes it much better.

“Do you think Dimitri fired his party planner from last year?” he asks his friends.

Annette giggles. “I think this is probably Byleth’s touch.”

Ingrid nods. “Dimitri mentioned Byleth had been doing a lot to help him out this year.” “That’s his girlfriend right?” Dorothea asks curiously.

“Yeah,” Felix replies dryly. “They’re disgustingly in love. It’s awful.”

Annette laughs at Felix’s repulsion. “Come on, let’s go say hello to your father. I think I saw him head into the sitting room.” Felix casts Ingrid and Sylvain a ‘save me’ look, but they both just allow Annette to drag her boyfriend away to go find his father. Sylvain is about to ask Dorothea how much she knows about the Blaiddyd Gala since she’s never been before when Dorothea perks up noticeably.

“I just saw Ferdinand and Hubert arrive,” she says brightly. “I’ll catch up to you two later.”

Dorothea disappears into a crowd of people towards a flash of bright orange hair that’s probably her friend Ferdinand, and then Ingrid and Sylvain are alone. Coherent thoughts and social abilities all immediately vanish and Sylvain nearly chokes on his tongue as he tries to say something not completely stupid.

“Should we go find Dimitri?” Ingrid suggests when Sylvain’s words fail him for a moment too long.

He relaxes, smiling, and nods. “Excellent idea. Ballroom do you think?”

“That’s usually where he is,” Ingrid agreed.

She grabs his hand and pulls him forward. Sylvain blinks stupidly and stays rooted to the spot, keeping them both from actually moving. He stares at their joined hands. Ingrid follows his gaze slowly before raising an eyebrow.

“So we don’t lose each other?” she offers and Sylvain’s shock tightens into a practiced smile.

“Right.”

He lets her lead this time and follows her closely as they dart between people to get into the ballroom. The ballroom is even more crowded than the foyer had been and Sylvain recognizes even fewer of the people. The Blaiddyd Gala had been an annual event that Dimitri’s parents had put on every year for as long as Sylvain could remember. After they had died, Dimitri’s uncle Rufus had hosted the event until Dimitri had turned 19. From then on, Dimitri had hired planners and event coordinators and had thrown himself into continuing his parents’ legacy ball, no matter how much he hated actually hosting the event.

Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix had been going to the gala with their families since they were children, but now they were old enough to receive their own invites. While the party crowd is still mostly politicians and business folk, there has been an undeniable shift in attendance in recent years towards Dimitri’s colleagues and friends instead of his father’s old partners. It is refreshing to see.

Ingrid spots Dimitri first, at the far side of the ballroom chatting with Holst Goneril, the son of a politician Lambert had known well. There is a rather large crowd around the host, all waiting to pass their regards on to the host and to make useless small talk for a little while. Ingrid’s energy deflates a bit when she sees that Dimitri is so busy, but Sylvain spots a woman nearby that makes him smile.

He tugs Ingrid along, making sure not to trip her up on her high heels, and approaches Byleth Eisner. Byleth is wearing a silver dress and black heels and her shocking mint green hair is braided in a crown around her head. She’s sipping champagne from a flute and she immediately smiles when she sees Sylvain and Ingrid heading towards her.

“Hello you two,” Byleth greets.

Ingrid smiles. “Hello Byleth.”

The two girls embrace and Sylvain just grins, happy to have at least partially lessened Ingrid’s disappointment. Byleth hugs him next. She’s strong and her hug is firm. She’s quite short too, but as small as Annette, but the heels help, bringing her so she, like Ingrid, is only around 7 inches shorter than him.

“It’s lovely to see you both,” Byleth continues.

Sylvain eyes the ballroom for a moment. “We’re happy to be here. I’m guessing some of this had to do with you, right?”

Byleth scoffs into her champagne glass. “With how the decorations turned out last year? There was no way I was letting that witch back on the premises. Hilda did a much nicer job.”

Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Hilda Goneril?”

Byleth shrugged. “She likes pretty things and she likes to delegate so when I offered her the position, there was no way she was turning me down.”

Ingrid laughs lightly. “Well, everything looks wonderful. It reminds me of Patricia’s last gala. She took suck pride in organizing these things herself.”

Byleth smiles a bit sadly. “Dimitri said as much himself. I’m sad I couldn’t have met them.” She shakes off the sadness and glances over her shoulder to where her partner is swamped in visitors. “You know, I’m sure he’d much rather entertain you guys than those old codgers.”

Ingrid brightens. “Maybe I’ll go rescue him then.”

She slips into the crowd of people before Sylvain can stop her, and he’s left alone with Byleth. He snags a flute of champagne off a server’s tray as they walk by and Byleth taps her glass against his.

“It is good to see you, Sylvain.”

“It’s always good to see you, Professor,” he teases in reply.

Byleth rolls her eyes. She’s taken an assistant professor position at the university so many of their friends have taken to calling her professor jokingly. She nudges him with her elbow and glances at where Ingrid disappeared to.

“How is she?”

Sylvain shrugs. “You know how it is this time of year. She and Felix get mopey and Annette and I try our best. How’s Dimitri?”

Byleth fiddles with a long silver chain around her neck. The pendant on it dips into her cleavage, hidden from sight and Sylvain valiantly keeps his eyes on her shoulders and up. “He’s struggling. He loves and hates this party. It reminds him so much of his parents, but it’s also a chance to gather all his friends together in one place.”

Sylvain nods. “Yeah, it’s the same for us. We like to come to see our friends, but then some of us spend the whole time avoiding our families.” Byleth shakes her head with a fond smile. “How are you two though? Still hopeless?”

Sylvain feels his neck get a bit hot, but it’s Byleth and Byleth can read anyone like a book, so he’s not too surprised. They’ve had this conversation every day for the last four years at the party.

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

He can just pick out Ingrid where she has finally reached Dimitri through the crowd of old men. Dimitri is wearing a suit, but a simple grey one, and his hair is tied back out of his face. He is smiling much more genuinely at Ingrid than he had at any of the other guests greeting him.

“How’s are you and Dimitri?” he asks.

Byleth’s lips curl into a stunning smile. She lifts up the silver chain around her neck until Sylvain can see the pendant she has been concealing. It’s a pretty silver ring with a green emerald set in the centre of it and Sylvain is floored.

“Wised up, did he?”

Byleth laughs and drops the pendant. “I think he was tired of everyone assuming we were engaged honestly.” Sylvain throws an arm over her shoulder and squeezes her in a one-armed hug. “Congratulations, Byleth. I’m thrilled for you guys.”

Byleth looks over at where Ingrid and Dimitri are. “Do me a favour and tell the girl you love her, alright?”

Sylvain scowls and he’s about to argue when he notices that Dimitri and Ingrid are headed right towards them. Ingrid is beaming and Dimitri is smiling too. He reaches them first on his long legs and Sylvain lets himself be pulled into a hug by his longtime friend. Dimitri has about an inch on him now, but he hugs like a truck.

Sylvain pulls away and grins. “What’s with the hugginess of everyone tonight?” Ingrid elbows him and he laughs. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It’s great to see you too, Dimitri.”

Dimitri takes Byleth’s hand and smiles broadly. “Thank you for sending Ingrid to rescue me,” he says to her. He looks back at his friends. “And thank you guys for coming again. I know this isn’t the easiest place to be for any of us.” He looks around the ballroom for a second. “Is Felix here?”

“He and Annette went to say hi to Rodrigue,” Ingrid says.

Dimitri looks surprised. “Really?”

“Annette’s idea,” Sylvain supplies.

“Ah,” Dimitri says, smiling faintly.

Byleth looks small next to him, but she’s beaming and he keeps stealing glances at her like she’s hung the sun in the sky and Sylvain knows that they love each other a lot. He’s struck by a sudden urge to give the newly engaged pair a bit of privacy.

“We should finish making the rounds too, Ingrid,” he suggests. “We haven’t seen your brothers or your father and we should also probably find Dorothea too.”

Ingrid nods and bids Byleth and Dimitri goodbye before she lets Sylvain take her hand and lead her across the ballroom again. They get about ten paces away before she squeezes his fingers.

“Since when are you in a big hurry to socialize with my brothers?”

Sylvain feels mildly ill suddenly. “Oh god, save me, I’m definitely not.”

Ingrid laughs. “Do you think they’re suddenly going to want to kick your ass because Felix moved out?”

He shrugs. “They always seem ready to kick my ass.” Ingrid rolls her eyes affectionately. “No more than I am,” she assures.

They stop at the edge of the ballroom. The quartet on the far side has started playing and some people have started to dance. A server walks by them and Sylvain drops Ingrid’s hand to grab her a champagne flute. He offers it to her with a flourish and she takes it with a smile, taking a small sip.

“Thanks, Sylvain,” she says.

He taps his almost empty glass against hers. “Cheers.”

They stand in quiet companionship at the edge of the ballroom for a few minutes, just sipping at their drinks and taking in the atmosphere of the gala. Only about half the ballroom is being used for dancing. The other half is just people socializing, much like the rest of the manor during the gala. Even though the event had originally been a way to celebrate spring, it quickly morphed into one of the most influential parties in the city and a key networking point.

Sylvain never liked to think of it as a networking event because that ruined the atmosphere of the party. He used to come to the party and dance with as many girls as he could until someone got mad and then he’d sneak his younger friends drinks until they could all sneak away to Dimitri’s room to just talk. They hadn’t done that since Dimitri’s parents died and he missed it.

“Sylvain?” Ingrid asks and he jolts, realizing she has asked him something and he hadn’t heard her.

“Sorry, Ing, what did you say?”

“Just asking if you were okay is all,” she murmurs.

Her hand on his chest, resting on the side of his ribcage and Sylvain’s heart thuds painfully in his chest. They’re so close and he can count the individual eyelashes on her dolled up eyes. He can’t deny that Dorothea’s makeover has made her look absolutely stunning, but he also loves the Ingrid that wallows on their couch when she has a test coming up in sweatpants and her hair in a bun.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles in reply.

It’s increasingly hard to focus with her this close to him when every nerve in his body is singing for him to kiss her and to sweep her off her feet and to pin her against the wall of the ballroom and shower her in the love he’s been concealing for nearly eight years. It had been a horrifying realization when he first realized he was in love with her and it had been a struggle to conceal it from her for so long.

“You know,” he says lowly, “I wasn’t talking to Dorothea back at the apartment.”

Ingrid’s chin lifts just the tiniest bit and there’s a glimmer of something in her eyes. “You weren’t?”

“You look stunning, Ing,” he says quietly. “The kind of pretty that could walk all over me and I’d probably thank you and ask you do to it again.” Ingrid looks a bit startled at his words and her hand drops back to her side. “Oh,” she says. Her voice is small and Sylvain instantly wants to backtrack. He’s said something wrong.

He leans away from her to give them both breathing room and Ingrid relaxes once he’s out of her immediate space. The calmness on her face doesn’t stay long though as it drops into something that looks a bit like half-concealed dread a second later.

Sylvain feels his brow knit. “Ing?” He starts to turn to follow her gaze, but her hand grabs his arm in a vice grip and doesn’t let him look.

“Sylvain, just don’t,” she says hurriedly.

He frowns. “What?”

She closes her eyes and inhales. “Your father is here,” she mutters.

Sylvain feels dread coil in his stomach. “Oh,” he says faintly. He doesn’t look, but suddenly the romantic moment between him and Ingrid feels like it was a thousand years ago.

“Let’s go,” Ingrid says firmly.

She grips his hand and pulls him out of the ballroom into the eastern wing of the manner. She doesn’t look back and doesn’t let him hesitate either. Determinedly, she leads him through the kitchen and out the side door. One of the kitchen staff looks like she is about to scold them, but she recognizes them and lets them pass without hesitation.

Ingrid doesn’t release him until they’re standing under the gazebo in the impressive garden. Sylvain still feels kind of numb, but he lets her push him down onto one of the benches. She sits next to him, forcing him to slide over and make room for him.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she says, sounding guilty.

Sylvain shakes his head. “Ingrid, I see him here every year.” He squares his shoulders. “I’m okay, I promise.”

She purses her lips and levels him with a glare. “You are absolutely not, so do not lie to me, Sylvain.” She takes both of his hands in hers and squeezes them tightly. “Your father was awful to you. You’re allowed to never want to see him again.”

Sylvain shuts his eyes. “I’m the prodigal son, Ing, there’s only so long he’ll let me do my own thing.” His stomach is still all twisted in knots.

Her hands drop his and cup his face. He opens his eyes and is surprised by the burning intensity in her gaze.

“You’re in law school, Sylvain, that is absolutely nothing to scoff at. And if he thinks for a second that Felix and Dimitri and I will let him go back to his old ways with you, he’s mistaken.”

He feels the corner of his mouth twitch. “I don’t deserve you.”

Ingrid slides her arms around his neck and hugs him. She smells faintly of something floral she’s warm against him, even if her hands are cool to the touch.

“You’re my friend, Sylvain. That’s not going to change any time soon.”

She releases him from the hug and leans back, studying him. Sylvain doesn’t try to force one of his plastic smiles because he knows she sees through them. She’s been doing it since they were young so there’s not really any reason to try to sneak one past her now.

“It was easier when I could get under his skin by acting up,” Sylvain mumbles.

Ingrid takes his hand again and he feels weak and stupid. They should be inside enjoying the fanciest party of the year and yet they’re sitting under a gazebo while he, a grown man, freaks out about seeing his father.

“When Miklan wasn’t around and I was flirting like crazy, it was fine. He’d get annoyed but I was good at ignoring that. Once Mik went to prison,” Sylvain trails off, shaking his head.

Ingrid knows this story. She’s lived this story with him. It started with his father shipping Miklan off to as many boarding schools as possible because he was always trouble. It ended with attempted fratricide, disowning, attempted suicide, and Sylvain cutting ties and seeking therapy to deal with his fucked up family life.

Ingrid’s been through a lot too, with her mother dying when she was young and her father’s business struggling, causing her family to struggle to support her three older brothers and her. And then, of course, there had been Glenn.

Glenn Fraldarius who had been Felix’s older brother and Sylvain and Dimitri’s friend and Ingrid’s boyfriend. Glenn Fraldarius who had gotten shot protecting Dimitri from the same people that killed Lambert and Patricia. Glenn Fraldarius that had died and made everything go to shit.

“Sylvain,” Ingrid interjects gently, “you’re allowed to be angry with him. You’re allowed to be hurt.”

The words sounded terribly similar to the things that he had said through Ingrid’s locked door after Glenn had died. Back then, he had been ashamed of his attempts to comfort Felix and Ingrid because he could never get rid of the needling self-hatred in his stomach that some horrible part of him was glad that Glenn was gone because Ingrid would never, ever choose Sylvain over Glenn.

He takes a deep breath and stands up. He holds out a hand to her. “Come on, Ingrid. We have a party to enjoy.” She takes his hand, but she hesitates. “Sylvain.”

“As long as you’re with me, I’ll be fine. We’ll just avoid my parents and talk to your brothers and bother Felix. We haven’t seen Mercedes or Dedue or Ashe yet either, and we can’t leave without saying hello to them.”

Ingrid smiles a bit. “That’s a line,” she mutters, but she does let him tug her back towards the manor.

“Nah,” he disagrees, smiling at her. She looks prettier when she smiles. “It’s the truth.”

They run into Ashe in the dining room off the kitchen and Sylvain is happy to shove unpleasant thoughts of his father and his brother away to watch Ingrid light up as she greets her old friend. Ashe’s optimism is the same as always as he chatters about the catering, which is from the restaurant that he started, Sylvain notes.

Ingrid leaves the conversation with a plate of food and her pleasant mood restored and Sylvain’s stomach loosens as he looks at the beautiful smile on his friend’s face.

- ~ -

Dimitri gives a speech later that thanks all of his friends for their support. Byleth stands next to him and holds his hand. She makes eye contact with Sylvain during the speech and noticeably flicks her eyes to Ingrid who is standing next to him, still holding his hand. Sylvain holds her gaze and Byleth narrows her eyes just the tiniest bit in a measure of displeasure.

Sylvain ignores her and focusses on the warmth of Ingrid’s hand in his. Her fingers are long and slender, but her hand still feels dwarfed and delicate in his. He squeezes it once. Her eyes stay on Dimitri as he gives his speech, but her grip tightens around his a moment later.

- ~ -

At one-thirty in the morning, Sylvain waits on the front steps of Blaiddyd Manor while Ingrid searches for Dorothea inside so that they can leave. After the brief hiccup, the party had been quite enjoyable. They had spoken with Ingrid’s brothers who only gave him a few suspicious looks and had bothered Felix and Annette and had spoken with countless other friends, all while successfully avoiding Sylvain’s parents.

He has shed his jacket, draping it over one of his arms as he waits for Ingrid to reappear with their friend. He doesn’t wait long since she emerges from the manor, rubbing her arms and looking mildly annoyed. She waves her phone at him as she approaches.

“Thea texted me,” she explains as she approaches. “She left with Petra half an hour ago.” Sylvain laughs. “Of course she did.” He can’t tell if Dorothea left because she was super into Petra or if she was trying to leave Sylvain and Ingrid together for even longer while Ingrid was all dolled up. Knowing Dorothea, it was probably a twisted mix of both.

“Shall we go then?” Ingrid asks.

She shivers as she said it and Sylvain pulls his jacket off his arm and drapes it over her shoulder. She looks like she’s about to protest, but Sylvain places his hands on her shoulders and smooths the coat over her dress. The wispy blue dress doesn’t really match the dark charcoal suit jacket, but it kind of dwarfs her figure anyways.

“Sylvain?” a voice calls from the manor’s entrance before they can move a muscle.

Sylvain’s stomach tightens and he lifts his head to stare at the tiny blonde woman in the doorway of the house. She has delicate, china-like figures and an extremely expensive red dress on. He hasn’t seen her in a year and he really wishes he had gotten away before she had spotted him.

“Hello Mrs. Gautier,” Ingrid says politely.

Sylvain feels like hiding behind Ingrid, but he takes a deep breath. “Hi Mom,” he replies.

His mother looks like she is going to say something when a tall redheaded man appears next to her, his gaze sternly focusing on Sylvain and she says nothing.

“Sylvain,” his father says, his voice as hard as he remembers it.

Ingrid takes his hand and squeezes his fingers so hard that they hurt. “Hello Mr. Gautier,” she says, repeating the greeting for his other parent.

Sylvain’s father’s gaze darts to their connected hands and Sylvain’s jacket draped over Ingrid’s shoulders. “Miss Galatea,” he says like he barely remembers her name.

Ingrid keeps her head up and smiles plainly at his parents. She waits for him to take the lead, but she doesn’t let go of his hand. Sylvain squares his shoulders and nods to his father.

“Goodnight,” he says abruptly before turning and pulling Ingrid after him, heading for his car.

Thankfully, his parents don’t call after him or follow him so they make it to his car without issue. Ingrid gets in the passenger side and Sylvain climbs in the driver’s side. His hands curl around the wheel until his knuckles turn white.

“Are you okay to drive?” she asks.

“Only one glass,” he assures. “I’m fine.” “That’s not what I meant.”

He stays silent for a moment until the blood rushing in his ears settles and he feels like himself again. “I’m okay,” he promises.

“Okay,” Ingrid agrees.

She pulls his jacket off of her shoulders and drapes it over her lap so that she can fasten her seatbelt. Her palms smooth along the fabric of his jacket. Sylvain loosens his grip on the wheel and watches her for a moment. She doesn’t look at him again so he starts the car and starts driving them home.

The roads are mostly empty through the city as he pulls into the parkade of their apartment building. He kills the engine and they sit there in silence for a moment.

“You said you’d let me walk all over you and that you’d thank me and ask me to do it again,” Ingrid recalls as Sylvain reaches to unbuckle his seatbelt.

He tenses and looks at her. Her cheeks are pink and she finally lifts her head to look him in the face. Under the fluorescent lights of the parkade that filter through the windows of the car, she almost glows.

“What does that mean, Sylvain?” she asks.

A lie sticks in his throat and he tries to tell her the truth instead, but that gets stuck too, so he’s just stuck looking at her dumbly.

“Right,” she mutters. “I told her it was a long shot.”

Sylvain’s brow furrows and his hand shoots over to grab Ingrid’s wrist before she can let herself out of the car. “Long shot?”

She’s blushing fully now as she bites her lip. It hits him suddenly and totally and a bubble of happiness wells and bursts so quickly in his chest that he’s not entirely in control when he leans over the console and kisses her.

Her hands fist into his hair immediately and she kisses him back fiercely. Sylvain’s hands slide to her back and he coaxes her towards him. It’s awkward and a bit bumpy as she maneuvers into his lap, pressed between him and the steering wheel. They kiss furiously for a long second before Ingrid jerks away, gasping for breath.

Sylvain’s chest is heaving too, but Ingrid looks mussed. One of her pretty dress’s straps has slid down her shoulder and his jacket is abandoned on the floor of the passenger side. Her lipstick is smudged to nothing and her fancy hairdo is falling out. He brings a hand up to brush away wispy threads of blonde hair.

His love for her is written all over his face, but for the first time in a long time, he’s not afraid of it. Ingrid looks a bit shy and uncertain even though she’s literally perched in his lap in the front seat of a car and Sylvain laughs lightly.

“I love you,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a light kiss to her neck.

She sighs for a moment, but then hands pull his head back and she looks at him seriously. “It’s not a line, right?”

Sylvain slides his hands to her waist and squeezes, trying to let her feel the warmth of his palms through her dress. “Ain’t a line if it’s the truth, Ing,” he breathes.

She kisses him again and neither of them breaks it for a long time. Sylvain is pretty sure that he could die happy kissing Ingrid, but she makes a small noise of discomfort and he pulls back, staring at her.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. She shifts closer to him so they’re pressed even closer than they were before. “Steering wheel,” she mutters.

Sylvain laughs and presses his forehead against her shoulder as he tries to stop laughing like a child. She runs her fingers through his hair and he can feel her give a breathy laugh too.

“I love you too,” she says. “But, please, for the love of god, we have an apartment upstairs.”

Sylvain smirks and presses a kiss to the junction of her shoulder and neck, opening his lips just enough to gently press his teeth against her skin for half a second. She practically shivers against him.

“And no nosy Felix,” he agrees and he opens the car door.

#the writing section #i've never loved (like this)#sylgrid #sylvgrid #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #f: fire emblem #fic: i've never loved (like this)#c: ingrid brandl galatea #c: sylvain jose gautier #c: dorothea arnault #c: byleth #g: romance #g: friendship #rating: t+#words: 5.6k+#fe3h #fire emblem three houses

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tsunnychan · 5 years ago

Text

best laid plans: right in front of me

and sylvgrid continues to ruin all my own plans...

ao3

Ashe isn’t quite sure how he ended up here, holding up his phone in the general direction of a darkened stairwell with Dedue standing watch a few feet away, recording the inconsolable sobs of his two considerably plastered friends he looks up to.

He ends the recording on a particularly wet sniffle and sighs, texting Mercedes while he mumbles to Dedue, “are you sure we should just leave them like that? It feels… sad. This was supposed to be a low maintenance bachelor party, how did we get to this point?”

Dedue closes his eyes and sighs, “I imagine it was around the time Claude convinced Lorenz that alcohol tolerance is quite the becoming trait of an upstart politician, and that the quickest way to improve was by taking shots.”

Ashe racks his own brain, also foggy from the two shots he took at Sylvain’s insistence to celebrate with Dimitri, and grimaces. “…That’s right. Then Lorenz bought his own bottle of liquor from Claude and started taking more shots with Dimitri, and Sylvain did not take kindly to that.”

Dedue nods his head sagely. “Indeed, he did not.”

Ashe shakes his head, remembering how Sylvain and Lorenz slammed shot after shot back, not to be one-upped by the other, while Dimitri matched them both, so as not to offend one of his best friends and one of his guests.

A loud wail sounds from behind them and Ashe hurriedly checks his phone again. Please Mercedes… we need you…

He exhales in relief when he sees a typing bubble pop up. Then, it disappears, and Ashe is worried again. He watches the bubble reappear and disappear for several minutes as a fresh round of tears start behind them.

Even Dedue’s eyebrow twitches at the sudden thump followed by a pitiful whine and a hiccup, and Ashe can no longer tell who’s in worse shape back there.

His phone buzzes and Mercedes has finally responded.

Mercedes: They’ll be okay.

Dedue reads the message over his shoulder as Ashe casts another worried glance in the direction of his two friends when he hears another whimper. He looks toward Dedue, who nods in the direction of the main floor. “We’ll need Felix’s help to get them sorted out.”

Nodding absently, Ashe makes his way back to the bar where Felix sits with his hands massaging his temples, no doubt having heard the continuous wailing from his childhood friends, when his phone buzzes again.

Another message from Mercedes.

Mercedes: Help is on the way.

Ashe gulps and desperately hopes no speed records will be broken today.

Sylvain knocks the back of his head against the wall as he tries to adjust his legs in the dark, cramped corner behind the club’s stairwell that he and Dimitri have staked claim to.

Executive and motor function are decidedly out of the question.

Normally, a hit like that wouldn’t warrant anything beyond a reflexive ow, but Sylvain is feeling extra sorry for himself this evening and Dimitri has so kindly joined his pity party… misery loves company.

So, he lets out a drawn out whine that’s promptly cut off by a hiccup, and Sylvain finds he’s mad he can’t even whine properly.

Dimitri slaps a hand over his mouth and Sylvain feels his teeth rattle. Dimitri does not remember his own strength when he’s drunk.

Planning a trip to the dentist aside, Sylvain looks questioningly at his best friend, who’s holding a finger to his lips, eyes looking past their hiding spot. He whispers, “quiet, Sylvain! It will do us no good to be found by our friends like this.”

While he’s inclined to agree, taking in the sight of Dimitri’s disheveled hair and wrinkled shirt (and he knows he is not doing much better), Sylvain’s also pretty sure two of the other Lions followed them back here and he’s not sure how to break it to Dimitri’s tear-streaked face.

If he had to guess who’d be kind (not Felix) and responsible (definitely not Felix) enough to go after them, it’d probably be—“Apologies, Dimitri. Ashe saw you and Sylvain leave the main area. When you did not return in the next hour, we came to investigate.”

Dedue and Ashe.

Sylvain hiccups again as he feels Dimitri tense next to him and claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, calling over in a scratchy voice, “We’re, uh… we’re okay! Give us a minute—”

Dimitri’s ragged whisper comes at the same time as Dedue’s deadpan.

“Are we truly okay, Sylvain?”

“We’ve given you an hour. It is clear you two are not okay.”

He was… mostly out of tears, and really only started again because Dimitri started again. Alcohol truly destroys any semblance of control he has…

Dimitri’s eyes get watery again and Sylvain can feel his own well up, and he hurriedly chokes out, “Dimitri, no. We’ve been through this. You deserve happiness and you are good enough for Byleth! You’re marrying her! She said yes!”

At his own insistence of Dimitri’s worth, Sylvain can feel the guilt mounting in his chest. “Felix and Annette too. They’re engaged, you’re getting married, and here I am, can’t even ask—”

He’s promptly cut off and shaken by Dimitri’s heavy-handed grip. “The same goes for you, Sylvain! I don’t care what your family has said about your worth. We’re your family now, and you are good. Ingrid loves you, we all love you, for you! Just ask her!”

The mention of Ingrid pushes him over the edge, again. “But how? You know how long it took me to even ask her to move in with me, how am I supposed to ask—”

“By being honest! She’s been by your side this entire time, Sylvain, and I don’t think she’s leaving any time soon.”

The thought of Ingrid’s bright blonde hair and shining green eyes, her face lighting up when she sees him, the way she softly kisses him good morning—

The thought of losing all of that, of losing her…

Terrifies him.

And he has never been good at facing his fears.

It sets off another round of tears. “Dimitri, I can’t—”

Sylvain’s stomach lurches suddenly as he’s hauled up by the armpits and he hears Felix’s dry voice. “I think that’s enough for one night.”

He blinks blearily, just barely making out his best friend’s face as Dimitri is lifted to his feet in a similar fashion by Dedue. “How nice of you to join us, Felix. I thought Ashe came with Dedue… But anyway, you missed out on a great bonding session—”

Felix slings one of Sylvain’s arms over his shoulder and scoffs. “Ashe came to get me after you knocked your head. As for this ‘bonding’ session, I think I heard enough. In fact, I think most of everyone heard you two babbling fools before you found this stairwell to hide out in.”

Sylvain hiccups, again. “Lovely. So, I don’t have to rehash the story—?”

He stumbles as Felix tries to take a step forward with him and his best friend growls, readjusting his grip. “Get it together, Sylvain. Ingrid’s coming to pick you up, and I’d rather not have to explain to her how you got like this.”

Sylvain doesn’t hear anything beyond Ingrid’s name and Felix regrets saying anything at all when his best friend lets out a loud wail for the tenth time that night. They’ve barely made it to the curbside where Ingrid said she would pick up their weepy friend when Felix hears a crash sound inside, accompanied by another wail he’s heard far too many times in one night.

Groaning, he drops Sylvain’s shoulder and positions his still teary friend against the wall. After making sure he could stand without swaying, Felix fixes him with a hard stare. “Do not move. From this spot. You hear me? Ingrid will be here in a few moments. I have to go check on the boar… and make sure Claude doesn’t do anything to make it worse.”

As Felix turns to leave, Sylvain blindly reaches out for his arm. “Wait no, Felix, don’t leave me—”

Felix sighs. “Ingrid loves you, Sylvain. I get your fear, and I get where it’s coming from, but she’s always been right in front of you this whole time, even when you weren’t looking. Just… trust her.”

Sylvain is quiet for a moment, his grip tightening on Felix’s arm. Then, he mumbles, “I know.”

Seconds pass by in silence and Felix raises an eyebrow. “Am I getting my arm back tonight?”

Sylvain hastily releases his best friend’s arm, one hand jumping to the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just… I can’t see anything right now.”

“What?”

Even though he can’t see Felix’s incredulous stare, he can feel it. “I uh… I took my contacts out.”

Sylvain watches the Felix-shaped blob in front of him drag a hand across his face. “…And why did you do that, Sylvain?”

“Well, I thought that would be obvious with all the crying you claimed you heard. Dry, salty contacts are real pain in the—”

Another crash breaks through the night air followed by Claude’s laughter, and Sylvain hears Felix groan heavily again. “Look, stay exactly where you are. Ingrid said ETA was twenty minutes. I have to make sure there’s no property damage we’re responsible for.”

With that, Felix leaves his best friend leaning against the wall, wondering how the hell he became the emotional pillar of support tonight.

Intermission had just started when Ingrid receives a rather strange text message from Mercedes. A voice recording?

She’s just about to duck into a less crowded hallway to listen when she sees Dorothea weaving through the crowd toward her. Message momentarily forgotten, she catches Dorothea as she sweeps her into a crushing hug. “Ingie, you made it!”

Ingrid smiles. “Of course I made it! Opening night for the play you wrote? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Dorothea beams at her and her eyes flick down, smile broadening. “New dress?”

The twinkle in Dorothea’s eyes sets Ingrid on edge. “Yes, I… I bought it for your show. It’s a special occasion after all.”

Her friend nods thoughtfully as she spins her around, taking in the emerald green satin and square neckline. “It’s lovely, Ingrid. You look beautiful. Though, I’m surprised you were able to make it out of the house without Sylvain leaving a single mark on you—”

“Dorothea!”

Her face is burning as Dorothea laughs. “I’m serious! We both know how weak he is for any hint of collarbone, how’d you manage to get away from him?”

Ingrid’s cheeks turn even brighter. “I got dressed after he left for Dimitri’s bachelor party—”

“Got dressed? Were you not before—”

”Thea! You know what I mean—” Three continuous buzzes come from Ingrid’s purse and she remembers what she was doing beforehand. “Just a second, Thea. Mercedes sent me a voice recording and I want to make sure everything’s okay—”

“I bet it’s Sylvain drunk crying.”

She sighs. “As weepy as Sylvain can get when he’s drinks, Mercedes isn’t even at the party.”

Ingrid pulls her phone out and reads her texts, and feels her stomach drop. Don’t tell me…

Mercedes: Your expertise may be needed.

Mercedes: …it’s a bit much for me to handle over the phone alone.

Mercedes: But I know you’re at Dorothea’s opening night, so please don’t feel obligated.

She walks over to the less crowded hallway with Dorothea close behind and selects the voice recording, holding her phone up to her ear. She’s promptly met two recognizable wails so loud she flinches away from her phone. As she hastily pauses the recording, Ingrid sees Dorothea’s raised eyebrow and barely concealed smile. “Sounds like you’re needed elsewhere, Ingie.”

In a frustrating combination of exasperation and worry, she apologizes, “Thea, I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you—”

Dorothea waves her hand dismissively. “No worries, Ingrid. Sylvain will pay up one way or another. Now, go.” She pushes Ingrid toward the exit and winks as she looks back, keys in hand. “Your princess needs his knight in shining armor.”

Sylvain’s ears are ringing, and that delightful pounding headache is starting to settle in behind his eyes. He’s stayed in the exact same spot for who knows how long, as per Felix’s orders. Admittedly, he tried straightening up without the support of the wall behind him, felt his head spin, and immediately slouched back against the cool brick.

He groans softly to himself and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lorenz and his stupid bottle of stupid tequila… where did he even get that anyway…”

Felix was drawn away by the crashes inside the club and Claude’s suspicious laughter, but not without leaving him with some very Felix observations about his relationship with their best friend.

She’s always been right in front of you this whole time.

But Sylvain was getting awfully tired standing out here alone, waiting for Ingrid to appear in front of him.

Ingrid.

He sighs. She was going to Dorothea’s event tonight and he knows she bought a new dress for it… and he was most definitely not above begging to see it, but she pushed him out the door so he wouldn’t be late for Dimitri’s party.

He frowns. His pouting does not work as well as it used to.

The buzzing in his ears grows louder and he groans again, swaying slightly against the wall. “Fuck tequila…”

“Oh, you poor thing… let’s get you home.”

He whips in the direction of the voice and regrets it immediately, with the sudden nausea that rises in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself against the wall as his head spins. He barely hears the footsteps come closer to him and his hand shoots out. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m waiting for my girlfriend. She’ll be here any minute now.”

The footsteps stop and he breathes a sigh of relief. He does not have the energy nor the capacity to deal with propositions tonight—

“Sylvain? I am your girlfriend—”

He snorts and opens his eyes to see exactly who this stranger is—

Right.

He took his contacts out.

Sylvain blinks blearily in the stranger’s direction and thinks he sees blonde hair, maybe a green dress? He shakes his head and grimaces at how foggy he feels. “I haven’t heard that one before, so I’ll give you points for that. Listen, don’t get me wrong, you’re pretty and everything… but I just really really love my girlfriend, okay? So if you’d just—”

Another wave of nausea hits him and he slaps a hand over his mouth. Actually, if he threw up here, would that make this girl leave?

Before he can think too much on it, he hears the girl sigh and the last tiny shred of his sober mind tingles. “Okay, prove it.”

And it’s gone. “What?”

“Prove to me you have a girlfriend. Call her right now, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Stubborn this one. “Fine, I’ll call her.” He sighs heavily and musters every last bit of his motor function to fumble in his pocket for his phone. He glares in the direction he last heard the stranger’s voice and pointedly raises his phone. “Hey Siri, call ‘love of my life’.”

Sylvain hears the stranger groan and he raises an eyebrow in challenge as his phone rings. He thinks he sees her reach for something in her purse when Ingrid’s voice sounds in his ear. “Hello?”

He sags in relief. “Thank Seiros… Ing, can you come pick me up? I’m scared. There’s this really persistent blonde that’s—” The stranger steps closer and his vision finally decides to clear up. “Oh.”

Ingrid stares back at him with a carefully neutral face. “A really persistent blonde that’s what, Sylvain?”

He gulps as the corner of her lips twitch. “She, uh… she’s trying to take me home with her. What do I do?”

Ingrid inhales deeply and shoves her phone back in her purse. “I don’t know, Sylvain. What do you want to do?”

Phone still to his ear, he takes in the no-longer-blurry image of Ingrid, with her golden blonde hair and glowing skin and the square neckline of her green dress that’s doing illegal things to him and he is so so lucky—“I want to marry you.”

Ingrid’s eyes widen and a blush colors her cheeks prettily, and Sylvain feels his heart soar. He wants to walk over to her and wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her neck, but his feet feel like lead and he’s pretty sure if he takes one step away from this wall, he will topple over—

He’s saved from any further brain power when Ingrid shakes her head and laughs lightly, slinging one of his arms over her shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You’re half dead on your feet, and you’re still trying to be charming?”

He leans heavily into her warmth and breathes deeply, the scent of orange blossoms and vanilla filling his senses. She smells nice. “I might be half dead, but I’m all yours.”

Sylvain staggers with her when she momentarily loses her grip. That or she very seriously considered dropping him. He hears her huff in exasperation, “all mine, huh? What happened to that girlfriend of yours?”

Her strong arms set him upright again and she gets him walking slowly, and he can’t help the smile that grows on his face. “She hung up on me.”

Ingrid snorts. “Rude of her, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head vigorously, ignoring the way his world tilts because Ingrid’s here. “No, no. I deserve it. She was right there in front of me the entire time, even if I was too stupid to notice.”

Ingrid’s car comes into view and she sighs again, fondness bleeding into her voice. “What am I going to do with you, Sylvain?”

She sets him against the side of her car as she digs around in her purse for her keys and he smiles again. “Well, for starters, you could make me your husband, sweep me off my feet, and—”

The nausea from before slams into him full force and he’s throwing up an entire night’s worth of pettiness and depression.

Then, he blacks out.

Sylvain feels like he’s been hit by a truck and he would feel a deep-seated anger at Lorenz and his stupid tequila if it weren’t for the massive headache that keeps him from making any sudden movements.

He groans and is highly disappointed at the lack of Ingrid next to him. Despite not being in bed with him, she’s kept the curtains shut and she’s left a glass of water along with some ibuprofen and vitamin B pills for him. Gritting his teeth, he rolls over until the water is in reach and he shoves the pills in his mouth.

He finishes the entire glass and tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He does not want to think about what time it is.

Yawning widely, he sets the glass back down and his hand brushes against something that makes him freeze.

No.

He grabs the small velvet box off the nightstand, his heart racing.

She… she didn’t find it, did she?

Fingers trembling, Sylvain opens the lid and drops it immediately. It’s not the ring he bought months ago and hid away from her.

It’s simultaneously better and worse.

A strikingly familiar blue gemstone he’s seen before winks up at him, and he shakily picks up the paper note that fluttered onto his blankets.

Don’t make me wait forever.

-From: the love of your life

#sylvgrid #sylgrid #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #fe3h #my writing #theyre disasters and so am i

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ncfan-1 · 5 years ago

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Three Houses: Where Are All the Mothers? Part 2, Dimitri’s Mother and Maternal Family

Welcome to Part Two of ‘Three Houses: Where Are All the Mothers?” In Part One, I discussed the widespread absence of mother characters in Three Houses and how, given that mother-child relationship is central in driving so much of the overarching narrative, the lack of that theme being replicated, analyzed, and explored at the descending levels of the narrative hurts the story as a whole. In Part Two, I’m going to be talking about the snowballing effects of neglecting a mother character—namely, how in certain cases it can lead to also neglecting her natal family, which can open up some big holes in the narrative. Actually, Part Three covers this, too, but while in Part Three we’ll be traveling down to Enbarr, in Part Two, we’re heading north to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

That Dimitri rarely ever mentions his birth mother makes somewhat more sense than someone like Ingrid never talking about her mother at all. Sylvain mentions pre-timeskip that she died during an outbreak of plague “around twenty years ago,” and while it was certainly not actually twenty years ago, the fact that Sylvain named such a figure indicates that Dimitri’s mother likely died while he was still in his infancy. He has no memory of her, Patricia is likely who he thinks of when he thinks of ‘Mother,’ and it’s unclear whether the people around Patricia in the royal court did or did not bring up her predecessor all that much, the better to try to make Patricia’s life a little easier, and keep her out of another woman’s shadow.

That Dimitri hardly ever talks about his birth mother (and to be honest, I can’t remember if he ever mentions her specifically, or if we’re just meant to infer her existence from the negative space of Dimitri always referring to Patricia as his stepmother) is understandable. What is considerably less understandable is the narrative neglecting her so thoroughly as it does, especially when that also snowballs into neglecting her natal family.

Just to get this out of the way, oh, look, here’s another mother character who apparently didn’t merit a name. Why not just have Sylvain call her ‘the late Queen [insert name here]’ instead of the queen consort when he dropped that exposition about her death, the plague, and Cornelia on us? Calling her the queen consort is actually more awkward than just calling her ‘the late Queen [insert name here]’, so it looks like, as with Byleth’s mother, the writers have gone out of their way to avoid giving her a name. Just… why?

And we know nothing about this woman, or her accomplishments, whatever they might be. We don’t know if she opened any churches, or patronized any scholars or universities, or oversaw any public works projects, or regularly delivered alms to the poor, or any of the other things a high Medieval queen might be expected to do with her power and influence. This game likes its flavor text; it wouldn’t have been hard to drop us a few lines here and there. No, it doesn’t seem like Patricia did any of that—Dimitri mentions that she mostly just embroidered all day, and didn’t seem “present” enough to really be involved in the goings-on of Faerghus (with the obvious and somewhat large caveat that he’s remembering her through the eyes of a child)—but Patricia also didn’t have the advantage of a pre-existing network of influence in the form of a powerful natal family within the Kingdom. Her predecessor, almost certainly a noblewoman by birth, thanks to the Faerghus nobility’s obsession with Crests, would have had such a family, and such a network.

So, where are they?

Even after Dimitri’s mother died, her family still should have been a huge presence both in his life and in the political landscape of Faerghus. Even after Lambert remarried, these people should still have had a huge presence in Dimitri’s life, because they’re the maternal family of the future King of Faerghus. Whether their interest in him is altruistic or self-serving—Volkhard von Arundel went from being a minor lord in Adrestia to shooting up in power and influence after Patricia became one of Ionius’s consorts by capitalizing on this newfound connection to the emperor—they should have been a fixture in Dimitri’s life growing up, and a fixture in the royal court. But instead, we have nothing.

We have no information on how Lambert’s in-laws might have influenced the reforms he intended to carry out, if they opposed or supported them. We’ve no information on how they might have used their connection to Lambert to try to advance at court. Were they councilors, ambassadors, generals? Were they a help to Lambert’s goals or a constant thorn in his side? And here’s something else we don’t hear about: were any of them killed in the Tragedy of Duscur?

Dimitri never talks about his maternal family. Never talks about the cousins whose parents would almost certainly sent them to court to act as his companions, or about the aunts or uncles who must surely have been a part of his life, or the grandparents who, if still living when he was growing up, must surely have also been a part of his life. Even if their interest in him was purely self-serving, even if the relationship was trouble, surely Dimitri would have mentioned at least one of them at least once.

When Dimitri was “executed” during the timeskip in three out of the four routes, there is no word as to how his maternal family responded to the news. Did they join with Houses Fraldarius and Gautier in fighting the Empire, or did they cave to Cornelia in the hopes of being able to salvage something from the situation they were now in? When, in Azure Moon, Faerghus as a whole discovered that Dimitri was still alive, did they rush to send support, or did they wait and see if he would be able to take back Fhirdiad before pledging their support?

Dimitri’s mother certainly had a family. She almost certainly had a noble family, a noble house whose presence should have been felt in some way or another in the game. If they all died in the plague that took her life, if they all died in the Tragedy of Duscur, if some died in the first and the rest in the second, the game needs to tell us—or, at least, hint at—that. As I said earlier, this game likes its flavor text; a little tidbit here and there, bits of information we’re left to string together on our own, would have gone a long way. And if Dimitri’s mother was from a cadet branch of House Blaiddyd, same deal as above; give us enough information that we can figure that out.

And the reason I keep assuming that Dimitri’s mother is from a Kingdom noble house yet to be introduced is because none of the six we have any level of insight into—Gaspard, Dominic, Charon, Gautier, Galatea, and Fraldarius—make sense as Dimitri’s maternal family.

House Gaspard? It would likely have come up during Lonato’s chapter, and certainly during Dimitri and Ashe’s support chain. Given that Dimitri’s trying to get Ashe to relax around him, if he could have pulled out the “But we’re closely related (by adoption)” card, he would have.

House Dominic? It would have come up in Dimitri’s supports with Gilbert or especially Annette, Annette not being the kind of person who’d keep on calling Dimitri ‘Your Highness’ if she was closely related to him.

House Charon? Same deal as the two above; it would have come up during Dimitri’s support chain with Catherine. Moreover, if Catherine was closely related to Dimitri, she would likely have known him since very early in his life, and would have recognized him as a child, long hair or no long hair.

House Gautier? No. Sylvain never includes ‘related to the future King of Faerghus’ in the spiels he uses to lure in his latest conquest; he would if he could.

House Galatea? Count Galatea is desperately trying to marry Ingrid off to the richest man (provided he’s not a scumbag) he can find. Being able to claim that she’s closely related to the future King of Faerghus would absolutely be something he’d use to make her more attractive to potential suitors, if he could claim it with any degree of truth.

House Fraldarius? This is the only one that halfway makes sense, given Rodrigue’s closeness to Lambert and Dimitri both, Glenn serving as a royal knight from the ripe old age of fifteen, and Felix having apparently been a close companion of Dimitri’s from early childhood. However, it only makes halfway sense, not total sense. If Dimitri’s mother was from House Fraldarius, how come it’s never mentioned? How come Rodrigue never brings up the blood relation? If Rodrigue was, say, Dimitri’s maternal uncle, he probably wouldn’t call him by name, especially not pre-timeskip, where he is meticulously polite and wouldn’t be calling his own uncle by just his given name. In the end, I’ve got to give a no on House Fraldarius being where Dimitri’s mother came from, as well.

The sheer absence of Dimitri’s maternal family is a gaping hole in a narrative already filled with holes where mother characters should be. In a game with thinner world-building, it might be easier to overlook. However, given that Three Houses takes so much time to establish the land of Fódlan and the complicated networks of influence and enmity that connect its noble houses, that the maternal families of one of the continent’s future rulers never gets so much as a mention, when this house would be undeniably an influential one (and if no longer extant, that deserves mention as well), is a glaring oversight. In Part Three, I’ll be talking about the situation in Adrestia, specifically a situation that takes this problem and multiplies it.

Part Three: The Imperial consorts (and their children) and their families

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #Fe16 #Meta #Where are all the mothers?#Dimitri Fe16

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ayma-nidiot · 5 years ago

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The Ride - Sylvix fic Chapter 19

Also on AO3 -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21973405/chapters/57522871

Chapter 19 – The Light in Conand Tower

“It’s pretty boring in there…” Annette came out after surveying the first room of Conand Tower. “Are you sure we can’t take in the wagon?”

“Just to be safe, I want to leave it out here,” replied Sylvain. “If anything were to happen to our horses…”

“In that case, I volunteer to stay watch.”

“What’s wrong? Ignatz, you sound awful.”

“I… uh… made the mistake of eating fish that we carried all the way from the monastery. I’ve been having the runs ever since we left that Galatea village.”

Sylvain sighed. “Then you should have eaten fresh steak from the market like the rest of us. That fish was a week and a half old. Raphael and Lorenz, look after him, please.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Raphael happily agreed.

“I brought some medicinal tea from Gloucester,” Lorenz added. “It’s a peppermint tea that my family has used for-”

Ignatz suddenly cowered, running behind a nearby bush.

“I… uh… guess I’ll get started on that tea, then.” Lorenz then turned to Sylvain. “Good luck, Sylvain. Take this.”

“You’re giving me Thyrsus, your house’s Hero’s Relic?”

“If your friend is indeed in there, then you’ll need all the help you can get, right? We and our battalions will be fine out here. Now, get going!”

“Thank you.” Sylvain attached the staff to a pocket in his back before entering the tower with the rest of the company.

“It’s quiet… Too quiet.”

“Annette, this isn’t the time for clichéd novel phrases,” spoke Sylvain.

“Well, I remember it from Loog and the Maiden of Wind-” Ashe started.

“For the love of the goddess, guys, can’t you act a bit more seriously?” Sylvain loudly whispered as he entered another room, and sound slowly started to fill his ears.

“Come on, we’re just a little bit… uh… nervous,” Caspar tried – and failed – to sound confident.

“You’re right… I’m sorry, guys.” Just then, the sounds Sylvain heard earlier became louder, but he still couldn’t determine where they were coming from – so they discovered him first. As he blocked the hoard of enemies’ attack on him without even looking at them, he spoke, “Nice try, you goons.”

“Wh-Who are these guys?” Ashe wondered out loud, stabbing a nearby enemy with an arrow from Yewfelle. “Are they… Miklan’s thieves?”

“No, look harder…” Lysithea pointed at the shadows of an enemy she had just defeated. “I don’t think they’re agents of the Empire, either. There’s another power at work here, I know it!”

The leader apparent responded to this correct guess with, “Indeed, smart child. We would never associate ourselves with that useless Miklan. You want to learn who we really are? Then follow us, if you can!”

Without thinking, Sylvain charged after this enemy through the next few rooms, prompting Mercedes to yell, “Sylvain, wait! It’s a trap!”

“Hahaha…” The leader apparent cackled when he stopped in a dungeon full of chains. “So it seems you’re the only stupid one in this entire motley band, Sylvain Jose Gautier!”

“How… do you know my name?” Sylvain tried to look for this enemy, who lurked in the shadows. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Tell us who you are and why you’ve brought us here!”

The shadows began to clear to show chained-up prisoners, whom Sylvain recognized as Miklan’s thieves; he reckoned there were about one hundred of them, if not more.

“You see, we have this wonderful ability to take control of the ambitious and weak of heart, including these two dolts over here.”

The last of the shadows dissipated, revealing two especially large chains, with two men chained to them – and Sylvain recognized the raven-haired one instantly.

“Felix…” Sylvain hardly believed it at first, but after his joy at finally seeing his beloved again overtook him, he ran recklessly to where Felix had been chained. “Oh, goddess, Felix, I never thought I’d- Huh?”

He didn’t recognize him from afar, but Sylvain took a good look at the man chained to the right of Felix, and his face fell at the sight of him. “It can’t be… Miklan? But… But I thought you were-”

While Felix remained completely unconscious, Miklan heard his brother easily enough, awakening with a cackle. “Hehehe… How are you, little brother?” He looked up.

Before Sylvain could ask any questions, he heard Ashe yell, “Sylvain! Look out behind you!”

“Aaaargh!” The fallen enemy screamed as arrows from Parthia hit it, and as it perished, so too did the shadows of which it was made.

“Thank you, Ashe.” Sylvain took a deep breath before brandishing the Lance of Ruin, cutting down an adjacent enemy with the lance. As he did, he noticed a few of his comrades were missing – namely Lysithea and Mercedes. But he knew he had no time to look for them – he believed in their abilities, after all. His belief in his own abilities dwindled, however, as with each slain enemy, the Lance of Ruin grew duller and so soaked in blood and guts that he could hardly see the blade.

“Hah!” Miklan scoffed. “Some good the Lance of Ruin is serving you! You should have left it with me!”

“Shut up!” Sylvain continued to fight despite how his brother irritated him. “It won’t do you any good, either! I’m trying to save your ass here.”

Sylvain took another short respite before thinking, He does have a point, though. I suppose I could use magic, but…

Annette noticed Sylvain trembling in fear. “Sylvain? What’s wrong?”

What if I… What if I fail again?

“Try using light magic!” Annette cast Nosferatu at five enemies at once, and sure enough, they seemed to fade with less effort than Sylvain thought. “If you can at least try to use Seraphim, it would help us a ton!”

“But… I can’t. You saw what happened at Fhirdiad. My incompetence could have-”

“Dammit, Sylvain, if you have the time to mope around, then fight!” Caspar killed more enemies around Sylvain – with the Axe of Ukonvasara, no less.

Lorenz… Everyone… Sylvain felt his hope restored and began to draw the sigil in the air. If my friends are willing to fight for what’s right, then I owe it to them to do the same.

Despite his resolve – and despite that he could properly form the magic circle this time – Sylvain couldn’t yet unleash a proper Seraphim spell.

“Eeeeek!” Annette had been swarmed by two enemies, and her hands had been bound.

“They’re… They’re coming in droves…” Lysithea, along with Mercedes, had beeen cornered in this “main” dungeon by even more enemies, now including a Titanus and demonic beasts.

We’re in trouble… Sylvain retrieved the Thyrsus from his back, and taking one passing glance at Felix, he noticed something in the other man’s pockets. Could it be…?

Sylvain took out the broken item – to his joy, it was the toy lance. Giving his beloved a smile, he turned around again, saying, “You beasts. You will leave my friends the fuck alone – now! Haaaaaah!”

Sylvain’s desire to fight for his loved ones fueled the Seraphim spell that rained down on the Titanus – and the several more spells that followed.

“Amazing!” Lysithea smirked as she readied a Seraphim spell of her own. “I hope you know I won’t be outdone, Mr. Gautier.”

“Hmph.” Annette, who felt more relieved that the enemy numbers dwindled exponentially, still frowned. “I wish I could learn such an amazing demon-slaying spell.”

“Dude, you know Abraxas, the highest level of white attack magic.” Caspar rolled his eyes.

“Try telling that to Triumphant Boy over there,” Lysithea pointed at Sylvain, who, now that the enemies had been defeated, grinned in victory. She walked up to him in congratulations, saying, “Amazing. I had never seen a man successfully wield Seraphim. In fact, you’re only the third man in the history of Fódlan who has been able to successfully wield it.”

“Really? Haha.” Sylvain sounded rather proud of himself.

“Yeah. Most practitioners are holy women. Any man who is able to learn this spell has an especially high prowess for white magic.”

“Which is why he could cast it better than you,” Caspar teased.

“Oh, shush. M-My specialty is dark magic, after all.”

It was at this point that Miklan got tired of all this talk about magic, and decided to remind everyone else of his presence. “So… I’m here, too. Do you think you can get me and my men out of these chains?”

“Oh.” Sylvain’s good mood had dropped instantly as he gave the order to do as Miklan requested. “So, spill it.”

“‘Spill it?’ What’s there to spill?” Miklan asked as he and Felix had been freed; Felix remained unconscious. “Oh, and there are other dungeons with more of my men. Don’t forget about them.”

“Okay, where to begin? How did you survive being consumed by the Lance of Ruin? Why are you here in your old hideout? How did you end up captured in your own hideout?”

“Why did you save us?”

“Listen, you douchecanoe, I’m the one asking questions – unless you’d rather I shoot first and ask questions later.” Sylvain threatened another Seraphim spell.

“Okay, okay, calm your tits…” Miklan paused before beginning his story. “So after you killed me that fateful day – and after you had left – some weird lady with a long pink pony tail showed up out of nowhere. She tried to peddle some mystical item to me – me, a dying man! She called it the Fissure Dragon Sign. Next thing I knew, the shadows stopped consuming my body, and… Well, here, I am. As for who locked us up… I don’t know. But our captors didn’t seem human.”

“So it’s true,” Annette spoke up.

“Annette? Don’t tell me you believe what this shitgibbon is saying.”

“I do. I’ve read about special signs that allow Crestless people to acquire Crests. There’s only one of each kind in the world.”

“Now that you mention it, I remember Professor Byleth carrying some… strange objects in her quarters,” Mercedes cut in.

“I… I’m not sure I like it,” Lysithea commented. “It reminds me of… experiments I would rather forget about.”

“So, let me get this straight, Miklan. You’re telling me that this ‘Fissure Dragon Sign’ gave you the Crest of Gautier so that the Lance of Ruin wouldn’t fully consume you. Do I have that right?”

“You’re not as dumb as you look, little brother! Since you freed me, I think I ought to return the favour, yeah?”

“Over my dead body.”

“Please…” One of Miklan’s thieves – a thief who was part of the group who attacked the Kingdom army at Derdriu – begged. “We’re outcasts from all corners of Fódlan. We’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Another thief added, “We’ve got no food or supplies, either.”

“Sylvain, you know full well you’re going to need all the strength you can get if you want to defeat the Emperor. Many of my men are highly skilled spies – comes with the job.”

“Hmph.” Sylvian finally gave in. “Fine. But understand that I still don’t fully trust you. If I get even the slightest hint that you are going to betray us, I will without hesitation make sure the Lance of Ruin kills you this time.”

“Y-You got it…” Intimidated by his little brother, Miklan tried to take the heat off himself. “Say, I think your buddy here is finally coming to.”

“Ugh…” Felix slowly sat up, clutching his head. “What in the fuck just… Where am I?”

“Felix!” Sylvain didn’t hesitate to hug his boyfriend. He felt no shame in his tears of joy, either. “Oh, goddess, Felix, I… I’m so glad…”

“You dumbass, everyone is watching!” Felix weakly tried to push Sylvain away.

“Oh, don’t worry, we already know,” Annete spoke with a smile.

“And how, pray tell?”

Ingrid simply whistled in response.

“Ingrid…” Felix sounded mildly annoyed.

“What? Did you really think that you, one of Faerghus’ highest-ranking nobles, could hide your relationship forever?”

“Plus…” Caspar started. “A few of us heard you when-”

Sylvain didn’t like where this conversation was headed, and so interrupted it with, “Sooooo… Anybody know why we’re still in this smelly dungeon? Let’s head out to the wagon.”

“Yeah, I agree…” Mercedes liked the sound of this “plan” as everyone made way for said wagon. “I hope Ignatz is okay.”

“Felix, you should have seen it!” Annette sounded excited. “There was this amazing village with some of the friendliest people you will ever meet.”

“Yeah, and probably the best steak you will ever eat.” Ignatz came out of the wagon. “Not that I would know, since I made the stupid mistake of eating fortnight-old fish instead.”

“Ignatz, are you sure you should be up right now? How are you feeling?” Sylvain asked as he returned Thyrsus back to Lorenz, and Caspar did the same with the Axe of Ukonvasara.

“Good, thanks. Lorenz’s tea really did the trick.”

“Speaking of the village, we should probably go back there and buy more wagons for our new comrades,” Ingrid suggested.

Sylvain didn’t let this friendly talk make him forget about the bounty he bought from the Galatea village. “Oh, that reminds me. Felix, I have something for you.”

“Hm?” Felix didn’t expect that much – so the sudden barrage of spicy foods and dried meats raining upon him certainly gave him a surprise. “Whoa there, easy, man. What’s all of this for?”

“Well, I thought that you would want something tasty for once, instead of… moldy bread or whatever you’ve been eating these past few weeks.”

“…”

“Don’t tell me… That’s all you’ve had since you’ve been kidnapped?!” Sylvain started shaking Felix by the shoulders. “My boyfriend deserves to eat all of his favourite foods when he wants!”

“Is that all?” Felix sounded annoyed, but Sylvain could notice a slight smile.

“Nope, I have one more thing. It’s a little old-fashioned, but I hope it’s to your liking.”

Felix scoffed, “What, some more food? Sylvain, I think I already- Oh…”

To Felix’s surprise, the item of which Sylvain spoke was not another bag of beef jerky, but a ring of rose gold and diamonds.

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius…” Sylvain knelt on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

Felix remained speechless for about thirty seconds before saying, “…Idiot, how can we do that, given our noble positions?”

“Screw the noble positions! We can do it anyway. If someone doesn’t like it – hell, even if I have to renounce my nobility – then let them not like it!”

“You really are… a reckless buffoon, aren’t you?” Felix smiled as he held out his left hand. “Yes, Sylvain Jose Gautier. I am yours.”

“Whooo!” Caspar started cheering as Sylvain put the ring on Felix’s finger.

“I better start thinking of a good recipe for that wedding cake…” Mercedes thought out loud.

“Just don’t let Flayn take part in that!” Raphael groaned.

“Oh, and here’s a wedding gift.” Sylvain reached in the wagon again to give Felix the Failnaught. “A little something to put your new certification to use.”

“Claude…” Felix smiled. “It is a shame that he couldn’t join forces with us.”

The comrades didn’t laugh for long before an irritated Miklan said, “What the hell?”

“Eh?” Sylvain turned around.

“Why… Why would you just throw away your noble title like that, when you didn’t have to even work to earn it?!”

“Abandoning one’s noble title isn’t unheard of,” spoke Hanneman, who had since abandoned the Empire. “I have a Crest and was born to the Empire nobility, but I abandoned my house to pursue my passion for Crest research. And if I can do it, so can these gentlemen.”

“Plus, we’re not going to just leave the house completely vacant for ruthless Kingdom citizens to fight to become margrave.” Sylvain’s tone was calm, but serious. “Brother, I want you to inherit House Gautier in my place.”

“Wh-What? But… Father would never allow it. And His Highness-”

“His Highness wants a world in which the Crestless do not get treated as less than just for not having a Crests. I myself believe that anyone, Crest or no Crest, should be able to help lead our country, if they’ve won the respect of the people.” Sylvain held out a hand for Miklan to shake. “So what do you say?”

A familiar – but unexpected – voice came out from behind the wagon just then. “I say that we capture these traitors! Dedue!”

“Your Highness.” Dedue – and other loyal Faerghus soldiers - came onto the scene and immediately started placing all of Miklan’s thieves in cuffs.

“Dimitri!” Sylvain began to panic. “What are you doing here?”

“A little bird told me that certain disobedient soldiers of mine snuck out of Garreg Mach Monastery to go on a covert mission.” Dimitri retrieved a broken wine bottle and scrap of toilet paper out of his pockets.

Dammit… He found out! Sylvain glared at Dedue.

“Oh, and another thing… When I said ‘capture the traitors,’ that includes you and everyone who left with you.”

“Aiee! Let go!” Annette struggled from the soldier trying to bind her.

“No! Dimitri, I beg of you, leave them out of this. You see, I coerced them into doing it. They had no choice!”

“Hmph.” Dimitri gestured for his soldiers to let everyone – except for Sylvain, Miklan, and Miklan’s thieves – go. “But you’re still under arrest for openly defying my orders and abandoning the battlefield. As for your punishment, I will decide that during our march to Fort Merceus.”

“You mean you haven’t even gone there yet?”

“How could I not? Anyway, a prisoner shouldn’t be asking needless questions like that. Soldiers, forward march to Fort Merceus, and to victory against the Empire!”

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #sylvix #sylvain x felix #sylvelix #fanfiction

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golden-deer-dear · 5 years ago

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History on Repeat, Chapter 2: Lost, Claude x Byleth Modern Fic

Summary: Byleth slept after she lost him, awakening ages later to Garreg Mach University. She is drawn into the friendly competition between dorm floors, an argument as to which D&D group is better, trips to coffee shops, and the questions into her own lost memories.

Claude could not help but be suspicious of Seteth’s niece who appeared out of nowhere, but there was something so familiar about her, something that made his heart ache. How had she appeared in his dreams years before either of them even came to the University?

Read on AO3.

Prologue Chapter 1

The stone was warm against his back as he laid down, folding his arms behind his head to serve as a cushion. Starlight winked down at him, making him feel more relaxed than he had felt in years. He picked out familiar constellations, the myths behind them floating through his mind.

“I knew you’d be up here.”

He couldn’t help but smile. He would recognize that melodious voice anywhere. “And I knew you’d find me eventually.”

She let out a soft hum, amusement lining her voice. “What would Seteth say if he caught us sneaking out on our own engagement party?”

She sat down next to him, and without even thinking about it his arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against his body. “He’ll get over it.” He kissed her, brushing back mint green strands of hair to tuck behind her ear. “Tomorrow I get to marry the most amazing woman in the world. No one could ruin this for me.”

Her laughter rang clear through the night air. She said something, and he responded with something equally amusing. But the dream was fading, and he could no longer make out the words.

He could feel her straddle him, kissed her back when she leaned down to kiss him, hot and desperate. He felt his body respond to her, eager for her touch. But her smile and laughter, the beauty of her above him, slipped through his fingers.

Claude woke with a deep groan and slammed a pillow over his face. For a week now he had dreamed of the green haired woman. Sometimes he fought at her side. Sometimes they were matching wits in political battles. The last two nights, however, Claude found himself whispering words of love to her, kissing and touching her in only the way two people deeply in love would.

“Great,” he said into his pillow, voice muffled by the fabric and stuffing. “I’m having fucking wet dreams about some fantasy woman my mind cooked up. Just wonderful.”

Byleth was bored.

There were only so many times she could walk the estate before the repetitiveness of the action was no longer interesting or distracting. Flayn had shown her how to work the device known as a TV, but she was so far removed from knowing any cultural context that it all flew over her head. (She had found a few romance movies she enjoyed, but the majority made her sigh with disappointment. The overuse of small moments of miscommunication as a plot line was baffling to her.) Even the phone Seteth had given her had stopped working.

She needed to get out of the house. Her boredom was going to turn her to insanity at this rate. Which was why she was finding her way to the garage. Indech was there, as he always was, polishing a black car that was already spotless. He glanced up at her when she entered, but did not stop his task.

Indech was a broad shouldered man. When he stood still he looked more like a bulwark than a human. Byleth was certain she had never heard him speak, but like Flayn and Seteth, there was something about him that felt familiar. It was nowhere near as strong, more like a nagging at the very back of her mind than the comfort she felt with the other two.

She watched him for a few minutes, comfortable with the silence. Indech did not try to draw her into conversation, nor did he really expect anything from her. Byleth figured that was why she came to the garage so often the past few days and watched him work on Seteth’s collection of classic cars.

When Indech straightened and turned to her, Byleth finally asked, “Can you take me to where Flayn and Seteth are?”

Indech gave her a shrewd look, but eventually nodded. He led her over to another car, this one more convintinal than the previous one he had worked on. He held the passenger door open for her, and helped her with the seatbelt. Byleth had seen him take Flayn and Seteth into town, but never actually been in a car herself.

Indech got in on the driver’s side and they were off. The change in scenery did wonders for Byleth’s mood immediately. She leaned back in the plush seat, watching as the green acreage of the estate gave way to the roads and buildings of a small town. Buildings grew taller and closer together, more people were about to wander the streets.

Indech eventually pulled the car up alongside a group of buildings, many people coming and going from each of them. Some of them did not seem to care about the multiple cars they were having to dodge as they ran to their next destination.

Cars honked at Indech as he parked the car, seemingly somewhere he was not supposed to, but that soon stopped as soon as the large man stepped out of the car. He came around to the other side and opened the door for Byleth, offering her his hand to help her out. Once she was on her feet, he pointed to a building at the center of campus. “There,” he said in a deep and rumbling voice, somehow reminding Byleth of the sea. “Can you find your way?”

Byleth nodded. Sure the paths were packed, but it should not be too hard to find her way to the large central building.

Indech made a soft noise of acknowledgement, the rumble of waves against the shore. He then pointed again, this time across the street from the campus building. There was a shopping center, but Indech seemed to specifically be indicating a...well, Byleth was not sure what a Bergliez Smoothie was. “I will be there if you need me.”

When she nodded again, Indech ducked back into the car. Byleth watched him pull back into the traffic flow of the parking lot before turning back to the central building. Right. This would not be hard at all. She just had to get there, and then ask someone where Flayn was.

Of course, as disinterested as she had been in TV programming, once she was actually out and about in society, everything was fascinating. Byleth found herself wandering, letting the conversations about topics she could not even begin to understand wash over her. There was something about it all that made her feel at ease. Being here felt right.

It was only much later that she realized she had lost sight of the building Indech had pointed out. She couldn’t even retrace her steps, as she had not been paying attention to where she’d come from in the first place.

“But it’s ridiculous! How hard is it really to find chantilly lace!”

“But isn’t that stuff really expensive?” Annette interjected when Hilda paused to breathe. “It’s made by hand, right?”

But Hilda had stopped midstep. Marianne nearly ran into her back, scrambling at the last minute to rebalance her book on the integration of Fódlan and Almyran culture before it could hit the ground. “Hilda?”

Hilda jerked her head toward whatever had caught her attention. Marianne followed her gaze, and felt a similar jolt of shock. “Oh my!”

“Poor thing, she looks lost.” Marianne was glad Mercedes had interpreted their shock as something else entirely. “We should help her.”

Mercedes’ words seemed to spark something inside Hilda, and she quickly outpaced the other three women. “Hey!” Hilda shouted, gaining the woman’s attention. “You lost?”

Marianne hurried up to met Hilda, coming up alongside the woman. Her mint green hair was long and braided. Her eyes did not hold the fierce determination that came with battle. No, now they were confused, and slightly grateful as the group came to her aid.

But there was no denying it. Before them stood Claude’s goddess.

The goddess nodded. “I was trying to find my uncle and cousin, but I got distracted and lost my way,” she admitted.

“What are their names? Perhaps we know them,” Mercedes said, her pleasant voice causing the woman to relax somewhat.

“Seteth and Flayn.”

Marianne saw her own shock mirrored on the faces of her friends. “Well, Seteth’s office is in the Cathedral Tower, but he usually doesn’t spend much time there,” Marianne said after a second.

“Flayn is usually running around all over campus as well,” Annette added. “But she does eventually always seem to end up at Gateway.”

“I mean, the easiest thing to do would be to text one of them and see where they are,” Hilda said. “You didn’t lose your phone too, did you?”

The goddess shook her head, pulling the device from her pocket. “No, but it’s not working anymore.”

She did not protest when Hilda took the phone from her hand, giving it a quick study. “I just think it’s dead. Don’t you have a charger?”

Marianne could tell Hilda was trying her best to maintain a pleasant demeanour, but the woman’s appearance had thrown her, and their conversation was only raising her suspicions.

“I-um...no,” the woman admitted. “They didn’t explain that part to me.” She looked between all of them, worry in her eyes at their own shock. “I...I’ve been in a hospital for a very long time,” she said slowly. If Marianne had a less trusting nature, she would say the woman was repeating a line someone had told her. “I was in an accident as a child.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Mercedes clasped her hands in front of herself, pity replacing her earlier shock. “Well, we’ll be certain to show you around. Annie is right, Flayn usually does show up at Gateway, so if we take you there we’ll be sure to find her eventually!”

“Yeah!” Annette agreed, offering the woman a warm smile. “I’m Annette, by the way.”

“Mercedes.” Mercedes offered her hand, and after a moment of hesitation the woman mimicked her gesture. “But you can call me Mercie if you want.”

“I’m Hilda. And that’s Marianne.” Marianne was grateful when Hilda introduced her. She always found introductions a bit difficult and awkward. “And,” Hilda continued, “while I don’t have a charger that’ll fit this phone, I know Claude is at Gateway right now and he always carries his. I’m pretty sure it’s the one we need for yours.”

“Thank you.” The woman nodded, a soft smile on her face. “Oh, and I’m Byleth.”

Marianne felt a sudden sense of deja vu. She could not remember where she had heard the name before, but it sounded so familiar. Which was odd, as it was such a strange name to begin with. Perhaps in one of her history books. There were so many legends in Fódlan’s past it would not surprise her if Byleth was named after one of them.

“All right, Byleth!” Hilda hooked one arm around Byleth’s and began to drag her toward the campus cafe. “Let’s go find Claude!”

“Monica, are you listening?”

“Hmm? Oh no. Sorry, I must have spaced out there for a moment.” Kronya only took her eyes away from the group of young women to look at her phone, swiping through the pictures she had just taken to make sure she had at least one good one of that dreadful woman’s face. “Actually, I just remembered an appointment I’m supposed to be at soon. I’ll see you all later.”

She ignored the protests as she stood to leave, pushing past students without giving a second thought to the curses they threw at her back. No, none of that mattered, not anymore.

The goddess’ little vessel, that terrible Fell Star, was awake once more. After so many years they could finally get their revenge on her.

“Thales is going to be so pleased with me!” she practically sang to herself.

One touch to the screen and the message was sent.

#fire emblem #claude x byleth #claudeth #claudeleth #claude von riegan #byleth #my fic #history on repeat #fanfic

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light-of-valentia · 5 years ago

Text

matchup trade with edelgoth

@edelgoth here are your matchups boo!! I have never done a written matchup before, though I have done them quite a lot in my head, so I hope these are good!!! -admin belle

I did two romantic matchups, one romantic/platonic, and I left a list of potential platonic matchups to follow!

matchup under the cut because I use a lot of words and I don’t wanna eat up dashboards

#1- Mercedes

At first I was sort of questioning on if this would be ideal, but with the more I have thought about this, the more passionate I am about this pairing

You said you wanted someone who is open-minded and genuinely caring who wants to see the world become a better place, and I would struggle to think of anyone better to do this with than Mercie!

Though I did consider Claude for this as well, I ended up choosing Mercedes for #1 because I think that she would be better at consistently giving you the validation and affection that you desire

Not that Claude would not be affectionate as well, but I think that the stronger caring aura that she has would sit better with you

Both of you are open-minded and thoughtful, and you would be able to give e/o the same level of care and attention that you give out to other people

That's positive karma baby!!! you both deserve a lot for what you do for other people, and your philanthropic personalities would be a strong force together

I feel like in a relationship, both you and Mercedes would need someone who is willing and most importantly wants to give back the same level of appreciation and effort that you/she puts in, and you both would far surpass this standard for each other

I also really like here that you each take a different approach to what you do

Mercedes deals more in the emotional side of taking care of people, whereas you take the more insightful and analytical route

This sort of “similar yet different” style of partnership works really well since you have enough in common to form a partnership, but your differing skills would compensate for what the other lacks in

You each care in different ways, but it's clear that both you and Mercie share a common goal of making the world a better place and helping people out

You would be such a sweet, caring, and cheerful couple, and even without doing any sort of philanthropic work, just your presence would be enough to potentially change people’s lives for the better

Your wit and intellect would provide a healthy contrast to Mercedes' constant benevolence and optimism, and she would be able to help you ground yourself when you are catastrophizing and anxious

To compliment that, you would be able to help her set her fear of disappointing others aside and make hard choices when she needs to

Mercedes isn't necessarily as scholarly as Annette and Linhardt (though she did enjoy her time at the Royal Academy of Magic), but she still values her education, and she would enjoy listening to you talk about the things you are interested in and she would enjoy learning from you

Both of you are very patient, and it would provide a relaxing and calm atmosphere

Though, a problem could be presented if you are both too patient- neither of you alone likes to make difficult decisions and risk hurting or disappointing others, but i think that this would be easier to do if you worked together

Magic and fantastical stories!! i could really see you both taking evening dates and telling each other stories, and she would highly appreciate your creativity and encourage your passion for what you do

If you like writing paranormal and ghost stories, she’d love it even more!! She loves spooky stories and an air of fantastical mystery

Career-wise, your interests in anthropology and sociolinguistics combined with her desire to serve and help people would make a dynamic duo

Your understanding of human history and nature would provide a wealth of foundation for her to understand where people come to her from, emotionally and culturally, and the outcome of your combined careers would be stellar!

If you guys got together, I would struggle seeing an outcome where you kept your careers separate- the chemistry you have together concerning your desires for life and the word around you are too magnetic too keep apart

Mercedes would be very welcoming and accepting of your sensitivity and anxiety; she always knows what to say if you're down, and she wouldn't have to tread carefully to avoid offending or hurting you

Awareness of people's sensitivities and how to build healthy relationships without prying at them is second nature to her

Reading people and responding to them to meet them where they are is maybe one of her favorite things to do in life, and doing this with you would bring her a good sense of worth in life

Mercedes has a few opinions of her own, but she is generally soft-spoken and passive, and would be a great listener for when you talk about your opinions

She is very open-minded, and i’d argue that she doesn’t have a single judgemental bone in her body (well, except maybe against uptight nobles cough cough LORENZ)

I wouldn’t call her an agent of chaos, but I think that Mercedes really can appreciate the craziness of life the way that you do, and that she would be great at laughing the silly little things off with you

She has a wonderful knack for appreciating and accepting the world as it is, and I think that this would bring you a lot of peace when you start to over-complicate things mentally, as she would be able to ground you

She would ADORE your curiosity and interest in learning everything that you can, and she would aspire to be this way herself

She spent so much of her life simply trying to survive, especially after fleeing the empire and regretting leaving Emile behind, and having someone around her who is trying to thrive would be invigorating for her

MBTI-wise, this would be a “golden pair”, as IXFJ and XNTP are often listed as being such, especially IXFJ and ENTP, which if I had to type you by your description to me, I’d put you as ENTP over INTP, with an Fi/Fe subtype

The creativity that comes with your Ne would be very well recieved by Mercedes’ Fe, as she would be the perfect listener for everything you have to say, and she would be super interested in it as well!

Though she does use Ti as her tool function, she would be constantly amazed by how you use it so fluently

Her Ti tertiary tool would be able to appreciate your dominant/auxiliary Ti, without encouraging it to the point where you overwhelm yourself

In conclusion, I see you and Mercedes both as a sweet and soft couple but also with the subtleties of a power couple, and I think you would enjoy a long and happy relationship with each other!

2. Claude

As previously mentioned, I still view Mercedes as a more ideal match for you, but I think that you and Claude would have good chemistry as well

He has a lot of that humanistic personality that Mercedes has, but his is far more subtle and jaded from his history

Mainly, this jaded aspect comes from how he was treated in his childhood, although he doesn’t discuss it with just anyone, as one of those effects from being bullied as a kid is him having some serious trust issues

Pre-timeskip Claude would be a struggle in a romantic relationship, as his Fe isn’t very well developed and based on your profile, I think a partner with developed Fe is something you need

Post-timeskip, however, this problem would be eliminated, as by then, his Fe has very clearly developed a lot more (though it is still flawed), as demonstrated with his love-hate relationship for humanity in his A support; he hates the way that people choose to be discriminatory and mean towards each other, but he also sees the possibility for redemption and he has a genuine desire to work harmony back into the world

Some of his interactions with characters such as Cyril and occasionally Hilda show that his Fe even post-timeskip isn’t quite fully developed, but he does value the function, thus displaying a necessary element for compatibility

xNTP-ENTP couples do work out really well, but obviously, some compromises have to be made

Mainly in regards to extraversion/making sure everyone gets to talk enough, and taking care of real-world responsibilities like housework and chores

Both of you are incredibly passionate about what you do, and this would sit well with the other

I struggle to imagine Claude in the long-run with anyone who doesn’t hold a sort of fire in their heart

Your intense curiosity and desire to learn would match his own really well, and I could see you guys doing long dates where you take the full day to sit down in the library and dissect some idea that you had

Your interest in anthropology and sociolinguistics might be one of the best parts of this match! His life goal is to create a more united world, and your wealth of knowledge about history and culture would make having you around an invaluable asset for him

Just like he does with Byleth in the game, he’ll probably pick you up at first for your usefulness, but then he’ll slowly start to actually trust you and he’ll find himself desiring a relationship with you

Both of you would be the king and queen of meme, and it’d be a wonderful sight to anyone around you

Your interactions when you’re memeing would be absolutely off the shits, and your absurdist senses of humor setting off sparks with each other would be legendary to behold

He would adore these interactions with you, and the memories he has of them would be a treasure he keeps close

He can’t stand super uptight people, and you’re fairly laid-back yourself, so this is perfect in this sense

You both have a good sense of when it’s the right time to be carefree and when it’s the right time to take note, though

Although this ratio may seem more skewed towards the laid-back aspect in the perception of people like Lorenz and Lysithea, for you two, it’d be perfect

Normally with an ExxP/ExxP couple, I worry a lot about communication, but I think you two would be better off than most in this aspect

The fact that you have an extraverted side but are also a good listener is the saving grace here

Claude is a listener as well, but more often than not, he has something running in the back of his mind, so while he would be a good listener, he may not be as attentive as you’d like

He would feel bad about this, but as hard as he tries to always listen to you, sometimes he can’t help but letting his mind float back to whatever scheme he’s been plotting

If you’re ok with this, though, the road will be less bumpy- he might even appreciate it if your own mind drifts when he’s talking to you, as he would feel less guilty that way

He would try his best to help you when you are catastrophizing, but it would be a mixed bag of skittles for him

On the positive, he overthinks a lot himself, so he fully understands how you got to where you are

On the negative, he isn’t a very emotional person himself, so he has seldom reached catastrophization himself, so he doesn’t really know the best ways to handle it

He eventually learns what works and what doesn’t, but at first, it’s gonna be the effort that counts

Both of you are giant nerds and this would work rather well

He would love roleplaying and playing games with you given the free time, and you’d always be recommending books to each other to read

As for your sensitivity, Claude may not be the best at handling that, but he certainly tries

He’s generally pretty good at reading people, but with what upsets you, you may have to tell him a bit more directly for him to really understand so that he can avoid it

Claude would, though, be a boo in that he’d make you feel like the queen of the whole damned world

Insecurity??? Nah, you’re too cute/smart/amazing for that

He just loves to shower you in teases and he’d tell you every day that he loves you

If you want a flirt and a himbo, congrats you’ve found one

One other thing that makes me less confident about this pairing than the former is that Claude is a bit more free-spirited than you

He would do his best to anchor himself to you, but it’d be difficult to satisfy his wanderlust if you dislike travel- he doesn’t want to leave you, and he hates making you feel bad

To conclude, I think this has a lot of powerful potential, but it also has a few potential holes that make it somewhat less ideal

He needs someone that can teach him to value his own emotions and not just look at what everyone else wants, and I don’t know if you’d be able to reach him on that

3. Dorothea

Both of you have a lot of opinions, but you’re both careful about sharing them

I could see her as your kickass partner in crime

I am less passionate about this pairing than I am with your matches with Mercie and Claude, but I still think this has a lot of potential as well

Yyou would be able to teach the other how to appreciate the other!!

Lots of "you're pretty/no you" style interactions

Idk how else to explain this but your vibes synergize well???? Like both of you are very humanistic, but you're a bit more open and direct in your approach with it than she is

Both of you are highly creative but in different ways and this would work well

I think she would be like a muse figure for you and vice versa!

Both of you are into classical arts, which is grounds for a lot of fun dates and fun times

I can envision a lot of museum and opera dates

and painting dates

Y'all would just have so much fun being creative together

You both have a preppy side, but you'd be the nerd of the two, and she would poke playful fun at you whilst harboring an interest in everything you have to say

Both of you are very thoughtful and you'd find satisfaction in having someone who reciprocates the amount of effort you put into the relationship

Both of you have an enjoyment of fashion, and i could see you both having a fun time picking each other's outfits out and doing the other's hair and makeup

She would really like to flirt with you to try and get a reaction out of you

She would HIGHLY appreciate that you try hard to be an open-minded and understanding person

She wishes she had more of those in her life before she met you

Y'all would be such meme queens like...everyone else would label you guys as goals in terms of keeping a healthy air of humor around you

She is just so doting and passionate with you and she would try so hard every day to melt away your insecurities and worries

As a couple you guys have SO much chemistry; like once you guys sit down for tea and start talking, you find yourselves talking for hours, and Dorothea would fall more in love with your intellect and wealth of knowledge each day

The reason I still put this as lower than Claude and Mercedes is because I feel like it might be more one-sided, with Dorothea more attracted to you than you might be to her

I feel like she would be able to help you with your anxiety in a different way than Mercedes

Like she has gone through a lot of similar stuff with her past in its relationship to her self-esteem, and you'd both have a lot to learn from e/o here

This would work either romantically or platonically

For friendships, I’d consider: Ashe, Annette, Hilda, Ignatz, Marianne, and Bernadetta!

Feel free ofc to respond to me with any thoughts/questions you have on this, and I hope you liked it!! Sorry to keep you waiting for so long- I wanted to ensure quality on this

#matchups #matchup #fire emblem matchups #fe3h matchups #fe16 matchups #matchup trade #fe3h mercedes #mercedes von martritz #mercedes matchup #fe3h claude #claude von riegan #claude matchup #fe3h dorothea #dorothea arnault #dorothea matchup

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