#maybe i’ll draw more magical mercenaries

[deadsadmilk]

me, waiting to full moon/halloween

for magic unicorn friendship power

[elevatorladylady]

Critical Reread - ACOTAR Chapter 3

Join me on a reread of A Court of Thorns and Roses

Chapter 3

F/eyre goes to the market

“though Nesta had awoken at dawn to chop wood.”

I love this detail. Yes, she can be awful, but she's the only one that seems to help F/eyre in these first few chapters.

“I lived in such ignorance, too, until I heard the Word of the Blessed. I grew up in a village so similar to this—so bleak and grim. But not one month ago, a friend of my cousin went to the border as our offering to Prythian—and she has not been sent back. Now she dwells in riches and comfort as a High Fae’s bride, and so might you, if you were to take a moment to—”

I forget if we learn more about these weirdos. I know they come back up in ACOWAR, but before then are they actually taken and killed by fae from the Spring Court? Is Amarantha to blame for most of the harm done to humans? I guess we will see.

Also maybe this is just supposed to be some irony and foreshadowing? They are mostly right about the fae, and the actual message isn't far off from what F/eyre starts preaching about the fae down the road.

“I’d never encountered the cruel, human-looking High Fae who ruled Prythian itself,”

So do the human lands of the island just not have a name? At one point I thought the whole land mass was Prythian, but several instances in the text seem to suggest Prythian is just the fae part.

“Once, we had built them glorious, sprawling civilizations from our blood and sweat, built them temples to their feral gods.”

The fae really don't like to use magic to build things do they?

“Especially if the High Fae start turning up—or worse, one of the High Lords. They would make the martax seem like dogs.”

Why would the high fae and high lords specifically have a worse reputation than literal monsters?

Also why do we never hear about Martaxes again? If I were F/eyre I'd absolutely ask about every wild thing I'd ever heard about Faeries and magic.

“They’re dangerous,” Nesta hissed, her fingers digging into my arm as she continued to pull me from the mercenary. “Don’t go near them again.”

I think it's worth noting that as much as Nesta and Elain are frustrating in these chapters, they are also defenseless and scared of the world around them.

“He’d been my first and only lover in the two years since.”

Honestly, good for F/eyre for not letting purity culture stop her from having a good time.

“I reached into my pocket, drawing out a twenty-mark copper. Elain sucked in a breath, and I didn’t bother to look at either of my sisters as I pushed it into her palm and said, “I’ll see you at home.”

F/eyre can complain about Nesta stealing her money, but I'm not sure she can complain about how her sisters spend her money if she just gives it to them and doesn't even tell them what they are supposed to spend the money on.

“But I hadn’t scolded them for it, not when Nesta went out a second time to chop more wood without my asking.”

More wood chopping! Nesta clearly hates being told what to do, but might actually do it if she can do it on her own terms. Relatable.

Not necessarily anti F/eyre, but /// just in case.

[dragxnsfire]

ariveth​:

             "I THINK I’LL BE FINE. THANKS THOUGH.” She doesn’t mention any experiences she’s had with the Thalmor, lest he lecture her further on the wisdom of drawing their ire with her penchant for poorly-targeted provocation. She snorts a laugh, dropping her pack from her back and sitting cross-legged on the ground once she’d finished arranging the deadwood. “Oh yes, I’m sure that’s the bulk of the reason.”

             A fascinated smile widens across her face at the suggestion that Urnarseldo might’ve once been even remotely like her. "Difficult to believe you were once making jokes like mine,” she laughs, friendly and good-humoured. She finds it strange to imagine him as anything other than a wisened, time-roughened mage who liked to chide spirited ‘young’ dunmer in his spare time. “Maybe you should be easier on me then, if you had the same inclinations as me in your youth.”

              Ariveth watches him set their near firewood arrangement alight with fire, as effortless as breathing in the way he casts. “That’s kind, thankyou.” It’s an effort to hold back the instinct to tease him for doting like a parent, but she manages somehow. Popping the cork before anything else, she downs a mouthful of ale, listening to him explain the specifics of guarding such an item. “Oh, well, I hadn’t assumed you’d been given the amulet. Just that you’d — chanced upon the duty of hiding it.” She frowns. “Wait, so then who did have it?”

             His admission makes her chuckle as she bites off a chunk of the dried meat. “Guild? Y'mean the Mages Guild?” His encouraging reports of the city brighten her gaze. It was a relief to hear news of healing and renewal after such a long period of nothing but destruction, everywhere; and it’s particularly good to hear of it happening within the heart of Tamriel. “That sounds optimistic,” Ariveth says, genuine in the sentiment. “I don’t know what I’d do there, honestly. I’ve never really known anything but…” She picks up one of her daggers, regarding it somewhat bittersweetly. “…This.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should take one of my hobbies to some sort of school. What do you think?”

He watched her silently, carefully, as he had in the cornerclub— like a curious, old owl. Still, he couldn't offer help when it wasn't wanted, no matter how he believed she needed it. Urnarseldo waved a hand, settling back to watch the fire, eye falling half-shut in the flickering light of the flame. Her laugh drew his attention back to her, and he gave the young mercenary a weary half-smile.

"Yes," he said, folding his arms over his chest, "I was. And making similar mistakes, for what it's worth. When I chide, it's because I know how those mistakes end. Sometimes, they end well enough. Other mistakes, though, can cost you an eye—" he tapped the leather patch— "or..." His voice fell silent for a moment. "Or more." He looked down at the bread in his hand; it'd lost its appeal now that he'd remembered his first encounter with the Worm Cult. He set it back in his pack, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Maybe you should be easier on me, since you'll be old too, one day."

Naturally, she had more questions; in their short time together, he'd already learned to expect an endless stream of them, on everything from magic to history. He set his half-drunk ale aside, and reached forward to manipulate the fire, hand hovering just before it, raising and lowering the flame. It didn't need to be stoked, of course, but it was a good distraction from other worries.

"Ha! They wouldn't have trusted an Altmer with it, even if I'd been the last person alive on Nirn." He closed his eyes, letting out a long, tired sigh. "Sai Sahan was the first to be entrusted with it; he hid it in Sancre Tor. He hid it from a necromancer in one of the most dangerous tombs in Cyrodiil. After that, a man named Abnur Tharn hid it away. He was killed fighting a dragon." A reductive sentiment; the late battlemage would have raked the Vestige over the coals for it, but it was far easier to explain it that way.

"Yes, the Mages' Guild. My parents were members, once; and the Guild offered portals— for a price, of course— to just about any city with a Guild Hall. After the war, that included the Imperial City." Urnarseldo gave a soft hum. "People, you'll find, are like forests after a forest fire— they come back from the destruction stronger than before, more vibrant." He watched her, sitting back from the fire, and nodded slowly. "It's a funny thing, isn't it? When I was a little younger than you, all I'd known was academia. The Psijics, the Guild. I wanted what you have now. Don't give this up, if it brings you excitement. But..." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes. Yes, you should attend a school, should you find yourself in Cyrodiil. As exciting as this life is, as much as I loved it at your age, you won't be able to do it forever. Now is the best time you've got to expand what you can do, what you know. You would only benefit."

[julymarte]

a couple days ago i was chatting with a friend and realized one of my OCs used to have (well still has-) a similar business to the mostro lounge  so i decided to attempt a quick crossover with the leech twins from twisted wonderland and  wasim whoappears in the 5th(and  technically last?)chapter of mmy webcomic , quick as making fast crappy crossover design sketches for those who are familiar with my webcomic and  are confused onwhy thetwins are dressed as mercenaries  but are wearing  purple if  wasim being an information dealer is  a yellow guess i’ll drop some lore and maybe explain it better in another post

Purple is a color given to people who only  do the final exam at the academy wich happens in 2 cases, people who wants to enter the mercenary guild as adults so are too old to join the academy OR foreginners who come from other kingdoms and posses innate magic  the teachers are not used to handle ....included the Kingdom of Sea! there’s merfolk living there so itwould be perfect for  them to come from there and take  only the final exam andbepurple..... that was.................. quite convenient fghjkl

would you like to see a proper illustration?...or areyou more curious about the au? let me know fghjkl

also it was super weird to draw wasim without his mark fghj

[mommymooze]

Anxious Restraint

Sylvain x reader  

Warning: war, death, destruction, sad families, blood, injuries

Its a beautiful day during Great Tree Moon. Your nose is filled with the mixed scents of the flowers that are blooming everywhere, their petals catch in the winds and scatter across the cobblestones. You are strolling quietly through the pathways  of the school having just left one of your classes and heading to your next when you are suddenly joined by a fellow student, interrupting your thoughts about the upcoming battle.

Apparently, you have caught the eye of the school’s skirt-chaser, the notorious Sylvain Gautier. “Hey beautiful, how are you doing today?” He smoothly slithers up to your side, brushing his elbow up against yours.

“I’m fine, Sylvain” you respond listlessly, wishing this conversation was already over.

With his ‘every girl wants a piece of a guy who smiles like this’ look plastered on his face, he continues, “Want to grab some dinner with me today? Such a beautiful day would be even better if we shared a little time together, eh?”

Eyes straight ahead, you keep walking as if he’s not even there. “No thanks, I have to work on my magic and I was going to practice after grabbing a bite in the dining hall.”

“What about tomorrow?” He pushes.

“Tomorrow I have a test.” You just want him to stop. Mother taught you not to be rude, but he is testing every bit of your patience.

“And the next day?” He sounds desperate.

“Working with Felix on my sword skills. And improving my Pegasus riding so I can be a dark flier. I really have to get going.” Your voice getting louder as you run at top speed to anywhere before you lose your temper.

Sylvain is left in the dust, again. You’re in the same class as he is. You haven’t known him long, but Ingrid fills you in on his life history of philandering.  Classes keep everyone busy. You have to study fairly hard, but you are rewarded with great grades. Sylvain is smart, but doesn’t apply himself, he tells you he shouldn’t have to bother to be the best because no matter what, his dad’s just going to make him take his place someday. Seems like every time you see him he has a different girl hanging off his arm. He still asks you out once or twice a month. More out of a force of habit than anything else.

Time flies by with unusual problems happening quite frequently at the monastery. The Church sends the students out to fight their battles for them on a regular basis. Classes are taught, battles are won, then suddenly war is declared. The battle of Garreg Mach leaves everyone numb. You head home to find it is gone, the whole village burnt to the ground. Everyone you knew is gone, you’re unsure as to who lived and who died.  You become part of a mercenary group, continuing to fight and develop your skills and battle techniques. Your group will take any job that will take down Empire soldiers or people allied with them. Yuri hires your group a few times. Most of your jobs are in the Kingdom and Alliance territories.

Five years pass and you find yourself back at Garreg Mach, wondering if your friends will be there for the reunion planned so long ago. You are completely shocked when Byleth appears, fighting alongside a battleworn and feral Dimitri.

Once the battle ends the Blue Lions light up the stove in the kitchen, salvage what they can and cook up food that doesn’t quite go together but gets something in their stomachs for the night. Sitting around a table in the dining hall they each tell their stories of what they have been doing the past five years. Most of them protected their territories, saving their people. Byleth was sleeping, Dimitri is absent, everyone draws their own conclusions on what his time was spent on.

Sylvain finds you alone one afternoon sitting on a bench after having spent the entire day organizing and cleaning the library. “So you became a mercenary? You could have come to Gautier or even Fraldarius. Felix and I would have helped you. You didn’t have to be alone.” He said, sounding sad.

“I guess I needed to find myself after everything I knew was gone. I felt like I had to crawl my way up from the bottom. I refused to give up. I hadn’t planned on being a mercenary. I knew I wanted to keep fighting, keep working to be stronger, needing to make a difference for the right cause. Waking up every day knowing that I would work to improve the lives of the people, sure it didn’t win any major battles. But it made a difference to them. I gave them hope. Stealing supply wagons from the Empire and taking them to those that were starving or had no way to protect themselves kept me moving forward all of this time. I may have lost all of my things, but I gained a true purpose.

The next few days are filled with finding places to sleep, hunting and gathering food, repairing rooms and critical buildings, and greeting others that have returned such as Seteth and Flayn with the Knights of Seiros. You work with Byleth, offering to train anyone in reason magic.

Sylvain comes to your classes. You notice that he behaves himself, having grown up somewhat, and actually studies and gains better control of his magic. He finds you in the training grounds late one night, working with the new recruits and decides to lend a hand, helping them with their incantations, manipulation of runes or simply being encouraging.

Finally, the last student leaves. You wave as you grab your tomes and notes. Sylvain takes a seat on a nearby bench.

“You have your spellcasting mastered. I can really see the improvement since we were students.” Sylvain genuinely smiles.

You have a look of shock on your face. That has to be the sincerest compliment he has ever given you. “Um…thanks.” You weakly smile.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He says waving as he turns.

You stumble after him quickly. “Sylvain, thank you very much for helping me tonight. If you hadn’t, I could have been here until morning. That was really sweet.”

He flashes a grin at you and heads out the door. You are confused. The Sylvain you remembered from before the war was always flirting and shirking work. Now he’s helping with working and training. He actually volunteers. Maybe he really is growing up.

Battles come and battles go. Being the eye in the sky, you are always watching out for your friends. After surviving for this many years of war, it would be heart wrenching to lose any of them now. You throw a Thoron into a group of archers that are terrorizing Felix. You guide Ingrid to help Ashe when someone is sneaking up on him. Always, always you have one eye on Sylvain, making sure he doesn’t get himself surrounded or run through on an enemy’s lance. The fights are all the same, only the names of the places change and the numbers of scars on everyone ever increases.

Reclaiming the Capital is a painful battle. Everyone’s heart breaks seeing the city in such ruin. The people are hiding from the soldiers on both sides. Titanus running amok cutting down everything in their paths. You fly quickly, attacking the Empire from the air, then leading innocent citizens to safety and hauling the wounded back to the rear of the lines to get healed. Fire and smoke is everywhere. Your Pegasus is breathing hard and needs a break. You leave it with the other beasts not currently in the fight and run in on foot to see where you can assist.  You scurry back to where you had seen the heaviest fighting just in time to see the last Titanus fall with a thundering crash. Dimitri, Dedue, Felix and Sylvain are dashing towards Cornelia. As soon as you are in range you hit her two closest archers with Swarm-z, slowing them down as well as injuring them. Felix and Sylvain defeat the enemies quickly. Dedue and Dimitri are facing Cornelia. Angered by your magic, she casts Luna Λ at you.  Normally you have a fairly high magic resistance, however this is a dark magic spell that doesn’t care what your resistance is, it’s going to hit and hit hard. Your last thoughts before you lose consciousness is that your friends can finish this easily and you are glad you’re on the ground and not falling off your Pegasus.

Waking up on a hard cot in the makeshift infirmary of the palace you hear the sounds of people walking softly and whispering all around. You mentally take inventory, wiggling toes and twitching fingers. Opening your eyes you have to blink a few times before you can finally get them to focus. At first you only see oranges and blacks, then you can focus a bit and see Sylvain and Annette standing at the foot of your cot. You see her point your direction and he turns to face you. He was frowning but when your eyes meet his, his face relaxes.

Kneeling down at the head of your bed he says softly, “Hey, welcome back. Think you can take a drink for me?” pulling a waterskin to your lips and lifting your head a bit, helping you take a few sips.

The water is cool and feels amazing on your parched throat. “Mmmm. Thanks.” You whisper as you smile up at him.

“Let’s see. What did you miss? After Cornelia hit you with that spell, she was easily taken down by Dimitri and Dedue. The fighting was over soon after that, we just had to take out a few pockets of enemy soldiers here and there.  As you can tell we took over the royal palace. The people rallied outside and demanded Dimitri to present himself to them. They’re accepting him as king and happy to have him back. Your Pegasus is in the royal stables, Ingrid was able to coax her in there. I had no idea she hates men so much, I almost lost my right hand, gauntlet and all.” Sylvain chuckles softly.

“Sorry. She was probably mad at me for leaving her in the first place. Glad I did.” You take another drink, the fog in your head lifting a little more.

Sylvain looks up at Annette, who is getting some bandages together for another patient. “Do you think she’ll be able to make it to the party tonight?”

“If she behaves. She’ll have to take it easy.” The shorter redhead points at you. “No dancing the night away.”

The cavalier pats your shoulder, “It’s nothing big, just the Lions hanging out together, to relax a minute before the next battle. Gotta take a break sometime, right?”

“I will try to make it. I haven’t even tried to sit up yet.” You mumble.

“When you’re ready we’ll sit you up. If you want to eat we’ll get you some food.” He begins, “After you’ve settled a bit we’ll try to get you walking around and show you to a room so you can clean up and change. I’ll come by before the party and help you get there if you want to go. Sometimes these corridors can all look alike. Wouldn’t want you spending half the night trying to find your way there.”

“Sitting up sounds like a good start.” You propose, knowing that magical wounds take time you recall. There’s only so much healing magic and potions they can pour into you. You weren’t sliced open and didn’t lose blood. Mostly once you wake up, you could go about your business, just treading a bit more carefully.

The cavalier is tall and agile, stepping over a few empty cots with his long legs he grabs a wooden chair and sits it down at the head of your bed. Before you can start to turn to stand up, he picks you up and gently places you seated in the chair.

“Wow.” You gasp. “Um..thanks.” a tinge of red warms across your cheeks.

“I grabbed one with arms so if you’re still tired you would have something to lean on. Are you feeling alright so far?”  He has the tiniest upturn to the corners of his mouth.

He looks adorable, you think to yourself. Wait. Sylvain. Adorable? Um…hey brain, are you going to answer him? “My head is a bit fuzzy.”

“I’ll check on you in a while, in time for lunch, ok?” the redhead says as he pats your hand while he walks past and leaves.

You sit looking around the room. Soldiers mixed with citizens. A woman with her baby is holding hands with a man that looks like he was badly burned. You can see the strength and determination in her face, she is being strong for him. A young boy sitting by the cot of an older man that is sleeping. The clerics are checking bandages, stopping to talk to every patient and giving them words of encouragement. The physical fighting here has ended, now everyone is gathering themselves together, healing, and getting ready to rebuild and make a better world.

You start moving yourself, getting your blood flowing and stretching, kicking your feet for a while then holding them up in the air. Soon you feel brave enough to try to stand up. Putting your feet on the ground you use the chair to help you stand on your own feet. You don’t feel like falling over, no affects so far except for some anxiety. You spy a chair 15 feet away and decide to go the distance. Your first few steps are taken gingerly, but you gain a bit of confidence and make it the last few steps fine. Sitting down your legs gave a bit so you came down a bit hard, but it felt good to move. Now you realize that you are in a simple gown and socks. Not exactly the best clothes for heading out of here, hopefully someone will be by soon to tell you what to do next. After taking a careful stroll back to your original chair, you spy Annette coming down the row of cots, checking on patients. You take a sip of water and wait for your turn.

“How’s your head? Any signs of a headache? Any pain anywhere?” Her bright and cheery smile always makes you smile back at her.

“I feel pretty good. Whoever worked on me did an amazing job. I just have a tiny headache. I’ve even been taking a few steps back and forth between the chairs here. So what should I do next?”

Annette reaches under your cot for a small bundle. ”We have a change of clothes and boots for you.” She shows you to the bathroom to change. You nod happily, “I would love to get real clothes on. It gives you the mental kick like you’re getting back to normal.”

“You have a great attitude! I’ll bet you’re fine in no time.” The redhead bubbles, walking with you to the powder room.

Clothes changed, washing your face and hands, you feel like a gold bullion. No mirrors in here, probably so the recovering wounded are not shocked about how they look after battle and keep concentrating on healing. You feel much more confident walking back to the chair by your cot.  Observing the healers running around, you feel quite useless and guilty for not being able to help them.  Before you spiral too far into a frustrating mindset, Sylvain arrives.

“Look at you, all ready to go!” He smiles. “They said if I take it easy with you, we can get you to the dining hall. Ready to give it a go?” He stands next to your chair, his elbow ready for you to grab it for support if needed.

“Sounds wonderful.” You stand up and place your hand on his forearm letting him lead you out of the infirmary.

The first few times he spies a bench he checks if you want to rest or keep going. The continued movement is a little tiring, but also feels really good getting your heart pumping. Once you really begin to feel tired you are already at the dining hall. Felix, Ingrid and Ashe already at the table with their food.

“Welcome back!” Ingrid smiles, waving with a roll in her hand. Felix does his usual nod in your general direction. Ashe waves excitedly as he tries to chew whatever he has in his mouth faster.

“Great to see you!” Ashe begins, switching to recalling his view of the end of the battle. “I saw Cornelia hit you with that spell, it was so scary. You were taking out her archers protecting her and then Bam! This ball of black and purple hit you and you go down. Dimitri and Dedue took her out and when Felix and Sylvain finished her other archers they put you on Sylvain’s horse and he took you straight back to the healers.”

Sylvain returns to the table with a tray full of food. “So I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I brought a few things. Doesn’t matter because whatever you don’t eat, Ingrid will finish for you.”

“Hey!” Ingrid puts her hands on her hips, pouting for a second. Then she changes her mind. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

You decide the soup and a soft roll may be a good place to start. Everyone chats about things that happened in the fight, trying to concentrate on good things that happened such as saving a child or protecting a merchant.

“Oh Ingrid! Thank you for taking care of my Pegasus and getting her stabled.” You happily pat her hand in thanks.

“It was nothing. She was being feisty and knucklehead over there tried to grab her reins and she didn’t take to it too kindly.” Ingrid grinned at the cavalier. “they are not the same as horses!”

The redhead puts his hands up, “I get it! I get it!”

Lunch ends and before you get a chance Sylvain grabs everyone’s dishes and piles them on his tray to take back.

You raise an eyebrow at Ingrid, she shrugs her shoulders. Felix and Ashe are already out the door talking about some training they are interested in. Ingrid says she will check on your Pegasus and let you know this evening how things are. You assure her you’re going to try to make the gathering tonight.

Sylvain returns, placing his arm at the ready, you grab on and as he escorts you, talking about his history here, having grown up frequently visiting the palace, how he would chase Ingrid, Dimitri and Felix down the halls until they would get in trouble and their amazing snowball fights in the courtyards.  He leads you down the corridor to your room. Annette and Mercedes are staying in the room next to yours.

“Who am I bunked up with?” You wonder.

“Nobody. This is all for you. The room is huge with a sitting area, a grand fireplace, a huge bed with multiple fluffy pillows and a bathroom with bathtub big enough to swim in. You spy your bags set on tables next to the dressers.

“I am so confused.” You don’t realize you are speaking out loud. “Why this special treatment? I’m just like everyone else. I don’t understand?”

“Remember when we were up against Cornelia?” Sylvain explains. “The person she looked at, the one she needed to stop first wasn’t Dimitri, wasn’t Dedue, it was you. You’re the most powerful mage we have.  Sure, Annette is pretty amazing, but she can’t do the damage you do. Cornelia saw it. I know you can dance circles around me. You’re pretty terrifying. We’re thrilled to have you on our side.”

You’re absolutely flabbergasted. You never compare yourself to anyone else. You go out, do your job. You feel a blush to your cheeks even though you find this hard to believe.

The redhead continues, “Then there’s the fact that you do this while flying on your Pegasus. We’ve seen you do maneuvers on that animal that shock Ingrid. You make some seriously fast dives, then stop. The wind force from its wings is stronger than some of Annette’s spells. I’ve seen enemy archers rolling over backwards from it.”

You could be knocked over by a Pegasus feather. You’re just a regular person in the army and he’s put you up on a pedestal…wait. This is Sylvain you’re thinking about. But it’s not his usual flirting escapades. Where is that flirtatious attitude anyway? You have spent a lot of time with him today and walked past plenty of pretty ladies, but you can’t recall his saying hello or paying a compliment to any of them.

“I think I should get a nap.” You say, not sure if you’re overwhelmed or tired or both.

“I’ll let you rest then. I’ll be back for you to get you to the party in plenty of time. See you in a few hours!” Sylvain smiles widely as he heads out the door, closing it behind him.

You sneak over to the door, hearing his footsteps going off into the distance. You peek out to watch him head down the long hallway. You watch him walk past a few female fellow soldiers without a hitch in his step. He comes to the end of the hallway where a cute maid is dusting a portrait and he just keeps going, not even giving the maid a sideways glance. Who is this guy and what have they done with Sylvain? You’re not sure, but you need to find out.

You decide a bath then a nap may clear your head. There are wonderful smelling soaps with flowers imbedded in them and something that smells fresh and relaxing for your hair. Cleansed and warm, it is definitely nap time. You comb your hair out, braiding it a bit and surround yourself by the fluffy pillows. You are asleep as soon as your head hits the pillows.

Several hours later you wake up, glad to see it’s not dark outside yet. You dress in a soft blue tunic and black slacks with your boots. You let your braids loose so your hair can dry. You head next door to visit Annette and Mercedes.

“Knock, knock, anyone home?” You chuckle.

“Hey! Come in!” Annette’s bubbly voice calls back. You enter, hmm, their room is much smaller than yours. You frown.

“Merci’s in the bath right now. Do you feel well enough to join us tonight?” Annette is looking at two outfits she has laid out on the bed, trying to decide which dress to wear.

“I’m about ready. I need to fix my hair a bit, that’s all.” You pause. “Annie, if I ask you some questions will you answer me honestly?”

“Pssshhh. Of course. We have no secrets.” The blue eyed woman smiles from ear to ear.

You want to ask her the right way, not fishing for compliments, because you don’t want that. “So. I’m just one of the many mages in the army, right? I’m no different than any other Pegasus rider. Just a regular old normal person.”

“Well…” Annette scrunches her eyebrows and puts her finger to her chin. “For Faith magic, nobody can beat Merci. Reason magic I’m pretty good, but you’re better than me, and Byleth too. You’re the only one that can cast Dark magic. Byleth does call on you frequently to do some very tough jobs, being out on the front lines where normally mages are not.”

“You can be quite scary!” Laughs Mercedes as she emerges from the bath in a short tunic and her slips. “A bolt of darkness coming down like a demon on the dark wings of your steed.”

“I guess I’m just confused by Sylvain. Did Byleth tell him to watch over me or something?” You look so flustered.

Mercie puts her hand over her mouth to hide a giggle.

“You should have seen him when he saw Cornelia hit you with her spell!” Annette is leaning so far forward off the bed she’s going to fall over any minute. “You fell over and he tried to run over there. Felix nearly pulled his arm out of his socket. He had to stay and finish the archers. Sylvain insisted on getting you back to the healer’s tent as fast as possible.”

“Why am I in a big room at the end of the hall all by myself? Shouldn’t I be bunked with someone?” You are grasping at anything trying to make sense of today.

“That could be from me.” Mercedes advises. “I did tell Dimitri that you need peace and quiet, healing from a magic injury is impeded by stress like loud noises or bad roommates.”

You shake your head a bit. Maybe you’re just tired and after a good night’s sleep you’ll be better in the morning. You remind yourself not to stay up too late at the party.

The three of you chat a bit, getting into gossip and girl talk. Dimitri and Byleth have been getting closer now that he has been feeling much better. You elbow the red-headed mage sitting next to you on the bed, teasing her about a certain dedicated swordsman. She refuses to admit if they have kissed yet, but by the redness on her cheeks, there is something going on there for sure. Mercedes admits to having a few cooking dates with Dedue. He is showing her how to make some dishes. She’s always felt comfortable baking desserts but not cooking main courses and side dishes.

The two ladies corner you asking if you have your heart set on anyone. Sheepishly you have to shrug your shoulders. You haven’t had time to do much beyond teaching the new mages and their battalions, being sent on a few covert missions, and working with the Pegasus knights training, working the stables and working out with your own steed. You see Ingrid the most of the group, frequently Dorothea would be hanging out nearby waiting for her.

Suddenly you notice the time and need to get back to your room to finish getting ready. You wave goodbye and will see them in a little while. There is a lovely vanity with an adjustable mirror. You take a seat and decide to braid your hair in one of the more intricate braids like Petra had shown you in recent months. Tying it with a white ribbon you leave it on your right shoulder.  Dusting your cheeks with a light rouge and dabbing your lips with a bit of color you’re done. This has probably been the closest you’ve been to being dressed up since the war started.

A knock on the door brings your attention back from staring at your face in the mirror. You walk quickly to the door to find Sylvain there, smiling brightly.

“You look…like you are feeling much better. Did you get to rest?” he asks.

“I feel great, I’m sure tomorrow I will feel even better.” You smile as he steps back to let you exit the room and he closes the door behind you. You grab the crook of his elbow like you had done earlier and he leads you to the parlor where the gathering is taking place.

“It is great to just hang out together for once. It has been exhausting.” Sylvain announces.

“War takes so much out of you. We have come so far, just a little bit more.” You sigh wistfully.

“The end is in sight.” The tall redhead says quietly. After a pause, he asks, “So have you thought about what you’re going to do after the war?”

“I don’t know.” You slow your pace, trying to gather your thoughts as you walk. “I’ve been so busy with the war, its hard to think about it being over. There is still going to be a million things that have to be done. Setting up government, rebuilding, trying to get everyone to work together. The work never ends.”

“Well, let’s not think about all that work for tonight.” He says as he pauses outside the room. “Let’s relax for just a bit before it all starts over again tomorrow.”

Inside the parlor is a large table with many chairs. Tables loaded with foods, fruits, savory treats and desserts. A large circle of comfortable chairs, couches, loveseats and settees with small tables scattered between them is the right, a few seats already occupied by Dedue, Dimitri, Byleth and Ingrid.

Everyone stands and greets you as you enter. You hug them all, so happy to be back together with everyone. Sylvain holds his hands out hopefully.

“Of course, you didn’t get one yet either.” You smile as you place your arms around him for his hug as well. He smells good. He hugs back ever so gently, his touch is feather light.

Byleth returns to the settee that she is sharing with Dimitri and asks you to sit next to her. You take a spot on the loveseat and chat with her about what happened during the battle from her point of view and she shares how proud she is of everyone. The rest of the Blue Lions filter into the room. Sylvain hands you a glass of water with lemon slices in it then walks over to talk to Felix who has found the spicy meatballs.

Once everyone has a drink in hand, Dimitri offers a toast thanking them all for their help in taking back the Kingdom capital. Plaudits of the attendees fill the room.

The conversations are lively. Ashe sits next to you for a while, talking about some new books he has ordered and offers to let you read them after he is finished. Annette also sits next to you for a while, talking about all of the different and delicious desserts. You prefer the peach tart, however you agree that the strawberry cheesecake is simply divine. The redhead then joins Felix on the couch on the other side of the room. Sylvain stands between you and Byleth, talking about differences in armor quality and comparing different blacksmiths. You invite him to ‘take a load off’ has he likes to say to others, as you move to let him sit next to Byleth and you sit on the other side of the seat, patting the loveseat for him to sit himself. He nods and smiles as he takes a seat and continues his conversation with the former Professor. Mercedes bustles through the room, taking your empty plate and another that Annette had left on the side table.

Sylvain finishes his conversation and looks out into the room. You tap him on the hand to get his attention.

“What have you been up to today?” You ask him.

“I had to work on repairs for my saddle, one of the cinching straps had become frayed. I don’t need it breaking and falling off in the middle of battle. I also had to make sure my horse is in great shape, trimmed her hooves and then took her out for a ride. I used to ride a lot out here with Dimitri. It was good to feel the wind through my hair, the sun on my back and simply ride just for the sake of riding.”

“That sounds delightful.” You think wistfully. “Just going for a ride to be riding. Can’t wait to be able to do that again.”

“Any time you are up for it I would be happy if you would like to join me.” Sylvain smiles.

You gently wrap your tiny hand around his much larger, calloused hand. “Sounds great.”

Another hour of chatting with your friends goes by until a yawn suddenly escapes your lips.

Sylvain immediately notices. “Looks like you have had enough fun for today. I should take you back, okay?”

“Mmmm. I agree. Mercedes will tie me to a cot if I don’t rest.” You giggle

Mercedes laughs, “I have ways of making you sleep.” Her voice is much deeper, lower than normal as she squints her eyes menacingly. She wiggles her fingers in a creepy taunting manner at you, making you laugh even more. Sylvain stands and offers his elbow for you to take. Both of you bid goodnight to everyone as you head back out to the corridors of the palace. You are silent as you both walk back to your room. At the door he is preparing to take his leave.

Placing your hand on his shoulder you stop him from moving. “I would like to talk with you, that is, if you want to speak with me as well.”

He gives a slight smile and follows you into your room. You move to the sitting area. You take a seat on a soft cushioned char, he sits on an identical chair next to you.

“First, thank you so much for all of the help you have provided to me today. Bringing water, helping steady me in the hallways, and making certain I was not lost wandering the palace looking for the party.” You say this with all the sincerity you can muster, placing your left hand on your chest to show your heartfelt thanks.

“It was the least I could do. You have given of yourself over and over, it was wonderful being able to help you today.” A tinge of red covers his cheeks. “You really should get some rest.”

You really want to talk to him but he is right, you can barely keep your eyes open. He opens the door to leave, but you hold your arms out to give him a hug goodnight. He gently wraps his arms around yours as you press your cheek into his chest, exhaling with a sigh. You wave as he steps through the threshold and closes the door.

 The early morning war council is held in one of the palace’s meeting rooms. Dimitri shares a message delivered to him earlier this morning. It is a plea for assistance from the alliance, Claude asks for help in Derdriu. Everyone agrees to make the detour to the city then head on towards Enbarr to finish the war.

Arriving at the coastal city, Claude has done an excellent job preparing the city for the fight with the Empire. The battle zone has been evacuated of the citizens and merchants. They only ones involved in the fighting are soldiers. The Kingdom’s army is motivated and strong, overtaking the Empire forces in record time.

There is a meeting between Dimitri, Byleth and Claude. Claude announces he is headed for his own future and wishes everyone well.

The Kingdom marches for Enbarr. The final battle in the war. Edelgard does nothing to prepare the citizens, they flee in the streets as the fight rages around them. The fight is long and bloody. There is no surrendering by Edelgard, she and Hubert fight until their last breath.

You volunteer to stay behind, but Ashe, Ingrid, Dorothea, Linhardt and Caspar remain to start the repairs and healing from the war. The rest return to the north. Sylvian and Felix return to their territories to check on everything and keep their lands going.

Back in the Kingdom capital, your days are filled with rebuilding, not just the buildings, but the mind and bodies of the citizens. You are always amongst the people, one day clearing rubble, the next helping in the orphanages, another day watching a mother’s children so she could take care of business. You explain you are doing this for king and country. If there is anyone to thank, it is Dimitri.

Soon everyone is gathered here again, this time for Dimitri’s coronation. The ceremony is long. Byleth being the archbishop has the honor of placing the crown upon the king. There are so many speeches and the lords of every territory must approach the king and promise their allegiance.

A grand ball celebrating the coronation is held in the evening. King Dimitri is seated at the head table, next to Archbishop Byleth. Felix is next to Dimitri as his chief advisor, Dedue next to him as his Vassal. Ashe and Ingrid are knights, standing guard behind them. They insisted on working, reveling in the honor of being among the first to protect the newly crowned King.

You sit with Annette, Mercedes, Dorothea, Caspar, Linhardt and Sylvain. The conversation is never ending, you haven’t seen several of them for months, so everyone has to catch up. Mercedes and Dedue are engaged. Annette and Felix are officially a couple, as well as Caspar and Linhardt. You have been busy helping restore the school of sorcery. They have been begging you to become a teacher, you are still considering your options.

The orchestra on the opposite side of the ballroom begins to play. The king and archbishop take the floor, starting the dancing for the remaining couples. Sylvain had been seated next to Dorothea and they spoke quietly with each other several times during dinner. You would look up and smile at him and he would always return the gesture.

After the first song ends, it was time for the rest of the couples to dance. You are shocked when he stands and walks over to you, asking you to dance with him. He takes your hand and leads you to the floor. The first few minutes you smile at each other. Then you hear him sigh. You catch his eyes and he smiles at you.

“I’ve missed you.” Sylvain whispers softly in your ear.

“I was hoping you lived close enough that you could come visit here more frequently. Maps can be quite deceiving.” You frown briefly, “How are things in Gautier?”

Sylvain seems to stiffen a bit. “My father is going to step down, leaving me to take his place.”

You try not to frown, “Is that what you want to do?”

He hesitates as the song is ending and he asks you to step outside with him. You stroll through the gardens together, the smell of moist earth and roses fills the air. You stop far enough away that the brightness of the party no longer blocks the light of the stars on this perfectly clear night.

He seats you on a bench, taking a the spot next to you. He leans back and looks up at the stars.

You can’t look away from his face, so you simply watch him watching the twinkling in the skies.

He gently takes your hand in his. “I never wanted to take my father’s place. I never wanted to be like him or like he wanted me to be. I was always such a rebel. I wanted to ruin the world around me, pay it back for all the pain that I had been through. There was nothing that I was looking forward to, being forced to fit in the mold that my father made for me. When they had announced that Dimitri would be executed it made my father physically ill. The kingdom had fallen that day to him. He had no hope left. He stopped pushing me to get married. He couldn’t arrange anything, not knowing who would come out victorious. He didn’t know if he would be keeping his position or would the Empire trample him into the ground. He stopped leaning on me that I would have to be the next margrave, not having any idea how long he was to be the current one. I no longer had anything to defy, to rebel against. I pulled back. I had to learn how to take care of myself properly. Then we came back for the reunion. I had been feeling sorry for myself, then I found out you had lost everything. I saw how strong you had become. Even though you had nothing you had such passion to help everyone else to be better. It was so beautiful. I had never seen anything so beautiful. It wasn’t just a smile, a pretty face, it was radiating from so deep within you. I wanted to be near you, that’s why I had offered to help you, just to be near you. I knew I wasn’t worthy of you. But if I helped you at least I could be close to you. When Cornelia hurt you, I went mad. I thought you were dead. Felix brought me back, telling me we had to finish what you started. I wanted to talk to you after you were recovering, but then we were pulled into Derdriu and went to Enbarr right after that. And then I had to go back to Gautier. After the war, when I went back I thought my father would lord over me, make me continue to do everything his way. But he’s become tired. My parents are going to move to the coast to spend the rest of their days. Managing Gautier is left to me to handle as I see fit. I’ve been working on reaching out to the Sreng, to see if we can find peace between us. Everyone is so tired of the fighting. I know I am. Maybe I could be the Margrave, but I can’t do it alone. I’d like you to help me, teach me to be a good leader, to do right by my people. I would do anything and everything for you.”

You squeeze his hand. “At the reunion I noticed a big change in you. I wanted to talk to you about it but the war never let us have five minutes to ourselves. I noticed you were behaving differently. I wanted so badly to talk to you after we won back the capital, but the war jumped between us again. Maybe the only way I can have an opportunity to speak with you for any length of time would be to go to Gautier with you.” You grin at him.

“I really don’t deserve you.” He puts his arm around you for a half hug. “I know you are so good with the people. Everyone here loves you.” He rests his cheek on the top of your head.

You’re beginning to become flustered. At the moment you miss the old flirty Sylvain. He’s acting..shy? Inviting you to Gautier sounded like a business transaction more than inviting a woman over. “Are you seeing anyone right now? Have you decided what you want to do for yourself?” you ask.  

“Uh. No. I haven’t really thought about it for a long time. Its like once the pressure was off from my father, I just didn’t need to do that anymore. But yeah, I want to get married to a woman that I love, maybe have children, and shower them with as much love as I can muster. Make peace with the Sreng. Make the people of Gautier happy too. What about you? Are you seeing anyone? What do you want?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to get married and have children. Now that the war is over that certainly is a possibility.” You begin. “And you know I like to help people, help them help themselves. I am seriously considering a job offer that I feel I am qualified for. I’m thrilled to find that someone I have been interested in for quite a while is currently single. So things are looking pretty good.” You look up at his face smiling.

Sylvain looks down at you smiling, but unsure.

Your hands slide up his chest, going around his neck and you pull him down toward you, finally he gets the idea and bends down to kiss you gently.

“That took you forever.” You gasp smiling up at him.

“I thought I had already missed my chance. I thought at least if I could be near you that would be fine.” He smiles, kissing you again.

“Ever since I saw you at the reunion, I could tell you were different in the best sort of way. You weren’t hiding behind a mask, you were acting like yourself. As long as you be your true self with me, I will always want to be near you.” You hold Sylvain tightly under the stars.

 *****Epilogue

The wedding is the following spring. Both of you frequently travel all about Gautier territory, constantly talking with the people and responding to their needs. You find some people that speak Sreng and learn the language and culture well enough to be able to parlay and work towards a peace agreement. You give up some of the Gautier lands that the Sreng say are important to them. In turn they pay for this property with many rare minerals and jewels that are from their lands. You use this money to improve the roads and lives for the people of Gautier. Sylvain does spoil you rotten. You have at least 8 children and have no idea if any has a crest, not that you care. The Lance of Ruin is given to Byleth to do whatever she wants with the horrid weapon.

[crackerjackawrites]

Journey to the Giggling Glade, or, Adventures of a Cottagecore NB Who Works in a Cafe (6k Words)

 Roman heads to a magical forest to gather some plants for their boss, Clara. But things don’t go as planned when Roman stumbles upon a mysterious figure outside the forest. (originally written August 2021)

“Roman!”

Roman darted past a server, nearly sending the plate of roast beef and vegetables crashing to the floor. They scurried past a chef leaning over a saucepan, disrupting his chanting and making him drop a half conjured tomato into the pan, it immediately began to sizzle. They ran through a large cloud of steam, taking in the rich smell of the sauce that was boiling just next to them. Finally, they got to the other side of the kitchen. Clara was standing there, her arms folded. Despite her mean demeanor, she was beaming, as always.

“Yes, Miss Clara?” panted Roman.

“I need you for an errand, dearie. I’ve just run out of spitebark root. Could you go out and get some for me, please?”

“Of course, Miss Clara,” said Roman, “Which store is that from again?”

Clara chuckled heartily, “Oh, dearie. It’s not from any store. You need to go out to the Giggling Glade.”

Roman’s face dropped, they couldn’t go out to the Glade! 

“I can’t go out to the Glade!” they said.

“Why of course you can, dearie. Come with me!”

Clara shuffled out of the bustling kitchen and into her private office. Roman had only been in there once before, when they first applied to work at Clara’s. Clara walked over to the side of the room, where a small table with two built-in hobs lay. The stove clicked as Clara set the temperature, before it finally ignited with flames. She grabbed a frying pan and placed it over the fire, then she began to cast into the pan. 

She placed her hand calmly in the centre of the pan, the roaring fire beneath not seeming to bother her at all. Granny hands, figured Roman, they were fireproof. She closed her eyes and exhaled, oil began to pool at her fingertips. The oil spread out until a thin layer covered the whole pan. As the oil began to boil, Clara clapped her hands together and separated them, between her palms appeared a rolled up piece of thin, edible wrapper with what looked to be chocolate inside. She placed the creation into the pan.

“These are ji-ai,” she said while summoning another into her hands and laying it beside the first, “a recipe from Western Piasohn. That’s not the important thing, though.” she waggled a third ji-ai at Roman, “I’m enchanting these. If you get injured, eat one and it will help. I’ll make you three, that should be plenty.” 

Clara turned from the three ji-ais in the pan. The smell of melting chocolate danced its way over to Roman and up their nose. The rich sweetness reminded them of a recipe their father used to make. Clara took a small bowl, placed her hand into it and concentrated again. Instead of filling with oil, the bowl began to fill with a golden sugar. 

“Now, spitebark is a funny little plant. They’re named spitebarks because they hate growing near each other. In fact, they hate each other so much that the flowers face in the complete opposite direction to the nearest other plant. That means you can always find them in pairs! I only need two as well, so you shouldn’t need to look for long - one will be for planting and the other will be for experimenting as soon as you get back.”

Clara turned back to the pan, the ji-ais were nicely browning. She flipped them over in the oil and walked over to a bookshelf. She grabbed a book and flicked through it before finding the right page.

“These are spitebarks,” she said, pointing to a drawing of a long, thin, brown plant. It looked like a twig from a tree had been planted in the ground. Clara moved her finger down the illustration, stopping at the large root at the bottom, “This is what I need, you can cut the rest of the plant off when you find it.” 

Clara reached into the pan and took out the first ji-ai, she rolled it around in the sugar until it was lightly coated, then she placed it onto a white napkin. She did this with the other two before wrapping them up. She then placed the napkin into a small pouch and handed it to Roman, who tied it to their belt. 

“Here you go, dearie! Now, you know how to get to the Glade, don’t you?”

Of course they knew how to get to the Glade, they’d been told their whole life to stay as far away from it as possible. And they had. 

Now, Roman stood before the Forest of Fables (which the Glade lay within). Clara had walked with them out of New Elmus but they had been on their own since leaving the city limits. Now all they had to do was find the Glade. It shouldn’t be hard, right? They just had to start walking and they’d stumble upon it eventually. That was the magic of the Glade - all it took was one step. But Roman had never been to the Glade before, they had no idea what lay within it. Their mother had told them time and time again to never go in but she never said why. Roman had no idea what to expect once they were inside. 

The wind whistling through the trees pulled Roman out of their thoughts and back into the real world. They had been standing at the edge of the forest for some ten minutes now, debating whether to enter or not. Clara would be furious if they came back empty handed. Roman had never seen Clara mad before, even the thought of it was breaking their heart. They had to get the spitebark. They just had to take that first step…

“Oi!” 

It was a voice from behind, Roman spun. Before them stood a tall, lean man with curly, blonde hair. He had his arms crossed and Roman imagined that if he were nearer the forest he would’ve been casually leaning against a tree. His smirk was that of a man who had many secrets, some his own and some belonging to others. He began to approach Roman, walking with a swagger that they were completely expecting, yet was still impressed by. As he got closer, Roman noticed his stark, emerald eyes.

He spoke again, “What’s someone like you doing out here? Didn’t your parents tell you that you shouldn’t go near the Forest of Fables?”

“I’m not a kid.” said Roman, bluntly, “Who are you, anyways?”

The man scoffed, “Haven’t you heard of me?” Roman genuinely hadn’t. The man paused for a second, expecting an answer, but continued once he realised he wouldn’t get one, “The name’s Bailey. Bailey Giload: mercenary for hire.”

“So, what, you’re out here to kill something?”

“Not today, my friend.” Bailey placed an arm over Roman. They flinched, but settled quickly, “Work’s been slow this week so I’ve had to expand my reach. I’m going shopping.”

Roman muttered, “Wait...” under their breath.

Bailey continued, “I’ve been sent out here by Fergus Ford of the Magnificent Beast Bakery. He told me to get him some spitebark root.” So many thoughts were flying through Roman’s head that they couldn’t get anything out before Bailey started speaking again, “But enough about me. You never answered my question; what are you doing in the Forest of Fables?”

In? thought Roman. Then they looked around. Since when had they started walking? Something about Bailey’s confidence had seeped into Roman, singel handedly slaying any intimidation they felt. From the forest, at least.

“I was… just… coming here to see what it’s like. Yeah. I thought maybe I could face my fears and finally try and go to the Glade.”

“You’re going to the Glade?” asked Bailey. 

“Yup.”

“Maybe I could help you out? I feel like I’m a tad more prepared than you are.” Bailey looked Roman up and down, then smirked.

Roman looked down at themselves, they were still mostly wearing the uniform from Clara’s. Then they looked at Bailey, he sported light armour that allowed for significantly more flexibility than the shirt and trousers that Roman wore. There was also a cutlass sheathed at his waist, which Roman imagined Bailey would whip out at any sign of danger, ready to protect them from whatever lay ahead. Then, after the monster was defeated, Bailey would look over to Roman and-

“Stop.” whispered Bailey. 

Roman froze in place and turned to Bailey. They whispered back, “What is it?” 

Bailey pointed deeper into the woods. Roman looked past the thick, mossy trees nearby, but they couldn’t spot what he was pointing at. Then, suddenly, something darted between two trees. Roman didn’t catch what it was. 

“Just stay calm.”

It jumped again, this time Roman saw it. The creature was lanky and covered in dark fur. Something shone from it as it moved. A weapon, maybe. It was hard to see any details from that distance. The creature continued to leap between the trees, slowly making its way over Roman and Bailey’s heads. 

Once it had left their sight, Roman asked, “What was that thing?”

“You’ve never seen an eavener before?”

“That’s an eavener?”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve only ever seen them in those Jaz Carpenter books?”

Roman paused, then looked down at their feet. Bailey struggled to stifle a laugh. 

Bailey continued, smirking and shaking his head, “You’re really not fit for being out here. Maybe you should turn back.”

“No,” said Roman. Bailey looked up, taken aback by their bluntness. “I have to get to the Glade.”

“Alright, fine. But don’t go hurting yourself.”

The two continued walking, only stopping for Bailey to take a drink from a pouch he had strapped to the side of his backpack. Roman sat on a tree stump opposite him. The smells of the forest were pungent now: wet dirt, wet bark and flowers that Roman couldn’t identify.

Bailey looked over, “I haven’t seen you drink anything this whole journey, why?”

“I didn’t bring water.”

Bailey’s eyes widened this time. They lowered the bottle from their mouth, “Oh my God, Roman,” suddenly Bailey’s whole demeanor changed, the once cocky persona melted away to reveal caring eyes and genuine worry. Bailey handed his pouch to Roman, “Here, take it. Finish it for all I care. Once we get back out of here I’m gonna teach you everything. I can tell you want to be out here adventuring but you’re clearly not prepared for it. Would that be alright?”

Roman put the pouch to their mouth. They didn’t drink enough to finish it, but it was still a significant swig. “Thank you,” they said.

“Cool,” said Bailey, “It’s a date.”

Roman nearly spat the water from their mouth, then they swallowed, “A date?”

“I mean,” Bailey perched on the stump next to Roman, “If you want to call it that.” 

He reached out for Roman’s hand. A heat rose within Roman, like coal being furiously shoveled into a furnace.

“I’d love to,” the hearth of their heart was erupting now. No one had ever seen them in this way before, and Roman had never seen anyone the way they were seeing Bailey right now.

Bailey closed his eyes and lent forward, Roman quickly caught on and followed suit. When their lips locked it was like nothing Roman had ever felt before. 

Then there was a thud and the sound of leaves rustling. Bailey let out a cry, nearly biting Roman’s lip. Roman’s eyes snapped open, they were still face-to-face with Bailey, but behind him stood the eavener. It loomed over Bailey, its long body taking it to nearly six foot when it stood on its hind legs. Its head was like that of a weasel. Roman bolted up from the stump and began to back away from the beast. 

“Please, stay back,” they said.

The eavener jumped from the stump, tearing its arms out of Bailey’s back. Roman saw that it had a piece of sharp flint in each hand. They were covered in blood now. Bailey’s blood.

It began to speak in a low whisper, “Get out of here while you can. And do not associate yourself with this human.” Then it leaped high into a nearby tree and scampered up it. 

“Bailey!” called Roman, running over to him. Bailey had fallen back after the eavener had jumped off of him and now he lay slumped over the stump he sat on.

His voice was frail, “Get out, Roman.... Save yourself.”

“No!” said Roman, “I can save you.” Roman untied the pouch from their waist and pulled out a ji-ai, “Here, take this.”

They fed Bailey the healing pastry, desperately hoping it would cure him like Clara said it should. But what if the wound was too large? Or what if the eavener had some sort of magical poison that gourmantic food couldn’t heal?

“Thank you,” said Bailey, “But why?” Then, his eyes widened and his face beamed with realisation.

“See?” said Roman, “Maybe I’m not all that useless after all.”

“No,” he said, colour already beginning to flood back into his face, “Saving me once doesn’t excuse forgetting to bring water.”

“Okay, fair,” said Roman, smirking.

The two sat there for a moment, Bailey still lying down on the stump and Roman sitting up next to him. They stared into each other’s eyes, living the moment. 

Bailey broke the silence, “So… are you going to tell me where you got those from? You don’t seem like you’d be prepared or experienced enough to bring something like that.”

Busted, thought Roman. They sighed, “Fine. I’m here to get spitebark root too. I’m here for Clara.”

Bailey sat up, “What?”

“Look-”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It just never c-”

Bailey jumped up from the log, “We kissed! You should’ve said before that!”

“It never came up!”

“It shouldn’t need to come up!”

Roman looked away, “Look, okay,” they said, “You’re not perfect either!”

“What do you mean?”

“The eavener told me. It said, ‘do not associate with this man.’ There’s something up with you, too.”

“Wait, when did it say that?”

“Right after it stabbed you! You were probably too busy wailing to hear.”

“Oh c’mon! Now you’re picking on me for screaming in pain after I got stabbed!”

Roman paused, “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Bailey smiled weakly.

Roman couldn’t help but beam back at him, “God damn it. You’re too cute for your own good!”

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.”

“Great!” Bailey spun around, before pointing in the direction they had been heading before, “Then let us continue.”

“Alright,” said Roman, following Bailey, “But you said it yourself, ‘No more secrets.’ So you’ve got to tell me, what did the eavener mean?”

Bailey huffed, “Fine.” He looked thoughtful for a second, probably thinking through what he was going to say. “The eavener’s don’t like me because of an old job I had. I can’t tell you who it was for - client confidentiality and all that - but suffice it to say they were powerful and rich. This was back when I had a party, there were four of us. I don’t really want to talk about them though. Anyway, we were asked by this client to go to the Forest of Fables and find the eaveners’ hideout, so that the client could bring in their army to eradicate them.”

“An army?” asked Roman, “Who was this guy, the king?”

Bailey glanced at Roman, his face blank, innocent.

“Oh.” said Roman, they looked down at their feet “Right.”

“Yeah,” continued Bailey, “After we arrived in the Glade it didn’t take long to find the eavener huts. You know how this place works. You’ll find what you’re looking for. They build their houses in the treetops, y’know? Put leaves underneath them to camouflage with the canopy. We only noticed them after a bird flew overhead and made…” Bailey mumbled a name, “-look up.” He took a long breath, Roman wrapped their arm over his shoulder. “We joked that we might have already walked past them and that the Forest was desperately trying to get us to find what we were looking for.” Bailey chuckled, and tears welled up in his eyes. He sniffed, “It didn’t go well, Roman. We were ambushed. I was the only one who made it out. And now the King thinks we’re all dead and if he knew I was alive he’d sure as hell try to stop me! And so now I’m stuck in mercenary limbo. I change my name for every job so that no one can track me.”

“Does that mean-?” 

“Bailey’s not my real name, no. But I don’t really have a real name. My birth name belonged to someone who abandons their team when anything goes wrong. I’m different now. And I’ve never settled on one name since. Maybe Bailey can become my real name. Since it’s what I was using when I finally found someone worth having an identity for.”

Roman stopped, “That’s…” The flood gates opened, Roman wasn’t expecting it to be theirs. They flung their arms around Bailey. Bawling, Roman said, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me!”

Bailey patted Roman’s head then returned the hug, “Y’know,” he said, “We’re never going to get to the Glade if you keep stopping to be this cute!”

“Alright, alright,” said Roman, collecting themself, “Let’s go!”

Bailey squinted, “Is that-? Oh my God it is! Roman, we’re finally here!”

Roman gasped, and the pair ran towards the glade.

Bailey burst into the Glade, and Roman stumbled out not too long after. It was filled with bright light which highlighted the tall, radiant grass and sparkled off of a stream that travelled through. There were rocks neatly placed around, it almost looked too perfect to be real, but magic did that sometimes. A gust of wind blew towards the pair, when it moved through the trees behind them it sounded like laughter. That was how the Giggling Glade got its name. 

By the time Roman had struggled past the bushes and branches at the Glade’s borders and gotten used to the sudden change in brightness due to the lack of canopy, Bailey had already clambered up a rock and was scouting the area, his hand placed firmly at his brow to block out the sun. 

Roman called up to him, “Any specific place to look for spitebark?”

“I don’t know. This is my first time too.”

“You have first times? I figured you’d have already done everything there is to do.”

Bailey laughed, “Hey, there’s a difference between being better than you and being the best, a big one. Anyway I don’t think scouting up here is doing any good for finding the spitebark. From my understanding, they’re pretty small.”

“Why were you up here then?”

“Force of habit. Either that or some desperate hope that they’d be here.”

“Oh,” muttered Roman, but Bailey paid them no mind as he began to climb down.

Once he reached the bottom, Bailey looked full of energy again, “So,” he said, “What’s the plan?”

“So we’re looking for those thin, brown plants. They look like sticks,” said Roman.

“Yep.”

“And they don’t grow close together, that's why they’re called spitebark.”

“Really?” said Bailey, “Ford could’ve said something about that.”

Roman smirked, “Are you saying I actually knew something out here that you didn’t?”

“I guess I concede,” Bailey knelt on the floor and bowed at Roman, “Teach me your ways, O Monarch of Agriculture!”

“Okay I get it!” Roman chuckled, “Just let me have this one win!”

Bailey began to get back up. “Fine,” he smirked. 

“We should split up, cover more ground.”

“But-” started Bailey.

“But what? Aren’t we safe here in the Glade?”

“I mean, probably. But I don’t want to risk it.”

“What if we stay within sight?” said Roman, “That way we can cover more ground while also keeping an eye on each other.”

“Fine,” said Bailey, “Honestly I just want to be near you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet! Seriously, though, I want to find these roots and get back quick.”

Roman called from behind Bailey, “I think I’ve found some!” Bailey turned, noticing Roman pointing at a rock. They stepped behind it and knelt, vanishing out of Bailey’s sight.

“Hey!” called Bailey, running over.

Roman popped back up, “What?”

“No leaving each other’s sight, remember!”

Roman scoffed, “Fine. Get over here then!”

As Bailey rounded the rock, Roman pointed at a plant. It was taller than Bailey expected, nearly coming up to his chest - or Roman’s chin. 

“Alright so this is one,” said Roman, kneeling down to grab at the base, “We need the roots so I’ve got to dig it up. At least I was given a spade.”

Bailey smiled, “Is there anything I can do?” he asked. 

“Only start trying to find another one.”

“Y’know what?” said Bailey, “I think I’m fine watching you dig actually. I’ll do the next one, though.”

Roman finished digging the dirt around the spitebark and lifted it up. At the bottom of the stem was a large, muddy bulb.

“Here it is!” they said, “Our first spitebark root!”

“We did it!” 

“Just one more to go for me! How many do you need?”

“Ford wants fifty.”

Roman flinched, “Fifty? That’s insane! How much is he even paying you for that?”

“Twenty five garsons, he said they were worth a half each.”

“I don’t even think there’s fifty in the whole Glade! These things are so rare they go for at least twelve garsons each.”

“What! You’re kidding, right?”

“No! He must’ve figured that he could rip you off because you don’t know about them.”

Bailey was boiling inside. How dare he? How dare Ford undercut him like that? Bailey spoke, “When we get back, I am gonna get that b-”

“Hey, hey, hey! I know what you’re thinking.” Roman looked down to Bailey’s hand, Bailey followed their gaze. Since when had he gotten his cutlass out? “We can speak to Clara when you get back. He’ll respect her. Everyone respects her. And he sure doesn’t deserve your blade.”

“You’re right.” said Bailey, resheathing his sword. He turned to Roman, “Hey, maybe I’ll start working for Clara when we get back. We would see each other more.”

“I’d like that,” said Roman, smiling, “Alright! Back to the search.”

“At least now we know there won’t be any around here,” said Bailey, gesturing vaguely in a circle around where they both stood. 

“Now that we’ve found one, another shouldn’t be hard. They point away from the nearest other plant.” There was a small flower bud at the top of the bark, it pointed out slightly. Bailey had thought nothing special of it until just then, 

“If I remember correctly,” continued Roman, “it was pointing that way before I dug it up,” they pointed right, “So we need to go that way,” Roman pointed left, then turned to Bailey, ”Sorry if I’m boring you by the way, I’m sure you knew all this.”

“Actually I didn’t. It seems like Ford wasn’t as useful as he seemed.”

Roman laughed, “It’s so weird. It’s like he just wanted you to get lost out here.” before turning to walk to the next spitebark.

That phrase echoed in Bailey’s mind. He just wanted you to get lost out here.

Roman turned back, realising that Bailey hadn’t moved yet. Then they realised, “You don’t think...?”

“Actually, Roman,” said Bailey, “I do think. I think he set me up! He sent me here knowing how dangerous it can be and would have had me sit here for hours hunting for something I’ll never find. Until what? Until I get found by eaveners? Until I’m overcome with the emotions of returning and just off myself right in the middle of the Glade? Until I go crazy and start seeing the ghosts of my dead friends?-”

There was a rustling from behind Roman, Bailey looked past them. Something was in the bushes.

Roman saw Bailey’s face drop.

“What is it?” they asked.

Bailey raised a shuddering hand, and pointed over Roman’s shoulder, they turned. 

Before Roman stood three humanoid figures, their skin was an ashen grey and their eyes were orbs of pale green light. The first was a tall, muscular figure who wore heavy armour and wielded a long spear. Beside him stood a shorter woman with a flowing robe, her hands were held out and magical fire was sputtering in them. Behind the two figures loomed a huge, bare chested man, his battleaxe’s head looked bigger than Roman’s entire torso. Each of the figures' clothing matched the grey of their skin. Roman also noticed green tentacles of energy wavered from the backs of their necks and into the bushes behind.

Bailey spoke first, “It’s them.”

The largest of the three let out a roaring battle cry as he and the other man ran towards Roman, the woman dodged to the side, the flames in her hands growing in intensity.

“Run!” called Bailey, but Roman couldn’t. They stood petrified as this colossus of a man stomped towards them, shuddering the ground with each step.

Bailey called again, “Roman!” But it was useless. The colossus brought his axe up, preparing to swing and-

Roman was tackled to the ground. The axe cleaved through the air, missing Roman’s head by inches. Roman looked around, Bailey lay next to them, his arms wrapped around Roman’s torso. His eyes were wide with terror, which slowly lowered to relief as they locked with Roman’s. 

Bailey sighed, but before he could say anything the other fighter charged towards them. He raised his spear and prepared to strike, but Bailey whipped out his cutlass and knocked the spear aside, spiking it into the dirt.

Roman scampered to their feet, noticing the colossus had lodged his axe into the ground and was struggling to pull it out. Bailey dueled with the spearman, deftly dodging his lunges and parrying those he couldn’t duck out of the way of. The woman’s fire had grown to an immense size, she was now holding a single flame between both her hands and was preparing to throw it towards Bailey.

It was Roman who called to Bailey this time, “Bailey! Over there!” Bailey looked up to Roman and then followed their pointing arm. He saw the huge fireball just as it was leaving the caster’s hands. He jumped away from the spearman and behind a nearby rock. The spearman stood still and emotionless as the fireball engulfed him. Roman covered their face with their hands as the heavy heat stampeded over them. They cried out as it lightly burnt their forearms.

Once the blast cleared, Roman lowered their arms. The grey figure still stood within the rubble. Roman looked over to Bailey, he was peeking over the stone and staring at the spearman in awe.

There must be something with that green magic, thought Roman. Looking once again at the tendril that went from the spearman’s neck. It still led towards those bushes. Roman ran to the rock that Bailey was still crouched behind, it seemed like the fireball had disoriented the spearman, he didn’t know where either of them had gone. 

Roman whispered, “Bailey!”

He turned, “What are you still doing here?” he said, exacerbatedly, “You need to get out! Run!”

“I can’t leave you here alone,” said Roman, “Anyway, I think I know what we need to do. We need to follow the magic that’s coming from them, maybe we can find a way to… I don’t know, turn it off?”

“Do you know how to turn magic off?”

“Not with magic, no. But we could kill it.”

Bailey shrugged, “Well it’s better than trying to kill them, did you see what that fireball did to Fabian?”

Fabian, that must be the spearman. 

“Alright, let’s g-”

A deafening roar sounded from behind them. Roman turned. The colossus stood before them, holding his axe high over his head. He brought it down. Roman and Bailey jumped in opposite directions, the axe cleaving right where Bailey was just standing. 

Bailey looked at Roman, they pointed towards the bush that the tendrils were wavering to. The two ran toward it, leaving the colossus to heave it’s axe from the ground once more. 

As they reached the bush, another fireball cracked overhead. It collided with the trees, sending them careening away. The stumps that remained began to burn, before the flames tapered themselves out magically. 

“Now what?” asked Bailey.

“I don’t know.” said Roman, “Just stab into it?”

Cutlass drawn, Bailey tiptoed up to the bush. He raised his arm to strike when something big and dark brown burst from the bush and tackled him to the ground. It was an eavener! It sat on top of Bailey, the three green tendrils leading straight into its head. The eavener raised one of its flint daggers to strike.

“No!” called Roman, running at the eavener. They tackled it off of Bailey. The eavener squirmed in Roman’s grip, slashing at their forearms with the stone blades. Roman screamed as the blades tore up their arm, like a pack of wolves tearing up fresh prey.

Then, all of a sudden, the flailing stopped. 

Roman looked up at the eavener, a sword was lodged into its chest, Bailey’s sword! Roman followed the curve of the blade and saw Bailey at the other end. He looked deeply troubled. Roman leapt up and spread his arms towards Bailey, then flinched as the movement caused a searing pain to travel up his forearms. Roman looked innocently up at him, he had already dipped back into that caring focus he had shown at Roman’s lack of water.

“Where are those roll-things you had before?” he said, quickly.

Roman slowly moved their arm to point at the pouch, careful not to bring back the stinging pain. Bailey deftly untied it from Roman’s side and opened it, pulling out one of the ji-ais. Roman opened their mouth as Bailey gently placed it onto their tongue. They bit down on it, easily piercing the wrapping to reach the chocolate inside. It sent a warm tingling through their whole body, which slowly focused and grew in their forearms. Roman looked down at their arms, watching as the flesh around the hundreds of cuts regrew and merged with what had survived the attack. The swelling, bloodied meat looked significantly more disgusting than it felt, the magic of the ji-ais actually making the feeling quite euphoric for Roman. Once the healing had completed and the warmth died down, Roman shook their arms out, returning some of the feeling they had lost in them.  

Roman suddenly realised “What about the others?”

Bailey took a sharp breath, “Oh no.”

Roman was fully expecting the colossus to burst through at that moment. But nothing happened. Now that they thought about it, they couldn’t hear the charging of magic fire either, or any noise that might have been coming from their adversaries for that matter. All they could hear was the faint tweeting of birds some distance away.

Roman turned around, looking back out over the Glade. The three figures all stood wavering across the field, standing in place like figures on a warmap. They looked to be in some sort of trance. Bailey ran over to the spellcaster, who was the nearest. 

“Merida!” he said, holding her face in his hands, “Please! Wake up! Please!”

Merida’s grey skin became flaky in Bailey’s hand. He pulled away, but the ash stuck to him. He looked at it in disbelief.

“No! This isn't- It can’t- Merida!”

Bailey tried to embrace the caster, but his hands wafted through her, scattering the ashes into the wind. Once again he looked in shock. Roman turned to watch the others. The colossus was the most intact, likely due to his size. Then a strong breeze caught his head, dispersing it just like Merida. The wind snickered as it passed through the trees.

Some horrid joke, thought Roman. 

Roman walked up beside Bailey and stood with him, the two just watched as the spearman Fabian’s legs gave out. He collapsed onto the floor, the ashes spurting out in a circle around where he fell. The unnamed colossus also fell, knocked over by the wind. His final flourish was significantly larger than Fabian’s. 

Roman wrapped an arm around Bailey, “I’m sorry.”

Bailey just stood, his eyes wide and unfocused. Roman thought they heard him mutter something. “Thank you,” perhaps. 

“We need to get out of here.” continued Roman, pulling Bailey out of his trance slightly, “There might be more eaveners on the way.”

“Yeah,” Bailey muttered, but he wasn’t walking out of the Glade. Instead he stumbled over to the pile of ash that had been Fabian. “Let me just-” with a grunt, Bailey bent over and grabbed the spear. “I need to keep these. Preserve them.” He walked over to the colossus next and heaved the axe over his shoulder. The thing dwarfed him. Roman wasn’t sure how Bailey could even carry it.

Now that Roman understood what was happening, they walked over to Merida’s ash pile. A book lay buried in it (or in her, Roman thought, grimly), Roman hadn’t seen it during the fight. They dusted the ash from its cover, revealing an old leather-bound tome. It must be her spellbook, they thought.  

Roman turned as Bailey reached them, they showed him the book. Bailey nodded weakly. 

Roman noticed that Bailey was struggling with the massive axe, “I can take the spear if you want me to,” they said.

Bailey handed them the spear, “Be careful with it,” he warned. 

“Don’t worry, I will. I can tell what these mean to you.”

“Thank you,” Bailey turned slowly towards the forest again, “We should get going. If you want to get out of the Forest of Fables fast, you need to will it to happen. Think of New Elmus, think of people there who you want to get back to. Think of happy memories, that’s what the forest likes.”

As the two began to walk arm in arm, Roman pictured their sister, her shining, blonde hair and deep brown eyes, the smile that she gave them every time they came to visit her and their parents. They hoped she would never have to see something like what happened today. 

Then they thought of Clara. They’d only gotten the one spitebark for her, but after hearing what they’d gone through, they were sure Clara would be relieved that they had made it back at all. The experimentation will have to wait.

Lastly, they thought of Bailey. Not of present Bailey - he was right beside them - but of Bailey in the future. Maybe they could find a big house in the city and live together. Maybe Roman could continue their learning under Clara and eventually be able to cook for him every day.

Roman’s visions were cut short by a clap on the back, Bailey spoke, still solemnly, but with a cockiness that reminded Roman of their initial meeting, “Nice dreaming, champ.”

Roman opened their eyes. They were already at the edge of the Forest. “Wow,” they said, “That was fast.”

Bailey smirked, “Yeah,” he said, “Yeah it was.” He looked down at Roman, “Now, let’s get me to Clara’s.”

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

The door swung open, letting the familiar scents of the cafe float up into Roman’s nose. Before Roman and Bailey stood Clara. The small woman looked up at them, smiling.

“Ah, dearie! You’re back! And I see you’ve brought a friend,” she looked quizzically up at Bailey.

“Yes ma’am,” said Roman, “This is Bailey, he helped me out while I was in the Glade.” 

The two shared a glance and smiled, their arms were still wrapped tightly around each other.

Bailey turned to Clara and spoke, “I was wondering if you could help me out with something in return.”

---

ty @daydreamoceans for being my test audience <3

check out my other stuff tagged #gourmancy here

[misscricket]

Canders

Oh @stark-illerbase, let me take you on a journey...

Anders and Carver don’t like each other in Act 1 of Dragon Age II. That’s putting it mildly. Carver is a young man probably suffering from PTSD, grieving over his twin sister and struggling with the new life his brother and mother are pursuing. He strongly identifies as a Fereldan, hence the tattoo he got at Ostagar being a mabari, and he sees his mother trying to recapture the Amell name and legacy as almost a rejection of the Hawke lifestyle back in Lothering. As to the PTSD, not only did he see his beloved Twin sister get crushed by an Ogre right in front of his eyes, he was also at the Battle of Ostagar. He had to be dragged away from the battle by his fellow soldiers and told to run for it, or else he would have stayed, and fought and died right there, so determined was he to protect his country and family.

“ Said he wanted to protect his family. That someone had to, because his father had died and, well you know how the Champion turned out. Carver took it real serious...” (World of Thedas Vol 2)

Along with a love of using a sword, this was Carver’s motivation for signing up with the army, the Blight was threatening his home, and his family, and he saw it as his duty to protect them.

“The more ground we lost, the harder he swung that plank of a sword of his. He was shouting that we had to win, that it was to keep our homes safe. I swear he was crying when we finally tackled him, but damned if I’ll hold that against him. It took three of us to drag him to cover. I had to slap him back to his senses, to make him see that killing five, or ten, more ‘spawn wouldn’t matter. The wall was on us, and dying there wasn’t going to help anyone. I said if he wanted to do his family good, he’d get them safe. “  (World of Thedas Vol 2)

So he’s a bit of a prickleberry.

And then in comes Anders. Instantly he’s hyper focused on Carver’s brother, because Carver’s brother is a Mage. And Maker have mercy Carver has been hearing about the Mage plight for years. His whole bloody life actually. 

He acutely understands the realities of living with an Apostate mage family, from the perspective of someone inside the family unit who doesn’t have magic himself. He couldn’t be too good at anything, or excel, because it drew attention. He wasn’t a Mage himself, but he too lived as an Apostate, in fear of drawing the Templars gaze.

And then Anders says, 

Anders: I'm sorry about your sister. She sounds like a special girl. 

Carver: Why? Because she was a mage? 

Anders:  (If Hawke is male) Your brother says she had a good heart. Being on the run never made her bitter. (If Hawke is female) Your other sister says she was a good person. That she never turned down a chance to help people. 

Carver: Yes, yes. I'm sure the Chantry's got a shrine with her portrait on it. 

Anders: I was trying to be nice. 

Carver: Stick to surly. It works for you

And then this one

Anders: You don't like me, Carver? 

Carver: I don't like you. 

Anders: That's unfortunate. Hating someone just because they're a mage is a shameful thing. 

Carver: I don't hate you because you're a mage. I hate you because you won't shut up about it. 

Carver: Oppression this, templars that. I'd heard enough long before you. 

Anders: Maybe it's time you put some thought into it.

To Anders, Carver looks like the sullen, angry, bitter brother of two Mages, resentful of their powers or perhaps, even, hating them because of them.

This isn’t the case. Carver bitches and moans about his siblings, but most of his gripes are familiar to anyone who has an older or over achieving sibling.

When there is a legitimate threat, Carver immediately steps between Hawke and danger. When Fenris snarls about Mages, Carver, unprompted, says.

Carver: You have a problem with my brother/sister, you have a problem with me.

It’s instantly protective, and it’s far from the only incident in the game. He continually worries whenever Hawke talks to Templars, or stirs up Mage trouble, not because he hates Mages but because he’s worried for Hawke.

Anders however can no longer seem to see greys, it’s all black and white for him. Either you’re for Mages and then you want wholescale freedom and down the Templar order, or you’re a Mage hater, and as good as a Templar.

Carver’s stance on Magic is actually one of the most subtle and nuanced in the game, if not the whole series. He understands the dangers on a level most people, who haven’t lived with unfettered magic, can’t understand. But he also understands the joys and love of those with magic, and doesn’t believe locking them up in the Circle to be the right thing, despite his potential choice to be a Templar.

So Carver and Anders...

Enemies to Lovers

The fit this trope beautifully. Even in Act 1 with surly Carver and judgy Anders. But throw in Carver either being a Templar, the thing Anders hates most in the world, or him being a Grey Warden, the organisation Anders rejected. Oh the potential for angry arguments and heated kisses.

They are not so ideologically opposed that I think they couldn’t understand each other I think, and I think if they actually hashed it out together they’d actually find a lot of common ground. It’s just whether they could get there without the prickles throwing them off course is the question...and no Carver isn’t the only prickly one.

Templar Carver

Carver joins the Templar order for two reasons.

1. His brother/sister hasn’t returned from the Deep Roads with the rest of the expedition. Bartrand has likely told him they’re all dead. That leaves him and his mother alone in the world, and Carver can’t get work. The Guards won’t have him because Aveline told them not to, and the other options are mercenary jobs or the Templars. He no longer has any mage siblings to worry about being caught, and he doesn’t have to disclose that he had Mages in his family if he doesn’t want to.

2. His namesake was a Templar. I think giving him his piece of his identity makes Carver interested in the order in a  different way. Up until then they’ve kind of been the boogeymen of the Hawke children’s lives. ‘Be good or a Templar will get you’. But his father named him after a Templar, ‘skill thoughtfully applied’. There was some value to that path. And you can’t tell me that Carver wasn’t, in many ways, his family’s personal Templar. If Bethany or Hawke had fallen...would another Mage have been able to stand against them? They would have needed a swordsman. Carver.

Anders thinks Carver has joined the Templars out of spite, or hatred. But there is a wonderful array of fiction you can have with Anders and the Order and the fact they are continually trying to hunt Anders down. Carver wouldn’t stand for it, if one of his brothers companions was threatened, and he certainly wouldn’t want him to be hurt, killed or made Tranquil, which would have been his fate should Meredith have gotten her hands on him.

Grey Warden Carver

As for the Grey!Warden path, Carver thrives as a Warden, he blossoms under that structure and purpose where Anders did not. But they have the connection of Anders having been the one to beg Stroud to take him, to put him through the Joining.

We also know that Carver knows Nathaniel, who was friends with Anders during Awakening. This likely means he knows a number of the Ferelden Wardens, and you can’t tell me they wouldn’t be curious about Anders.

Alternate Universes ideas I have toyed with writing

Tevinter - Mage Healer who refuses to use Blood Magic and the son of a powerful Mage house who doesn’t have magic himself.

Special Agents AU - Agent Hawke and Anders have a turbulent relationship because the boy always comes back hurt.

Coffee Shop AU - Anders is an overworked and exhausted Doctor. Carver is his caffeine supplier.

Werewolf AU - Alpha Carver learns that being dominant doesn’t always mean barking orders, and Omega Anders learns that brooding wolves are definitely better lovers.

Mirror Universe - What it says on the box...darkfic.

Angel AU - Carver is Anders’ guardian Angel, and he grumbles about it a lot. He also keeps losing his feathers everytime he swears, and it makes Anders laugh at him.

and many many more.

To close out this rambling dissertation on the beauty that is Canders (praise be)

Enjoy this lovely fanart drawn by the talented @frikadeller in a commission for @autumnyte-old​

Case closed!

[novellaquill]

John Wick with a Magic S/O Part (1/?)

Just imagine having powers in the John Wick verse and hang with me for a minute

I’d imagine having a sort of low key life

if you are insanely power you wouldn’t really act on it

Magic only enhances what’s already there, so if you really wanted to keep your magic life from your personal life you could

I’d imagine you conducting your home life like Cassie Nightgale (The Good Witch) or Matilda

You help out those in need in a more subtle way and use magic for more minor inconveniences if you truly didn’t want to get up

No occult shop or palm readings or something like that

it’s too on the nose and too easy for someone with magic to target you

I could see a Bell Book & Candle in your life or maybe a librarian or a teacher, a needed and humble job

Hell you could be an entrepreneur, work in a mechanic shop, a connivence store

John wouldn’t care where you worked as long you enjoy it as it’s not too flashy or draw unnecessary attention to him

If your job was flashy he’d ask your relationship to be private he’s a loner

John has a lot of drama in his life and he doesn’t need more

If you have drama I’d think you’d be able to handle it without alerting your mortal neighbors

Your relationship and how you use your powers would depend on how you meet John

Before the events of the first John Wick:

You’re a well respected and needed friend to John and to his wife

You were moving into the neighborhood and happened to catch Helen’s eye so of course she dragged John over and boom acquaintances

He wouldn’t mind you as a friend but is definitely cautious

What normal person knows who’s walking into a room without moving or breaking concentrations from your current task?

It even happens with strangers you’ve never met

John a closed off person, the only one we made him open up and understands him is Helen

So imagine how offput he would be of you knew how everyone including how he is feeling

For a while he might think you’re a assassin or mercenary and keep his guard up around you

I mean you could be who knows

After awhile he gets used to it like everyone else

He brushes off as part of your charm but you both know it’s something more

Your relationship with John is purely platonic

He has Helen and you’re not looking to break up anyone’s relationship

If you do have crush on him impossible not to it doesn’t show and he wouldn’t notice if it did

Helen’s the only girl in the world to him, he could never cheat on not even in his mind

As we begin to reach the beginning of the first movie you’re relationship would grow when Helen gets sick, still platonic but you’re closer than ever

Wether you have a shop or not you’re know for your natural remedies and amazing advice

John would appreciate you helping anyway you can and for not discouraging Helen from getting medical attention

Most of your stuff is to make her time left as stress free and painless as possible

And that’s all John can ask for at this point

Part of making Helen’s life stress free would consist of making sure John is okay after she’s gone

Which would break you because she’s a dear friend and you don’t want her to die and you know her death would break John

It was your idea to get John a puppy, you knew Daisy would help him heal

It’s times like this when you wish that magic was just like the movies and take away all the bad things in the world

But it can’t

so you’re there for them, every step of the way

When Helen dies you say your goodbyes and wait for him to come of out her room

You bring her groceries and help clean up

You make sure he’s taking care of himself

You use your magic to help out and make sure nothing extra shitty happens

His wife died give him a break world

He’s not snappy and he doesn’t cry because you’re not babying him and he has no more tears to shed

He is getting increasingly more suspicious of you but is unaware it’s magic

This is where feelings are starting to surface but no one acts on it

It might just be because you’re both hurting and her death is too fresh it would be a betrayal

After the funeral and he receives Daisy he slowly gets better

He knows you had something to do with his new pet and he’s not complaining

You still help out whenever you can and he asks for you stay a little longer each time

Nothing happens but even with Daisy it’s hard to be alone

Soon you realize he’s there for you too in his own way

The relationship is still platonic but something is there

Just underneath the surface of two grieving friends something more is growing in the midst of tragedy

To sum it up your relationship with John before the movie is a slow burn

I couldn’t resist adding magic in the John Wick verse but it’s really low key and peaceful. If you guys like it I’ll make a part 2. After all this the beginning and there’s 3 movies. If there’s a part 2 it will be a lot more interesting I promise. Let know what you guys think in the comments and give me ideas please I’m suffering from writers block!!

~Novella Quill

[mystical-magician]

Ironstrange fairytale AU idea

I need your ideas and thoughts! I have an idea for an Ironstrange fic based on the fairytale ‘Donkeyskin’ that I might actually write some day if I can flesh out some ideas that I am currently very vague on. More likely I’ll chuck it over to the prompt queue, but we’ll see.

Too young to take the throne upon his parents’ deaths, Obadiah stepped in for Prince Anthony as regent. Not that Tony minds. He’s much more interested in inventing and blacksmithing, staying mostly out of sight of the court, which Obadiah encourages. Not only does he create new and powerful weapons, out of sight of the nobility and court means less support and a weaker position.

But Tony is still the rightful heir and the day of his coronation approaches. Unwilling to give up his power, Obadiah manipulates Tony into a ‘friendly’ wager. The regent sets him three impossible challenges that he must complete before being crowned as king. How to even phrase this, though? 1st challenge weapon to do with the sun, 2nd the moon, 3rd the stars. For the first, Tony completes the (fairytale equivalent of the Jericho missile? Seriously, help). Next he creates (fairytale equivalent of) repulsor tech, which glows like the moon and manipulates/rules over gravitational forces (or something like that; i.e. flying, repulsor shots, even though I think in MCU that was more like energy?). He creates the arc reactor last to save himself when Obadiah secretly contracts mercenaries to kill him. Tony was getting too close to succeeding and taking up his hereditary mantle.

With a star in his chest, powering his heart, Obadiah cannot deny that he fulfilled the impossible tasks. But perhaps he was too hasty in his assassination attempt. The prince was still useful, has more than proven it. There are other ways to get what he wants. So Obadiah declares that he and Tony will marry (how would he justify this?) and with this move not only will this basically legitimize his power, he will also have Tony close to either create for him or kill more easily if it becomes necessary.

Tony protests, of course, and ends up locked away and guarded in his rooms. Desperate to escape, he uses his three impossible creations to create a suit of armor (donkeyskin) with the strength of the sun, the power of the moon, and the energy of a star, and flees into the night.

He ends up in hiding as a blacksmith in another kingdom. Notable for refusing to make weapons, he eventually comes to Stephen’s attention (I can’t decide, should he should be a sorcerer king, court sorcerer, or just a traveling sorcerer? I just know I want him to have magic) with his ingenious innovations (what would be considered ingenious innovations? Pipes, pulleys, farming implements? Help). Tony ends up using his armor publicly three times, though no one knows who the mysterious knight is. Of course, this also draws Stephen’s interest. The first use was to defend poor families on the fringes of the city against a group of raiders. The second use was in a tournament for a prize he found that he needed (what prize? Or should it be a boon from the king/sorcerer instead?). No idea about the third use. Against Obadiah, maybe, who is either trying to expand his power by invading other kingdoms, or who has heard rumors of Tony’s exploits and inventions and realized who he must be.

And of course, not only does Stephen visit Tony’s forge, he also interacts with the mysterious knight those times he shows himself in public.

My ideas for the ending are very vague too. Of course Obadiah is defeated, but how? What does he do, and what do Stephen and Tony do to fight back? Of course Stephen and Tony fall in love. Does that merge the two kingdoms or is there someone else – maybe Pepper – who can legitimately ascend to the throne while Tony remains with Stephen?

The more holes I see – the bold and italic font, just to be clear – the less it seems like I might write this after all. So any ideas at all for those holes would be amazing.

And if someone else wants to write this instead, please, please do! Just tag me or drop a link if that happens.

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 28 - Sting Operation

The universe must hate you.

To make you see the monstrous form of Varis bear down upon his equally monstrous son, eyes wide as they turn to you in shock. To make you feel the vibrations of the monster's roars as his facility burns and falls around him. To have you hear the sound of Elidibus whisking you away from your love, of dark magic engulfing you, rendering you unable to leap from his arms to let you be buried with him.

Even as you feel Elidibus’ form real and whole and warm against you, you have never felt so cold.

Wondering if there was anything you could have done differently.

Wondering where it all went wrong…

Your heart beats malms a minute in your chest. There was no calming it down it seemed, drumming away furiously to its own beat as you watched Hien’s mercenaries shuffle around Cid’s compound as if they’ve been here before. Armed to the teeth, they were obviously top of the line, trained in the Doman art of the ninja, not one bit of skin exposed saved for openings in their helms to see through.

In truth, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place. Watching everyone suit up definitely gave you feelings of nostalgia, of being in the academy each morning, baby faced and ready to take on the world. Even though there were a handful of them given that this was to be a small and hopefully quiet operation, you were no less impressed by the obvious skill that rolled off them in waves.

You couldn’t help but wonder at why you weren’t getting suited up with them, granted you had never needed any special armor. Maybe they thought you didn’t really need to, given that you proved nearly invincible against the average man.

Dressed from head to toe in black, you've forgone your usual pantsuit for something a bit more ergonomic. Black leggings engineered by Ironworks, the material has metal fibers woven within, making it hard to rip or tear. Your long sleeved shirt is made of a similar material, rounding out your entirely practical look. Deciding to pack light, your toolbelt only has a small handgun sitting in its holster.

Weaving through the busy space, you step into the connecting room where Cid sits before a wall of screens, several birds eye shots of the Aetherochemical Research Facility lined up as his hands type furiously at the keyboard. Merlwyb stands at his back with her arm resting upon the back of his chair, looking at the monitors with great interest. “We’re positive that Varis is holed up in there, right now?” She asks, fist clenching and unclenching in a show of nerves.

“For the last time, Merlwyb, yes.” Cid sounds as if he barely restrained himself from groaning, still typing at keys. “I have confirmed that he has not left the facility since exactly 21:08 this evening and shows no signs of leaving any time soon. Though I must warn you, Ilberd arrived at about 21:30. I assume they are meeting for whatever reason as the election nears.” he grumbles, dropping his focus for a moment. Swiveling in his chair, he faces the two of you, clearly worried, but ready for the fight to come.

“I will be supporting you with as much intel as possible.” Looking to Merlwyb, he continues, “As we already discussed, I’ve already got it set up to record anything your body suit sees to store back here at the base for us to compile for evidence later. This goes for all of Yugiri’s men as well.” Looking to you, he cannot hide his concern. “Honey…”

“Cid, don’t even think of trying to dissuade me.” You warn, trying your hardest to not give into his distressed expression.

“I know, it’s just,” he growls in frustration, “Are you sure you want to do this? You’re pregnant for Nymeia’s sake--”

“I will avoid combat, as promised. I’m only there to start the shut down sequence, and get out. It should be an easy job now that you’ve figured out where the base is right?” You urge, trying to change the subject.

He sees right through you, but takes your bait anyway. “Yes. With Zenos pinpointing the exact location, it took some overnight crunching, but I was able to work past Varis’ walls and get a rough map of the place using my own seismic sensors. It’s downloaded onto your phone.” Running a hand through his hair, you watch as he stands to his feet and yanks you into a fierce hug, his biceps flexing with the force of how he crushes himself to you.

“Please come back.” he whispers, just for you. In it you can hear the fear of losing another loved one.

You hold him just as tight.

“You know I will.”

Giving one last squeeze, he briskly wipes at tears in the corners of his eyes before sitting back down in his chair. “Best to get started. We don’t want him to get away from us.”

Nodding, you and Merlwyb leave Cid to begin overseeing the logistics of the operation, heading back into the room where all of the ninja are seemingly ready to go. A small auri woman leads them, Yugiri you remember, giving a slight bow to Merlwyb as the two of you come to a stop before her. “We are ready to leave when you are, Chief Merlwyb.”

“Lord Hien is in hiding?” Merlwyb asks, reaching for her pistol, Annihilator, and putting it in her holster.

“Indeed he is. Already we have noticed that what spies Varis uses to keep monitor our lord have begun to realize they cannot find him. No doubt they will let Varis know he has disappeared.” Yugiri continues as she brings her own mask over her face. Nodding, Merlwyb gives one last look around the room, taking a steadying breath.

“Then we move.”

The night only gets darker, and to your luck it is also cloudy. It’s a little uncomfortable due to how muggy it feels outside, summer in full swing and not helping with the humidity at all.

The cars you had taken had been left a great distance away from the facility, the rest of the trip spent trekking on foot, doing your best to not draw any unnecessary attention to yourselves. With Cid’s technology, you remained as cloaked as the facility itself once did.

The ninja didn’t make a single sound as they moved through the forest. Not a single twig breaking, or accidentally having a branch snagged on their clothes. You felt like an amateur in their presence, especially when you finally reached the outside of the compound.

Yugiri uses a series of symbols to dispatch her men, all of them seeming to fade into mist as they disappeared into the shadows. You had heard of Doman legends of the art of the ninja, thinking them only myth and fairy tales, but had no idea it was an art that was still passed down. Granted, after being a literal descendant of ancient beings, you supposed there was nothing that was impossible.

The sounds of the ninjas taking out the guards is silent as they come, not even hearing the guards’ bodies collapse to the ground. Just faintly do you make out the ninja carrying them deeper into the forest surrounding the facility, Yugiri able to communicate orders with nothing more than her hands. You couldn’t deny that you felt in awe at seeing them work, even as Yugiri seemed to materialize beside you.

“The guards around the outer perimeter have been disposed of.” She informs you and Merlwyb, who nods sharply before turning her gaze to the front gate where the remaining security check stands.

“So far, so good.” Merlwyb breathes, losing some of her tension. “Are your men prepared?” She asks, reaching for the gun in her holster.

“More than ready, Chief Bloefhiswyn.” Yugiri responds, vanishing into shadow.

“And you, rookie. Are you ready?” she asks, giving you one last look, almost as if she is hoping you’ll be ready to back out.

“I was born ready, Chief.” you nod, anticipation coursing through your veins. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

With that the ninja quickly take out the security at the main gate, doing away with the guards and taking them to be hidden with the others. As you run toward the entrance, you hear Cid’s voice crackle in your ear piece that he’s got control of the cameras, and to any security inside, nothing looks out of place.

The gate rolls open along the rocky gravel, allowing you and Merlwyb to make a run for it as you are joined by Yugiri and her ninja. Reaching inside your shirt, you begin to pull out the card Zenos had given you, praying that Varis was a little too caught up in his campaign mess to remember to deactivate it. You had no clue if Zenos had tried to speak to his father at all since he had rescued you, or how Varis took his son’s betrayal for that matter. Whispering a silent prayer, you nearly slam the card against the security device against the door, your heart beat stilling in the split second it takes for the device to scan.

A small chirp sounds along with the clicking of the lock. It works.

Breathing an audible sigh of relief, you wrench the door open, once again thankful that Varis really believed a little too much in his own hype. Varis most likely bet on his son not having the gall to try and take him down, and perhaps thought you would want to keep yourself off the front lines.

But there was no way you would not take that asshole down yourself.

The ninja quickly silence the guards at the booth, undoing the lock that opens the door that leads into the facility. You all shuffle inside, whipping out your phone to take a look at your maps. “Cid, we’re inside.”

“Good, good. I’ve got eyes on you all still. They still haven’t noticed you all yet.” comes his voice through your earpiece. “If you can get to the control room, I can get a more detailed map to get a look at every room in the facility. I only have scans from underground sensors I used, but getting access to the mainframe will allow me more detail.” Even through the earpiece you can hear him typing away at the keyboard. “I’ll take control of each camera as you pass by as not to arouse suspicion. From my scans, my guess is the control room for these vats might be nearly two floors down from the main entrance.”

“Thanks, Cid. We’ll keep you posted.” Looking to the rest of the team, you make sure they heard the same thing as you and begin your journey to find the control room. On the surface, the facility does seem to only be two floors deep, and from your one trip here that was all you got to see. As you snuck along the perimeter you could sure enough see cameras blink on and off as you dove past them, Cid keeping you out of sight just long enough to try and make your way to the control room. There were thankfully few guards or even employees around, most likely having gone home for the day leaving only the overnight crew.

Reaching a pair of double doors against the far wall, you press your keycard up to the security device, happy as it still seems to work and allows you all inside. Yugiri quickly silences the two employees working within, two quick chops to the neck knocking them unconscious. Heading over to the array of buttons you pull out a small disc-like object from your pocket, slamming it onto the control board, watching as small, robotic legs sprout from its sides, embedding itself into the board. The Ironworks logo flashes on its top, and you can hear Cid’s laugh in your ear. “Excellent work, Honey. I’m in.”

The relief in the room is palpable, even as Yugiri is shoving the two guards into a broom closet. “Give me a few minutes to find you guys the fastest route to where you need to go.”

“Thanks Cid, just keep us posted,”

Yugiri’s eyes widen as she turns toward the door. “Someone comes this way!”

Just then the doors fly open, the sound of guns cocking freezing you in place. “One traitor helping another...why should I be surprised?”

Turning around, the small high is broken as you turn to the door, finding Livia and Rhitahtyn blocking the way. Dressed in their usual suits, they look upon you scornfully as they point their guns directly at you. “I knew I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” Livia hisses, her flaming red hair neatly pulled into a bun.

Scoffing, you can’t help but laugh. “Kill me? Wasn’t it Zenos who told you that you didn’t have hopes of beating me, even on your best day?”

Livia’s face twists angrily as she hisses. “I wouldn’t have had to do it honorably. I could’ve easily stabbed you in your sleep.”

Your own face shifts into an angry snarl while you try not to make any sudden moves as you turn to face her fully. “Not surprised a Garlean bitch couldn’t beat me in a fair fight.” You spit back, flexing your knuckles. You were hoping things didn’t have to get dirty. You promised you’d avoid conflict if at all possible. “Listen. I don’t know what you came here hoping to do. I’m guessing you saw us sneak our way in here when we weren’t looking. I know you two have got your heads pretty far up Varis’ ass, but surely even you can see that murdering innocent civilians to help his campaign trail is going too far.”

Both of their faces pinch in confusion, causing you to look back at them in shock. Stupefied, you can’t help but ask them, “...he didn’t tell you?”

“What on earth are you talking about you little liar?” Livia hisses, cocking her gun. “Lord Varis would not murder civilians! It was a failed assassination attempt on Lord Hien by another gang! He couldn’t uphold security at his own rally and got the chief of police killed for it!”

Your guard lowers at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Are you really going to believe such a fucking, blatant lie?” You nearly shriek, glancing at both of them in disbelief. “Varis slaughtered innocent civilians! Blew up part of a district just so he could smear Lord Hien’s name! There were women and children there!”

“My lord would do no such thing!” Rhitahtyn bellows, reaching for his own gun. “We have no reason to listen to the lies of a traitor, the one who turned even my lord’s own son against him.”

“I didn’t do anything to Zenos. As you can see, he’s not even here!” You genuinely couldn’t believe what you were hearing. At this point if Varis somehow revealed to you that he had secretly hypnotized half of his closest staff, you’d believe him. There was no way that two of his favorite bodyguards were this ignorant of his wrong doings.

Or was Varis worried that even he couldn’t manipulate their moral compass?

You think back to the look on Gaius’ face when he had burst in when Varis was about to force himself on you. From what you knew of Gaius, no one believed in Varis more than he. He genuinely believed that everything Varis was doing was for the better of Kugane.

But even you could see the disbelief on his face when he saw your tear stained face, body pinned beneath Varis. You knew he had heard your screams from down the hall. You could remember the hesitation, the doubt on his face as he saw the true side of his lord, even as he barked orders at him to take you away.

Varis had not gotten away with things as long as he had solely because he was smart.

He was a master manipulator.

And when you refused to be manipulated by his schemes, he forced his will upon you.

“He’s using you.” You laugh bitterly. “He’s using you two. Can’t you see that? Do you really think this is all so he can make Kugane better? Do you really think he’s got any special plans for you? That you’re not disposable to him just like the rest?”

Hesitation shines in their eyes for just a moment, the two of them looking to each other momentarily. Facing you once again, you watch as Livia slowly lowers her gun, letting you release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

You think she’s ready to listen until she reaches for her phone, yelling into its speaker. “Intruders! Intruders! Lock down the facility! Alert Lord Varis!”

The fluorescent lights turn a deathly red as alarms blare throughout the whole facility. You can hear doors slamming shut from outside of the control room, the shuffling of feet as surely more security guards are being summoned. Merlwyb curses under her breath behind you, and you fix Livia with a piercing glare. “You idiot.” you seethe, raising your fists to fight.

Just as Livia raises her gun ready to fire, two of Yugiri’s ninjas pounce on her and Rhitahtyn, the two of them barely able to fend them off as they burst through the doors back onto the factory floor. Panic ensues as the lights continue to flash, biting down harshly on your lip as you follow everyone back out the control room.

“Whole place is going on lock down, Honey--” Cid’s voice crackles in your ear, “We’re gonna have to pray that Zenos’ card still works even in lockdown. It’ll take me some time to begin decrypting the code to get access to the facility again.”

“We’ll find a way, Cid.” Merlwyb pipes up, loading her gun as she grabs you by the hand. More security guards burst through the doors, guns raised. Yugiri is on them in a heartbeat, knives drawn as she takes them out one by one while her own ninja deal with Livia and Rhitahtyn. The entire scene is chaotic as Merlwyb fires with the accuracy that landed gave her gun its name.

Disoriented, you barely get to get both feet on the ground long enough as Merlwyb forcibly drags you along. “Chief,”

“No confrontation out of you, remember?” She growls, pushing through an opening through the fighting to a door that leads to the lower levels of the facility. “You made a promise and I’m making sure you’re keeping it. You understand me?” Tugging on the card roughly even though it’s still looped on the chain around your neck, she gets you close enough to unlock the door and shove you through, making sure it slams shut behind you.

“But Yugiri,”

“Is a trained killer, if you haven’t noticed. She understands her role and we have ours to play.” She urges, tugging you along. “Cid, we’re in trouble.”

“I can see that.”

“Got any quick routes down to the bottom of this dump?!” You both duck as you hear gunshots whizz past your heads, breaking into a run as you run down the hall a little faster.

“I’m trying, I’m trying--” his voice sounds as panicked as you feel. “Make a left. You’ll need the keycard again, but there should be a spiral stairwell. It goes down nearly fifteen floors, but if you’ve got some decent balance, you may be able to gain some ground if you slide down the rails.”

“Roger.”

Following his instructions, you make an immediate left, your keycard ready this time as you quickly press it to the device and Merlwyb uses her weight to push the door open, releasing your hand as she once again puts her gun away. “I’m not fond of heights but we need to gain some ground.” She grumbles, swinging one long leg over the rail. “How on earth did they see us? Shouldn’t they have been guarding Varis?”

“No...I’m so stupid.” you mumble, following suit as you swing one leg over the rail, lying on your front and clutching the rail with both hands. “Cid had said Ilberd had arrived at the facility, and Varis trusts Ilberd enough to protect him. They were probably in another part of the upper levels.”

“Pretty sloppy of us,” Merlwyb sighs, but says nothing else.You watch as she finally lets gravity take hold, controlling her descent as best as possible right as the door you had come through bursts open. Wasting no more time you loosen your grip and begin to slide down the rail, wincing as more bullets fly haphazardly past you. Reaching for your own gun, you fire a few rounds back at the guards to help deter them from following you down the stairwell.

“Honey, watch out!”

Before you can turn to Merlwyb, she’s already tossed a live grenade back up the stairwell, the Ironworks logo shining brightly as it clinks upon landing above you. Loosening your grip more, you hasten your descent just as it detonates, cutting off the pursuit of the guards if only for a little while.

Your hands burn from how fast you’re moving, but you’re putting distance between you and your assailants just as you hoped. While outwardly you seem as calm as can be, your heart is thumping in your chest as if it’s trying to free itself from its cage. As usual, thinking on your feet has never been your strong suit and with so much at stake, you can’t help but feel like the walls are closing in on you bit by bit.

“You should slow down, you’ll reach a safe floor soon.” Cid calls in your ear, so you start to slow your descent as the facility grows noticeably cooler now that you’re deeper underground. You have no idea how you’re going to get out of here when you’re several malms below sea level, but even if you’re buried alive, it’ll have been from doing the right thing.

Hands stinging, you and Merlwyb dismount from your makeshift elevator, stepping quietly to the door. She peeks through the single window carefully, checking the hallway to see if the coast is clear. “You’ve still got about two more floors to go down before you reach the main reactor. That’s what Zenos must’ve been talking about. It’s powering the whole facility off aether itself.” Cid speaks again, not sounding any less clearer despite how far underground you are. “If you can turn them off, look at them long enough for me to get some pictures, you guys can get out of there. It seems like the guards haven’t pegged your location yet. There’s a hidden elevator that will take you straight back to the top. Get in, and get out of there.”

Nodding to one another, Merlwyb quietly pushes the door open, gun drawn as she checks both sides of the hallway for any would-be guards. Seeing no one, she motions for you to follow and you stick close behind her, heels clacking against the metal floors as you run past several doors. The halls are cold and unfeeling, and you idly wonder if this was the same place where Zenos was experimented on. If this is where you were held before he came to rescue you.

All the doors are bolted shut, but you have no time to peek inside anyway. Zenos’ words of the horrors of his father’s experiments haunt you, stilling your hand from thinking to unlock one of them for fear of what you might find inside.

“Look, another stairwell.” Merlwyb calls, pressing up against the wall as she checks the corners, once again motioning for you to follow her lead. “We’re almost there, Honey. We’re about to have the bust of the century.”

Racing down the stairs, energy seems to hit you square in the chest, the feel of something otherworldly setting your hairs on edge as the stairwell begins to open wide. Merlwyb seems otherwise unaffected, but you know you’re not crazy.

At the bottom lies a single closed door, bright light cutting through the otherwise dark and dank facility. The air goes from cool to warm in seconds, and the sound of many machines whirring and spinning reach your ears. Swallowing, you hold up the card to the door, relieved as it chirps once more, granting you entrance to the next room.

The energy in the air feels as if it smacks you in the chest, surrounding your very being. A giant reactor that looks as if it were out of a Sci-Fi movie shines brightly with glowing, blue aether, spinning and churning with enough force to be a heat source unto itself. Another walkway surrounds the perimeter, with stairs leading to the floor of the reactor. It all looks so very surreal, that you and Merlwyb can do nothing but stare in awe for a few moments.

“Are you seeing this, Cid?” Merlwyb finally asks, beginning to take steps around the walkway.

“Crystal fucking clear.” He chimes in, resent coating his voice. “My father’s research, powering this hellhole. What I would give to see it burn to the ground.”

You silently examine the swirling aether, something deep within you calling to the mass of energy you see before you. Something about the sight fills you with a deep sadness, of a loss you know you have yet to experience, but feel all the same. Almost against your will, you begin to make your way to the closest staircase, feet carrying you to the mass of energy. Your very soul feels drawn to it, disturbed by how you feel a turbulence within, matching the chaotic flow of aether within the reactor.

Free us…

Gasping, you clap a hand over your mouth as tears spring to your eyes.

“Honey! Get down!”

Turning around, you just barely miss a bullet meant for you, spotting a familiar face by the doorway you had come in. Your eyes narrow into slits as they land on Ilberd, smirking as if he’s got you right where he wants you. “Honey...strange seein’ ya here.” he laughs with a sleazy grin, cocking the gun to load another shot. “Thought to save Lord Varis the trouble of findin’ ya, eh? Awfully considerate of ya.”

“You wouldn’t mind telling me where the old bastard is, would you? I’ve got a bone to pick wit’ him.” You taunt back, turning to slowly face him.

“He’s occupied with other business at the moment,” Ilberd growls, aiming the gun directly for your heart. “Told me to come get you under control so he and you could have a nice chat later.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Merlwyb move the slightest bit. “I’m afraid I can’t stay too long.” you huff, making sure to hold his attention. Flipping your hair, you cross your arms across your chest you can see him become visibly angrier at how you’re not intimidated by him at all, which is all the distraction you need.

Quick as a whip, Merlwyb fires a round at Ilberd, managing to hit him square in the shoulder. His gun misfires near your feet and you spring into action, quickly climbing back up to the main level of the walkway and catching up with Merlwyb.

“The elevator is just around the bend of the walkway on the wall. Hurry!” Cid yells, in your ear, your legs carrying you as fast as possible along the path. You duck as another shot barely misses you and Merlwyb, Ilberd growling far behind you as the two of you round the bend. Drawing your own gun you fire a few rounds back at him to try and slow him down. You can see the doors housing the elevator straight ahead, yanking the card from your neck ready to throw it at the security device ahead of time if it means the doors will open sooner.

“Get back here!” Ilberd roars behind you, firing another shot.

“Honey, hurry!” Merlwyb yells as you skid to a stop, slamming the card against the security device. The elevator slides open and Merlwyb rushes inside.

Free us…

Before you can enter, you find yourself looking back to that reactor of swirling energy, unable to resist the pull of the aether before you. Of whatever is in there crying out to you for salvation.

Turning to Merlwyb, you purse your lips and step from the elevator.

“Honey?”

Reaching inside, you quickly hit the button that will send her to the top floor.

“Honey!” Giving her one good shove to throw her off balance, you keep her from dragging you back in with her, giving her a grim smile as the doors close.

“See you top side, Chief.” you wave, listening for the elevator to begin its ascent back toward the surface. You take your earpiece out before her or Cid can begin to scream in your ear. Dropping it to the floor, you crush it beneath your heel, turning to face Ilberd as he finally catches up with you, gun still raised.

“Goin’ the noble route, eh? Or have ya changed yer mind about seein’ Lord Varis?” Ilberd questions, gun still in hand.

“I’m staying behind to burn this place to the ground.” Gesturing to the reactor, you let your rage fill you. “As soon as I walked in here, I felt such sorrow. I felt so incredibly disturbed. I could hear people crying out to me,” you nearly choke up, but press forward. “I can feel them. The souls of all those experimented on...of the ancient that gave birth to Zenos. Their souls are not at peace, and neither will mine be if I don’t set this place on fire!”

“Hearin’ voices?” Ilberd balks, edging into a chuckle. “Goin’ mad, huh? I swear you descendants--” he’s not even given the chance to finish the sentence as you deck him in the face, sending him skidding across the walkway. You throw yourself atop him, wrenching his gun from his hand and tossing it elsewhere to where he won’t find it any time soon. “Get off me you bitch!”

“Not until you pay for killing Raubahn!” You snap, socking him in the jaw one more time before he manages to throw you off him, your back slamming into the rails of the walkway. Your own gun flies from your hand from the force of your fall, slipping out of sight. Grunting, you quickly get your feet to dodge his kick for your head, bringing your fists up to guard as he begins to fight.

Ilberd was clearly trained, giving you very few openings to land another hit. With the walkway being narrow, it left you little room to try and get a different angle on him, adding to your mounting frustration. While he was not as big as Zenos, he was still bulky, but made up for it by being insanely quick.

“I don’t have time to do this forever, little girl.” He seethes, throwing another punch toward your head but you block him easily enough. “Shoulda killed you when I had the chance. You still owe me quite a few men.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, you find yourself too curious to ignore his bait. “What are you talking about?”

“You tellin’ me you don’t remember years ago, how you murdered a ton of men in cold blood?” He asks incredulously. “We got wind of a lil’ ancient girl hiding out in some shitty apartment. Lord Varis gave me the clear to try and sniff her out.” Throwing a hard punch, you nearly miss the chance to block it, skidding back on your feet from the force. “Sent some of my best men to ensure they nabbed ya. Only to find that little blonde girl went and hid you somewhere my men couldn’t find.”

“One of ‘em was smart enough to try and not leave empty handed, and took the blonde girl as consolation for Lord Varis. But then you…” he growls, giving you a nasty kick to your stomach, sending you rolling to the floor. “You leapt out your hiding spot and murdered all my men, screaming like a banshee. Every police report said you killed every single one of those men without mercy.”

You dodge his foot as he tries to stomp on your head, rolling under the railing and dropping to the floor below, tucking into a roll so you don’t break your legs. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for men who came with the intent to kidnap me and hand me to their crazy ass boss?! “I was doing the world a favor by killing those men.” You roar as you watch him leap down to the same level as you, his sclera going black, irises going red.

The Resonant.

“You’re gonna regret sayin’ that.” He whispers.

Just like Zenos, he’s insanely fast, too fast for normal eyes to keep up with. However, he’s still slower, lacking Zenos’ incredible speed. For what he lacks in speed, he makes up for in sheer power, blocking one punch of his making you cry out in pain. Backing away from him you clutch your hand, praying that none of the bones within are broken. I’m in trouble, you think. So much for no confrontation.

“You better hope there’s something of you left for me to even give Lord Varis.” Ilberd threatens, cracking his knuckles with a smirk.

“Bullshit,” you scoff, shaking the pain from your hand. You can still feel everything. That’s a good sign at least. “Much as he hates my guts he wouldn’t suffer to lose such good research material...not when I have his lovely grandson growing inside me right now.” You can’t help but taunt. It’s a huge gamble, but you’re hoping he buys it.

“Still holdin’ on to the bastard, are ya?” Ilberd grins, cracking the joints in his neck. “An easy fix. One good punch and it’s good as dead. Then Varis can give Zenos a little brother--”

Snagging him by the hair, you bring his face to your knee, uncaring of the bloody mess of his nose breaking on your shin. Your tattoo glows brightly on the back of your neck as you slam Ilberd into the floor, hard enough to feel the vibrations in your feet. You move to crush his head beneath your foot but he rolls out the way, brushing blood from his face, eyes redder than before.

“I’d rather die than let that monster put his hands on me again.” You snarl, feeling the power of the Echo rush through your veins as you pursue Ilberd, putting yourself on even ground with him at last. You’re both blurs to anyone who would watch with normal eyes, chest heaving as you fight to live, fight for both of you to live.

Even with the Echo’s help, Ilberd is not going down easy. Whatever the Resonant has done to him has made him not just stronger and faster, but somehow extremely resilient. It feels like hitting stone, hurting your hands and wearing you down much faster than intended. Ilberd seems to notice your frustration, grinning as he manages to slam you into the ground. “Thought your lil’ ‘gift’ was gonna give you the upper hand, huh?” He cackles, kicking you roughly in the ribs.

You can feel something crack, whimpering in pain as you try to will the strength in your limbs to stand. “Bet you only fought Zenos’ Resonant, huh?” Ilberd continues, taking measured steps toward you. “Betcha didn’t think Lord Varis could improve on it, didya? That he could make someone stronger, faster, and tougher.” Crouching down, he snags you by the hair, ignoring your cry of pain as he drags you up to his face. “Why, I feel invincible.” He laughs, spitting in your face for good measure.

Dropping you again, he moves to kick your stomach, but you quickly flip to your side, arms protecting your abdomen. You cry out in agony, praying that he won’t follow through on that threat he made earlier. “Makes you wonder, huh? I sure as hell wasn’t a descendant from an ancient, yet through pure science Varis made me stronger than his own son.” he boasts, pausing his abuse of you to run a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t mean we can’t experiment on ya anyway. We learned so much from Zenos’ mother, no reason we can’t do the same to you.”

You don’t dare mask the absolute loathing you feel in this very moment, this complete disregard for life that this monster before you spews. “You’re sick.” you spit, groaning with the effort to even speak.

“Says who?” He laughs, giving you a nudge with his boot.

Fight.

“Says me.” you cough out, eyes falling closed. Would this really be how it ended?

Fight.

“You’re lucky Lord Varis needs ya alive, bitch.” Ilberd growls, shoving you roughly with his boot to roll you onto your stomach. “Let me take care of business, and we’ll get ya on back to the lab.”

Why do you not fight?!

You would not let it end here.

You did not come this far to let pain stop you. Not when so many people were depending on you.

You would fight.

Strength renewed, your tattoo pulses brightly as the pain becomes an afterthought, Echo induced adrenaline coursing through your body as you leap to your feet and deliver a spinning kick to Ilberd, throwing him off balance. Catching him by the collar before he can fall, you hit him with an uppercut, feeling his teeth clack together from the force of your blow, finishing him off a solid right hook.

With a growl he frees himself from your grip and socks you in the jaw, smirking as he does so, fading as he realizes you haven’t even recoiled in pain. Whatever pain receptors you have are blocked off as you give him a sadistic smirk, eyes crazed as you don’t even bother to peel his fist off your face. Using his shock against him, you grab him by the collar again and flip him over your shoulder, taking great satisfaction in the way his body slams into the ground.

You pursue him like a woman possessed, nimbly dodging his punches and fearlessly blocking his kicks, feeling no pain no matter how hard he kicks. Though Ilberd doesn’t give up, he’s clearly unnerved by your reaction to pain, or rather your lack of reaction. His eyes go wide with fear at your manic smile-- when had you started smiling?

“Cat got your tongue, Ilberd?” you giggle even as you throw him into the ground face first, stomping hard on his arm, grinning like a cat as he cries out in pain as you hear the bone break. “I gotta say, you get to have some really fun battles when you can’t feel pain...not that you’d know that.” You stamp down on his leg, hearing that break too, enjoying his cries of pain far more than you should.

“A friend of mine said I should go to therapy, you know. I should’ve listened. Because I’m getting far too much enjoyment out of this than is healthy.” You titter, stepping over his body, picking up an unbroken arm and wrenching it backward. “What do ya say I break a bone in your body for every year you robbed Raubahn of, huh?”

“S-Spare me…” Ilberd begs, even as you twist his arm painfully.

“Why should I?” You hiss, wrenching his arm from its socket. “You took everything from me.”

“On the contrary…”

You don’t turn in time to dodge a dart landing itself in your arm, blue liquid draining into your bloodstream before you can yank it out. Your eyes land on Varis who drops a small dart gun from his hand, a smirk plastered on his ugly face. “I believe I took everything from you.”

You try to fight against it but you collapse to the ground, the destabilizer making quick work of dumping you on the floor.

Once he’s sure you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, Varis begins his descent down the stairs to the main floor where you and Ilberd lay immobile. “I have to say, you had me worried for a moment, Honey. Your little ragtag group of misfits almost undid years worth of planning in one day.” He muses, complete with a slow clap. “Hiding the assistant chief of police, managing to convince Garlond to have some backbone, even swiping an access card off my son to let you roam the facility like the wild animal you are…” he sighs, coming to a stop at the base of the stairs. “Why, it's something right out of a commoner movie.”

“My lord,” Ilberd coughs, sounding relieved, “you’ve come.”

“Yes…” Varis drones, beginning his walk toward the two of you again. You watch as he reaches inside his suit jacket and pulls out of a syringe of sickly green fluid, something that makes Ilberd go rigid.

“M-My lord,” he stammers, trying to will strength into his limbs. “P-Please,”

“You had served me well up until this point, Ilberd. And from what I observed, the Resonant has shown significant improvement,” Varis praises, though his expression remains disappointed. “...unfortunately, you also know how I feel about failure.” You watch as Varis kneels slightly and sticks Ilberd with the syringe, injecting him with the unknown fluid. “Believe me when I say it’s not personal, Ilberd.” Varis huffs.

“M-My lord,” Ilberd stutters, but his speech grows slurred. Your eyes widen as you realize just what it was he injected him with. “I can still--”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as his body goes deathly still.

Varis continues to look down his nose at Ilberd’s now lifeless body before finally sliding his gaze to you. Surprisingly, he doesn’t look angry or hateful. In fact, he looks rather pleased. “How does it feel, Honey? To have gone through all this trouble only to land yourself in my hands, yet again.”

“Fuck you.” you spit, trying to find the strength to stand up.

Seeing your struggle, he gives a deep laugh, giving you a nudge with his foot. “I’ve learned my lesson this time, my dear. I made sure to make an extra special strain of destabilizer to keep on my person just in case you decided to pay any traitorous visits.”

Stepping around you, he nudges your body once again. “At least you are mostly intact...once your comrades all expelled from my research facility and put on trial to be killed in my new society, I believe I’ll be returning for you and we can pick up where we left off last time.” he grins darkly, kneeling down to brush hair from your face.

“Get away from me!” You scream, tears streaming down your face. He couldn’t win. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Everything had been going so well--

“It’s too late for that now, Honey.” Varis growls, yanking hard on your hair. “Far too late,”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as he cries out in pain, clutching his shoulder as he staggers back in pain. Blood leaks from the wound, his eyes searching out whoever landed the shot. “Who’s there?!”

“Your son.”

Zenos steps from the shadow, holding the gun Ilberd had been toting earlier. Unlike his father, he lets loose his rage, blue eyes staring his father down. Tossing the gun to the ground, he continues making his way toward you. He’s dressed as if his father had sent him on a hit, sword strapped to his side. “I’d have shot another for good measure, but unfortunately there was only one round left.”

Somehow that statement only makes Varis smirk, backing away as his son advances. “Oh? And you wasted your one round not making a killing shot?” he cackles. “Because you know your place, my son.”

At that, Zenos visibly hesitates.

You’ve never seen this kind of hesitation in Zenos before. Never heard this tone from Varis before. The tone of a parent disappointed with their child. The hesitation of a child who knows they’ve upset their parents.

“Really, my son, I give you the world as you wished it and this is how you repay me?” Varis grunts, barely able to keep himself upright. “You take the side of this savage? When I had given you life, given you a home...anything you asked for, I gave it. And you repay me like this? Do you want to let me down, my beautiful child? Do you want me to hate you?”

Zenos falters a bit more at that, no longer able to meet his father’s gaze, and suddenly it all becomes crystal clear.

“Don’t listen to him, Zenos.” you wheeze, begging silently for him to meet your eyes. “Look at me. Do not listen to him.”

“Silence, wench!” Varis hisses, gaining enough strength to press his foot to your neck.

“Your father is a master manipulator, Zenos,” you continue, staring hard into his blue eyes. “Anytime you told me you never cared for what he did, that you wanted nothing to do with him...you were lying. He had manipulated you into wanting his approval. His love.”

“I said be quiet!” Varis snarls, pressing his foot down harder. You can see the conflict in Zenos’ eyes, looking between you and his father.

“That’s why you let him experiment on you. Why you killed for him. He lied to you didn’t he? He told you that if you did those things for him, he’d love you, didn’t he?” You press on, voice rising with each question.

You whimper as Varis kneels to grab you by the hair, ugly face twisted in a scowl. “Be quiet! Do not listen to her, Zenos!”

“He never loved you!” You roar, ignoring how Varis’ hands wrap around your throat. “You were always just a tool to him! But I love you, Zenos! I’ve always loved you--” You can’t finish as Varis’ grip on your windpipe begins to constrict, unable to even bring your hands up to pry them off. “Zenos...I...love,”

The pressure on your neck is released as Zenos pries his father off you, your lungs dragging in air desperately as Zenos drags you away from Varis. Pulling the dart from your shoulder he tosses it elsewhere, shifting to hold you in his arms. An immediate sense of safety washes over you as he cradles you close, hesitating for one moment longer, but turning his back on his father.

“Zenos. Zenos!” Varis roars at the retreating back of his son. “I will not allow you to disgrace me this way! I am your father!”

“That may be so,” Zenos calls over his shoulder, still moving forward. “But I have someone who actually loves me, now.”

Varis yells in his rage, forcing himself to stand to his feet. “Z-Zenos,” you murmur, watching as Varis reaches into his suit. “Zenos, we need to run,” you try to urge, watching as his father pulls out a shiny, vial full of red liquid. Zenos turns just in time to see Varis jab the vial into his arm, everything going still for a moment until Varis’ eyes bleed black the two of you watching in horror as Varis stands to his feet with renewed strength. Red pupils laser in on the two of you as Varis laughs madly while his sclera grows black.

“I won’t allow you to leave--” he clutches his throat, all in the room confused into stillness at how warped his voice sounds, watching as he tries to clear his throat. Your eyes widen as his hand begins to bulge and become deformed, growing larger and larger until the phenomena begins to travel up the rest of his arm. “What’s happening--”

Whatever is happening seems to cause a chain reaction, Varis’ body bulging all over the place as he transforms into a hideous monster. His skin turns red as he continues to grow in size, black wings sprouting from his back as huge fangs grow from his teeth. His hand transforms into claws large enough to hold your entire body in their grip, his mouth now big enough to swallow you whole as he finishes his transformation.

“Zenos, we need to leave,” you advise quietly as possible, Zenos nodding as he begins to make a break for the exit.

“No!” Varis’ voice booms, shaking the entire room. Before Zenos can even run a few steps, the shadow of Varis’ arm looms over you, Zenos just barely able to stop his momentum before getting crushed by Varis’ fist. “I will not allow you to leave!” his atrocious voice booms, fist curling to try and strike again.

You shriek as Zenos’ eyes glow red as he activates the Resonant, using his enhanced speed to dodge another blow. With you in his arms it’s still hard to maneuver, Zenos clutching you tight as he tries to make it to the exit.

“I’ll kill you!” Varis roars, slamming a fist against the ground, the shockwave jolting the two of you hard enough that Zenos loses his grip on you and you fall from his arms. “I will not allow you to destroy my life’s work!”

It hurts when you land on the metal floor, praying you don’t have a concussion while you’re at it. Everything still feels intact, but gods if you don’t hurt something fierce. You couldn’t move if you wanted and Varis seems to know it, trying to make a dive for you but stopped by his son who’s finally drawn his sword. Zenos slices a deep gash in the monster, your ears ringing as it lets loose a squeal of pain. “You traitor! After I’ve given you everything!”

“You’ve given me nothing!” Zenos snaps back, dodging a swipe of his father’s spiked tail. “You took everything from me! My bodyguards! My mother!” His golden hair flies behind him, whipping wildly with every movement as he lands on the monster’s back, preparing to run him through until he gets shaken off. You cry out as Varis manages to get ahold of Zenos long enough to slam him into the floor, but a quick swipe of his blade at one of the claws crushing him has Varis reeling back again, right into--

“Zenos, watch out!” You scream, but it’s too late to do anything. You can do nothing but watch as Varis’ horrid body slams into the reactor, causing it to become unstable due to his size. The alarms blare louder before as the glass breaks, the aether trapped within bursting out in all directions. You can feel it rush over your skin, sensitive to it as the energy is returned to the life stream. Even as the alarms grow louder and an automated voice warns of impending meltdown, you feel a sense of peace.

“NO!” Varis bellows, picking up shards of his former reactor in his hands. “My life’s work! My dreams!”

Using this window of distraction, Zenos quickly bounds over to you and scoops you up again, though not as easily as before, visibly exhausted. Making a break for the stairs, you shudder as Varis continues to roar in outrage, finally pulling himself out of his mourning long enough to realize you’re on the move. “I will not allow you to escape!” His voice thunders, warped and mangled and no longer his own.

With a single blow, he destroys the stairs, sending the two of you falling back to the ground. Zenos winces as he lands back on the floor, violet eyes still frantically searching for an exit.

“I will see the both of you dead!” Varis booms, swinging his arms wildly throughout the room, tearing at the ceiling and walls. “I will bury you alive and emerge victorious!”

Zenos gives you one last glance before he grits his teeth and puts you down again, drawing his sword as he faces his father. “I’ll get us out of here.” he whispers, even as the world falls down around you. Before you can get a word in edgewise he’s launched himself at Varis, making a clean slice of his blade across Varis’ arm.

Fight!

You cry as you watch Zenos face off against his father, and for once, this is the first time you’ve seen him in a fight where he doesn’t smile.

Fight!

It couldn’t end here.

Why do you not fight?!

“It won’t end here.”

Gasping, a familiar figure in a white robe trimmed in gold appears before you. Fluffy, lavender hair spills over their shoulders, red mask in place with only their lips visible. Turning, Elidibus faces you, quickly picking you up in his arms before turning back to the hellish scene before him. “Young Zenos!” he calls, red eyes flicking to him immediately. “We must leave!”

“Elidibus?” Varis snarls, moving to punch at you but Eldiibus dodges out of the way, brows visibly furrowed even beneath his mask. “You were an Ancient? All along?”

“What I am does not matter to you, vermin.” Elidibus bristles, fluffy hair standing on edge as he dodges another blow. The facility groans and shakes, threatening to fall apart at any second. “Young Zenos,” Elidibus begins again, dodging another of Varis’ punches, “we must hurry--”

“Get Honey out of here.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Like hell I’m leaving without you!” you shriek as Elidibus dodges another swipe, Zenos quickly gaining his father’s attention by cutting off a chunk of his tail. Varis’ shrill scream rattles the facility, turning his attention back to trying to kill his son.

“Young Zenos,” Elidibus tries again, avoiding bits of falling debris. You had to leave, now.

“Get out of here, Elidibus,” Zenos calls, after giving Varis another stab with his blade. “I need to hold him off so you can escape.” He grunts, pulling his blade free from the beast. “So that my love can escape.”

No.

No, no, no.

Pursing his lips, you feel Elidibus grip you tight as dark magic begins to encircle you. “Elidibus!” You screech, screaming like a mad woman. “Zenos, don’t do this! I love you, please--”

“I could not think of a better way to die, Honey, other than by your hand,” Zenos breathes, giving you one last smile, “but I suppose fighting to save you will suffice.” Through speaking he launches himself at Varis once more, a genuine smile upon his face.

“You idiot!” You yell, wishing you had any strength left. “I need you! Your child needs you!”

The last you see of him is Zenos’ red eyes turning to you in shock before Elidibus whisks you away. Dark magic enfolds you and pulls you from the facility, sending you back to the surface.

“Elidibus! Elidibus! You have to go back,” you beg as Elidibus arrives at the surface, face pinched in regret even if it's only his jaw you can see. “Put me down and save him. Go back in there,”

“Honey!” you hear Merlwyb call, as the facility burns from the outside. Yugiri and her soldiers begin to run over to see what the fuss is about as Merlwyb continues to yell at you. “Gods woman, you scared me,”

“Put me down Elidibus, go save him,”

Just as Elidibus seems to consider it, you see his violet eyes widen from beneath his mask. Shoving you into Merlwyb’s arms, he quickly turns and faces the research facility, arms upraised as blue magic spreads from his fingers, erecting a barrier. “Everyone get down!”

The facility explodes, a shockwave bursting from below all the way up to the surface, sending debris flying. You can feel the heat of fire nearly hot enough to burn on your skin, hear the sound of groaning metal as the structure collapses in on itself.

Everyone shields their eyes as a wellspring of aether bursts forth out of control, sweeping over everything in the vicinity. Uncovering your eyes, you watch as Elidibus marches forward and calms the flow, teeth gnashed together as he tries to redirect the aether back underground. The earth begins to ward as strange shards of aether begin to form, the ground quaking beneath your feet as cracks begin to form. “Not again,” he grunts, hair whipping wildly about his face as his power calms the spring. “These shards will not pay for our mistakes!” he roars, giving one last push to quiet the stream of aether, restoring peace to the area.

The barrier falls, having protected you from the bulk of the explosion, everyone looking around in a mix of awe and shock at what they had seen. Already you hear sirens in the distance. You’re distantly aware of Merlwyb questioning you, on how you could possibly do some thing so wreckless and so stupid.

But you don’t hear her.

“He’s gone.”

Merlwyb stops her tirade long enough to register just what it was you had said. “He? You mean Varis?”

“Yes,” Elidibus cuts in, moving to take you into his arms, “Varis is slain. But only because young Zenos sacrificed himself to allow us to escape.” he whispers, burying his face into your hair in an attempt to comfort you or perhaps needing comfort himself. “The aether that Varis had consumed had warped his body beyond recognition; his toll for messing with things he did not fully understand. Things that we did not fully understand…”

“He’s gone…” you whimper over and over, staining Elidibus’ robes with your tears. Zenos’ shocked expression is imprinted on your mind, and you keep opening and closing your eyes as if you’ll finally wake up from this nightmare. Each time you do, Elidibus is still there holding you tightly, and Merlwyb is rattling off orders through tears at seeing how broken and defeated you look.

Elidibus carries you in his arms as he changes his appearance back to normal as the emergency services show up, denying all questioning until you are properly seen to. He sticks to your side as a silent protector, regret shining in how tightly he clenches his jaw.

Cid arrives in a rush, practically falling over himself to get to you, having heard the worst, ready to give Elidibus a piece of his mind until Merlwyb cuts in and explains all that had occurred in the final moments of the Aetherochemical Research Facility. News vans arrive in record time, Cid and Merlwyb quickly garnering their attention as Elidibus carries you to the closest ambulance.

Kugane is safe.

Varis zos Galvus is no more.

But what does it matter?

Zenos is gone.

[sword-envy]

well how the turntables...

Fandom: A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns

Content warning: swearing and light gore

Word Count: 2830

Pairing: X/A lite. lite

Description: Azad doesn’t care for how or why he finds himself facing down the Pale Sword once again; what he does know is that he’s getting a little Spirits-damned tired of cleaning up the man’s messes.

or, that time A tried to read X's mind, failed, and then got their fucking nose broken

With Xelef pinned under his forearm and his famous sword lost somewhere in the grass behind them, Azad loses his last shred of patience and smacks his palm against Xelef's head.

Azad can see Xelef's eyes widen in his peripheral as his magic surges forward, rushing past a few feeble mental blocks, buffeting them like rocks in a river. Azad flips throught the immediate memories--his own face set in a stern expression as Xelef was thrown against the tree, the feeling of a sword being knocked from his hands, their duel picking up as Azad pressed forward, demanding to know where Xelef had hidden that stupid--

He doesn't put him to sleep first, doesn't want to waste the time doing it, and as retribution for all the headaches this damned mercenary caused him that day alone, he intends on making this sting. The magic rises to him, easily, flowing from his palm and it presses into Xelef's mind, searching for some shred of clarity regarding the shitstorm that had been raging for the past week.

And then, fire. His head fills with fire. 

Xelef's defense eases just enough for Azad to feel the weight of someone’s hands curled and pushing against his forearm, but even in his dizzy state, he holds his ground and doesn’t let Xelef up. A particularly painful jolt leaves him winded, pitching forward. He catches that familiar, stupid smirk, and Xelef opens his mouth to speak.

It bursts to life behind his eyes, accompanied by searing pain. His search is halted immediately by that wall of flames, acting almost like a physical barrier that proceeds to march forward and knock him flat on his ass. The burning fills and dulls his senses and he's vaguely aware of the feeling of someone poking around; If he wasn't too busy trying not to drown, his skin would be crawling. 

"Sorry, beloved." And then he slams his forehead down on Azad's nose.

The bones break with a sickening crack that reverberates through his skull and pierces the white-hot flames still clouding his vision. Azad's distantly aware that Xelef pushes him away the same moment their heads collide, and it isn't until he feels the ground against his back that the mental invasion recedes and he can feel his broken nose intimately.

"Fuck!" he shouts, pain setting in and blood flying into the hand he presses to his face. Xelef is still standing, presumably looking at him, and Azad fumbles with one hand for something to throw. His fingers find a rock and he throws it with all the force he can muster (which is a lot, judging by the shattering sound that follows after Xelef dives out of the way). "Fuck!"

He sees red and still glares through it at Xelef, who at least has the decency to look sheepish and extend a hand to help him up.

Azad slaps away the offered hand. "What, by the void, was that?"

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never run into a mental defense before.” Azad ignores him and raises unsteadily to his feet, leaving Xelef to sigh dramatically.  "I mean, I'm not going to tell you. But I can definitely recommend that you don't try that mind-reading trick on me again.”  Azad considers rolling his eyes, but another wave of pain hits him and he elects to instead squeeze his eyes shut and ignore him.

He's tired. His head hurts. His nose is fucking broken. Azad can predict the lecture about duty and finishing tasks, almost down to the unique color Dara’s face is going to turn, but this is just some stupid retrieval mission that he has no personal stake in. He is going to find a healer and go to sleep, nobility be damned.

Xelef raises his hand hesitantly, almost like he's going to try and touch him, but seems to think better of it. "You know, there's a few more of us nearby," he says lightly, turning away to search the grass. "I'm sure we have someone who can help you with that."

Azad spits a clot of blood on the ground. "What was the fucking point of breaking my nose if you were going to offer to fix it?"

"Aww, do you want me to kiss it better?" The teasing is nothing if not expected, but Xelef still crumbles a little under the glare Azad throws his way. He averts his eyes. "I, uh. I didn't actually mean to break your nose. I just wanted to stun you. I'm--really sorry."

This time, Azad really does roll his eyes.The idea of relying on Xelef after that little scene is far from appealing, but their duel had carried them a significant distance from any Imperial forces. One of the Blades would be his best, fastest bet for a healer right now. "Fine," he grumbles. "But you owe me."

Xelef laughs, perhaps a little nervously, and Azad watches distantly as he scoops Azad's own sword from the ground. Azad opens his free hand, waiting to get it back, but Xelef wordlessly secures it in his own belt and starts walking, inclining his head for Azad to follow. He feels himself hesitate, focused on his sword on Xelef’s belt.

Was he trying to apologize? Or to disarm him?

"Give that back," he grumbles, speeding up to fall in step with Xelef. "I can carry it."

Xelef's pouts. "I was trying to do you a favor, you old grouch. But fine, hold a grudge."

Azad scoffs at the accusation, ducking under the tree branch Xelef holds out of the way. "You broke--"

"Hey, that's ancient history!"

"That was five minutes--"

Xelef ignores him entirely, grinning and waving over someone Azad doesn't recognize. Azad’s lips twitch at the diversion, but decides to pick a fight later. There’ll be plenty of time later to discuss what “ancient history” actually constitutes regarding a broken nose.

The Blade that approaches is fairly small, wearing light armour even for the mercenary group, and they move quickly past the few others gathered in the small clearing. Xelef greets them with an easy grin, resting his hands on two swords like it’s the most natural thing in the world. "Fîlya! Care to lend a hand? Azad here went and got his nose broken." Azad rolls his eyes almost far enough to see inside his head.

The Blade, Fîlya, eyes him with some suspicion, taking in the state and Imperial look of his armour, but it doesn't look like they're about to disobey the Pale Sword. They incline their head to Azad, uncertainly but not without respect, and clear their throat. "Move your hands, please," they say politely as they peel off their gloves.

Azad finds himself glancing over at Xelef, who just raises his eyebrows at him. Insufferably, he winks. Azad resists the urge to roll his eyes again and removes his hands, leaning forward enough for them to take a look. They pull a wad of cloth and a waterproof pouch from a bag at their waist, dousing it with the liquid inside.

He closes his eyes and schools his face into neutrality. He can feel his eyes and mouth twitch as Fîlya carefully prods the sides of his nose as they clean off the blood, likely making a mental image of the damage before trying to mend it. Azad is no healer, but he at least knows the basics of how it works. It’s not as simple as pouring magic into a wound and waiting for it to finish; such reckless use would quickly lead to the presence of hard, painful growths that would need to be cut out, lest they spread to the rest of the body. Healing was a careful process affected by a variety of factors, including a healer’s skill level, their specialization, and whether it was suited to the wound they were seeing.

A sharp pain snaps Azad from recalling more of Rêzan’s long-winded explanation on how healing magic works, and he grimaces. 

“Sorry,” Fîlya says quickly, drawing their hands back. “It looks like I’ll need to put the bone back in place before I start healing. Do you want anything for the pain? Something to bite on? Maybe somewhere to sit?” Azad blinks his eyes at the choices, and Fîlya looks on with their eyebrows drawn, chewing on the inside of their lip.

Mostly, Azad wants this to be over with. “No, but thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Xelef exchanges an amused look with the Blade, who seems more confused than anything, but they shrug and turn back to Azad. They raise their bare hands and he closes his eyes again, feels them place their hands back on his face, their thumbs on either side of his nose. “Uh, Chief, can you--?"

"Yeah, of course." Warm hands appear too quickly on the sides of his head for Azad to move away from, and the heat emanating from Xelef briefly distracts him. Xelef holds him firmly, and Azad opens his mouth to protest having to be held down like some sort of child. It’s annoying. It’s embarrassing. His face heats up from the irritation at the gesture, not from a certain someone’s proximity or breath brushing against the back of his neck.

While he’s distracted, Fîlya pops his nose back into alignment on the distant count of two.

Pain explodes behind his eyes once again and he clenches his teeth, trying not to break out into obscenities. “Sorry!” they say quickly, carefully running over the bridge of his nose again with their fingers. The familiar hot-cold tinge of magic slowly seeps into his skin, and the healer starts talking again, likely trying to cover the sound of bones mending themselves together. “The closer I get it back to the original shape before healing, the better it turns out in the end. I'm hardly a master, but this should heal up pretty well," they explain. 

To his left, Xelef scoffs. He still hasn’t taken his hands off Azad’s head, and the heat from them is starting to sink into his skull. (Azad is absently aware of Xelef’s thumbs moving almost imperceptibly against his hair, like a soothing gesture).  "Fîlya's just being modest. She's one of our best healers, no need to worry. You'll look exactly the same as before." Azad doesn’t respond. If he really needs to, he can have Rêzan or someone else fine-tune it; the sooner he can get out of here, the better.

By the time he opens his eyes and the pain dulls into mild soreness, he sees two familiar figures stalking towards them. Fîlya makes a strange noise, immediately turning tail and leaving, Xelef drops his hands, and Azad braces himself for a conversation that will undoubtedly keep him from his bed for a little longer. "Tûjo. Heval."

Tûjo silently inclines his head, his usual greeting, but Heval seems a little less inclined towards business as usual.

"What," they ask tersely, "Are you doing here?" They didn't bring their axe with them, he notices, but Heval's arms are crossed and their tone doesn't exactly seem pleased from under their iron mask. Azad sighs, and Xelef seems to take that as an invitation to talk.

"Why, Azad simply couldn't resist my offer for dinner and decided to join us! He's completely enamored to the idea of becoming a--"

Azad can feel his eye roll ripple through his posture and looks dead Heval in the eyes. "Xelef broke my nose." Heval sucks in a sharp breath and raises their hand as though to pinch the bridge of their own nose; Tûjo blinks but otherwise doesn't move.

"You broke his nose?" he says, and Azad is able to pick up a tinge of something he can't quite identify in Tûjo's tone. Xelef laughs a little too loudly and rubs at the back of his neck, something Azad has noticed he does when he’s embarrassed.

"Accidentally," he insists. "And Fîlya fixed it up for him! It's like it never even happened! I'm sure he won't hold it against me, right?"

Azad hums at that and carefully touches his nose. It feels tender, but otherwise correct. "Time will tell."

Tûjo coughs into his fist, eyes crinkled slightly, and Heval huffs in annoyance.

"Even if he did break your nose," they say, eyeing Xelef with disappointment, "What, exactly, are you doing here? We're hardly working towards the same goal right now." Azad shrugs.

"It's a professional difference. I honestly couldn't care less. Besides, I don't even have my sword." He motions towards the blade, still dangling from Xelef's hip opposite his pale scimitar. "He wouldn't let me carry it."

This time, both of Xelef's right-hand mercenaries turn to look at him. He crosses his arms and grins at them both, but something about the smile doesn't fully sit right. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

"What? A man can't carry a sword for his injured friend?"

No one pushes the claim, but Xelef still unclips the sword and passes it back to its rightful owner. Azad slides it back into the scabbard, bemused at the fact that Xelef was really so reckless as to carry a naked blade swinging from his hip.

The three people sensible enough to not do that exchange uneasy glances, until finally Xelef clears his throat.

“Well, Azad, I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to your own camp,” he says amicably, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. Azad doesn’t expend the energy to shrug it off. “Why don’t I walk you back closer to your camp? It’s dangerous to go alone, after all.”

“Wouldn’t that leave you walking alone?” Azad asks. Heval tilts their head, and nods once in agreement.

“He’s right, chief. It would be needlessly dangerous to travel alone. We don’t know who’s still out in the forest at this point, and not all of the soldiers are going to be so understanding.”

Xelef waves off the suggestion. “Oh, come on! I’ll sense anyone coming for a mile away. You won’t even finish dinner before I get back.” Xelef’s other hand reaches out to clasp Heval’s shoulder comfortingly, and they relax and sigh heavily.

“Just be careful, please.” They’re still looking at Azad with suspicion, and Azad raises an eyebrow at them. Heval clears their throat, and inclines their head to him, Tûjo following suit. “Until next time, Azad.”

“Until next time.”

And so, Xelef’s hand still on his shoulder, they steer away from the lowlit camp and back into the darkening forest. It’s still light enough to see, and Azad reluctantly allows Xelef to take the lead as they walk; even if the two of them both gravitated towards inner magic, Xelef’s sensory abilities were--admittedly--exceptional.

They walk in silence for a while, picking through the grass and the underbrush, before Xelef speaks up. “How’s the nose?”

“It’s fine,” Azad says, after consideration. He ducks under the branch Xelef holds out of the way, realizing that's at least the second time he's done that. “You’re being...awfully attentive,” he adds carefully. Xelef shrugs with an easy grin.

“Why? Are you enjoying the attention?” he teases.

“I’m suspicious of it.”

Xelef’s eyes drop as he kicks a rock out of the way, lips turned down in a frown. Azad feels the urge to bump their shoulders, which is an unexpected and mostly unwelcome idea. Instead, he wets his lips against the urge to assuage the guilt that was showing under Xelef’s sulky demeanor. “It’s fine. Really. Before you go all “ooh Azad, beloved, don’t break my heart, please forgive me”,” he teases in his best Pale Sword imitation. Xelef’s head snaps up and his green eyes stare at him in open disbelief.

The Pale Sword cracks a smile. “I do not sound like that!” he insists, but the smile colors his voice and he forges forward. They’re getting close, Azad realizes. “Spirits, you’re insufferable sometimes.”

“I wouldn’t know about ‘sometimes’,” Azad says airily. “I try to be insufferable most of the time, actually.”

Xelef shakes his head, black locks swinging. “It works,” he remarks dryly, and slows to a stop. He looks around quickly before turning to face Azad, hands on his hips. The last reaches of sunlight are nearly gone, past the golden fire-like burn of sunset. The colors around them are muted, matching the expression on Xelef’s face.

“Until we meet again, Mirza,” he says dramatically, sweeping into the most sarcastic approximation of a bow Azad has ever seen in his life. “Perhaps next time you’ll win.”

Azad scoffs and rolls his eyes one more time. “Or I’ll return the favor.” He walks past Xelef, towards the distant glow of the Imperial camp through the trees. He thinks about his bed, the scolding he’ll face after he packs up and heads back to the city, the color the General’s face will turn when he finds out what he did.

It’s strange. Even without looking, he gets the feeling that Xelef is smiling at him.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Ngl whenever I see OC asks I'm tempted to just ask all of them lmao

Buuut, let's see... from the OC creation asks, maybe 12, 15, 19? And for the other one, 1, 8, 52, 69? For any OC you'd like ~

I’m not shitting you when I say, DO IT. 

It’s my favorite time of the day~! Do you think I’ll ever shut up? Not likely, so let’s gooo! >:D 

***

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

You know, I always think about this to be fair because it’s something that can be a bit of a block for me when writing any of my OCs since they’re all really different personality wise. Fane, in particular, is a bit of a challenge. Especially when it’s not his POV. He’s hard to explain at times, and it’s why I take so long to create one shots or chapters because I want to make sure I’ve been as clear as possible with him or how other’s perceive him. I have to think in my head, ‘How would such and such really feel about Fane’s personality? How would they respond to his outbursts or his views on the world?’ It takes a lot of reviewing banter from Inquisition and seeing how characters interact with one another for me to confidently piece together dialogue in regards to Fane, and at times, my mind wanders into non canon territory to where I then have to yank it back. Fane lets my mind explore, but the wanderlust gets to be a bit..much. I think so, at any rate. Lol. 

On a more personal level, Fane is also me, in a way. He’s a persona that allows me to express what I tend to go through mentally at times. While it’s a sort of comfort for me to get things off my chest through him, I also have to take a step back and breathe, especially if my mind that day isn’t in the best of places. I mean, I want to write during those times, but it can be incredibly difficult to formulate words with enough sensitivity so it doesn’t hit too hard for anyone else and come off wrong.

15. What is something about your OC can make you laugh? 

I’m gonna use Estoria for this because one thing I’ve created with her always makes me smile and giggle like a madman. That thing is, is the fact that she’s a flirter, but if it’s directed at her then she’s a bumbling fool. She’s all miss big bad mercenary elf until someone says, “You’re eyes are truly a delight.’ and then she just laughs nervously and nearly crumbles into a ball at their feet. 

And you bet your ass that Solas’s smooth talk kills her to where she actively has Cullen syndrome and runs away--tripping and stumbling over her own feet because she can’t. Then, when she does manage to get away she just sits on the floor and goes with all the enthusiasm of a teenager, “He..he thinks I’m graceful? He thinks I’m graceful!” Then she just rolls around on the floor, kicking her legs like a happy little flower. :3

19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?

That Fane has a sweet tooth. Hands down. Man becomes a literal puppy around cake, cookies, anything sweet. I have it in my fluffy little head that he swipes those things from Skyhold’s kitchen without anyone seeing because he’s embarrassed. He’ll try to be all sneaky and slick, but someone always stumbles upon him stuffing his face and then..well, you know. Fane becomes Aterian and Solas has to be called to tame a dragon before the walls come down. *smiles pleasantly*

1.  What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about?

We’ll go down the line for this one!

Fane is ‘Tempest’ due to his ‘calm before the storm’ demeanor when in battle. Varric gave it to him when he saw how fast Fane could move despite his size, and how hard he could hit once closing in. He’s literally a lightning bolt as he’s never in the same place twice and he does it all without batting an eye like how a real storm can destroy everything in its path, but when the clouds part, it’s calm, controlled without a shred of guilt towards the wreckage.

Estoria is ‘Snapdragon’. He adoptive father gave it to her as a sign of affection and to let her know that she is strong, even if the world believes she’s just a delicate little flower to be set on a window and forgotten. It also came about whenever he saw just how fierce a fighter she could be and how passionate she would get towards specific topics--’snapping’ like a dragon does with their treasure hoard or young. 

Mhairi is ‘Snow bird’ or ‘Fawn’. Courtesy of Varric and Dorian! Snow bird is Dorian’s nickname for her and it’s mainly due to her proclivity towards ice magic. Fawn is Varric’s choice due to how wide eyed and curious Mhairi is, like a newborn fawn discovering the world for the first time.

8. How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?

This is Fane’s. Fane’s, Fane’s. Only because I have so many thoughts about his voice that I have to try to explain it! All right, so his voice is deep, obviously. However, it’s gruff, it’s tired, and it rumbles like the softest of thunder. You can take the man out of the dragon, but you can’t take the dragon out of the man. He always has a slight growl to his voice, even if he’s not irritated. He does have an accent, more or less along the lines of what the game gives us, but it’s deeper, has more timbre and husk to it. It drops dangerously low when he’s furious--almost warbling with the natural growl. It jumps a slight octave when he’s flustered--sometimes cracking on specific syllables. When he speaks Elvhen though..well, let’s just say Solas has an existential crisis to where he blanks for a good twenty seconds because how the words just roll near perfectly from a deep, deep, near criminally seductive grave. It’s a good time. *waggles eyebrows*

52. What are some of your OC’s motivations?

Oh god. Well, it is time to try and explain why Fane does the shit that he does! Namely, why the hell he supports the destruction of the Veil, even if he knows it could kill people he loves.

One: Fane is heavily devoted to Solas. Centuries of bonding and losing each other does that, after all. He strives in every fashion to lessen the burden on Solas’s shoulders because he’s seen it happen before. He’s seen and felt Solas practically scream for an end. So, he refuses to abandon him again to that torture, even if he has to bloody his hands from those he had come to consider friends. It’s a difficult road for both of them, but Fane tries to keep a tiny shred of hope in his heart that everything will be okay in the end--that they’ll be okay. He just wants to protect Solas with everything he has, even if it brands him a monster. So, in a way, Solas’s continued presence motivates Fane to keep pushing, even if it’s indirectly.

Two: Fane is passionate towards his kin. He wants to free them from the world they are forced to endure. Another reason for why he supports Solas beyond their close bond. He knows that dragons are needed for the world to survive. So, the thought of his kin being able to show what they are truly made to do is what guides him to endure a lot of the heart break and a lot of the words that are eventually hurled at him. It doesn’t make fighting them any easier though.

Three: Fane is heavily mired with family or those he considers family. He took Mhairi’s place in his father’s experiments because he wanted to protect her, not himself. He throws himself in front of blades, magic that’ll make him ill, and kin bearing claws just to keep those close to him alive because he can’t stand the thought of their eyes going dead and grey. He doesn’t want to kill; he wants to preserve, even if eventually, he’ll have to turn his back because of necessity.

69. What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather?

Fane likes snowy, cold, frigid weather. He was a snowy dragon. Who lived on mountain. Had ice in his lungs. Boy melts in the desert, trust me. Besides that, he just likes the way the world looks when its blanketed with snow and ice. It’s still and quiet. Those aren’t things he’s used to, so he greedily indulges in them when they’re present.

Estoria is the opposite. She loves the heat, but primarily she loves rain. She’ll stand out and just look up at the sky with a huge smile on her face--completely unconcerned that she could get sick. All because it reminds her that the world is still moving along, even if the people in it believe it’s not. It’s still growing, flourishing, thriving, and that gives her comfort and joy.

***

Wowee! That was a lot, but damn was it fun! Thank you for the ask, as always! I can ramble, ramble, ramble like my life depends on it! XD 

[concussed-to-pieces]

Return At Dawn

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri Blaiddyd/F!Byleth (Dimileth)

Rating: Holy shit M

Word Count: Nervous sweating around 34k

AN: I would like you all to bear witness to this...behemoth.  I have played over two hundred hours of this game, my life is chaos, and the post-timeskip cutscene is the sole reason why I wrote the entire thing. Obviously, spoiler warning for the Blue Lions route. Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment deals heavily with death and various, vivid post-traumatic scenarios. Stay safe!]

"Come in old man, I'm just washing up!" The muffled reply to his knock threw Dimitri for a momentary loop. She must have assumed he was Jeralt coming to check on her.

  "Er, Professor Byleth?" He called, gingerly easing the door to her quarters open. "It's me, Dimitri. May I…?"

  "Prince Dimitri, head of the house, right?" Their new professor emerged from the tiny luxury that was the en-suite washroom, wiping her hands on a towel. The remains of some soap suds clung to her cheek, which Dimitri chose to ignore as best as he could. "Here to try and scare me off? I warn you, I'm a force to be reckoned with."

  "Not at all!" Dimitri hastily assured the newly-minted professor, bowing on reflex. 

  He hadn't expected her to be so outspoken. When she had been with Jeralt, she kept the chatter to a minimum. Even if she hadn't though, normally once people found out he was a prince the stiff manners ensued. 

  The hand that warmly clasped his own was calloused with abundant scarring across the knuckles, a telltale sign of her successful mercenary career. "I just wanted to see whether you were having any issues settling in." The prince continued.

  "No problems so far, give me a few days to get lost in this place and I'm sure I'll have the layout memorized." She said it with a straight face, but Dimitri felt as if he were being joked with. 

  "Would you like a guide? I'm certain I can assist you in navigating the monastery on your first day." He offered cordially.

  …

  Dimitri jerked awake. 

  He was still where he had dropped last, his back pressed to the wall behind him. The end of his lance was wedged into the cracked marble underfoot, propping it upright. His grip on the heavy weapon hadn't loosened, even in his momentary doze.

  The once-princeling raised his remaining eye, taking in his handiwork. Butchered Imperial soldiers littered the cathedral floor in front of him, victims of their own foolishness. A chilling breeze blew through the enormous archway, but he doubted he could feel any colder.

  In the five years since Byleth was lost, her voice had been added to the burden on his soul. Along with his father, his stepmother, Glenn, Dedue...all of them screaming for vengeance, redeem us Dimitri, why couldn't you save us Dimitri .

  He was a shambling corpse, a beast driven mad by blood-craze, the wild boar suited for nothing but destruction and slaughter. How Felix would laugh, if he could see what depths the once-prince had sunk to. 

  The shaft of Dimitri's fearsome lance, an enormous thing intended for use by mounted cavalry, was tacky with half-dried blood. He wanted to feel nauseous. Maybe that was the hunger talking. When had he eaten last?

  What was I dreaming about?

  For the first time in what felt like years, he had dozed off. And instead of being tormented by memories of fire or the loss of Dedue, he was granted a bittersweet respite in the form of recalling his beloved professor's first foray into the academic life.

  Grief tore at him wildly, making him hunch into himself once again. The pain was so sharp and vivid whenever he thought of her ; he couldn't stop his body's reaction to the perceived assault. His grip on his lance tightened and he clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. Mourning was a luxury reserved for someone far better than he was. All he deserved was to suffer agony in silence.

  Overwhelmed with weariness, his head pounding, Dimitri closed his eye again.

  …

  "The professor is gone, but I do not believe she is dead!" Dimitri yelled fiercely as he sawed at the reins of his destrier. The horse whinnied and pawed the earth nervously, fighting the prince every step of the way. "We will save Professor Byleth!"

  "He's right, there's no way she's lost to us!" Ingrid agreed, her own mount giving her no end of trouble. "Blue Lions, if there is a way for us to get her back, we must try!"

  "Our professor lives, I know it!" Dedue announced firmly, the other students on foot rallying behind his shield. 

  Dimitri spurred his horse forward, going at a breakneck pace across the battlefield. " Solon! " He shouted, readying his lance. "I'll slice you into a thousand pieces as you watch with horror! You will know true pain before I finally allow you to die!" The flames of Duscur seared his soul; the dead cried out for vengeance and he must give it to them. Such was the burden of the living.

  "How trite!" Solon sneered. "But! If you wish for pain, I shall oblige."

  Dimitri's horse thundered onward relentlessly, the prince disrupting enemy formations left and right as he rode. Sylvain and Felix were close behind, with Dedue and Ingrid maintaining the rear guard. Just like they had practiced, Annette and Ashe used Dedue's shield as cover for their respective spells and arrows while Mercedes and Flayn kept a vigilant eye out for any injuries. 

  Dimitri advanced on Solon, his lance gleaming in the sunset as he prepared to strike him down. "Die, monster!" The infernal darkness that had dogged him since Duscur wrapped around his soul like a hand, squeezing, squeezing-

  Brilliant light erupted in the air directly in front of him and his horse reared, nearly unseating the prince. A red-hot blade seemed to pierce the sky itself, a rift tearing open to reveal…

  Professor Byleth! The Sword of the Creator was ablaze with a fiery glow, so bright it pained Dimitri to behold it. For one fleeting moment he felt fear, as though he were a damned sinner who was about to be judged by the Goddess herself. Then, the darkness fled from his mind, clarity returning as surely as his professor had. 

  "Professor Byleth!" He said gladly, raising his lance in a knight's salute to her. He paused, however, as his eyes grew accustomed to the light. Her hair...and her eyes! Such a strange shade of green they were, like sunlight filtered through forest leaves. What had happened to her in the brief time she had been away from them? What torments had wrought their havoc upon her? 

  Solon appeared just as confused as he was, babbling about the Forbidden Spell and how the professor shouldn't have been able to escape from it. 

  "We were sure that you would return! Please tell me all that happened to you later. For now, it's imperative that we kill the demon!" Dimitri urged his horse into a canter after Professor Byleth nodded to him. More enemies had appeared on the field, no doubt brought there by Solon's foul magics. But the Blue Lions would not lose their professor again.

  He would not lose their professor again .

  …

  The soft tread of someone entering the sanctuary roused Dimitri to awareness once more. He didn't so much as flinch, steadying his breathing. Better to not draw attention to himself ahead of time, after all. 

  The sky outside had begun to brighten to a steely gray with the dawn, the wind even colder than before. 

  Dimitri lifted his gaze and was duly horrified by what he saw. Another apparition, another shadow come to torment him at night. Had his delusions truly worsened so, that she would linger even in the waxing dawn? 

  Her strides were cautious. She practically tiptoed. So unlike his professor. 

  Dimitri's remaining eye narrowed. An impostor, then. No doubt sent by Edelgard to gain his trust. How transparent of the Flame Emperor. "Stay where you are, interloper." He rasped. "Unless you wish to be cut down."

  She did not speak. The witch had done her research, it would seem. All she did was carefully pick her way around the corpses, heading towards him. 

  "I should have known, that one day you would be haunting me as well." Dimitri leaned forward, lance braced on the ground. "I will warn you only one more time, trespasser ." The former prince spat, the sharp blade of his lance glinting in the first fitful rays of morning sunlight. "Stay back ."

  The hallucination or impostor had the audacity to look distressed with him, shaking her head. The sunrise suddenly poured into the room in earnest, robing her in golden splendor. 

  Dimitri momentarily closed his eye against the onslaught of memories. The Blue Lion brooch the class had gifted her on her birthday so long ago was securely pinned to her bosom, the beast's inlaid sapphire eyes sparkling in the dawn. That Edelgard would go to this extent for authenticity-! Had that monster found where the professor's final resting place was and robbed her grave to lay claim to the bauble? Or-

  Byleth touched his cheek and his eye snapped open. All the other apparitions were so cold, but her hand was warm enough that he could actually feel it on his chilled face. "Leave me, you foul demon! Why do you dog my footsteps? Why did you come to this wretched place?" Dimitri hissed. "Just to torment me, to remind me that I failed? I will kill that woman, I swear it! Do not look upon me with scorn in your eyes!"

  "I'm so sorry." 

  Oh! Her voice! The dead heart in his breast gave a weary little beat at the familiarity of it all. How many times had they sparred? How many times had she praised his monstrous strength instead of critiquing his enthusiastic, graceless way of moving?

  How many, how many, how many …

  "Why have you come here?" Dimitri asked again, his words quieter this time. "If you are truly alive, here , then you must be an Imperial spy. That's the only way you could have survived. Have you come to kill me, cur of Edelgard?" He snarled. "Answer the question."

  "Of course not." She murmured, her thumb brushing some dried blood off his cheek. He must have been injured during his previous fracas with the Imperial soldiers. Dimitri had felt no wound over the constant throbbing of his head, however. Her eyes searched his own, probing, concerned . "What happened?" 

  What happened to you, what happened to the monastery, what happened to me. Dimitri was unsure of what she was asking and she wasn't elaborating. 

  He could have dropped his lance and crushed her skull with the strength of his hands alone. Yet...hesitation. Doubt. Momentary weakness while Dimitri extended a hand and traced the side of her face, cheekbone to jaw. He was ashamed of how his fingers trembled. She was real. Tangible . No impostor could mimic her this well, nor could the Imperial magisters. So she must be a spy in the Emperor's pocket. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved that his mind hadn't slipped further into delirium or enraged that Edelgard would conceive such a bold-faced scheme.

  His armored palm curved against her cheek, not gentle enough to be a caress but not nearly harsh enough to be a shove. "You should not be here." The fury had seeped out of his words, leaving them hollow. He felt abruptly drained.

  Her hand covered his own on her cheek and healing light washed over him, banishing the weariness that had befallen him after his last pitched fight with the Imperial soldiers. He had been wounded, then? His memory must have gone patchy during the conflict. "I'm glad you're alright." She whispered.

  "Am I?" Dimitri pulled himself upright, impatiently waving off the hand she offered. "There are rats and thieves , crawling in the ruins below that I must remove." He muttered. "They are drawn here by the promise of treasure. I will...kill them all. Until Edelgard runs out of soldiers and has no choice but to come find me herself. Someone must put a stop to this cycle of the strong trampling the weak." Pretty words. He did not actually believe them. 

  "Your Highness-"

  "Do not refer to me as such. As far as the kingdom is aware, I died four years ago in Fhirdiad." Dimitri shook himself bodily, trying to free his form of the stiffness and morning chill that clung to him. "I must rid this place of its rat problem."

  "How many of them are there?" She was cautious again. She should be.

  "It doesn't matter." Dimitri snarled. "All that matters is killing those who deserve to die."

  …

  "It smells of blood and sewage." The prince mused, a smirk upon his face. "It seems I've found their nest."

  Byleth looked up at him, thoroughly concerned by the undercurrent of excitement in his tone. This was not the same young man she had once taught in the classroom. He seemed rabid and fixated at the same time, the sinister grin he sported twisting his stern features into a terrible mask. 

  He glanced over to her. It was impossible to miss that somewhere along the way he had lost the use of his right eye, the space now covered by a dark eyepatch. She had tried to stay on his left while they slunk through the dawn's shadows down to the monastery's edge, where the thieves were at their thickest. It would do her no good to approach on his blind side and be run through for spooking him.

  For just a second, she could have sworn his expression softened slightly. "Shall we go rat hunting, Professor?" 

  Professor, professor…

  She had never imagined her title could sound so bitter and forlorn. "Would you rather I move to your right and guard you? Or stay within sight on your left?"

  Dimitri hesitated before responding, "Do as you please. I am accustomed to protecting my blind spot. Opponents always believe it to be a weak point."

  "I will guard your right as we push forward, then." Byleth said firmly. "One less thing for you to worry about." He did not thank her, and she did not expect him to.

  Dimitri moved like a wild animal in a feeding frenzy. Mercilessly cutting down the thieves, whirling his enormous lance around his body as if it weighed nothing. He had gotten even stronger , and unfortunately, far better at killing.

  Even when the enemy managed to land blows upon him he shrugged them off, single-minded in his advance. The leader of the thieves had ensconced himself in a half-collapsed cupola and it did not take an incredible strategist to know that this man was Dimitri's mark. " Out of my way! " The once-princeling roared, the next blow from that mighty lance splitting the very flagstones with the force he put behind it. "Interlopers, thieves, scum! You will pay for your foolhardy destruction of the nearby village and your ransacking of my graveyard with your pitiful lives!"

  Byleth deflected an arrow aimed at Dimitri's blind side and the blond swung his lance over her head with a grunt of exertion, slaying the archer that dared to try him. True, the two of them were strong, but their adversaries were numerous. Even with both of their skill sets, this could prove to be a fruitless struggle.

  She suddenly heard a loud rattle of armor behind her. "His Highness! And...the professor?" Gilbert sounded shocked, and well he should.

  "I know it's been five years, but I never expected the monastery to end up like this ." A bowstring twanged and an arrow sang overhead. "This place is a wreck!"

  "Ashe!" Byleth said gladly. Ashe strode forward. He was taller and broader now but had that same boyish grin, another arrow nocked and ready to fire.

  The embodiment of gentle grace herself seemed to materialize out of the morning mist beside Byleth, Mercedes reaching up to pat the professor's shoulder. "I haven't seen any of you in such a long time. I'm so glad to see you're alive." 

  Gilbert advanced from the rear guard, Annette perched securely on his shoulders. From her lofty vantage point, she launched furious gouts of magic that leveled foes. "It's over, thieves!" She announced with fervour. 

  Dimitri seemed bewildered by the sudden arrival of his old classmates and allies, actually pausing in his assault. "Why...why are you here?" He asked, clearly confused.

  "No time for that now, your Highness!" Mercedes aimed a fire spell beneath his elbow, taking down a thief who had been attempting to sneak by the group. "We can catch up later."

  "And we definitely will!" Byleth couldn't help her laugh, utterly thrilled by the appearance of their friends. 

  Galloping hoofbeats signaled another approach and Sylvain thundered past the group. "C'mon guys, we've got a nest to exterminate!" He yelled over his shoulder, reining in his horse. "Nice to see ya', Teach!" 

  A pegasus swooped by overhead, Ingrid's lance gleaming in the early morning light as she rocketed onward. "We'll catch up later!" She called.

  Grateful tears filled Byleth's eyes and she hurried to dash them away. "You're all just-"

  "Now is not the time for sentiments." Felix grumbled from her elbow, loosening the sheath binding on his blades. "We're all here because we made a promise to return. That's that. Don't waste your breath thanking us, Professor."

  Dimitri looked a strange combination of outraged and grateful, the tall young man clearing his throat and then raising his voice. "Listen up! We must end this quickly." He still commanded some form of respect it would seem, as Byleth's former students took heed of his orders and arranged themselves accordingly. 

  …

  It felt like several lifetimes had passed since Dimitri had seen the faces that rallied with him. And yet they followed orders just like they had when they were nothing but children, classmates, friends . 

  A brief flicker of self-awareness crushed him in its grip. Nausea, bringing with it a wave of fetid bile to sour his mouth. I will use you all to suit my ends, until I can use you no longer and discard you. "Seal off their escape routes! Leave none alive! Those who would strip this place must pay the ultimate price!" Dimitri shouted hoarsely.

  He was no longer the noble, chivalrous prince who led his forces to victory, but the ravenous, slavering beast who craved nothing more than to see his enemies utterly broken before him. Dimitri had thought he came to terms with this long ago. However, having Professor Byleth witness his behavior was...it made it seem more real , somehow. It solidified his fall from regal poise into brutal, blood-soaked chaos.

  He wanted to hate her for it. Dimitri wanted to loathe her for holding them to such high standards, for always encouraging them to do their best…

  For leaving him all alone.  

  He hadn't been ready! When news of her disappearance had reached him, he had gone into a blind despair. They relied on her, depended upon her, and now she was gone? There had been so much he wanted to say to her. His heart had screamed the agony he refused to voice, the maybe I could have s keeping him up long into the night.

  It felt like a cruel joke.

  Then, Dedue perished as his whipping boy, thanks to Cornelia's elaborate frame job of the only surviving member of House Blaiddyd. The last fragment of his tenuous humanity sacrificed along with his stalwart friend, Dimitri had slaughtered guards of his own kingdom to steal their weaponry and then vanished into the wilds. Let Cornelia do as she pleased with the battered kingdom of Faerghus, he no longer cared. All he wanted...all he lived for, was his revenge.

  Dimitri took to terrorizing and harassing Imperial troops wherever he found them. With every soldier killed it became easier to rationalize his horrific actions. 

  Because they're Edelgard's, and everyone connected to her will suffer until she comes to atone.

  His prior clean ways of dispatching enemies dissolved into gory bloodbaths. The once-prince no longer worried about causing unnecessary pain; instead, he focused more and more on the fear . Everyone would die as his family had died, as Dedue and his dear professor had died: with terror etched into their souls and no mercy given.

  Dimitri struck out for Garreg Mach upon learning Imperial troops were sent there regularly, the soldiers tasked with handling thieves that menaced the nearby village. That the Knights of Seiros were too damn preoccupied with their search for their precious archbishop to offer any sort of assistance came as no surprise to the once-prince. After all, when it came down to brass tacks, the church served the church. 

  It had given him a certain, sadistic pleasure to cleanse the monastery's cathedral of its Imperial infestation, though he had done so at a great cost to his own body. If Byleth had not returned when she had…

  Regardless, she was a gifted healer and strong warrior. She would serve his crusade for revenge well.

  Dimitri steadfastly ignored the soft voice in his head that added and we won't lose her again .

  …

  Byleth strode past Dedue and Dimitri without so much as a nod. Dedue hailed their professor, but she didn't seem to hear him.

  Dimitri's brow furrowed. "Dedue, have you ever known our professor to ignore a greeting?" The prince asked his stalwart companion. "She even greets a majority of the knights by name."

  Dedue tilted his head, visibly puzzled. "Perhaps she was deep in thought, your Highness?"

  "Professor?" Dimitri called, getting as much of a reply as Dedue had. He noticed with a start that she was in her armor, as though she was heading out on one of their missions. But nothing had been issued that he knew of. And he was the head of the house! If a mission had been given, he would know about it. "Dedue, we must gather the others and follow her. This bodes poorly." Dimitri decided. 

  "Of course, your Highness. I will alert our classmates. It may take some time to get mounts saddled, however-"

  "We have to hurry, otherwise we will lose track of her. Use your best judgement and have everyone meet at the gates." 

  The professor moved as if she was in a trance. One foot in front of the other, unaware of her surroundings. It was so very peculiar, yet no one else seemed to take any notice of it at all.

  Dimitri followed at what he deemed a safe distance, but it was soon apparent that there was no need for any sort of attempt at stealth. She either expected to be followed or simply did not care if she was.

  Professor Byleth made her way to the garrison stables and took the nearest horse, not even bothering with saddle or bridle. The beast didn't seem to mind, waiting patiently by the mounting block for her to climb aboard and then quickly setting off at a brisk canter. 

  Dimitri swore under his breath, scrambling to saddle his own mount.

  "Your Highness! What's going on?" Ingrid queried, swinging open the stall door.

  "We must be swift and cautious, Ingrid. It's probably nothing, but I fear there may be something sinister at work. Make haste." The prince ordered, settling into his saddle and gathering the reins.

  "Of course. Shall I wait for Sylvain?"

  "Yes, and I tasked Dedue with gathering the others. From what I saw, the professor was heading in the direction of the Canyon. If something changes, I'll leave a message at the gates."

  The professor had a head start and Dimitri realized that she had not, in fact, taken a random horse. She had taken a fast horse. It might have even been Ferdinand's prized mount, but there were several chestnut horses in the stables and Dimitri had a difficult time differentiating between the animals on a good day. He knew that as a member of the gentry, he ought to be a good judge of horseflesh. Due to his heavy-handed strength however, he had never gotten much use out of fleet-footed, leggy mounts.

  His destrier was worked into a lather by the time he reached the Red Canyon. The powerful beast slowed to a trot with its ears flattened against its skull, its nostrils flaring as it sampled the wind. 

  A fierce roar echoed through the gorge and Dimitri jerked the reins, quickly halting his steed. The roar had come from deeper in the canyon. Where the professor was.  

  Sylvain paused beside him, the redhead's own mount fidgeting nervously. "So your Highness, we headin' in?" Sylvain asked, loosening the strap that secured his lance to his side. " Whatever that was, it sure as heck didn't sound friendly. If Professor Byleth is in there…" He left his words hanging pointedly.

  "I am well aware, Sylvain. I merely wished to wait for at least one more person. Charging into a situation without any sort of backup is foolhardy."

  "I live to serve." Sylvain threw the prince a roguish wink, slapping his stallion's neck with the reins to encourage it forward. 

  Dimitri rolled his eyes and nudged his destrier into a loping canter, quickly overtaking his friend. Ingrid came up on the left, her gelding tossing its head and showing the whites of its eyes. "The horses are uneasy and I don't care for it!" Ingrid observed over the racket of pounding hooves. "Best that we find the professor quickly!"

  Dimitri nodded curtly, mentally willing his horse to go even faster. He bent low against the steed's neck, slacking the reins and feeling its gait stretch out into a smooth gallop when he gave it its head to run. Sylvain whooped, following close behind.

  Finding the source of the roar was an easy enough task. A huge demonic beast accompanied by two enormous wolves snarled and snapped at the professor, the woman dodging them nimbly on foot. Her horse was nowhere to be seen, doubtless fled in panic.

  "Hallo Professor!" Sylvain yelled, waving his arm over his head to get her attention. "Looks like you're in a bit of a jam! Mind if we cut in?"

  " Sylvain …" Dimitri muttered, thoroughly exasperated with his lackadaisical friend.

  Not only were there the massive beasts trying to savage their professor, but even as the three students advanced, monstrous hawks closed in from the rear. 

  Luckily, Dedue and the others were not far behind. The Duscur man looked a bit green from his hurried horseback ride, but gamely got his axe right into the swing of things. Felix rode up past Ingrid and Sylvain, tossing Ingrid a lance as he went. "Forget something?" The black-haired young man asked her, his tone annoyed as ever.

  "Thank you Felix!" Ingrid replied, almost sarcastically. Dimitri wanted to laugh at their easy dynamic, though this situation was no laughing matter. 

  Felix's blade flashed through the air like lightning, the swordsman scoring a deep gash in the shoulder of the closest wolf to draw its attention. "Hie, you dumb beast!" He shouted, "you're no match for me! Face me and meet your end!"

  "Easy Felix, the professor is our priority!" Sylvain chided, lowering his lance and preparing to charge the other wolf. "Ingrid, lend me a hand? Two lances are better than one!"

  Dimitri thundered forward through the opening his friends had created, the prince facing down the largest demonic beast. "Professor, are you harmed?" He called to her, relieved when she shook her head. "Please assist me in dispatching this foe!"

  Despite the size advantage, the multitude of strange beasts were no match for the student's coordinated efforts. Ashe felled the last hawk with a grunt of exertion, having overdrawn his bow to reach the high-flying target. The bowstring snapped, making the young archer yelp in a combination of surprise and pain.

  Professor Byleth started visibly at the noise, shaking her head as if she was dismissing something. "Are you alright?" She called to him, sheathing her sword even though it still steamed with ichor. 

  "Fine! I'm fine, it just caught my face." Ashe assured her, rubbing his cheek gingerly. Mercedes descended to heal over the silver-haired boy's injury, her fingers tracing the welt the bowstring had left. 

  "Professor, I know it is not my place to chastise you," Dimitri began sternly, his hands on his hips.

  "It seems I put you all in danger." Professor Byleth observed ruefully. "I didn't expect anyone to follow me here."

  "You did not exactly make it a difficult task." The prince scolded, "Never once did you check to see if you were being tailed! Honestly Professor, what on earth were you thinking?! Coming to this dangerous place with no one by your side!"

  "I felt drawn here, your Highness. As though I needed to come. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't explain."

  "Next time you feel such urges , I strongly encourage you to find me first. If not to talk some sense into you, then to offer my lance to defend you!" Dimitri snapped, perhaps a bit sharper than he had intended.

  The professor was silent for a moment and the prince busied himself with roughly cleaning his lance. "You feared for me." She said finally, her voice soft.

  "Of course I- we did!" Dimitri erupted, thoroughly exasperated. "By the Goddess, have you no sense of preservation? There were at least six enormous monsters intent on ending you!" The haft of his lance groaned in warning before the metal abruptly snapped from the pressure of his grip. The prince swore in a manner that was most unbecoming of a gentleman, barely resisting the urge to throw his now-useless weapon as far as he could. 

  Professor Byleth put a hand on his arm and he shot her a glare, opening his mouth to continue berating her. But her expression stopped him dead. She looked more distraught than he had ever seen her, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched slightly. 

  The prince's combined indignation and relief leaked out of him. In its stead, he heaved a heavy sigh and placed his gauntlet over her hand on his arm. "What's done is done. You are safe, as are the rest of us. But I meant what I said. Should you fancy to wander, tell me . It will do us no good to lose you, my dear professor."

  ...

  They had all returned to the monastery just as they had promised five years ago. The millennium feast day, and not a pilgrim in sight. Byleth sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. 

  The monastery was a mess. Annette had thrown herself wholeheartedly into cleaning up, Ashe and Sylvain at her side. Ingrid and Felix seemed thoroughly invested in restocking the moldering larders. Mercedes flitted from group to group, offering a hand wherever it was needed. Gilbert was still making his rounds, examining the state of the dilapidated fortifications and trying to prioritize what to mend first. 

  Dimitri however, appeared utterly disinterested in assisting with any of these reconstructive efforts. The prince simply stood in the middle of the cathedral's sanctuary, his arms folded across his chest. Anyone who attempted to engage him was met with silence and an icy glare. 

  Byleth thumped her forehead on the rickety desk when that cheerful information was relayed, making the knight who had delivered it snicker quietly. "Alright, thank you for the update." The former professor mumbled, already leafing through the next mountainous stack of parchment. Requisition orders, provision plans, drill schedules...Gilbert certainly wasted no time whipping everything back into shape, herself included. What was a five year gap among friends?

  "My apologies for the skewed workload, professor. We are at war and the man who should be overseeing this...appears unwell." Gilbert's delicacy when mentioning Dimitri didn't go unnoticed by Byleth, the young woman beckoning the elder knight close.

  "Is he entirely lost to us?" She asked worriedly.

  Gilbert hummed, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "If not for the way that he attends to you, I would have said yes." He finally answered. "The solitude he has inflicted upon himself has clearly done his mental state no favors, as has his obsession with the Emperor. Yet…" Byleth flushed, cursing inwardly at the way Gilbert studied her. "He listens when you speak. That may be our only hope thus far, but it is a formidable one all the same."

  Byleth sighed. "I hope I'm up to the task."

  "If anyone could pull him out of this darkness, it is you." Gilbert stated firmly. 

  …

  The cathedral was silent. Aside from the birds that rustled in the rafters, all was peaceful. The perfect area for Dimitri to hold his forum with the dead. Glenn, his father, his stepmother, Dedue, they all had a say in his next move and they all clamored maddeningly loud for Edelgard's demise.

  His resolve was thrown into question by these beleaguered phantoms. Over and over Dimitri found himself frantically reassuring his dearly departed that he would tear Edelgard apart for them, that he would secure their salvation no matter what it cost him personally. 

  Their visages floated just out of the edge of his limited vision, forcing Dimitri to turn this way and that to try and keep them within sight. Always so close and yet, so very far away.

  The day's events had thoroughly exhausted him at this stage. Gilbert hadn't verified the structural integrity of the second floor of dormitories, and as such the once-prince was without a concrete sleeping location. He ended up simply stretching out on the marble floor of the cathedral, his heavy mantle spread over him. 

  Dimitri stared up at the stars through the destroyed roof. Even from his far-flung position, he could dimly hear the noise of the soldiers in the dining hall. It was so strange to sense motion and not be overly concerned about it, yet he did not fear any sort of assault. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that , the sense of complacent security he had.

  He knew better than to think he might actually sleep , but to his surprise, he actually found himself dozing.

  …

  "It's kind of pathetic to think about it all these years later, but can you guess what I gave her as a parting gift?" Dimitri grinned in anticipation of her attempt, happy that he wasn't the only one who would embarrass himself this evening.

  "Don't tell me." Professor Byleth's expression had gone deadpan once more. "You got her a dagger, didn't you."

  Dimitri was taken aback by her rapid, correct reply. 'Horrified' was probably a better term. "Huh. Good guess, Professor. But I swear it came from the heart. How on earth did you know?" He asked sheepishly.

  "You're a practical sort. Self defense, or something a little more abstract?"

  "I-I mean...well, both? In Faerghus, we've long considered blades as tools of destiny. As a way to cut a path to a better future." Dimitri failed to keep the wistful note out of his voice. "She was being dragged all over, unable to live the life she wanted. I thought the dagger could help her cut a path to the future she dreamed of." He sighed heavily. "However, that was many years ago. I'm sure she's forgotten all about the boy I was back then."

  "It's not too late to reconnect. Perhaps you should invite her to tea? Something small, so you don't make her wary." Byleth suggested gently. 

  Dimitri shook his head ruefully. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that. Things are different now. She's different. I'm different." 

  He rotated his arm, his shoulder still a little stiff from all the dancing. Holding rigorous posture was never an enjoyable experience, especially when he dwarfed all his partners (other than Claude). Professor Byleth said nothing in response to his quick dismissal of rekindling a sibling relationship with Edelgard, and Dimitri was immensely grateful.

  "Anyway, I'm feeling a bit out of place here. Festivities like this don't suit me." He glanced at her from beneath the curtain of his messy blond bangs, knowing that his hair must be utterly hopeless at this stage of the evening. "Professor, will you join me for a stroll? You must be tired of the ball yourself, seeing as you wandered out here for air just as I did."

  Byleth nodded and Dimitri offered her his arm.

  The Goddess Tower was so quiet, far from the commotion of the main hall. Dimitri found his palms sweaty inside his gauntlets and he grimaced. What a fool he was, inviting the professor to come along with him to this place. He had never paid much mind to the children's tales of wishes at specific locations. The Goddess would never intervene for him, that much was clear. Why waste time with this nonsense?

  Yet...here he was. Inches from the moon, he fancied, with Professor Byleth at his side. He was silent for a time, but she didn't seem to mind. If anything, she appeared grateful for a moment of respite. She sat on the railing, the two of them looking at the stars.

  "What a wonderful night." Byleth murmured. "I know I'll be paying for all that dancing, but that's a problem for tomorrow."

  "I am pleased that you enjoyed yourself, professor." Dimitri replied. "The peace here is appreciated after all that hubbub." 

  He shifted to face her, asking conversationally if she knew the legend of the Goddess Tower. He was surprised when she nodded enthusiastically. He hadn't pegged her as someone who put stock in nonsense fairytales and he said as much, making her laugh.

  "Your Highness, it's alright to be a little childish sometimes. I may not believe there's any truth to it, but it's fun to think about." She explained. Then, "You don't believe your wishes will come true, if you stand here and wish with me?"

  "Legends are legends, nothing more." Dimitri murmured. "I doubt there are many who truly believe that wishes can be granted." He cleared his throat. "Though...I suppose there's no harm in passing the time with silly legends." His melancholy dismissed for the time being, Dimitri extended a hand to his professor, smiling. "What do you say, Professor? Care to make a wish? We are here on the night of the ball. Why don't you try wishing for something?"

  "After you!" Byleth teased, her playful tone encouraging Dimitri to believe in the magic of such an endeavor, if only for a moment. She hopped off the railing and looked at him expectantly.

  "A wish of my own…" the prince mused, stroking his chin as he thought. "I suppose...my wish is for a world in which no one would ever be unjustly taken from us." He paused, realizing how serious that sounded. "Or, er, something along those lines." He hurriedly amended.

  Her hand rested beside his own on the railing and he was graced with another one of her soft smiles. "I will wish for the same."

  Dimitri's gratitude threatened to make him teary and he glanced away, clearing his throat again. "Thank you, Professor." He forced himself to smile winningly, looking back at her. "Although, at a time like this…perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we'll be together forever! What do you think?"

  She stared up at him in silence for several agonizing seconds. Dimitri slowly realized that the words he had spoken were incredibly weighty and he frantically scrambled to think of a way to defuse the dangerous situation he had created. How could he have said something so foolish?  

  Dimitri mustered up a weak chuckle. "Well now, Professor! You must admit I've improved in the art of joke-telling!" He grinned. 

  "That was cruel. It didn't sound like a joke." Byleth's eyes were sad and Dimitri longed desperately to ponder on that. Had she wanted him to be sincere? No, that couldn't be it. Perhaps she was more annoyed than sad? Oh, if his improper actions had offended her-!

  "I'm sorry. I guess that was rather thoughtless of me." He apologized earnestly. "Honestly, I do regret saying such a thing. Please, think nothing of it. I've blurted out irresponsible things like that to my classmates. Promises that we'll see each other again and the like." It was not entirely a lie; Dimitri felt his heart sink whenever he inadvertently made the grave error of promising anyone anything from him in the years to come. "I have no business making such promises for the future. There are certain things that I must accomplish, even if it means risking my life. I may not even have a future to promise to someone."

  There. As close to the whole truth as he had ever gotten with another person. It was terrifying . Byleth continued to stare up at him. Dimitri felt for a moment as if she could see into his very soul, could see the engorged falsehoods interwoven with the meager truths he did offer.

  "We should head back soon." The prince finally said quietly, averting his eyes. "It's...rude of me to keep you all to myself. Shall we, Professor?"

  When he offered her his arm this time, she ignored it in favor of lacing their fingers in a much more intimate manner. Dimitri flushed, grateful for the darkness of the tower to hide his red complexion. The professor said nothing the entire walk back to the main hall, but at one point she rested her head against his shoulder. 

  More than anything in that moment, Dimitri wished to stop and embrace her. He wished to believe in the power of his wish. But without a future to promise…

  No. He would not inflict such a pointless burden upon her. No matter how much it cost his heart, it was better this way. He would simply have to value their closeness that much more for the limited time that it was available to him.

  …

  Dimitri spent a good portion of time in the cathedral, muttering to himself and studying the marble floor so intently it seemed he would burn a hole in it. Byleth tried to speak to him, but unless she brought news of Imperial activities the prince didn't reply.

  One such day, after being brushed off yet again, she was surprised to have Felix usher her into one of the alcoves where a statue had once been.

  "Hello." Felix began stiffly. Even that was downright conversational compared to how he usually spoke. Byleth was instantly on edge. "I have a request concerning that... creature ." He jerked his chin toward Dimitri's large form. "I can hardly look at that thing in the state it's in." His eyes locked with Byleth's, the young man's expression dark. " Do something about it ."

  "I'll...I'll see what I can do?" The woman replied slowly.

  "Please do." Felix slouched against the pillar, his attention back on Dimitri. "We tracked the boar for five years . I thought he was dead. In the state he's in, he might as well be." The dark-haired man grumbled. "He's gotten better at killing people, and in exchange, surrendered what little humanity he had."

  Despite his cool demeanor, it was obvious that Felix still cared a great deal for the other young man. "Do you have any ideas?" Byleth asked.

  Felix shook his head. "I have spent far too long pushing the boar prince away. He would not listen to anything I have to offer." 

  "Any input you have is welcome all the same."

  Regret tinged his voice. "My elder brother died in his service, in Duscur. My father, Lord Rodrigue, handled the news in the only way he knew how: by praising my brother's commitment and sacrifice. I, however, lashed out at Dimitri for allowing my brother to die in his stead." He held up a hand when Byleth opened her mouth. "I understand that knights fight and die for their masters. It was merely because it was my brother that I attacked him."

  "Yes, but surely-"

  "Two years later, the prince and I were sent to quell a rebellion of the Duscur people." Felix was almost whispering, as though he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Dimitri was at the helm of the whole affair, to the confusion of many generals. The atrocities I saw that day...we were children , professor. I was just a squire; he couldn't have been older than sixteen, and yet the Kingdom councillors decided that the lone brat with no other heirs to the throne was the only suitable candidate to spearhead the attack." Felix's eyes narrowed. "They essentially set him loose on demoralized troops and watched him clumsily kill. A wild boar maddened with rage and inexperience, enjoying its first rampage." He tilted his head. "It seems incredibly suspect, now that I am older. Even if he was the most decorated man in the entire army, why would you send the last member of the royal bloodline out on such a mundane maneuver?"

  "He mentioned the rebellion to me before. He said it was easy. Too easy. A slaughter." Byleth replied, keeping her voice quiet. "Do you think someone was hoping he would die in that conflict? Or maybe they wanted him to get a taste for blood?"

  He shook his head. "It could be neither or both. It doesn't matter at this point, though I will say that my recollection of the events is not clouded by time or mania . If I had to hazard a guess, it is almost as if the whole rebellion was orchestrated. Duscur warriors were practically throwing themselves into the prince's path." Felix said bluntly. "We know that Cornelia has been scheming for many years. It wouldn't surprise me if this is all according to plan."

  Byleth's head felt as though it was spinning. Could it be true, that the Empire's conspiracy against the Kingdom wove that deeply into Dimitri's troubled past? 

  Felix heaved a sigh, pulling her from her thoughts. "This is all just useless speculation. Look, he listens to you for whatever reason. So again, do something . I don't care what. Imprison him, beat him, whatever it is that you think will work. Anything is better than watching him waste away like this."

  ...

  Gilbert had planned well for their first attempt at staving off the Empire. Though their battalions were much slimmer than the Imperial forces, the elder knight had devised a truly clever strategy. 

  A well-placed firebomb attack thoroughly decimated the horde of soldiers clashing with them. Dimitri could hear Randolph, that snake , shrieking orders to his men to fall back as the monastery forces of Garreg Mach doggedly pushed forward.

  Fire raged all around them, the pitiful scrub bushes reduced to ash in minutes. Several of the dilapidated defense towers had also started to burn, flames licking at the sides. Dimitri's headache intensified at the smell of hot metal and smoke and he winced, pressing a hand to his temple to alleviate the splitting pain.

  His slowed pace led to him falling behind his troops' advance. Dimitri scanned the battlefield, telling himself he didn't know who he was looking for. But...

  There was an ominous creak overhead and Dimitri glanced up, only to be treated to a shower of smoldering debris. To the left of him, Byleth didn't seem to have noticed the danger the weakened towers posed. Either that or she didn't care. 

  The dead heart in his chest leaped. She'll be crushed, burned, trapped-

  Dimitri bolted forward, shouting, "Professor! Get down!" He cursed inwardly when Byleth stopped and turned at the sound of his voice. Crowned with a halo of brilliant orange light, just as she had been all those years ago…

  Goddess-touched, Sothis' right hand .

  The tower teetered and began to collapse, no time left to escape the framework. Dimitri caught hold of her sleeve and managed to take her to the ground, throwing a metal-plated arm over her head to shield her while chunks of flaming debris rained down around them. She stared up at him, eyes wide, not even flinching when a hulking truss beam missed them by mere inches.

  Dimitri opened his mouth to say something, berate her maybe, he wasn't sure what , and then Randolph's form emerged from the hellish smoke. "The one-eyed demon! So it's you! " The general yelled, leveling his axe at him, " You're the one who's been going around killing the Imperial troops!"

  Dimitri bared his teeth and snarled deep in his chest as the commander advanced. "What is it to you?" The tower wreckage still roared with flames around he and Byleth, but it would do them no good if they were both slain. 

  The once-prince scrambled to find a solution while Randolph accused, "You bastard! Life is worthless to you, isn't it?!"

  Dimitri's laugh was an ugly, rasping noise, utterly devoid of humor. "You took the words from my mouth, general ." He abruptly seized Byleth's arm, dragged her upright and simply ordered, "jump." 

  She obeyed without hesitation. Dimitri flung her over Randolph's head with all of his strength, not caring particularly much where she landed as long as she was out of harm's way. 

  The once-prince then brandished his lance, grinning fiendishly at the new look of shock on Randolph's face. "I'll destroy you, dog of Edelgard!" He proclaimed. 

  Another fiery support hit the ground between them, the charred wood splintering loudly on impact. Randolph was clearly unsettled, the commander taking a single step back. "You...you're a monster! You care nothing for the people you've slaughtered!" He stammered. Dimitri hefted his lance, simply waiting for the other man to charge him.

  In a single instant, it was over. One swing of Randolph's axe, one thrust of his lance.

  Randolph collapsed, barely alive at Dimitri's feet. "Capture him." The once-prince ordered coldly after he pulled his lance free of the man's chest. Gilbert appeared out of the haze, lashing Randolph's hands together. 

  "I have family waiting for me. Please...I can't die here." Randolph begged once his axe had been torn from his grasp.

  "A beast of your depravity, prattling on about family? How amusing." Dimitri sneered, using the butt of his lance to shove Randolph onto his back.

  "As though you could understand...such a thing as love. You heartless monster! " Randolph spat defiantly up at him, struggling to right himself. 

  "You are a monster too, general. You have just yet to realize it." Dimitri leaned on his lance, studying the general with one cold blue eye. "A monster who thinks he's a man... despicable . As a general, you must have killed countless souls without a shred of mercy." The once-prince crouched, fisting a hand in Randolph's hair and making the other man look directly at him. "Do you remember the sound of them begging , just as you're begging now? Or, now that your life is at its end, will you hold to the lie that your hands are not stained red with blood?"

  "This...is war. I did what I had to for the Empire, for the people...for my family! " Randolph sounded desperate.

  Dimitri chuckled mirthlessly, releasing the hold he had on the man's hair and rising to stand once more. "So, you are piling up corpses for the people and your family . And I am doing the same for the salvation of the dead." He mused, "After all is said and done we are both murderers, both stained. Both monsters."

  "You're wrong!" Randolph cried frantically.

  "Am I?" Dimitri challenged. "I can smell the rotting flesh upon your hands even now, General ."

  "Enough! That's enough!" The Imperial screamed, shaking his head as if to dislodge Dimitri's cruel observation.

  "I won't kill you right away, my fellow monster." Dimitri continued over the general's pitiful caterwauling. The dead surged forward, gleefully demanding, bony fingers clutching at his shoulders. "Unless you object to watching your friends die. One. By. One ." Dimitri's fingers grazed the patch that covered his right eye. "If so, I will do you the service of removing your eyes first, so that-"

  He had been leaning in, so intent on the look of horrified despair on the dying man's face that he failed to notice Byleth approaching. Her sword flashed once and Randolph gurgled something, a name, " forgive me …" as he expired.

  Dimitri straightened up to his full height, glaring at his former professor. Byleth had stolen that man's fear and death from him. Even now, his grip on his lance tightened. Would he really kill her over something like this? Goddess, he might. What kind of monster was he? 

  "What is the meaning of this?" He gritted through his clenched teeth, struggling desperately to keep a handle on his temper.

  "I miss the Dimitri I once knew." Her voice was so soft, he almost missed what she said. 

  Dimitri barely managed to maintain his composure at that . If he could call shouting at someone maintaining his composure, that is. "The Dimitri you once knew is dead! " He barked. "All that remains is this repulsive, blood-stained monster you see before you. If you do not approve of what I have become, then kill me ." 

  He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were so bright, shimmering with tears, but she defiantly refused to let them fall. The sight cooled his rage, but only just. 

  "If you insist that you cannot, then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh falls from your bones ." He finished firmly, releasing her and stepping back. 

  As though you could understand...such a thing as love…

  Randolph's words rang in Dimitri's mind long after their troops had dispersed over the battlefield to gather the wounded and bury the dead. The once-prince hated those damn words. He had been a fool . Throwing himself into danger to shield Byleth, only to have her turn around and betray him by killing Randolph herself!

  Goddess, his head ached. 

  …

  Her animalistic wail of agony caught everyone off guard. Their professor, who had only just begun to smile in the presence of her students, appeared to have entirely lost her composure.

  Her father was dead. Dimitri knew the anguish that she felt all too well. He could practically see himself in her, weeping against her father's chest and pleading with Jeralt to open his eyes. 

  Dimitri had done much the same when his own father had been slain, begging and bargaining with anything that might have been listening, don't leave me all alone!

  Gently but firmly, the prince took Byleth's hand and started tugging her to her feet. She tried to refuse at first, clinging to his hand and Captain Jeralt's body with equal fervor. Dimitri managed the task all the same, hesitating for a moment before wrapping the young woman in his arms.

  She sobbed hysterically into his soaked gambeson, her hands clenching into fists in the tough fabric. It was as though something had snapped inside her; the proverbial dam had been broken and now all her sadness came pouring out in a torrent. It was a bit frightening to see her so utterly destroyed, but also understandable. Dimitri simply stayed silent and let her weep, one hand slowly stroking her back.

  "Your Highness," Sylvain said quietly after several minutes had passed. "Ashe and I are gonna' go fetch the knights. We can't leave Captain Jeralt in the rain like this." 

  "Of course. See that you remain vigilant. Monica or whoever she is might still be out there." 

  The professor's hold on Dimitri loosened at his words and she pulled back, taking a shuddering breath. The look on her face broke the prince's heart all over again. She was defeated, in pieces, and he could not think of a single comforting thing to say. He himself had grown indelibly weary of the platitudes of strangers after he had lost every ally and friend to the fires of Duscur. 

  Dimitri shook his head when she opened her mouth. "Don't, Professor. It is better if you do not speak right now." He murmured. "It is still too new and fresh, and it is far too easy to say something you will regret."

  "I'll kill her." Professor Byleth gasped. 

  "That much we can agree on." 

  She went on to sequester herself in her room for several days after the incident. Professors Manuela and Hanneman divided her workload so the students were not left wanting for education. They were , however, left to worry about their beloved professor Byleth. 

  When Dimitri happened upon the young woman in her late father's office, he could tell that she had been weeping recently. She started when he spoke to her, as though she hadn't noticed his approach. 

  "Professor! You're out and about! I was...we all were...er, you've been on our minds." Dimitri tried to keep his voice soft, explaining that Rhea had asked for Byleth's presence. "And after that, why don't you join me in the dining hall? You haven't eaten since...since it happened, have you." Her expression didn't change but Dimitri could feel the nervous energy coming off of her. He quickly backtracked, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Forgive me. I suppose it's too soon to try and coax you back into the normal swing of things."

  "Forgive my absence, please." She said softly.

  "You have nothing to apologize for, Professor." Dimitri replied, perhaps a touch too quickly. "As for what happened to Jeralt...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop it. Stay here until you've found some peace." He implored her. "I'll cover for you with Lady Rhea and everyone else."

  "Thank you." The professor sniffled and Dimitri felt his composure waver.

  "We'll be waiting for you whenever you're ready to return to us." He promised, offering her a thin smile. "I don't believe it's a sign of strength to just keep moving forward no matter what. Taking the time to grieve for those we've lost...there's strength in that too." He carefully reached out, and she put her hand into his after a moment. "That's what I think, anyway." 

  "I am so weary of crying, but it's all I seem to do these days." Byleth whispered. 

  "It's also important to remember that no matter how sad you are, eventually your tears will dry up. Eventually you will forgive yourself, as well as forgive your father for leaving you. That's when you have to figure out what it is you're living for. Then, you can cling to that with all your might, and start moving forward again."

  "What I'm living for?" She echoed his words listlessly.

  "Four years ago in Duscur, I experienced the same pain you're feeling now." Dimitri disliked speaking about Duscur. It always reminded him of what he had yet to accomplish. "My father was the strongest man I knew. Someone I loved and admired deeply. That day, he was killed before my eyes. His head severed clean off." Dimitri took a shuddering breath, the memory still difficult to recount even all these years later. "My stepmother, the kindest person I had ever known, left me behind and disappeared into the infernal flames."

  He took a moment to master himself, ashamed at how lacking his control was. His professor squeezed his hand, as though encouraging him to carry on. Even in her sorrow, she was so kind.

  "Everyone who I considered precious...my family and my closest friends. I couldn't save any of them. Not a single one." Dimitri continued quietly. "Now, the burden of the work they left behind falls on me. I must ensure they have no regrets. That's my duty, as the sole survivor of the Tragedy." He admitted, "it's a heavy burden, but accepting it gave me the strength to pick myself up off the ground and start moving again. Start living again."

  Byleth gave a little sob at that.

  Dimitri clasped her hands between his own and held them to his heart, trying to offer some sort of comfort. "Jeralt is gone. So what will you do now, Professor? What must you do? Look deep in your heart and I'm certain you'll find the answer there, indelible and inescapable." 

  She met his eyes for the first time and Dimitri was struck by how fragile she seemed, as though the slightest breeze might rend her asunder. 

  "I've probably bothered you enough for today, but I have just one more thought to leave you with." Dimitri said apologetically. "Even now, Seteth is gathering the knights to begin a full-scale search for the enemy. It may not be right away, but before long they will find their trail."

  "I will kill her." Byleth said fiercely, a touch of her old fire returning.

  The blond nodded his assent. "No matter what happens or what anyone may say, know that I plan to stand by you, Professor. Through anything. Until the bitter end." He swore fervently, his gaze unwavering. "Know that your enemies are my enemies. I will do all I can to help you find justice. There is no one else I can…" Dimitri paused, searching for the right words. "My strength is yours alone."

  "You cannot promise such things, your Highness." Byleth protested. "You must think of-"

  "I will fight as you command. I will kill anyone should you ask it of me." Dimitri insisted. "I would promise this to anyone I hold in high regard, Professor." 

  That was an absolute, bold-faced lie. He had refused to engage in the folly of swearing his time and energy to causes he may not survive to see, but this…

  The distress of his dear professor tore him apart and more than anything, Dimitri wanted to help her. He wanted to be someone that she could depend on, no matter the cost. And so, even though it was against his modus operandi, the prince charged himself with helping to secure and execute her revenge.

  ...

  The cathedral guard waved her over and Byleth approached, slightly apprehensive. "Professor, I...that creature, I saw him interacting with the monastery orphans earlier." He whispered conspiratorially once she was within earshot, doing his best to point at Dimitri without actually pointing at him. "He even pet one of them on the head! I didn't think that someone like him was capable of...I mean, he didn't smile or anything. But still, I found it strange and I thought you should know." 

  Byleth thanked the guard for his report and proceeded to mull the new information over. Many of their ragtag army thought the once-prince a monster, and all of his behavior seemed to confirm their suspicions. So what was this odd flash of humanity? She had feared after Randolph that Dimitri was beyond saving, but perhaps…

  She needed to talk to several people immediately. Starting with Mercedes. Luckily, the other woman wasn't exactly difficult to track down.

  "A choir recital to boost morale and camaraderie?" The normally calm and reserved Mercedes looked like she was about to burst with excitement when Byleth pitched the idea. "That's a wonderful idea! I thought as much myself, but I didn't want to be presumptuous. Are you certain it will be alright if we use the cathedral to rehearse, professor?"

  "Of course. I already cleared it with Seteth." Or I will, anyway . "Your group can have it in the afternoons. In the mornings, I'm hoping I can get Gilbert and Sylvain to help me with another little project. Oh, maybe Felix too…" Byleth trailed off, tapping her chin. "If I were you, I would ask Manuela for a hand."

  "You're absolutely right!" Mercedes agreed with a smile. "And I'm sure Annie will help out too! What's your project, Professor?"

  "We have a lot of children around because of the conflicts. I figure if they're going to be here, the ones who want to learn to keep themselves safe should have the opportunity."

  …

  Gilbert sat atop a large chunk of rubble from the caved-in roof, whittling away at a small piece of basswood. A cluster of younger children gathered at his feet, watching him work with rapt attention. A few of them were already playing with tiny dolls or horses. The old knight had clearly been busy.

  The older children were organized into straggling lines facing where the altar had been. Sylvain, Felix and Alois filtered through the ranks to straighten postures or adjust grips on training weapons as needed, while Professor Byleth led the simple stance drills. 

  Dimitri hovered in the main cathedral entryway, irritated and fascinated all at once. It would seem that the dreary space he had haunted was overrun with excited, chattering children. Was it brighter in the cathedral today, or was that merely his fancy talking?

  Felix was smiling . That image alone gave him a considerable amount of pause. True, it was nothing more than a slight upturn at the edge of his mouth, but that was more than he'd displayed in Dimitri's presence for over ten years.

  "Oh, your Highness! What brings you here?" Mercedes' gentle voice interrupted his troubled musings. 

  Dimitri inclined his head so she would know he had heard her, though he did not face or trouble himself to answer her. She approached on his blind side and Dimitri tensed reflexively, only letting his shoulders drop once she was fully within view.

  "Are you having fun watching, your Highness? I get like that too sometimes. It's a lot of effort to join people, and plus, what would I even say?" Mercedes laughed softly. 

  "Indeed." Dimitri replied curtly.

  "Oh, is the professor waving at you? Or me? Hello, Professor!" Mercedes waved back excitedly and Dimitri seized her distraction to lurch forward into the cathedral, heading for one of the side courtyards. His routine would not be discarded simply because of some misguided training practice, how dare -

  Mercedes words struck him anew. What would I even say? Truly, what could he say? The dead demanded Edelgard, screamed and clamored for her head. He would not let his departed family and friends languish while that witch roamed free. They must be allowed to rest easy with no regrets, regardless of what it cost him.

  Brow furrowed, he continued forward past the pile of rubble from where the roof had given way. Gilbert offered him a silent nod, which Dimitri returned on his way to the door. Once he reached it, he engaged in his pastime of studying the cracked marble beneath his boots and fervently assuring his ghostly comrades that he would be triumphant over Edelgard.

  He could not be sure how long he stood there. His nights were sleepless, melting together with his days in a haze of impatience. He was used to surviving on stolen minutes of respite, the meager times when the dead allowed him peace.

  At some point, the sword practice with children changed to choir practice with adults. A multitude of former students, knights and professors all gathered to rehearse, give well-meaning pointers and seemingly just enjoy each other's company. Though his professor ( former professor, Dimitri corrected himself furiously) had been busy all morning, she stayed for the choir practice as well. 

  Dimitri soon found himself listening instead of brooding, but he kept his gaze on the floor. Some of the songs were old hymns that he had heard in his youth, while others hailed from the Mittelfrank opera stage. A strange combination. His stepmother had loved singing, though the late king and his son shared a mutual tonedeaf gene that threatened to ruin her performances. Dimitri could only just remember the way his father would interrupt her, making her sigh with his noble, kingly attempts to carry a tune. 

  Another bittersweet memory. It felt...precious. Dimitri looked up from the floor and caught Professor Byleth watching him. She raised an eyebrow and made a subtle gesture with her hand. Join us?

  Dimitri turned on his heel and departed.

  …

  Claude turned on his heel and escorted the professor of the Blue Lions out onto the dance floor, weaving between the other dancers in a strange pattern that was absolutely contrary to the stately Faerghus waltz playing. 

  Dimitri had to laugh at the professor's deadpan expression, apologizing to his partner hastily and then moving to intervene. "Claude!" He called, chuckling when the head of Golden Deer rushed to hand Professor Byleth off to Lorenz. "Transparent as ever, my friend!" 

  "Hey, your house can't hog the new professor all the time. I'm just sharing the love." Claude reasoned, slinging an arm around Dimitri's shoulders. The leader of the Golden Deer house then easily swung the prince into a passing semblance of a waltz, the two of them having a grand time trying to dodge each other's feet. "It's nice to see her enjoying herself though." Claude mused.

  "I know what you mean." Dimitri agreed, "I wonder if the mercenary life was too lonely for her?"

  "Probably too boring!" Claude grinned. "We've kept her pretty busy with our antics."

  "That much cannot be denied." 

  Dimitri's mind wandered back to Flayn trying to teach Byleth to dance, the way the professor had smiled , her eyes fairly luminous with excitement. 

  Dimitri had been roped into the lesson as a partner for the professor, Flayn stating that he was the obvious choice due to his height and familiarity with the dances. He was hesitant at first, wary of where to put his hands. He knew , of course, but the idea of actually touching her was-

  He wasn't sure why his heart had been pounding so hard. Even now, as he watched her get passed from Golden Deer to Golden Deer during a rousing folk reel that originated in the Leicester Alliance, his heart tripped wildly in his chest. How peculiar.

  "The Fox Chase, your Kingliness!" Claude said excitedly, bowing and then catching both of Dimitri's hands. "C'mon, stop gawking and get back in here!"

  "Claude-!" Dimitri protested, his discomfort notwithstanding as Claude dragged him around. 

  Abruptly, no doubt due to more wily Golden Deer machinations, the prince and Professor Byleth were side by side. The future leader of the Alliance vanished back into the crowd, leaving Dimitri standing alone. Byleth looked up at him, her cheeks flushed with exertion and her eyes sparkling in the soft light from the chandelier. "Enjoying yourself, your Highness?" She asked, as though they weren't in the middle of a swirling maelstrom of students.

  Dimitri found himself grinning broadly back at her, accepting the hand she extended to him. "I am now, Professor."

  …

  It would seem that his once-solitary space had been permanently commandeered. Dimitri couldn't even find it in his blackened heart to complain, resorting to glowering at the ground in the courtyard doorway instead of the middle of the ruined chancel. 

  One day, a small girl hid under his cloak without him noticing. Indeed, he might have continued being oblivious, had she not giggled wildly when her friend dashed by calling her name. Dimitri grunted, startled by the closeness of laughter as well as the slight tugging on his heavy cloak. 

  He turned, fixing his lone blue eye on the offending party that was currently playing in the thick folds of his mantle. The child froze, seeming to realize she was under scrutiny, and peeked up at him. 

  Her eyes met his own. He watched as they darted to the patch that covered his right eye, yet there was no fear. Slight apprehension, perhaps, maybe she thought she would be scolded. Dimitri was confused by her lack of terror. The knights and monks said horrendous things about him, most of them true. He had become a butcher, a monster. Surely this child had been warned away from him. Surely .

  "You look lonely. Do you want to play with us?" The little girl asked, her words laden with a child's curiosity. 

  "No." Dimitri paused after her face fell, then gritted out, "You ought to stay away from me." Fool, why would you say something like that?!

  "Why? You've been so sad ever since you came back. Is it because you miss your friend?" She queried. "The Duscur man who took care of the flowers?" Dedue . Emotion forced Dimitri to clear his throat. She must be one of the original waifs from the monastery if she could recall Dedue. "You still have your other friends though! I know that the professor wishes you would come over." The child confided, standing up on her tiptoes in an attempt to whisper to him.

  "I'm certain she does. I am not deserving of such consideration." Dimitri replied brusquely. His hand rested briefly atop the little girl's head. "You should run along now." She actually grabbed his other hand and yanked , trying to get him to come with her. She might as well have tried to move a boulder. "Go on." Dimitri ordered, not unkindly. 

  "Nuh uh! Mercedes made sweets today, and you're always standing over here staring at Professor-"

  " Child ." Dimitri muttered, getting down on one knee so that he could attempt to be eye level with the girl. She looked thoroughly incensed at his firm refusal and it made him want to laugh. "Sometimes...there are people like me in this world who are not meant to be around other people." He knew his explanation was clumsy at best, but trying to simplify such a complicated thing was not easily managed.

  "Can I bring you a cake, then? If I run over and get it so you don't have to?" She was bargaining with him, of all things. 

  The once-prince sighed heavily and nodded, waiting until she had started running to Mercedes before he left. Better to disappoint her than encourage her behavior. 

  …

  "You need to be careful." Dedue chastised him, reaching over to try and salvage the mangled flower. "If you are not decisive with your action, you will destroy the plant."

  "I apologize, Dedue. I am not accustomed to such delicate work." Dimitri sighed, abandoning his efforts. 

  "It is alright. These are very small flowers, after all."

  They had been tasked with gathering the centerpieces for the dining hall and Dimitri had been determined to do an excellent job. But his hands were so indelicate that he was doing more butchering than gardening. 

  "How do you manage it?" He asked the Duscur man curiously. Dedue's hands were just as large as his own, yet he seemed to have no trouble whatsoever.

  Dedue did not answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was strangely soft. "My sister loved to coax flowers to life even in the worst terrain. This is simple, compared to that."

  Dimitri fell silent and Dedue worked on, easily separating out sprigs of foliage for them to use. "I...I am sorry, Dedue. I should not be so thoughtless." The prince felt like he ought to be whispering for some reason. Dedue did not speak often of his late family members, all slaughtered in the Tragedy of Duscur.

  "Do not apologize. You have done nothing wrong." Dedue stared down at the bundle of vibrant blooms in their basket. "Through my actions, through my words, they live on. As long as I remember them, they will rest easily."

  "You do her memory such honor, Dedue." The notion of not striking back against the people who had taken his loved ones from him, but instead attempting to spread the knowledge that they had left him with...

  "That is all I can hope for, your Highness." Dedue handed Dimitri back his shears and gestured to another flower with a tentative smile. "Here, try again."

  ...

  He told himself he wasn't avoiding the cathedral, he was simply choosing to aimlessly wander the monastery grounds. People stayed out of his way for the most part, though the children had a tendency to gather and frolic around him like he was some kind of sentient, roaming maypole. 

  Dimitri spent his nights in the cathedral, though he wasn't sure why. The dormitories had been thoroughly examined and found structurally sound. His personal quarters were not wanting, and he certainly wasn't a pious man, especially not now with his hands soaked in blood. Best that he not trouble the Goddess with his pitiful pleas for aid in revenge. She had blessed him with Byleth's return, after all, a truly fine tool for his crusade. What more could he wish for?

  Still he sat in one of the worn pews, night after night, and simply watched the coming and going of worshippers until he couldn't force himself to stay awake any longer.

  He never slept for too long. Sometimes he awoke to find that a small meal had been left on the bench adjacent to him, tied up in one of the many napkins from the dining hall. It vexed him greatly to know that someone had been able to get that close, unconscious though he might be. 

  His head ached constantly. Every day that they spent plotting and gathering their strength was a day that he didn't have Edelgard's lifeless corpse to present to his dearly departed loved ones. Their cries for revenge were maddening, all-consuming; it was no wonder he slept poorly.

  Then came the fateful evening he stumbled upon the professor sound asleep beneath the pews. Byleth was curled up against the chill in the air, and a familiar bundle of cloth on the bench above her caught Dimitri's eye. The tall man carefully untied the knot in the napkin, revealing several rations of bread, one precious sweet bun, a piece of cheese and a peach. It would appear he had found the person who could sneak up on him while he slumbered. 

  The dark circles under her eyes were far too pronounced. They nearly matched his own. She was working more than she needed to, just as she had done when he had simply been her student.

  Dimitri unclasped his heavy cloak before he realized what he was doing. When he noticed, he hesitated, fingers digging into the mane of thick fur. Wasn't this foolish of him? But then, he already knew he was a fool. If he was being honest with himself, if he still had the capacity to feel such things, he was absolutely smitten with his dear professor.

  A beast like him didn't deserve such a vibrant and joyous soul at his side. His hands were unable to be gentle, his humanity surrendered years ago to hone his ability to take life. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, fallen princeling, heir to a fractured kingdom, knew all too well that his greatest shortcoming was his greed. It came in the form of lust for victory, his desire to have his cake and glut himself on it. 

  He scoffed at his thoughts, wrapped Byleth in his cloak and then lifted her from the floor.

  Dimitri had only carried her once before.

  …

  She had been gifted the power of the Goddess herself. Her hair and eyes had shifted to a vibrant green, echoing all the imagery of Saint Seiros. It was as though the old tales had come to life before his very eyes. 

  " Professor! What's wrong?!" Dimitri was concerned when she abruptly collapsed after their battle with Solon, but his worry faded as he realized she was merely asleep. "Professor, now is not the time nor the place for such an activity!" The prince scolded her fruitlessly, unfastening his half cape. 

  It was a simple enough matter to swaddle her in the fabric, but then he paused. Propriety dictated that he should wait until another professor or one of the knights had arrived to manage the situation. However, propriety had never been one of his strong suits. 

  "Looks like you'll be riding with me, Professor. Dedue, please hand her up to me once I've mounted." The blond man vaulted back into the saddle of his destrier and settled the professor's slumbering form in front of him, then picked up the reins.

  Their return to the monastery was slow. Everyone was exhausted, to say the least. Mercedes had nearly lost consciousness due to her focus on healing, and as such was currently being assisted by the stoic Dedue. Flayn was the only one who appeared unaffected by the battle, the young woman chattering away enthusiastically even with Ashe's arm slung over her shoulder. It was heartening to see that she had not allowed the bloodshed to rattle her.

  Professor Byleth seemed so small when she was asleep. She barely weighed anything; Dimitri easily held her steady on his horse with a single arm around her waist. She ended up slumped against his chest, her head tucked underneath his chin. Dimitri forced his eyes forward, attempting to focus on the trail back to the monastery instead of on his professor's proximity.

  He heard Mercedes sleepily ask, "Do you think she'll be alright?"

  "I have no doubt. Our professor is quite strong." Dedue assured the young woman. " You , on the other hand, will need proper food and rest before you attempt such reckless behavior again."

  "Reckless? I was only doing what I was supposed to." Mercedes protested. 

  "You must be aware of your own limitations. Do not forget that I am here to assist as well." Flayn said cheerily. "I feel that we did an excellent job, considering that we were walking into an obvious trap!"

  Dimitri turned his head and very nearly asked what the hell she was talking about, but he held his tongue at the last moment. Flayn was a mysterious creature; she never seemed to have a straight answer for anything . And even when she did answer, it rarely solved the query being posed. Better that he save himself the frustration of her circular replies.

  Eyes forward once more, the prince trusted his destrier to find a path of least resistance as his mind wandered. 

  It must have been a trap, meant to goad the professor into coming alone. Her father's murderers, all in one spot? It was too convenient. The enemy didn't seem to have counted on her returning from whatever spell that had been. The Forbidden Spell …

  Dimitri had no real talent for magic. His family Crest amplifying his strength saw to that. But he knew a few things from his schooling. Such as, the more raw energy or potential put into a spell, the more powerful it was. Solon had ripped the very heart out of Kronya to fuel his dark magics. Dimitri had watched the old man crush the still-beating organ like it was nothing. The memory of the dense purple haze that had arose sent shudders down the prince's spine. There was something innately wrong about such things. Blood magic, sacrificial amplification...it all made his skin crawl.

  Dimitri found himself holding their professor a little tighter as they rode. He wasn't certain why, maybe it was simply his prior trauma talking, but he felt a strange fear about her being taken from them once more. 

  Byleth murmured something in her sleep. On her hip, the seemingly-awakened Sword of the Creator pulsed with light like it was a living thing. 

  This entire situation was so incredibly bizarre. 

  …

  "That is House Rowe's banner. They curried favor with that witch and sold out Faerghus." Dimitri had assumed his supply of disdain had run dry, yet he still felt a sneer curl his lip. "To think that they would vanguard a corpse to fend us off, as if we are nothing but a nuisance ."

  The notion that Viscount Rowe would muster troops, send that decrepit warrior into this inhospitable area to ensure Rodrigue's men would have no Kingdom Army to join...it made Dimitri want to hilt his lance in the dastard's chest. Ailell's heated environment was like Hell itself for anyone in armor, the bubbling pools of lava all around them enough to give the most seasoned of knights pause. Even though Dimitri had dismissed Gilbert's old wives' tale of the Valley's creation, it wasn't difficult to see how the legend might have been born. This cursed place did indeed seem as though it had been brought about by a Goddess' fury.

  The Gray Lion, withered and laughably past his prime, raised his lance in challenge from across the cracked obsidian landscape. 

  "Will you have us meet them in battle, or wait for Lord Rodrigue to arrive?" Gilbert asked the once-prince cautiously.

  "There is only one option." Dimitri bared his teeth in a wicked grin. "How kind of them to save us the trouble of killing them later."

  Byleth opened her mouth, no doubt about to say something foolish like weren't they your allies once or shouldn't we wait for Rodrigue .

  Dimitri headed her off, half-tempted to press a finger to her lips to hush her. "That banner belongs to the Gray Lion of House Rowe, Lord Gwendal. It's a waste of breath to exchange words with one such as him." The young man informed her curtly. 

  "His Highness is correct. He is not an opponent whom we can expect to negotiate with." Gilbert agreed. He then raised his voice to address their meager troops, "everyone! Prepare for the attack!"

  Their formations were bare bones. Dimitri did not fear for their victory though. This would be the final time Count Rowe's loyal dog Gwendal rode out to battle.

  Gouts of fire spouted from either side of the relative pathway forward, the lava agitated by the motions of the two forces preparing to collide. "So, the flames of torment burn your sins, your life, your everything." The prince mused, half to himself. "If you wish to spare yourself the Goddess' wrath, Professor, tread lightly."

  Byleth nodded and readied her sword. 

  Their soldiers fought bravely, and when Rodrigue arrived it offered Dimitri the opening he needed to get within striking distance of Gwendal.

  "The man praised as a lion is degraded to a mere traitor's underling." Dimitri sneered at the mounted knight, adjusting his grip on his lance. Horse first, then man .

  "A traitor's underling?! That's upsetting, your Highness!" Gwendal protested. "I am and always have been a knight of House Rowe!"

  "How dare you." Dimitri's voice dipped into a furious gravel. "You are nothing but a lowly beast scavenging for scraps! You have forgotten the dignity of knighthood." 

  "I may be lowly . But this beast is devoted to his master!" The elderly knight proclaimed.

  "Ha! Then I had better kill the pet and deliver its head to that master." After that grim declaration, Dimitri swung his lance with all his strength into the legs of Lord Gwendal's horse. Both man and beast crashed to the ground, and Dimitri wasted no more time with words.

  The blade of his lance pierced Gwendal's armor before sinking home and the old man wheezed, "ah, so I have found a place to die. Young ones...your Highness...I thank you…" There was the barest hint of a smile on that scarred face.

  Dimitri pulled the lance free, shuddering before he could stop himself. He loathed the eerie calm in Gwendal's voice when he had expired, as though this was all the elderly man had wanted. To be slain in battle, just another casualty of war.

  The professor came up alongside him, standing there silently until Dimitri looked up. "Lord Fraldarius is waiting for you, your Highness." She informed him. 

  Dimitri nodded, straightening his gauntlets. His hair was hopeless from the heat and grime, but it was not as if Rodrigue cared about such things. Who on earth was he preening himself for? Beside him, Byleth subtly brushed some ash off his shoulder and repositioned his heavy cape. Goddess, why had he worn the damn thing? 

  "It's been too long, your Highness. But try to temper your joy, will you? This is a war, after all." Rodrigue jibed as he bowed to the prince.

  Dimitri huffed, shaking his head. "To say such a thing at a time like this...you have not changed one bit." His respect for the man across from him took some of the venom out of his exasperated words.

  "Don't let looks deceive you. I've had a rough go of it ever since I crossed blades with those traitors in Fhirdiad." Rodrigue did seem haggard, but Dimitri had assumed that was merely the heat of their locale getting to the older man. "When I heard you'd been executed, I rushed there as fast as I could, blind with fury. Once I got there, I was fed some garbage about not being able to see your body. The next thing I knew, I was gripping my blade and-" 

  Felix interrupted his father's impassioned recounting with a loud snort, seeming to bring the older man back to himself.

  Rodrigue gestured to Gilbert, gratitude plain on his face. "Gilbert, you have done well to locate his Highness. I am truly grateful." He then turned towards Byleth with a smile. "And you! I have you to thank, as well."

  "We were all very fortunate." Byleth replied solemnly, bowing to the noble.

  "Well, we are in your debt. I will repay you for this someday, I swear it." Rodrigue promised. "And you, Felix. You have also done well to bring his Highness here."

  Felix glared at his father and said nothing. Dimitri could feel the irritation coming off the younger man in waves. He decided that they had prattled on long enough, finally asking Rodrigue for whatever information he could give them.

  Unfortunately, the older man had precious little to offer in that regard. Gilbert's own information filled in the gaps in his limited dialogue, painting a grim picture of behind the scenes machinations on behalf of Cornelia and the Empire.

  "So that's been the witch's plan from the start. I should have killed her ages ago." Dimitri growled.

  "Your Highness, Fhirdiad is in a terrible state right now. The tyranny is unbearable, and so the rebellions are endless. Refugees starve to death in the streets." Rodrigue looked pained. "If I may speak freely, your Highness...we should change course for Fhirdiad, and take down those traitors before we embark to Enbarr."

  "There's no time for that." Dimitri replied fiercely. "We must annihilate Enbarr before all else."

  "Think this through," Rodrigue implored. "I understand wanting to destroy the Empire and the Emperor. I want that so much it hurts. But which is more important," he queried, "the dead or the living?"

  For one terrifying moment, Dimitri was uncertain of whether he would kill Rodrigue in cold blood. Everything focused down to a white-hot point, the sound of the nearby troops fading to nothing. " Silence. " The once-prince finally rasped, his arms crossed over his chest.

  "No, Dimitri. You will hear me out." Rodrigue said evenly.

  Dimitri hated the older man's calm, just like he had hated Gwendal's. How could Rodrigue of all people do this to him? "Are you asking me...asking the dead ...to forgive that woman?" The blond man snarled incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger in Rodrigue's direction. 

  "No. I would not ask that of you. What I am asking is that you allow us to prioritize the Kingdom capital over the Imperial capital for now." Rodrigue put a hand over his heart. "As Lambert's close and trusted friend, I am confident that he would have advised the same."

  At the mention of his late father, Dimitri saw red. He took a step towards Rodrigue, but halted when he felt Byleth catch his arm. He didn't know why. She was not strong enough to stop him. No one was. "Do not dare to put words in the mouths of the dead." He managed to say, livid though he was. "They are your words alone, even if you borrow their lips. Until I offer up that woman's head, Father will remain a slave to his lingering regret and hatred." Dimitri's voice cracked, the young man all but shouting in Rodrigue's face, "Even now he suffers. It is ceaseless . As we waste time with idle chatter, his suffering continues!"

  Rodrigue sighed, shaking his head. Silence reigned for a moment, every soldier no doubt eagerly hanging on what the lord might have to say next. Dimitri was certain this was more excitement than the rabble had experienced in years. "You are my king." The older man murmured, bowing. "Our king. Wherever you lead, we will follow. But your Highness...there are those who take up their sword in the name of revenge, and yet along the way lose the strength and composure to follow through." Rodrigue's eyes had gone steely. Dimitri felt as though his very soul was laid bare to the older man. "You would do well to bear that in mind."

  Dimitri gritted his teeth, looking away. His eye roved the ashen landscape, illuminated only by the pitchy, writhing flows of lava. Such a tumultuous place…

  Byleth's grip on his arm loosened slightly, making the young man glance down at her. She was looking out as well, scanning the edges of the valley. Always one step ahead. 

  Rodrigue whistled to his horse, drawing Dimitri's attention. "I nearly forgot." The Lord Fraldarius began apologetically, tugging at a securely-wrapped object tied to his saddle. "Take this, your Highness. The time has come for it to be wielded by it's true master."

  The dark-haired man handed the long parcel to the prince, who carefully unwound the cloth to reveal an achingly familiar weapon. "Areadbhar...the Hero's Relic once wielded by my father." Memories of his dignified, strong father rushed to the forefront of Dimitri's mind, flooding him with a wave of heartbroken nostalgia. 

  "The very same. I managed to steal it back from one of Cornelia's underlings in Fhirdiad."

  Felix rolled his eyes. "Understated as ever, Father. It must have been a true struggle to get it back."

  Dimitri clutched the haft of the legendary lance, forcing himself not to break down and weep. Had he truly thought mere moments earlier to cut Rodrigue down without a qualm? "I...I am grateful, my friend." He breathed. 

  Rodrigue simply nodded absently and Dimitri knew it wasn't his face that the older man was seeing.

  …

  "We must save them. I beg of you, your Highness." Dedue never asked for anything . The prince often found himself scolding the other man for his selfless behavior, so his request was immensely troubling. 

  Dimitri immediately went to Seteth and did his best to secure their involvement in this particular maneuver. If he could help it, he would prevent another Tragedy from occurring. 

  Now, to ask the professor. He was certain she would not refuse this task. 

  When she had first come to the academy, Dimitri had feared her lack of emotion was a display of irritation towards his class. But as time went on, he came to realize that her emotions had simply been subdued. Whether due to her mercenary work or other circumstances, their professor appeared to keep herself on a very short leash.

  When Dimitri returned to tell Dedue the good news, Byleth was already with the other young man. Dedue had been haltingly explaining his current state to their professor, reiterating that he was from Duscur and that his sparse brothers in nationality were rebelling. "They seek to reclaim their homeland."

  "A request for aid was sent by Viscount Kleiman to the Kingdom capital and the church." Dimitri started to lay out the scenario so that Professor Byleth would have a clear picture, gesturing overmuch with his hands. "He is the one who rules over that region at present. For now, the lords surrounding the Duscur region have sent their armies to help suppress the uprising. However…" The prince trailed off, grimacing.

  "What is it? Why do you both look so fearful? Do they not have enough men?" Byleth asked worriedly. 

  Dimitri shook his head and he heard Dedue sigh unhappily. "They have sufficient troops, and strong ones at that. Our worry is that there will be more unwarranted death." Dimitri replied. "There have always been many in the Kingdom's army who believe the people of Duscur our foes, and hate them because of it."

  "Your Highness-" Dedue protested.

  "You would think they'd refrain from squashing the rebels out of political expediency, but we doubt that will be the case." Dimitri carried on over Dedue, unwilling to indulge in the other man's self-deprecation at this juncture. "If the Kingdom's army and the rebel forces of Duscur collide…"

  "You fear another massacre." Professor Byleth caught on. Dedue nodded, looking doleful. "What can I do to help?"

  "I am glad you asked, Professor. I have just now received the permission that I requested from the church." Dimitri had known that she would not refuse!

  She raised an eyebrow. "Permission for what?" 

  "I asked the church to deploy our class to help handle the situation." 

  Dedue started, his shock obvious. "So we may go?!" He asked sharply.

  Dimitri held up a hand, quelling his friend momentarily. "Not so fast. We still have a responsibility as students of the academy after all. The only one who can truly make the decision as to whether or not we go is our profess-"

  "We're going." Byleth interrupted him. "Help me gather the class. We leave as soon as possible."

  Dedue bowed deeply. "You have my most sincere gratitude." 

  "And mine as well." Dimitr assured their professor. He had heard the hitch in Dedue's voice and his heart ached. This was the most outward concern Dedue had displayed in his presence and the prince found it incredibly troubling. "Do not worry, my friend." He stated after Professor Byleth had departed. "We will make it in time."

  "I pray that you are right, your Highness." 

  ...

  "Your Highness!" A tower shield was abruptly thrust forward to protect his blind side, arrows pang ing off of the sturdy metal. "Apologies for my late arrival."

  Dedue was not dead. Dedue was not dead . Dedue, sporting new scars, green eyes even more brilliant than Dimitri remembered, alive . 

  The once-prince stared at his former vassal, the man who he was certain had perished five years ago. He wondered momentarily if his hallucinations had grown more fitful. 

  There was no time for them to really talk during the battle to control the Bridge. Of course not. But afterwards, with the sturdy man from Duscur standing before him, Dimitri found himself at a loss. 

  Dedue had never been one for words, the heavily-armored knight simply dropping to one knee in front of Dimitri. "Do not kneel! Explain what happened! I thought you--I was certain you had-" The once-prince floundered to ask his many questions and managed to ruin his sentence, grabbing Dedue's hand and hauling the other man up. " Dedue ." He finally said helplessly, grasping the back of the other man's gorget with shaking fingers. "Why-- How are you here? You died, five years ago!"

  Dedue crushed his forehead to Dimitri's, his smile small but still present. "I was saved by my brothers. Men of Duscur. The ones spared during our class' intervention of their uprising."

  "Those people you were with...they were of Duscur? And they saved you?" Dimitri repeated incredulously.

  Dedue nodded. "Your Highness, I asked that you fulfill your long-held desire, did I not?" His gaze strayed to Dimitri's eye patch. "It would seem some things have changed. Still, allow me to once again act as your shield." He placed a fist over his heart, his terminology blunt and refreshingly sincere. "Please, let me witness your triumph. I want to behold the moment your wish is finally granted."

  "Dedue…" Dimitri was at a loss for words once more, mutely clasping the Duscur man's armored forearm. 

  He had thought he would never see Dedue again in the realm of the living, but here he stood, nervously shifting his weight as if he thought Dimitri would scold him or... dismiss him even! 

  It would seem that some of their other classmates had realized just who the mysterious armored man was. Dimitri could see Ashe breaking into a sprint from across the bridge, Annette in tow.

  "Of course," the prince finally continued, aware that his time alone with Dedue was coming to a close. "And in exchange, I ask that you swear something to me, here and now." He glared ferociously at the green-eyed man, "Do not ever throw your life away again. Understood?"

  Dedue looked taken aback for a moment, and then his expression softened. "Understood, your Highness." He bowed deeply after Dimitri released his arm. 

  " Dedue! " Ashe shouted, obviously thrilled to the core. Annette had already started to cry, her arms unable to reach fully around the large man's torso when she hugged him tight.

  Dedue chuckled, patting her head and accepting Ashe's enthusiastic embrace that gripped his shoulders. "I am glad to see you all." His eyes roved to Byleth, who looked delighted to see him but was clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Thank you for taking care of his Highness in my absence, Professor."

  "It was my honor, Dedue. We are overjoyed at your return." Byleth replied graciously, bowing. 

  Dimitri moved away from the teary reunion, surveying the battlefield in silent contemplation. 

  The once-prince deigned to speak only when he noticed Byleth at his side once more. "Idiots. Embracing death for the sake of that woman ." He snarled about the Imperial soldiers, his fists clenched tight at his sides. Uncertainty took root in his chest, making his next words sound less than convincing. "Truly foolish." Were his troops any better? His allies? They all followed him like lambs to the slaughter. He had been upfront about using them, pragmatic even. But was that pragmatism something to be praised or loathed?

  "What troubles you?" Byleth asked softly.

  Dimitri took a moment to answer, trying to determine indeed, what was troubling him. "I...I don't know."

  "Do you regret killing them?"

  Dimitri bristled at the suggestion, crossing his arms over his chest as he scoffed, "they were just beasts with human faces." He turned his head to look at her, irritated that she would question his resolve. But her eyes bore no judgement, only sorrow. "I had no choice but to kill them, and so I did." Dimitri paused, his resentment fading the more he looked at those sorrowful eyes. " That ...that is all there is to it." He finished, less firmly than he would have liked.

  …

  "Were you reconciled with the reality of battle from your first foray?" Dimitri asked. He wasn't really certain why he would ask such a thing. They had just finished sparring, he had been thanking her for her assistance in teaching some of the monastery foundlings basic swordplay and then this . If anything the professor probably wished for a hot bath and a meal, not to be subject to his princely mewlings. "With...the killing part, I mean." He did not make eye contact, instead focusing on sanding down any splinters that had been forced to the surface of his practice sword. 

  "No. It's never easy." Byleth's voice was firm. 

  "I see."

  "And you?" Professor Byleth asked, sitting beside him and reaching for a fresh sheet of smoothing paper. 

  "No. I do not carry that burden well." Dimitri replied quietly. "I doubt that will change, no matter how many years come and go." He inhaled a bracing breath, squaring his shoulders. "The first time I led on the battlefield, I was sent to quell a rebellion in the west. It was not a difficult fight. The enemy was not well-trained and their morale was low."

  The grim memories called to mind the blind terror he had felt as a frontline commander. He had been fifteen, on the cusp of sixteen or thereabouts. He had no idea what he was doing, all he knew was that he didn't want to die that day. 

  And so he fought mercilessly, mindlessly, killing anything that moved. Dimitri could barely remember Felix screaming at him to stop, stop -

  "A swing of the lance, and your opponent falls. A flash of your blade, and a path opens up. That's the kind of battle it was. Easy, right?" Dimitri murmured.

  The professor's hand landed on his shoulder. "It is never easy." She reiterated. "Why were you in a commanding position to begin with? Not to throw your leadership skills into question, of course, but surely there must have been someone more senior than you."

  Dimitri shook his head. He had asked himself that same question many times. His memory was so hazy in the years following the Tragedy of Duscur that he honestly had no idea how he ended up at the head of a battalion. "I am uncertain, professor. It was at the height of the post-war period, I can recall that much. And I can recall portions of the actual campaign. But my mind...seems to shy away from important details. It is exasperating."

  "War trauma is difficult to manage, even for seasoned soldiers." 

  "I do recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair." Dimitri felt as though he was in a trance. That image was so clear compared to the piecemeal nature of the rest of the battle. "I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter…his mother, a lover? I'll never know." Dimitri put his aching head in his hands. "He was a soldier, an enemy. Someone I had cut down without hesitation. But in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us."

  "A hard truth to discover on the battlefield, but one that needed to be known all the same." Byleth said pragmatically. She squeezed his shoulder, urging him to carry on.

  "We cannot stand idly by and allow anyone to commit senseless acts of violence." Dimitri reasoned, his words muffled by his hands. "Yet, in dispensing what we call justice, we take the lives of cherished family members and beloved friends." He paused, wondering whether he should even continue and speak about what truly bothered him. Byleth's hand remained on his shoulder and the prince drew resolve from her support. "Killing is part of the job but even so, there are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions."

  Byleth was silent for a time and Dimitri kept rubbing his temples, trying with all his might to keep the headache at bay. "I have felt the same way." She finally said softly.

  Dimitri's relief threatened to overpower his sense of propriety, the prince looking back up at his dear professor. "That you feel the same way is...more comforting than you could know." He took her hand in his own, feeling the warmth of it. "Professor, may I speak freely?"

  She nodded, seeming a little confused at how serious he was.

  "When we first met, I thought of you as someone who felt no strong feelings about killing your enemies." Dimitri confessed. "I could never trust someone who kills without batting an eye. My heart won't allow it. But after speaking with you and getting to know you better, I can see you're not like that." He said fiercely, clasping her hand to his breast. "Now I know, with all my heart, that I can trust you. Thank you for that."

  Byleth nodded again and a small smile brightened her face. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat, his blood racing at her nearness, at the way she was smiling-

  He reprimanded himself sharply for his foolish, indulgent thoughts and released her hand.

  ...

  The blood raced in his veins. She was so close, so near. Within arms reach, even. Dimitri wanted to scream with laughter, finally, finally!

  They marched on over the Bridge of Myrddin once more and Dimitri could feel his strength surging. Soon he would have her head to present to his family. Soon, his stepmother, his father, Glenn, they could all rest in peace. Soon-!

  His incensed ramblings to himself grew even worse. Anyone that dared approach him would be treated to a man possessed, talking to people who had long since passed on from this world. Lack of sleep was making him hallucinate Glenn or his father alongside him, their presence disturbing and comforting in equal measure. Dimitri made promise after promise to these silent apparitions, assuring them that he would emerge victorious.

  It certainly caused a significant drop in troop morale, not that such a thing would concern Dimitri. All he cared about was tearing Edelgard's head from her shoulders and removing his oh-so-ambitious stepsister from this plane of existence. Then, he would scour Enbarr from the map, erase it as surely as she and her ilk had erased Duscur. 

  Their meeting on the battlefield would be one to remember. 

  …

  "Is this some kind of twisted joke?! " Dimitri asked incredulously, breathless from his mad laughter seconds before. Staring back at him from the bulk of the Flame Emperor's helm was Edelgard's pale face. He had feared this was the true identity of the fiend since he had found the dagger he gave her, but he had tried so hard to convince himself otherwise...

  She did not answer him and Dimitri leveled his lance, crushing the porcelain face plate beneath his boot with his first stride forward.

  Professor Byleth caught his arm as he stalked by her and he paused momentarily. "Don't be rash, please." The professor said softly. 

  "Rash? Me? I am finally about to avenge the dead and you accuse me of being rash?!" Dimitri snarled, jerking away from her and continuing forward. "I've been looking for you...I'll take your head from your shoulders and hang it from the gates of Enbarr! " He screamed.

  He charged at Edelgard and her soldiers rushed to defend her. So great was Dimitri's wrath that he found it ridiculously simple to strike down the men attacking him, skewering two in one thrust and then slinging his lance at Edelgard with all his might. 

  It buried harmlessly in the wall behind her after grazing her shoulder. Dimitri snapped his teeth in hysterical irritation, nearly frothing at the mouth. The soldiers continued their assault and so he continued his own, slamming one man's face into the stone stairs and then crushing the last soldier's armored skull with one gauntleted hand. 

  He looked up, locked eyes with Edelgard and smiled . Edelgard flinched. Dimitri advanced up the stairs until they were together on the dais, the prince shaking with fury. "Before I break your neck," He hissed at the young woman across from him, "there is one thing I must ask you."

  "Stay out of my way!" Edelgard ordered. 

  Dimitri shook his head. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak. Answer my question. That is all you have left to do." He took another step forward. "Flame Emperor...no, Edelgard . Tell me now, why did you cause such a tragedy?"

  Edelgard flinched again, lavender eyes boring into his own. 

  "You killed your own mother, and yet you haven't even had the decency to stop and consider the reasons behind your actions, have you?!" Dimitri raged, his fists clenched at his sides.

  "I already told you, I had nothing to do with that!" Edelgard protested.

  "It was foolish to think I could reason with a lowly beast ." Dimitri snapped. He heard motion to his left and abruptly two more soldiers were shielding Edelgard. The prince bared his teeth in a fierce grimace and lunged forward just as Hubert appeared in a flash of purple light, the dark-haired man quickly snatching up Edelgard. 

  The Flame Emperor and her retainer vanished.

  Archbishop Rhea's righteous tirade faded to background noise in the wake of Dimitri realizing his folly. 

  She had escaped. Edelgard had escaped . He had played right into her hands, demanded answers first instead of striking her down where she stood and thus allowed Hubert precious extra seconds to rescue her. What a fool he was! His hesitation had cost him his closure, his revenge! Dimitri wanted to scream.

  …

  But not again, never again. He would not allow her to escape so easily.

  " Kill every last one of them! " Dimitri ordered, brandishing Areadbhar and then rushing forward with his troops. Byleth stayed close enough that he was vaguely aware of her presence at all times; flashes of pale green in the corner of his eye. 

  Time and again his lance swung, time and again paths opened up. 

  The battlefield was chaos, a nightmarish cacophony of war cries and armor racket. At some point a fire was started, bringing with it echoes of screams from Duscur. Dimitri's blood pounded in his ears, his headache reaching a new level of splitting agony at the reek of ash and burning flesh. Edelgard, Edelgard…

  The tormented souls of his family clung to him, bony fingers clawing at his throat. Dimitri forced himself onward, storming across Gronder with single-minded intent. He needed her head. They demanded her head. 

  One of the great war beasts lumbered after him and cut off his possible retreat, not that Dimitri planned on turning back. It also separated him from his allies and troops, a fact that should have concerned him. If he had been in his right mind, it probably would have. As such, he barely noticed, his lone eye focused solely on the golden gleam of Edelgard's empirical headpiece. 

  She was surrounded by her own troops. It mattered not. Whether one or one hundred men, it mattered not. Dimitri rushed her guards, impaling three with one jab of his family's Relic. A brittle calm took him, the prince shucking the corpses off the blade and then widening his stance to face her head-on. She waved her guards back, looking resigned. 

  "Stab your chest, snap your neck , smash your head...I will allow you to choose your own death." Dimitri seethed, spittle flying through his clenched teeth.

  "I'm not interested in methods of dying. All that matters is when death takes place, not how." Edelgard replied pragmatically, her axe raised in a defensive position. "And I have no intention of dying today."

  "I'm sure all of the people you've slaughtered so far thought the same!" His calm shattered like glass, the blond man lunged forward. 

  Edelgard lashed out mercilessly as she was forced back, her attacks too random for him to predict. Dimitri endured them, landing thunderous blow after thunderous blow. Madman strength and the voices of the dead in his ears urged him on, their pleas for vengeance spurring him to fight without regard for his own life. 

  The step-siblings stabbed and hacked at one another, their weapons singing through the air with the aggression behind their motions. Edelgard couldn't dodge every attack and she had never been overly sturdy in close quarters sparring despite her armor; it was only a matter of time before Dimitri would kill her. 

  Nausea again, the sick sensation of kinslayer bubbling in his throat. Had he really become such a thing? But then, what did that make Edelgard? They were both monsters at this point, he reasoned, monsters destined to die at each other's hands to bring about their ideal future. 

  Dimitri roared and with one final thrust, Areadbhar pierced Edelgard's side. The Emperor gasped, pausing. Blood began to trickle down the shaft of the lance. 

  The once-prince grinned savagely. "It's over , stepsister." 

  "Just as expected," Edelgard choked, "You're not making my path an easy one." She wrapped her shaking fingers around his lance and took a step back, removing the weapon from her body with no small amount of difficulty. "I must retreat for now. But we'll meet again on the battlefield."

  Like clockwork, her advisor Hubert appeared and swept her into his arms. Dimitri's lance slashed through nothing but empty air, his motions just a fraction too slow to catch the pair before they vanished. 

  The prince whirled around and screamed his frustration to the heavens, launching Areadbhar at the nearest soldier and pinning them to the ground. " You think you can escape, Edelgard?! " He heard a rush of footsteps behind him, but he couldn't even bring himself to give a damn. 

  She got away. Again . 

  Dimitri dug his gauntlets into his hair and pulled , the once-prince so hysterical with despair that he couldn't react properly. Would he never be able to satisfy the dead? Would he never be free of this crushing responsibility, this duty that threatened to leech the life from his body? 

  " I'll kill you, Edelgard! Do you hear me, you witch?! I'll-! "

  His crazed rant was cut short by a blade sliding cleverly between the plates of his armor to bury itself in his side. The once-prince, already badly bloodied from wounds he had not felt, finally lost his balance. He dropped to one knee, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing entirely as the adrenaline that had facilitated his motion utterly deserted him. Dimitri looked up into the wild eyes of his attacker and was momentarily confused. 

  It was the foundling who had begged to join their ranks when they had taken the Bridge. To get revenge on the man who killed my brother , she had claimed. It all became hideously clear to the blond man. He had killed her brother.

  "Have I caught you off guard, your Highness?" The nameless girl jeered, "does it hurt? It's nothing compared to what my brother felt!" Tears started streaming down her face. "You will never be forgiven, you know. I will never forgive you!" She screamed. This young woman stood proudly over his crumpled form and raised her sword once again. "You filthy monster! "

  ...

  The war beasts had taken up a majority of their attention. When the last of them was finally slain, Byleth spotted Dimitri standing alone in the distance. Rodrigue laughed, seeming relieved. "Looks like he's alright. For the moment, at least." He commented, wiping his blade clean on the grass.

  Byleth nodded, her brow furrowing when she noticed a figure all in white on the edge of the field near the prince. The figure darted forward suddenly, there was a flash in their hands, a sword-

  Byleth's eyes widened in panic when Dimitri dropped and she screamed, "Manuela!" The former songstress already had the spell prepared, warping the professor precious feet closer to the woman attacking Dimitri. Rodrigue ran in the opposite direction, whistling for his horse. 

  We won't make it in time , Byleth realized. In despair she cried out wordlessly, a hand outstretched to implore the Goddess even as she urged her exhausted body forward. Spare him, spare him!

  You are so predictable. So willing to give your life for your little ones.

  At a moment's notice. He means everything to me, whole or fragmented. If we lose him...if I lose him...

  Well then. Let's hope you survive this, shall we?  

  Time slowed to a halt, if only for a few precious seconds. Enough for Byleth to get in the way of the young woman's ferocious swing. She could not even raise her own blade to deflect in time, and thus made the decision to take the full force of the blow to her shoulder. Goddess willing, she would prevail.

  The pain was horrendous. The sword was not nearly as sharp as it could have been and as such, tore messily into her shoulder before it lodged in her light armor and robes. Byleth sobbed out a breath of relief despite the agony, the Nosferatu spell crackling to life in her palm. She quickly dropped her sword and instead grabbed the other woman's hilt, preventing her from pulling away with it.

  …

  He had been ready to die, utterly demoralized by Edelgard's flight from their duel. One final stroke of the sword from this unnamed woman (practically a child), and it would be over. Her eyes burned fever-bright with the desire for revenge, just like his own. 

  Her brother must have been so dear to her.

  Dimitri bowed his head and simply waited for the killing blow. For once, the dead were silent. Soon enough, he would be with them.

  " Professor! " 

  The sound of Rodrigue's voice snapped him out of his calm acceptance, the prince flinching and opening his eye again. To his utter bewilderment, Byleth now stood in front of him. Seconds prior she had been clear across the battlefield, how on earth…? 

  She took the blow meant for him to her shoulder and Dimitri gritted his teeth to stifle a cry of dismay at how deep the blade sank. With one hand firmly grappling the crosstrees to keep the young woman from striking again, Byleth snarled, " I will not permit you to take him from me . He is my king, and I will defend him with my life. If you intend to kill him, I refuse to make it a simple task for you!"

  Her free hand slammed palm-first into the other woman's stomach, the explosion of power from the sapping spell staggering her. Rodrigue seized the opening and struck mercilessly from astride his warhorse, cutting the young would-be assassin down where she stood. 

  Dimitri couldn't seem to stir. It was as though he was frozen in one of his many nightmares, unable to react to the horrors he saw. 

  The young girl's vengeful words rang deafeningly loud in his ears, you will never be forgiven, you know. I will never forgive you!

  Byleth was somehow still standing despite the blade in her shoulder, her hands limp at her sides. "Your Highness." She swallowed hard and turned, offering him a wavering smile. It was pitiful , nothing but a shadow of her regular one. Dimitri loathed it. "I'm so glad I..."

  Her legs gave out and she fell to the ground, lifeless. 

  Dimitri found himself able to move again and he lurched forward, gathering her into his arms. His own wounds and weariness faded from his mind as he shouted for Manuela, Flayn, Mercedes, anyone please Byleth don't die! Rodrigue tried to calm his panic to no avail; Dimitri was inconsolable. "I will not lose her! Not again!" He screamed at the man who had been like a second father to him, terror making his voice ragged. "Don't die! Please don't die!" She was so limp, so incredibly pale. "I won't let you, Byleth, please …" 

  His words choked off in his throat and Dimitri pressed his forehead to her own, silently willing her to open her eyes, to say something! Even if she called him a monster, a beast, it would be better than this horrid quiet! 

  You will never be forgiven .

  You filthy monster!

  Tears rose unbidden and for the first time in five years, he let them fall. "Father, Stepmother, Glenn...they all died for me and left me behind. Are you to join the ghosts who shadow my every move?" Rodrigue placed a hand on his shoulder and Dimitri couldn't find it in himself to shrug it off. "This is my fault, Byleth. I...I'm the one who killed you, as surely as though I had wielded the blade." A sob rattled his body and Dimitri bowed his head in grief. 

  "You've got one thing wrong, your Highness." Rodrigue said quietly after a beat. " None of them died for you. Not even Glenn. Rather, they died for what they believed in." The older man gripped his shoulder a little tighter, his words cutting through the fog of Dimitri's grief to strike his very core. "Your life is your own, Dimitri. It belongs to no other, living or dead. You must live for what you believe in, my king."

  Byleth's chest expanded suddenly with a hungry gasp for air, her fingers clawing weakly at the thick mane of Dimitri's cloak. "'Mitri." She slurred out, barely conscious.

  "Be silent ." Dimitri ordered hoarsely. Goddess, ever since the events at Duscur he had not been truly sick, but now he feared he would vomit with relief. She was still alive. He hadn't killed her. She would live. 

  Live for what you believe in .

  Mercedes knelt beside them, her skirt stained with the grass and mud of the battlefield. "Save your strength, my dear professor." She soothed, deftly peeling the layers of cloth and armor away from the wound. "I'll have you fixed up in no time. Flayn, please see to his Highness."

  " Damn me! Flayn, save her !" Dimitri demanded, knocking away the well-meaning hands of the small woman. 

  "Let Flayn..." Byleth whispered.

  "I will accept nothing until I know you are safe!" 

  Lord Rodrigue grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of Dimitri's neck and yanked his head back, unceremoniously dumping the vulnerary Mercedes passed him into the young man's mouth. Dimitri coughed and sputtered, barely managing to swallow without choking on the viscous liquid. " There . That ought to keep you stable until Mercedes can work her magic on your professor." Rodrigue said, giving Dimitri a love tap on the side of his head before releasing him once more.  

  "Rodrigue, I will-" Dimitri tried to stand and failed miserably, getting a little snort of laughter out of Flayn.

  "You will do nothing but be still , your Highness." She scolded, her hands alight with healing magic.

  "I beg of you, waste no power on me until we are certain that she will be alright." Dimitri pleaded. "I... we cannot survive without her."

  Flayn huffed in annoyance and Mercedes laughed softly, though whether at the other healer's attitude with the prince or at Dimitri's own slip of the tongue was anyone's guess. "She will be fine, your Highness. Provided she gets the rest she needs." The soft-spoken young woman assured him. "She is quite weary. The sword went deep."

  "M' alright…" Byleth sounded like she was battling sleep. "Can still...can still...fight..."

  "You can rest, Professor. You can sit and rest ." Mercedes chided. "We must keep her warm during our return to the monastery. Your Highness, forgive my boldness, but-"

  "Take the damn thing." Dimitri cut her off, already fighting with the clasps on his cloak.

  "No no, you are injured as well! I just need you to stay close to her. That way, the two of you can share." Mercedes was as pragmatic as ever. "Your cape is very large, after all."

  The prince marveled that his nearly-dead body still felt the need to flush at her request. "Very well." 

  "Thank you so much!" Mercedes beamed.

  Dedue hovered by Dimitri's side while they waited for the wagon that would carry them back to the monastery. "What am I to do about this?" Dimitri asked, half to himself. 

  "Your Highness?"

  "Had that sword gone just a fraction lower, if that girl had stabbed instead of swung..." Dimitri trailed off, shaking his head. "What a damn fool you are, Professor. Not even our healers could have saved you if you bled out before they arrived."

  "Are you so certain it is the professor who is a fool?" Dedue asked, the query more pointed than it had a right to be. "Your wounds from Edelgard were quite grievous. As though you fought without thinking of defense. Or survival."

  Dimitri wanted to rage at the Duscur man for assuming such ludicrous things, honestly he did. But the words Dedue spoke were damnably accurate. "It should not matter whether I live or die." The prince muttered sullenly.

  "It matters a great deal, your Highness. If I may be so bold, it matters more than you seem to comprehend." Dedue gestured at the destroyed landscape of Gronder Field. "Soldiers and allies fought and died for your beliefs today. Your orders alone mobilize troops and rally legions. You cannot be so careless with your life."

  "I will not sit here and be chastised on mortality by the man who was so eager to throw his own life away for me!" Dimitri spat the words cruelly,  wishing in the next breath that he could take them back. His fingers twisted through his hair in a frantic, nervous gesture. 

  Dedue, to his credit, did not so much as flinch at the outburst. "I am a vassal in service to you, your Highness. One of a knight's many responsibilities is to lay down their life for their ruler. You needed to escape and live on. I am simply a tool to be utilized by your Highness."

  "Your pragmatism grieves me."

  "Your grief is acceptable. Normal, even. You have always been too kind-hearted for your own good." 

  Dimitri couldn't think of a response to that . Kind-hearted? Him? Dedue clearly had no idea of the monster he had become. He stayed silent, musing on his own thoughts. It felt almost as if he had been sleepwalking since the professor's disappearance, but seeing her take that blade for him without hesitation was…

  Dimitri put his head into his hands. " Am I a fool, Dedue?"

  "Pardon?"

  "I've lashed out at everyone trying to help me. I've danced with madness and run myself ragged pursuing Edelgard. I have killed... Goddess , how I've killed." He looked up at Dedue. "Am I a fool?"

  The other man looked uncomfortable. "I am unworthy to judge you as such, your Highness."

  "That's as good as saying yes." Dimitri groaned. 

  When the cart arrived, Dimitri, the professor, and a multitude of other wounded were crammed into it. The ride back to the monastery was subdued. For the first time, Dimitri felt as though everyone was looking at him with reproach instead of fear. And really, how could he blame them? Dedue was right. On his orders alone, soldiers went to war, fought, and died. The orders of a depraved monster had ended so many lives today, all in the name of his mad obsession to separate Edelgard's head from her body. 

  Your life is your own, Dimitri. It belongs to no other, living or dead.

  Rodrigue's words turned over and over in his mind. Dimitri certainly felt like a fool, Dedue's unwillingness to label him as one notwithstanding. 

  The professor was tucked against his side, shivering even in her sleep. Dimitri was not used to her being cold. It seemed wrong, somehow. Despite his own weariness, he struggled to gather her into his lap and then wrapped her securely in the folds of his cloak. 

  Sleep began to tug at him and Dimitri surrendered, too exhausted to put up a fight. He did not wake even when he was removed from the cart at the monastery.

  …

  Byleth kicked her legs back and forth, laughing. On her feet were a set of high-heeled sandals, much taller than the boots she normally wore. "How do you even walk in these?"

  "Years of training, my dear." Manuela tittered. The both of them hadn't seemed to notice the young prince yet. 

  The professor was laying on her back on one of the infirmary beds, her legs up in the air in a strange pose. It was surprisingly juvenile behavior for her. Her strong, shapely thighs were on full display due to the short breeches and patterned hosiery she wore; it was clear that mercenary work had been kind to her. 

  Dimitri cleared his throat, certain that his face was a damning shade of pink. "Professor?"

  Byleth glanced over at him, continuing to smile. "Your Highness! What brings you here?"

  "I, er, I had a question about this month's assignment." Dimitri stammered. "I can come back at another time, of course-"

  "No no, your Highness. Your professor was just curious about my footwear. I promise we're not busy." Manuela assured him.

  Byleth got to her feet and wobbled towards the prince, the intense concentration on her face exceedingly amusing. That is, until she tripped on the edge of the rug and nearly fell flat.

  Dimitri swooped in on instinct, seizing her hand and pulling her into his body to steady her footing. "I do not know if those shoes agree with you, Professor." The sandals gave her enough height to nearly be at eye level with him and she took full advantage of that fact. Dimitri wasn't sure whether he should feel uncomfortable, simply staring back at her. 

  Her form was pressed tight to his own, even closer than when he had been roped into showing her how to waltz. There had at least been a level of propriety during that lesson, but here…

  "I suppose not." Byleth sighed. After a moment, she bent down and started untying the sandals. "Would do me no good to break an ankle off the battlefield, after all." 

  "They're just for fun , dear Professor Byleth." Manuela insisted. "You're allowed to enjoy yourself, after all."

  Without those ridiculous shoes on, Byleth barely reached Dimitri's shoulder. She had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes as usual. The prince's heart thudding in his chest was becoming regular, normal , and he found himself smiling for no reason.

  …

  " Listen to me, your Highness. Even if you don't wish to hear me, all I ask is that you listen." Rodrigue implored. Dimitri did not turn towards the older man, but he did incline his head. "Thank you, your Highness. Now, I will speak plainly, as I always have with you. Dimitri, you were entirely too reckless at Gronder." Rodrigue scolded. "We could have lost you a multitude of times. It was only through sheer dumb luck that we didn't. With all due respect, this obsession you have with Edelgard will absolutely get you killed."

  "I cannot stop until I have her head." Dimitri said wearily. He felt as though all he had been doing since Gronder was repeat himself. "Father, Stepmother and Glenn...none of them can rest peacefully until I present them with the corpse of the one who ended their lives." 

  "I understand your desires, believe me. I miss my son with every fiber of my being. But throwing yourself into harm's way will not bring them back." Rodrigue took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself. "Killing Edelgard will not bring Glenn back, Dimitri. Nor will it bring your father or stepmother back. In the end, all you're doing is making more corpses and the fact of the matter is that...well, the dead are the dead. They don't ' languish in regret and sorrow ', or whatever pretty things we like to say to justify our own actions. They are...dead."

  Unlike at Ailell, Dimitri felt no heated desire to instantly strike Rodrigue down for his words. "The dead-"

  "You must find something to live for, Dimitri. Otherwise, this war is doomed to fail." Rodrigue pressed on, urging, "Leave the dead to their peaceful slumber, far from our troubles."

  Uncertainty wrapped its icy fingers around Dimitri's heart. "What...what could I possibly…" He stumbled over his words, thoroughly distraught. 

  Glenn's own flesh and blood father , demanding that Dimitri take into account the cost that his wild behavior would have on the army and think . It was jarring to say the least, especially considering that in his impetuous youth Rodrigue had always been the one to encourage healthily rash actions. 

  "I thought...I believed I was doing the right thing." The blond man said finally. "Ever since Duscur I have been haunted by the dead, Rodrigue." The truth must have been plain on his face, for Rodrigue looked saddened. "The screams of torment and that smell , burning flesh, I cannot shake it. I have not tasted anything I've eaten for nearly ten years. My sleep is poor and my headaches...incessant." Dimitri wavered momentarily, clenching his fists. "They demand her life, Rodrigue." 

  "The dead are dead, Dimitri. They cannot demand anything." The dark-haired man reasoned. "I understand that this crusade is what kept you alive up until this point, but you must make a choice. Either you can keep piling corpses up for corpses, or…" Rodrigue trailed off, his gaze far away. 

  …

  Byleth finally managed to hobble her way to the stables undetected. She felt thoroughly henpecked, everyone's concern heartwarming and exceedingly irritating at this point. She was only sneaking off for a little while, just to have some peace.

  The ladder to the hayloft was easily managed even with one arm still weakened, and the former professor snuggled down into the slightly-scratchy bedding with a quiet sigh of contentment. 

  Unfortunately, her relaxation was short-lived. Just as she was being lulled to sleep by the patter of rain on the roof and the soft nickering of the horses, she heard the stable door slide open stealthily. 

  Byleth was instantly alert, rolling onto her stomach and peering over the side of the loft. It was Dimitri of all people, someone who should be resting himself! It had stung her pride slightly when he hadn't visited her at all during her recovery, but she had reasoned he was probably having a difficult time recovering on his own end.

  "Here for the pleasant equine company, your Highness?" Dimitri whirled to face her, guilt plain on his features. He had been saddling his horse. Byleth's heart sank. "Ah." She said listlessly, moving to sit on the hayloft ladder. 

  "What do you want?" His voice sounded strained, as though he had been crying.

  "Where are you going?"

  "It doesn't concern you." Dimitri answered curtly.

  "It does." Byleth shot back, attempting to climb down the ladder. Dimitri caught her around the waist and set her on the ground, nothing but a slight wince betraying his wounds from the battle at Gronder. 

  He appeared confused when she slipped past him, then the confusion changed to irritation as she blocked him from cinching the flank billet on his horse's saddle.

  "Get out of my way. Now ." The young man demanded, reaching out to move her.

  "You're going to Enbarr, aren't you?" Byleth challenged. Dimitri flinched back and she knew she had hit the nail on the head. Anger flooded her. Even after everything that had happened, he was determined to throw his life away. "Do you really think that will appease the dead?" The words were sharper than she had intended and the prince bristled.

  "Silence! You have no idea what you're talking about." He said through gritted teeth. "Death is the end. No matter how much lingering regret a person has, after death, they are powerless. They cannot even wish for revenge, much less seek it out." 

  Dimitri folded his arms over his chest, as if to make a wall between the two of them. Byleth loathed when he shut himself off like this. It had felt like they were making such progress and then he had to go and do something reckless . Like try to sneak off to Enbarr. Alone .

  "Hatred, regret...those burdens fall on the shoulders of those who are left behind." His voice rose in volume, "I must continue down this path! I already told you as much! It is far too late to stop."

  "You're wrong! " Byleth yelled.

  The show of strong emotion startled the both of them into brief silence but Dimitri quickly recovered, turning to leave. "Do not waste your breath with some nonsense about how I should move on with my life for their sake!" He spat. 

  Byleth huffed, storming after him out into the rain. "Don't run away from me, Dimitri!" She said fiercely. The tall man stopped in his tracks when she used his first name and she seized her opportunity. "The living need you! Why can't you see that?" I need you, damn it .

  "Those who died with lingering regret...they will not loose their hold on me so easily." Dimitri tilted his face up towards the sky, rainfall beginning to flatten his matted, tangled hair. 

  Byleth simply stood there, waiting for him to explain himself. After a moment, she noticed his face was much wetter than even the light rain could have managed in such a short time. He was weeping . 

  Dimitri finally muttered, "But you seem to have all the answers. So tell me, professor. Please , tell me…" His voice cracked. "How do I silence their desperate pleas? How do I...how do I save them?" He begged pitifully, refusing to look at her. "Ever since that day almost a decade ago, I have lived only to avenge the fallen. Even my time at the academy under your tutelage, it was all to clear away the regret of the dead. It was the only thing that kept me alive . My only reason to keep moving forward." Dimitri confessed.

  He sounded exhausted and broken, weary beyond measure. Byleth's heart ached for him. "Dimitri...rather, your Highness." She said softly, "do you remember what you told me when my father was killed? You told me to figure out what it is that I'm living for. You said that one day my tears would dry, that I would forgive myself as well as him for leaving me. You need to forgive yourself. Take your own advice."

  Dimitri looked as though he was about to retort, but then his expression changed. He simply exhaled harshly, snapping his attention down to the mud that was pooling around his boots. Byleth took a cautious step closer, only just managing to hear his murmured inquiry of, "but then who--or what , should I live for?" 

  The former professor mulled the question over, wracking her brain for something that wouldn't sound like a useless platitude. "Live for what you believe in." She said finally.

  "Have you spoken with Rodrigue?" Dimitri asked sharply.

  "Um, not today?" Byleth was a bit thrown off by his abrupt change in tone. 

  "Never mind it then." Dimitri stared back up at the sky. "A strange coincidence, no doubt." 

  "Your Highness-"

  " Byleth ." He stressed her name when he interrupted, but he still refused to look at her. "I am a murderous monster , my hands stained red with blood. Could one such as I truly hope for such a life?" Dimitri hesitated, the strength of his voice fading again when he asked uncertainly, "as the sole survivor of that day, do I...do I have the right to live for myself?" 

  They were both soaked through from standing out in the rain for so long and Byleth was certain that they made a pitiful sight. She squared her shoulders, then took a deep breath to steel herself. She wasn't sure what else she could do if he pushed her away one more time. 

  Instead of grabbing him, holding him, shaking the life out of him for being so dense , she simply extended a hand. Dimitri stared down at it and for one gut-wrenching moment she feared he would still leave.

  But then the prince yanked clumsily at the buckles of his gauntlet, divesting himself of both armor and glove in one fell swoop before he cautiously accepted her hand. His hand was trembling, damp and freezing to the touch. She laced her fingers with his own, then brought her other hand up to cover them.

  Dimitri looked shattered, lost. "Your hands are so warm...have they always been?" He asked dazedly. 

  "I think you could use some tea and some rest. Maybe someone to talk to?" Byleth suggested quietly. 

  "I...do not wish to be alone." Dimitri admitted.

  "Would you like me to get Dedue or Rodrigue?"

  "No, I...no. Please. Let me stay with you." 

  Dimitri refused to release her hand during their entire trek back to her room. He only parted from her to allow her to begin toweling off his soaking wet hair. 

  "I feel...I feel as though I've just woken up from a deep sleep." He confided from his spot beside the tiny brazier where the water for their tea heated. Byleth did her best not to think about how close his face was to her own. "I don't know what I am to do."

  Dimitri was clearly distraught and scared, the prince wringing his hands over and over in a nervous gesture. His armor and cloak continued to drip on the threadbare rug. Byleth handed him the towel and urged him into the washroom. "Take the armor off and get dry. You'll never warm up if you don't." She instructed gently. "I'll finish making the tea."

  "Armor off?" Dimitri looked at her like she was insane, clutching the towel to his chest.

  "I'll protect you. We're safe here."

  After a few more assurances and some coaxing, the prince finally agreed to strip down to his padded undertunic. Now, his hair tied back, sitting on the edge of her bed with a steaming cup of tea held in still slightly-unsteady hands, he seemed like a different person.

  The only sound in the room for a time was the quiet hiss of water landing on the brazier, as Byleth had hung the prince's heavy cloak over the heat source in a valiant effort to dry it. She could feel his attention on her even while she settled quietly into her desk chair beside the bed. "Drink your tea, your Highness." She reminded him, raising her own cup to him in a makeshift toast.

  Dimitri twitched. "Ah! Of course, I'm sorry. My mind is...it seems to be in a thousand places." He apologized, dutifully taking a sip. That lone blue eye went wide in what Byleth could only assume was confusion. The prince stared at the cup of tea he had just sampled as though he expected it to bite him. "What...what tea is this?" He asked, his voice shaking.

  "Why, what's wrong?" She replied warily. 

  "I...nothing. Nothing is wrong at all." Dimitri took another tentative sip. "It's delightful. It's so, so good." He sounded strangely giddy. "It tastes incredible."

  "Your Highness, I think you've gone too long without sleep. It's just some run of the mill apple blend." Byleth clapped her hands together decisively. "You need rest, and you will have it."

  Once Dimitri had been safely swaddled in the multitude of blankets in her bed and convinced to rest ' just for a moment or two ', Byleth opened one of the many ledgers on her desk and returned to work. Tonight's progress boded well for the prince's recovery. She dared not hope he would fully regain control of himself so soon, but progress was progress all the same.

  …

  His dreams were still fraught with the demands of the departed. He doubted that would ever change. But every time the darkness threatened to consume him, her hand reached out and saved him. Over and over again until Dimitri ceased to dream, and simply slept.

  He awoke to find her slumped at her desk, her cheek resting on an open ledger. Dimitri carefully rose from the bed he had taken over the evening before, doing his best to be quiet. Without the usual weight of his armor, it wasn't nearly as difficult as had feared. 

  The ledger was opened to a page meticulously detailing all the movements of their troops in the past week, as well as calculations for rations. It also included notes in the margins about bowstrings that needed to be replaced, tack and bridles were wearing thin...

  Shame doused Dimitri's body in a cold rush. She had been doing all the logistical work, the work that was his responsibility, alone , and yet she still managed to keep the troops functional. How long had she shouldered his burden? Since she had returned?

  There was a sharp knock on the door, making him jump out of his skin. Byleth stirred and Dimitri lunged for the door latch, intent on shooing off whatever idiot decided to show up on her doorstep--

  Dedue of all people stood there on the stoop, looking positively fit to be tied. When he saw Dimitri, however, his stern expression relaxed slightly. "Your Highness! I-"

  Dimitri slapped a palm squarely in the middle of Dedue's chest and shoved the other man back a step, hurriedly moving outside and then closing the door behind him. "By the Goddess Dedue, have you no common sense?!" The blond man hissed.

  Dedue had the grace to appear perplexed. "I am not certain I follow, your Highness."

  "She is trying to sleep, and you could have woken her up!"

  "I have been searching for you, your Highness. You never returned to your quarters last night. I checked the cathedral and you were not there. Though your horse was still in the stables, I...I feared the worst. I apologize for assuming that you had struck out on your own." Dedue dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, your Highness. I only worried for your safety."

  Dimitri felt like the world's smallest person. Dedue had probably been frantic, and there was so much ground for him to cover when searching the monastery. "Dedue, no, I should be the one apologizing. Will you permit me to explain myself?" 

  "What could there be to explain? You are, as you have pointed out numerous times to me, a grown man. Perfectly capable of being on your own." Dedue said stiffly, "It is simply my overprotective tendencies."

  "Dedue, please . I must speak with you on this matter candidly." Dimitri seized the other man's arm and guided him to a nearby bench. "I...I feel as if I've awoken . Everything is brighter, somehow. More clear." Dimitri was frustrated by his inability to articulate, his hands clenched on his thighs while he struggled to find the right words. 

  "You have not removed your armor for anything besides brief cleaning in months. What has happened?" Dedue asked worriedly. Of course, that would be the thing he noticed.

  "Last night, I was certain I would be leaving for Enbarr." Dedue's gauntlets creaked and Dimitri held up a hand to stave him off. "I know I am a fool, I am plainly aware. Refrain from scolding me until I am finished, I beg of you." Dimitri was almost entertained by the heavy sigh Dedue heaved. "Rodrigue said many things to me. Much of which I was not prepared to hear. I departed his presence abruptly, conflicted." 

  "You truly would have gone to Enbarr alone?"

  "Had Byleth not been napping in the hayloft...yes, I believe so." Dimitri admitted. "She used my name , Dedue, and followed me out into the rain so she could knock some sense into me. These last few months I have not displayed very princely behavior to friend or foe. I have frankly been miserable to be around. But she-"

  "Your Highness, our professor only has what is best for you in mind. Whatever she said to you, I am certain it was not meant in a cruel manner." Dedue said worriedly. "Did she offend you, your Highness?"

  "No no, nothing like that." Dimitri waved off the other man's concern. "I needed what she said. Just as I needed what Rodrigue said." He muttered ruefully, "To be entirely truthful, I was probably in great need of a stern rap on the head."

  "I had considered it, but I feared your skull might damage my axe."

  Dimitri burst out laughing. He had nearly forgotten what his own laughter sounded like. Dedue smiled after a pause, the large man's relief plain on his face.

  "Enjoying yourselves?" Byleth asked from her doorway, yawning widely post-query. She stretched and Dimitri found his eye straying to the section of bare skin at her hip that the motion revealed. His laughter petered out and he abruptly felt embarrassed for some reason. Surely , he wasn't-

  "I am glad that his Highness was in your custody last night, as opposed to Imperial binds." Dedue said, standing and offering their former professor a deep bow.

  She smiled at Dedue, giving him some modest reply, Dimitri was certain. He didn't actually hear what she said, his attention wholly on that smile…

  ...

  Dimitri bolted pell-mell all the way back to Jeritza's quarters, terrified that he would not make it in time. He cursed his sense of duty furiously as he ran; damn him for not being able to delegate! 

  Professor Manuela would be alright, Hanneman had assured him of that fact. But if something had happened to the others because he hadn't been there to help, if something terrible had happened just like in Duscur-

  Seeing all of his classmates whole and hearty at the top of the stairs was nearly enough to make his knees give out. Dimitri was literally dizzy with relief, taking hold of one of the bookshelves to steady himself. 

  The professor instructed the other students to transport Flayn and the mystery girl to the infirmary, then turned to him with a worried, "What happened?"

  "Professor Hanneman says she'll be fine." Dimitri rattled off the information he had been given, "She had been wounded, but he expects that she'll make a full recovery. The monks are swarming the infirmary as we speak." He grimaced when he heard a splintering noise, relaxing his grip on the bookcase slightly. "I apologize for my posture, Professor. I was so overjoyed upon seeing you all safe and sound, I...I felt weak."

  Professor Byleth shook her head and smiled . "It's alright, your Highness. It was a difficult fight, believe me. You had every reason to be concerned. But we're all accounted for."

  He had never seen her smile before. Dimitri was flabbergasted. She had a lovely smile. "That expression is...could you make it again, Professor?" She obliged after a moment of confusion, smiling at him. The first time he had witnessed her displaying emotion, and it was beautiful . "I don't think I've ever seen your face like that."

  "What, smiling?" Professor Byleth pursed her lips, obviously thinking hard. "Hmm, I guess not. I don't know. I feel like it comes easier now for some reason? When I was a mercenary, life was hard. Not many opportunities for smiles."

  "I suppose that makes sense." Dimitri allowed. "You should do it more often, though! You have a wonderful smile."

  "Do you think so? How strange. I've never really thought about it." Byleth admitted. "Is that a thing I should concern myself with?"

  "Only if it pleases you! If not, simply forget I said anything. I would hate it if you felt forced to smile for my sake." Dimitri felt like he had committed some sort of blunder, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I am just not used to seeing you display emotion. It was a...a novel experience."

  "Oh?" Professor Byleth tapped her chin in thought and then startled the prince by sticking her tongue out at him. "Perhaps you should pay more attention, your Highness."

  "Ah, I apologize. I've forgotten myself and come dangerously close to teasing you!" The prince laughed, thoroughly embarrassed with his own actions. "Forgive my impropriety, professor. I was merely caught off guard. I've never seen you look so happy before. It's downright mesmerizing."

  "I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you. I'll try harder to smile for you. For the class." 

  "Oh! What are we doing?! We must hurry and share the good news with Seteth!" Dimitri exclaimed, flustered that he had allowed himself to get so very sidetracked. "We haven't a moment to lose, make haste!"

  …

  He threw Byleth bodily, watching in barely-concealed awe as she arced through the air to land gracefully on her feet. She rushed him and Dimitri easily knocked her blade aside with his lance. But she didn't stop like he anticipated. Instead, she let her sword go and slammed her whole body into his.

  Dimitri staggered, only to discover her boot behind his own. Byleth hooked his ankle and they both went down with a mighty crash! . Dimitri coughed, the wind knocked out of him by a combination of the impact and his armor.

  A wooden blade slid beneath his chin.

  "Do you yield?" 

  Of course. Byleth fought like a mercenary. She used every resource she had at her disposal, not just her sword. She had never managed to get the upper hand and floor him though, that was new.

  "Never." The blond man panted grimly. "You'll have to kill me." 

  She leaned in closer as she started to laugh and that was when Dimitri noticed that her breast bindings must have come undone during combat. He froze, his gauntlets digging into the sand beneath him. Her clothes were a mess from their sparring, as was her armor. He could look down the tunic beneath her mail with ease. 

  Numerous nights of his youth at the Officer's Academy had been spent engaging in hands-on musings about his dear professor's body. Back then, Dimitri had pragmatically chalked it up to a combination of his overblown strength and pubescent hysteria. 

  He currently had no such explanation for why he was so fixated on the press of his former professor's unfettered bosom against his breastplate. 

  " ...Highness? Your Highness? Are you alright?" She was speaking to him.

  She was speaking to him . Dimitri jerked his face up, certain he was bright red. Byleth's expression bordered on concerned, the training sword discarded off to the side as she hovered over him. 

  "Did you hit your head? I know all my weight landed on you." She continued worriedly.

  "Ah, yes. Just a little rattled. Apologies." Dimitri tried to play it off, mustering up a weak chuckle. She sat back on his hips, seeming satisfied with his response. Dimitri's breath hitched in his throat at the subsequent pressure on his codpiece.

  "I didn't think I'd knock you over!" Byleth cheered, raising her arms over her head in victory. 

  Dimitri closed his eye, his fingers scrabbling pitifully in the sand until they closed upon the haft of his sparring lance. He swung the lance as if he was going to break every rib she had, but at the last moment he ground to a halt. The shaft of the lance tapped her ribs and Dimitri seized a handful of her chainmail, dragging her down. "Checkmate, Professor." He breathed, flipping his lance so the padded blade was poised to punch into the base of her spine. 

  Byleth squeaked, wriggling against his body and managing free up one of her arms. "Not so fast!" She exclaimed, her eyes still alight with mirth. "I've got my magic, after all." Her open hand glowed with power directly beside his remaining eye.

  "True enough." Dimitri allowed. "You are indeed versatile, Professor." Having her this close was intolerable , yet he kept his black gauntlet tightly fisted in her loose mail shirt.

  "I celebrated my victory too early. I'll do better next time." She promised. 

  "See that you do. We cannot lose you." Dimitri replied curtly. "On my end, of course, I'll have to be more wary of mercenary footwork."

  "Yes, my fancy footwork has been the downfall of many foes!" Byleth said proudly, "You could say it... brings them to their knees ."

  Dimitri couldn't help the bark of exasperated laughter he let out, which set off her own giggles. "Goddess, that's an awful one. You need to stop spending time with Alois." 

  "What?! His puns are great, I won't hear anything else on the matter." The professor scolded, still snickering as she got to her feet and dusted off her hosiery. She extended a hand and Dimitri accepted without thought, allowing himself to be hauled upright. "Oh, I'm sorry. We got your armor all sandy."

  "It's quite alright. It was due for a cleaning anyways." Dimitri assured her, brushing some of the grime off his cuisses. "Perhaps it is concerning for me to think this way, but I no longer fear an attack from every side. Thus, I can remove and clean my armor relatively peacefully." Thanks to you . She smiled up at him and Dimitri caught himself just as he began leaning in. He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er, be certain to rest your shoulder. We may have undone some of your healing." 

  The prince left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow, somehow managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, a rarity in and of itself. Normally he couldn't so much as attempt to move from point A to point B before Gilbert or Dedue descended upon him.

  Dimitri locked his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

  He ached and it certainly wasn't from exertion. The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of their sparring, of Byleth sweaty and smiling down at him like he was the best thing she had ever seen. 

  Goddess , he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on her. All over her. Repeatedly. Unclothed .

  Dimitri bit down on his index knuckle, teeth meeting armor with a dull click . It had been over five years since he had even deigned to think of such things. He was trembling, he realized dimly. His hands were clumsy and suddenly unfamiliar with the buckles and pins on his armor, as though it was the first time he had attempted to undo them. 

  This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. Rather, it recalled to clarity memories of lying sleepless in this very room, working himself into a proverbial lather. The tension he suffered from in his younger years was unbearable at times, and he had sought any way to relieve it if his grueling training failed to exhaust him. 

  Now here he was, a fully-grown man floundering to tear himself out of his armor that he might surrender to his libidinous urges once again. Dimitri couldn't even muster up the will to feel shame at what he was about to do. All he could think about was her healing him, smiling at him, nearly dying for him , her shouting his name and pursuing him when he stormed out...

  Dimitri worked the laces on his placket loose and sloppily licked his palm. Goddess , he was a sinner and a fool.

  …

  "Wait. Do you hear that?" Byleth asked just before they reached the main hall. Her hand left his own and Dimitri mourned the loss before he could stop himself.

  He paused, his brow furrowed. "Hear what? Everyone in the hall?" 

  "No no, not that. I hear...something else." She turned and ducked into the stairwell, beckoning hurriedly for Dimitri to follow her. "Listen."

  Dimitri obliged gamely, cocking his head and straining to ignore the dull roar from the ballgoers. After a moment, he did hear something. "Is that...singing?" He whispered. Byleth nodded, already halfway to the second floor. 

  Dimitri followed behind, feeling...odd. The song was haunting in its melody, familiar and yet not. He knew that his mother had died of the plague too soon after he was born for him to have any true memory of her, but the lonely sound echoing in the stairwell made him wonder if there was something important he was forgetting. Something precious, lost to time itself. Maybe he wasn't even the one who had forgotten it, but he still longed to recall what it was. 

  When they reached the last landing before the third floor, Byleth motioned for him to stay put while she went on ahead. Dimitri watched her go, highly entertained by the way she slunk up the stairs on all fours as though she were a cat.

  She moved out of sight and the prince waited anxiously, all the while hearing that song lilt through the air. 

  When Professor Byleth returned mere moments later, she sat on the bottom step at the landing and patted it, as if encouraging Dimitri to take a seat. "I'd like to listen a little while longer. Care to join me?" 

  The prince hiked up his parade breeches and sat one step above her own, gesturing to his lengthy legs when she raised an eyebrow. "Who is singing, Professor?" He queried.

  "It's Lady Rhea." Byleth murmured. She looked strangely dreamy, shifting over to lean against his leg. "She's on the Star Terrace."

  Dimitri hummed in acknowledgment, not minding in the slightest that he was being reduced to a piece of furniture. Best that he steal every carefree moment he could.

  He could not distinguish any words in the song if they existed. Rhea's voice was exquisite; It was as if she sung to the Goddess herself. Dimitri started nodding off despite his best efforts, body and mind soothed by the gentle melody. 

  The notion struck him that this was as close to truly pious as he had ever felt in all his years. Dimitri was not a man of prayerful reflection. Despite all of Ferdinand's enthusiasm about nobility leading the masses in worship of the Goddess, she always seemed so far away when Dimitri bowed his head. 

  But here of all places, sprawled out on well-worn carpeted steps with his dear professor slouched against his shin, Rhea's song drifting ethereally through the air...Dimitri caught himself fancying that the Goddess was close enough to reach out and touch.

  Byleth finally yawned widely, rubbing her eyes. "Suddenly I am exhausted. We really must retire." She mumbled. 

  "I agree. You have had quite a night of it." Dimitri got to his feet and stretched languidly, then offered her his hand. "May I walk you to your quarters, Professor?"

  ...

  Edelgard lay crumpled before them, the purple miasma of foul magics dissipating from her form. Dimitri hesitated, Areadbhar hanging loosely from his hand. "El." He rasped, voice destroyed from their pitched battle. 

  She looked up, her eyes meeting his own. There was no fear in those eyes even as the prince slowly advanced, only calm indifference. 

  He held out his hand. "El, please . It's not too late." He implored, "I would see that strong future you wish for, joined with my own to make all of Fódlan a better place." Edelgard smiled tiredly up at him, one of her hands sliding behind her back while the other stretched to reach him.

  Dimitri was too close to avoid the dagger she threw. He could barely find the strength to lift Areadbhar as it was, gracelessly shoving the point of his lance into her gut as her dagger penetrated his chest. There was a moment where the two of them simply stared at each other.

  Then, the Emperor slumped forward. It would seem that the dagger Dimitri had gifted her so long ago had failed to cut her a path in the end. The King grunted in pain as he took hold of the hilt, jerking the blade free and letting it fall where it may.

  The knife hit the ground with a hollow clang! , the sound reverberating sharply in the stillness. Dimitri heard motion behind him and he struggled to free Areadbhar before he was attacked again. 

  A familiar head of pastel green hair was ducking beneath his arm before he could finish the motion. The young man sagged into her, releasing his family Relic. "My King." Byleth said softly, reverently, a hand pressed to his breastplate to steady him. 

  Dimitri groaned, inhaling deeply and staring upwards in a vain attempt to fend off his tears. Edelgard was dead. After years upon years of torment, after piling up corpses and falling prey to his darkest desires, he had still emerged victorious. 

  He placed a shower of kisses upon the crown of Byleth's head, half-delirious with a combination of sorrow and joy. "We've done it. Byleth, we've done it." He breathed. Tears began to dampen her hair. "By the grace of the Goddess, we have done it."

  Byleth just held him silently, letting him sob. Everyone he had lost, all the souls that haunted him; Dimitri finally released the burden of responsibility and grieved for them properly. He mourned his stepmother, Glenn, his father, every life lost in the tragedy of Duscur. Even Edelgard found her way into his sorrow. 

  He mourned them, and then he let them go. 

  Dimitri crouched stiffly beside Edelgard's body and reached out, closing her eyes. "Be at peace, El." He whispered, his face damp with tears.

  Byleth's hand rested on his shoulder. She was clearly exhausted, the normal rush of warmth from her healing barely a flicker. Still, it was sufficient to patch the wound left from Edelgard's final attack. "Would you like to pray for her?" 

  Dimitri bowed his head. "I have not prayed in many years, Professor." He rasped. "Not since before the Tragedy. I...I have always been far from the Goddess, especially for a noble of such high breeding."

  "I'll guide you." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm no old hand, but I sat through enough of Seteth's lectures to know the gist. We can do it together."

  Dimitri covered her hand on his shoulder, nodding mutely. 

  Together .

  …

  Between his official coronation, Byleth's acceptance of the archbishop position, and the preparations to begin rebuilding the new Fódlan, Dimitri went months without seeing his dear professor or classmates. Many letters were exchanged, formal and informal alike finding their way to his desk.

  Dimitri was particularly amused to find out that Seteth had proposed to Ingrid mid-battle, the wyvern knight apparently shouting a declaration of eternal love and faithfulness while lance-deep in a foe. 

  Flayn had seen the whole thing, her recounting a little more embellished than Seteth's dry report. If Dimitri was to believe her claims, lily petals had cascaded from the Goddess herself to swirl around the two lovers on the battlefield. The wild tale made him smile, even while he felt a pang of jealousy. That Seteth and Ingrid could find time for love even in the chaos of war…

  Byleth was slated to attend a planning forum held at the castle later that month. The former Alliance leaders had all agreed to meet in the Fhirdiad palace and go over the terms of the amicable Alliance annexation. Dimitri was looking forward to it, even though he loathed gatherings like this. Too much nattering on, trying to soothe ruffled feathers while outside his kingdom was barely held together with a wish and a prayer. He understood the importance , of course. His training had never been lax in any area. He knew exactly why he needed to do this. 

  If he was being honest with himself, he had called for this meeting with selfish reasons in mind. As the head of the Church of Seiros, Byleth was duty-bound be present at certain events to ensure stability and fairness. Dimitri knew that there was no other way to inconspicuously tear her from her current mountain of responsibilities as archbishop. He felt guilty, but at the same time he knew he couldn't say what he needed to say if he was confined to a letter, if only because it could be intercepted or stolen far too easily. Dimitri needed to see her. He needed to have those warm, calloused hands in his own when he finally …

  Well, he was getting ahead of things again.

  The ring sat in its tiny little box inside his boudoir for months. Dimitri had happened across it while going through all the things Cornelia had pilfered from his father's belongings. The prince-turned-king had no real eye for baubles or quality, but he felt as though he was familiar with the piece and had called upon Rodrigue to verify the legitimacy of his faded memory. Instead of being a visit solely dedicated to horseback rides, appraisal and drinking tea, Lord Fraldarius had surprised him by getting misty-eyed. 

  "I wish your father could see this. See you , Dimitri." Rodrigue had held the ring delicately between two white-gloved fingers, letting it catch the light just so. "For all the darkness of your past, your future is remarkably bright." He had smiled fondly up at Dimitri, his eyes clouded with memories. "It was your birth mother's, given to her by your father. An heirloom of the royal family. I'm certain your professor will love it."

  …

  The tables were ridiculously long when they were all lined up in a row as one massive buffet in the ballroom. Tradition dictated the placement, demanding that the king be at the high end of the table and removed from his guests. Dimitri stroked his chin, then sighed and moved one of the servants aside. "We are not doing this." He said firmly, hoisting the last table overhead and heading towards the dais.

  "Your Majesty please! " The servant floundered after him, helpless to halt the king's forward motion. 

  Dimitri moved the tables up and closer together, ending with something a bit more square versus the long rectangle they had been. "We will need different tablecloths…" he mused, staring at the polished wood. An idea struck him and he quickly turned to the servant who had been hovering nearby. "Go to the seamstress who is on the corner by the apothecary. Tell her we need-" The king paused, using his arms to measure the table length. "-three yards times...er, twelve tables." Due to his lone eye, his depth perception had taken a bit of a nosedive. Counting stationary objects was always an interesting process. "All different colors, hemmed. I have no preference for material. I understand that we are recovering. Reward her handsomely for the expediency of her work." 

  Once the servant had departed, Dimitri set to loosely arranging the chairs with the assistance of two other maids. He knew it was unbecoming for the king to be performing such mundane tasks, but he also did not care one jot about the opinions of others.

  Preparations were in full swing. Dedue was slated to arrive tomorrow with the freshly-titled Archbishop Byleth, as were the former leaders of the Alliance. Numerous of his old classmates were amongst the ranks; the new Dukes of Gloucester and Aegir in particular were bound to be wildly entertaining. Dimitri made a mental note to seat them beside each other.

  He had sent Dedue to escort Byleth for a reason. Though their primary enemy was gone, Fódlan was far from sorted. Dimitri knew that the man from Duscur would fight tooth and nail to secure their former professor's safety, should the need arise. Whether brigands, bandits or fiendish mages, he put all his faith in his loyal vassal. It was all he could do, really. It pained Dimitri immensely that he couldn't go to fetch her himself, but there was no justification for such casual endangerment of the last surviving member of House Blaiddyd. 

  He feared he might slide into depression again if he wasn't allowed to wander for much longer. Though his self-imposed isolation had been grim and agonizing to survive, he found himself longing for the freedom he had felt while he haunted the highways. Now it was always, " your Majesty we must go with you ," or " you cannot cavort about the countryside unsupervised ." A truly terrible fate. 

  Rodrigue had only been able to visit him that one time in the span since they had defeated Edelgard, but the dark-haired man had taken the new king out for a lengthy, grueling horseback ride. The Lord Fraldarius always seemed to understand Dimitri, with or without words. 

  …

  "We had to fix the sections of wall destroyed during the riots, but with the help of House Riegan's masons it was done in no time." Dedue continued pointing out the repairs that had been made, Byleth following along gleefully. It had been weeks since she was able to leave the monastery for this long. She almost felt guilty about leaving all the paperwork behind.

  Almost.

  When she had asked to enter the city on foot sans her entourage, Dedue complied without question. The two of them meandered in relative anonymity, Dedue giving her a tour of sorts as they went. 

  A manservant wearing the King's livery caught Byleth's attention and she watched curiously as he struggled to carry an armful of what appeared to be different types of cloth. "Dedue, that man…" Byleth trailed off, leaving Dedue's side and rushing forward to catch the cloth that slipped from the servant's grasp.

  "Oh! Thank you miss, I was certain I would sully them." The man said, throwing her a grateful grin over the top of the bolts still in his arms. 

  "It was no trouble, can I help carry some of these for you? I'm on my way to the palace myself as it is."

  "Ah, you must be one of the new scullery maids!" The man exclaimed, seeming relieved that she wanted to help. Byleth barely kept from laughing aloud, thanking the Goddess that her traveling attire was far less ornate than anyone would expect from an archbishop. "I know his Majesty put out a call for more positions, what with the big meet involving the Alliance folks and all." 

  "I imagine it's been quite the storm of preparations." Byleth allowed, carefully transferring half the cloth bolts to her own arms.

  "Your imagination serves you well. And his Majesty, bless him, is not a hands-off man. He's ordered for new tablecloths, the tables are to be arranged differently...it's strange, and I know people will talk, but I am glad he's taking steps to improve relations with the high and mighty." The servant lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Why, I've even heard that the new Archbishop herself will be in attendance to oversee the rulings! Can you believe it?" 

  "We live in exciting times." Byleth agreed.

  Dedue appeared out of the marketplace crowds beside her, looking a little annoyed. "Your Grace, please do not wander off." He chastised. "His Majesty would not forgive me if something were to happen to you, especially on his own doorstep."

  "I understand. I apologize, I assumed you saw me when I ran ahead."

  The servant beside her started at Dedue's voice, struggling to bow even with his arms full. "Knight-Captain Dedue! You've returned!" Dedue simply nodded as the rest of what he had said seemed to catch up with the other man. "Wait, did you just call her your Grace ? But I thought that..." He trailed off, going pale. "Oh Goddess, are you-?! "

  Byleth put a finger to her lips and gave the man a wink.

  …

  Dimitri couldn't stop pacing . Back and forth, back and forth, he worried he would wear a track in the ballroom marble. Byleth's entourage had arrived hours ago with the news that the Archbishop and Dedue had gone for a bit of a jaunt around Fhirdiad. 

  Which was entirely acceptable, of course. Absolutely. No doubt she wished to see how the people fared, how the rebuilding was coming. 

  Dimitri sighed heavily. At this rate, the servant would be back with the new tablecloths by the time she-

  The door at the opposite end of the ballroom was pushed open and Dedue strode in, moving to hold the door for the two people following him. One of them was the manservant who had been sent to get the tablecloths he had commissioned the day before, and the other…

  Dimitri realized abruptly that he was not prepared for this. 

  When folk spoke of absence making the heart grow fonder, he had thought they were simply waxing poetic. But seeing her again made him want to do something ridiculous .

  Like sprinting clear across the ballroom in a highly undignified manner ( Dedue hurried to take the bolts of cloth she was holding ), watching her face light up in excitement as he went. 

  Like picking her up and spinning her around, a deep laugh finding its way out of him at the sound of her own peals of mirth. 

  Like hugging her tightly after the fact, hearing her murmur in his ear that she had missed him. 

  Dimitri rested his forehead against hers and held her for longer than was appropriate, especially if all he was doing was greeting a dear friend. But she made no move to leave his embrace, a fact that stirred hope within him. 

  Dedue finally cleared his throat with an awkward grunt. "Your Majesty?"

  "Thank you for getting her here safely, Dedue." Dimitri said sincerely.

  "Of course, your Majesty."

  "We brought your tablecloths!" Byleth added brightly. "Where would you like them?" She was wearing the Blue Lion brooch again, the one that Dimitri and his classmates had gifted to her all those years ago. The sight filled him with a strange pride.

  "Ah! Yes, of course. We have the tables already prepared, we're making it a bit more personable this time." Dimitri explained, gladly accepting the fabric. "I'd like the blue for my own table, naturally!"

  …

  The meetings began midmorning the following day and lasted into the noon of the day after. Much was said. Grievances were aired among the lords, hatchets buried and a multitude of trade agreements mingled with fealty declarations exchanged hands and signatures. It all went relatively smoothly, thanks to Byleth's level-headed presence and Dimitri's own willingness to compromise for the sake of a better future. 

  It certainly helped that before Claude had departed on his grand quest, he had entrusted Failnaught to the church. No doubt that was why he had done it in the first place. Claude was not a man to cast resources away on a whim, and Failnaught was the sacred Hero's Relic of his house. A powerful display if nothing else, and a symbol of his faith in the new Archbishop. He must have known the other lords would fall in line, with or without him there to browbeat them.

  The Archbishop sighed heavily once the last carriage had departed down the long drive and out the gates. "I'd say job well done. My father would say that a drink is in order."

  Dimitri chuckled. "It is not even three o'clock, your Grace." 

  She waved him off, "psh, don't call me that. No one is here now."

  "But you insist on calling me Majesty, do you not?"

  "That's a little different-" Byleth began to protest, laughing when he caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I mean, you're the King!"

  "Truly? What other wonders have I missed out on?" Dimitri teased. "Next you'll say that I've solidified fractured lands and the people have dubbed me a savior king."

  "Not alone! " Byleth protested, still laughing. "I saw you almost go after Ferdinand. Let the poor boy talk about tea in peace."

  "Between he and Lorenz chattering about new leaves in their trade contracts, I was lucky to get a word in edgewise!" Dimitri groaned. "I don't understand how they keep it all straight. If I have tea that isn't that apple blend, it tastes like nothing but hot water and grass clippings. I suppose my palate isn't nearly as refined as theirs." He shrugged, his smile a little more rueful now.

  Byleth studied his features in the waning light of afternoon, concluding that his hair being pulled back from his face suited him quite well. He looked away when she complimented him, but he seemed very pleased. 

  "Do you really think so? Felix told me I either needed to take it all off, or tie it back. He feared for my ability to see. He did not say that, of course. You know Felix." Dimitri tugged at a shaggy section of blond hair that dangled over his eyepatch. "I'm afraid I am not the best barber. Sharp things close to my face alarm me more than they should." He said with an embarrassed shrug.

  Byleth nodded in understanding, taking his hand once more and twining their fingers together. Deep down, she knew this was improper behavior, but when it came to Dimitri her propriety seemed to retreat.

  Dimitri inhaled sharply, and then his other hand covered her own. "Your Grace," he began, but quickly corrected himself, "I'm sorry, Byleth . I have...there is something I...er. I would like to ask you something, if I may." He stammered. 

  "Of course, your Majesty." Byleth replied quietly. 

  "I...have you ever considered...that is to say, would you ever consider a...um, a-an alliance between the church and the Kingdom of Faerghus?" Dimitri asked all in a rush, his hands trembling around her own.

  Byleth's brow furrowed, the young woman puzzled by his strange behavior. "You already know that you have the full backing of the Church of Seiros, Dimitri."

  Dimitri looked positively frazzled when she used his name instead of his honorifics. "No, not...like that." He muttered awkwardly. "I-I meant...well, I meant…" The blond closed his eye, swearing under his breath as he released Byleth's hand and started groping in the side pocket of his mantle. "I had everything planned, but isn't that how it always is. Blast, where did I put the damn thing?!" He shook his cape aggressively and a small, unassuming box bounced off his sabaton, hitting the floor with a quiet thunk . 

  The king hastily scooped up the box, brushed it off, and then took her hand once more. Byleth's heart leaped into her throat. 

  "I would love to claim that I am doing this for Faerghus or Fódlan and not myself. I would love to be able to say that I only think of my country and what could better it, but that is not the case." Dimitri's tone was incredibly serious. "I am a wretched man, selfish and stubborn and so, so very greedy. And yet to me, you have always been the one who guided me so kindly. My ally through all. My beloved…" he paused thoughtfully, a wistful smile making its way to his face. "Yes. My beloved."

  Having settled on a term, Dimitri pressed the box into her hands. Byleth fumbled with the lid for several tense seconds as he stood there silently. When she finally managed to get it open, Byleth's eyes widened. Nestled in blue velvet that was faded with age, shining in the light of the afternoon sun, was an absolutely stunning ring. 

  She was rendered speechless, just staring down at the open box.

  "Please, I beg of you, say something." Dimitri implored hoarsely. "If you do not wish to accept it, please just tell me. If so, I will face the truth and walk away." He sounded defeated even as he said it, like he assumed she was about to turn him down.

  "No no! That's not it at all, I swear!" Byleth exclaimed frantically, her fingers burrowing into her waistcoat pocket. She pulled out the ring that her father had given her mother and motioned for Dimitri's hand, carefully placing the far less opulent item in his gloved palm. 

  Dimitri went stock-still. Byleth could feel her cheeks flushing even as she smiled at him.

  ...

  "What is this?"

  He felt like a fool even as he asked, of course he knew what it was. It was a well-worn, delicate band of silver. A ring. She was giving him a ring.

  She was giving him a ring .

  His eye flew up to meet her own, and he saw how brightly she was smiling at him. "I love you, Dimitri. Will you marry me?" She asked softly. "And I'm not asking simply to display a unified front from the church and the kingdom, I promise. I am asking because you are the person that I love."

  "I am the...you love me?" Dimitri did not mean to sound quite so incredulous. He was having a difficult time mastering himself; all he wanted to do was shout his joy from the palace rooftops! She loved him. She loved him . She asked him to marry her! "I...yes, yes of course! I accept! Gladly!" He continued, certain he was grinning like a fool. "Let us exchange them, shall we?" 

  "Absolutely! Here, give me mine back for a moment, and then you take yours out of the box-"

  After several seconds of laughter and floundering, the Archbishop and the King managed to properly wear each other's rings. Byleth's ring looked almost ridiculously fragile on Dimitri's hand, the small flower set with pink and purple gems appearing as though it was made of gossamer. 

  Dimitri cared not, holding her hands once again. They were warm, calloused, just as he remembered them from the very first time she had offered him her hand all those years ago. "These strong hands that have saved me countless times…" Dimitri mused, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "Thank you, my beloved. For rescuing me, pulling me back from the brink with your kind, warm hands. May they cling to my own forevermore." He said fervently.

  Her blush went to the roots of her hair. It was immensely becoming on her. "Always." She promised. Her face fell suddenly. "Oh."

  "What is it, my love?" Dimitri asked worriedly.

  "I...Dimitri, I must return to Garreg Mach tomorrow ." She answered, sounding entirely despondent. Dimitri himself felt a rush of sorrow at her words, knowing them to be true and loathing that they were.

  "I know that I cannot keep you from your duties any longer, but…" he trailed off, raking a hand through his hair. "My heart aches at the thought of being apart from you for even a moment, Byleth."

  "As does mine." She replied sadly. An odd look crossed her face and she sucked in a quick breath. "Dimitri, would you want to...erm, spend the night together?"

  The King's mouth went dry. 

  "I-I mean, I understand that you're the ruler of Fódlan and I'm the Archbishop and nothing about our situation is very... normal . But many a couple, er, anticipates their wedding night." Byleth rushed to add. Dimitri noted absently that her neck was as red as her face. "I would know you intimately, if I may be so bold."

  "I do not wish to tarnish you." Dimitri admitted softly. And there it was, laid bare. His largest fear that their engagement might throw her own virtue or morals into question, due to his previous, utterly reprehensible conduct. "If we do something like that before we are publicly wed…"

  "We will have to at some point and people will create rumors regardless of what we do." Byleth pointed out practically. "I am not some clean linen for you to ruin, Dimitri. I am just as battle-worn as yourself."

  "True. In many ways, you are much more of a warrior than I ever could be." Dimitri hesitated, then bowed and murmured, "Will you join me in my chambers this evening, your Grace?"

  …

  He needed to speak with Sylvain. Immediately . 

  Dimitri found his old classmate in the barracks, the redhead enthusiastically trading bawdy stories with his troops as usual. 

  "Captain Gautier! A moment?" Dimitri called, waving off the hasty bows of the men that saw him. 

  "Your Majesty! Just in time, I was about to-"

  Dimitri grabbed Sylvain's arm and started hauling him out of the room. " Now , Sylvain." 

  "Alright, alright! You'll dent my armor if you keep that up!" Sylvain teased as he staggered along. "So aggressive . What's this all about, your Kingliness?"

  Dimitri wordlessly held up his free hand as he ushered Sylvain down the hall. 

  The moment it dawned on Sylvain was obvious. He yanked Dimitri's hand closer, examining the ring the king wore. "I knew it . Ha! Felix, prepare to pay up!" The redhead announced gleefully. 

  "What?! You two knew about this? Who else knows?" Dimitri demanded, thoroughly embarrassed.

  Sylvain waved him off airily. "No one knew , Dimitri. We all just kinda' assumed. I bet that the pro...er, Archbishop would ask first."

  "I hate to be the bearer of bad news-"

  "Whatever, it doesn't matter, congratulations are in order!" Sylvain interrupted, enthusiastically shaking Dimitri's hand. "You're a wanted man now, your Majesty!"

  "Hey wait, who bet on me then?!"

  "Uh, I think just Felix, honestly." Sylvain admitted. "Something about you being 'absolutely pitiful'?"

  "How comforting ." Dimitri growled. "Listen Sylvain, I don't have a lot of time. Evening is drawing near." He clenched his fist over his heart in a rigid salute. "Please teach me everything you know about pleasing a woman."

  "I...oh Goddess, okay. I was not expecting that. I uh. I need a second." Sylvain squeaked, "You want me to do what? "

  "I need you to-"

  "Wait, no, nevermind. I did hear you right. You... really? Already? Oh , she's leaving tomorrow. Yeah no, I get it now." Sylvain cracked his knuckles methodically, his handsome grin bordering on evil. "We are going to go raid the kitchen for some nice, juicy peaches to consume and then I am going to tutor you in the time-honored tradition of eating someone out."

  "What in blazes does eating a peach have to do with...with what I need to know by this evening?" Dimitri questioned the other man, concerned now.

  "Oh don't worry. You'll find out. All I ask in return is that you tell Mercedes something nice about me. And maybe name one of your royal brats after me. After all, I'm instrumental in their creation-!"

  Sylvain barely dodged Dimitri's gauntlet in time.

  …

  "I don't know what I'm doing." Byleth whispered.

  "That, makes two of us." Dimitri pressed their foreheads together, his attention wholly focused on her lips and the way she was biting them. "May I?"

  "May you…?" 

  "May I kiss you?" Dimitri wasn't sure why he was whispering as well. It wasn't as if they had an audience. "I know that is how one normally starts such endeavors, if Sylvain is to be believed."

  Byleth looked shy of all things, nodding jerkily and then closing her eyes. Dimitri exhaled, feeling a bit lightheaded.

  His mouth met hers for the first time and the King found his hands fumbling to grip her shoulders. Her own hands sought purchase on his armored torso and came back wanting, settling for fisting in the luxurious fur ruff of his mantle. They clung to each other almost frantically, Byleth returning his kiss with more and more excitement. Her mouth was hot on his own, their inexperience doing nothing to dampen the intensity of the moment. 

  "I need to get this damn plate off. Help me?" Dimitri muttered against her lips, chuckling when she rapidly started to fidget with the pins at his sides. "So eager!"

  "I want to see you." Byleth replied bluntly, making Dimitri's face flush. "Get it over with. If we're both naked, what else could we be nervous about?" She reasoned.

  Dimitri felt like all the air left his chest at the idea of seeing her wholly naked. "An excellent point." He managed to say, undoing his mantle and draping it over one of the less than comfortable armchairs. Gloves came next, then the process of trying to maneuver his pauldrons accordingly. 

  Byleth, it seemed, had no patience for proper armor removal. She slid the pins in his sides and nearly took Dimitri's nose off before remembering that the gorget needed to be undone prior to the breastplate's own bonds. Dimitri couldn't help his laughter, cupping her face with his newly-bared hands and kissing her once more. "Be still, my beloved. I am not going anywhere."

  They managed to remove the rest of his armor down to his cuisses without incident, and Dimitri settled onto the edge of his bed to wriggle out of his greaves and sabatons. 

  " Blast this armor." He growled to himself as a particularly stubborn latch refused to budge. 

  Byleth's hand landed in the middle of his chest and she gave him a push, leaving the King on his back. Dimitri blinked up at the ceiling, stunned when she climbed on top of him and pinned his wrists to the bed.

  "Your Majesty." Oh, he liked the sound of that. "May I?"

  "May you what?"

  "May I kiss you?"

  " Goddess , you need never ask again." 

  Dimitri could have easily dominated the situation, inexperienced though he was. But he found himself staying there, his wrists flexing in her grip. She wasn't going to hurt him. This was no Fhirdiad jail cell, no sharp shackles and miles upon miles of chain to try and manage his rages. 

  His arms began to tremble from how tightly he was reining himself in. "Byleth," he murmured between their kisses. "Please-"

  "Please?" 

  "Beloved, please ." Dimitri sat up, shifting her into his lap. He buried his face in her neck, pressing kisses to the skin he found as his fingers fought with the buttons of her waistcoat. "Please." 

  She responded by starting to undo the tiny fasteners that ran the length of his padded undertunic. Dimitri had to take his hands off of her to shuck the offending garment, pausing when Byleth slid her index over the scar from Edelgard's dagger. "Does it pain you?" She asked, her eyes betraying her concern.

  "No. All that is left is some numbness in my hand." Dimitri assured her. "I was very fortunate that her aim was off. Had she hit my heart, I doubt I would be enjoying this time with you." Byleth touched her lips to the scar and Dimitri couldn't help his shiver. 

  The rest of their armor and clothing was slowly peeled away, revealing the two to each other in their full glory. Dimitri cursed his pale complexion, the King unable to hide how flustered he was simply due to the flush on his face and chest. 

  Byleth had never looked more like a divine being than in that moment, Dimitri decided. "You are perfect." The blond man sighed, "I almost fear to touch you. If this is nothing but a dream…"

  Byleth's hand rested on his stomach. "Do you not wish to touch me?"

  " Goddess , I have longed to touch you like this for so long." Dimitri said sheepishly. "Longer than I should admit." His hand laced with her own, brushing their joined thumbs over one of her breasts. "As you can see, I've done quite a bit of thinking on the subject." He breathed.

  Her fingers traipsed experimentally over the head of his cock and Dimitri exhaled sharply. "What does it feel like?" She asked curiously. 

  "It's...I am not certain on how to describe it." Dimitri wasn't expecting to be the teacher this evening. "A strange, primal heat. It tingles and aches." 

  She straddled his hips, her entire focus on his engorged arousal. Dimitri had never been the subject of such study and he found it incredibly difficult to hold still while she ran her fingers over his body. "This is supposed to fit inside me?" 

  Dimitri couldn't hold back his groan. " Yes . Eventually. Hopefully."

  Byleth raised herself up on her knees, a hand questing between her legs. Dimitri wanted to scream, settling for shakily following her fingers. She was hot , the slick he had heard of from Sylvain's lascivious recountings coating her most delicate area. She undulated over him, whimpering when Dimitri stroked her gently. 

  "Those sounds, never stop making them." He demanded, falling in love all over again at the blissful expression on her face. "Sylvain taught me a few things today. I believe I will not disappoint."

  She giggled, "I don't know whether to be concerned or-" 

  Dimitri didn't give her the time to finish voicing her misgivings, the King rolling them over and pressing her back to the mattress. "It is wonderful to have you beneath me without a battle raging around us." He murmured, his mouth making a path down her stomach and hips. His fingers trailed across her collarbone, then stopped at the rough patch of scar tissue on her shoulder. "This wound…" He paused, raising his head. 

  She put her hand over his own, the pressure light but steady. "I would do it again in a heartbeat." Byleth assured him.

  " Please , do not." Dimitri implored desperately. "I cannot lose you again." Her knees framed his head as he sank lower still, "I will not lose you, my beloved." Her body quivered. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." He soothed, vaguely uncertain of whether he could actually promise such a thing. Byleth was as untried as he was, and he was so damnably strong... "If I cause you discomfort, tell me."

  With that, Dimitri's shaking hands urged her legs even further apart. Sylvain had mentioned that he might feel odd upon seeing a woman for the first time, really seeing a woman. But all Dimitri felt was a hunger that tormented his body. He longed to sweep her off the bed and devour her, settling for tender, nibbling kisses instead.

  She whimpered and her hands were suddenly in his hair, caressing the back of his head fitfully. "Oh, please- " 

  Her taste flooded his tongue in a heady rush, spurring him on to messily conquer her with his mouth. Dimitri knew he had no real technique , a single afternoon of licking and slurping produce with Sylvain would not be enough to grant him mastery. But Byleth did not appear to be overly troubled by his lack of experience, her fingers knitting against his scalp helplessly. 

  She was so wet he could feel it dripping down his chin, the knowledge that he did that making him ache anew. If he could arouse her so dramatically, perhaps he could satisfy her. Her hips pitched abruptly and Dimitri hungrily pressed his face to her, giving in to his desire to devour her entirely. She was delicious . After years of not being able to taste anything, her arousal was like a healing downpour on the wasteland of his senses.

  Byleth cried out his name and Dimitri flinched, startled. Her legs were shaking, her nails digging into the back of his neck hard enough to break the skin. "Alright?" He managed to ask, actually feeling her pulse underneath his tongue when he lapped slowly at her sensitive skin.

  "Oh Goddess , Dimitri…" Byleth gasped, her eyes wide. 

  "Didn't hurt you, right?"

  "No, no." She waved off his concern, her breaths ragged. 

  Dimitri rested his cheek on her stomach, still worried that he had caused some harm. "Are you certain?"

  " Dimitri ." Byleth huffed, cupping his face. "It did not hurt. I am not in pain. I have never experienced...not with another person, that is."

  "Ah, so you…" Dimitri trailed off, feeling unnecessarily smug. "You honor me, Byleth."

  She groaned, obviously exasperated with his teasing. "I have done my own research, you know." She informed him, rolling her hips up to press against his cock. Dimitri choked, looking down to watch her move.

  "That is...you are very talented." He remarked faintly. "Incredible." 

  "May we attempt?" Byleth's shy request rang in his ears and Dimitri hid his face in her neck, his hips rocking down into the cradle of her thighs. 

  "As much as you can endure, my beloved." He had never thought that he would experience this with someone, much less with the woman that he loved. Dimitri was overwhelmed with emotion, his self-control fraying. "I would prefer that you are on top of me if we are to...attempt."

  "On top? Is that not a bit strange?"

  "If I have you beneath me, I am unsure that I will be able to refrain from bruising you. And if I am too much for you, I would rather that you were able to easily withdraw." Dimitri explained delicately. "I will do my best, of course, but I am unsure of how well I will... manage myself once we are...erm, intertwined." 

  Byleth muffled her laughter with her arm. "You just had your mouth in a place that no one else has ever seen on me, how can you still be so bashful?"

  "I am not -" Dimitri began to sputter, finding himself licking his lips absently to catch her taste again. "I am just...I am simply warning you!"

  "I'm not afraid of you, Dimitri."

  Dimitri shook his head. "I know. I just don't want your bravery to be the reason I damage you. You know how accursedly strong I am."

  "We are simply coupling with each other, not clashing on the battlefield. You will not hurt me. You cannot damage me." Byleth assured him, her eyes beautiful in the dim glow of the candlelight. "You would never do anything to cause me unwarranted harm."

  " Goddess ." Dimitri rasped, the word half-prayer, half-curse. "Permit me, then."

  "You are permitted." 

  "Tell me if I hurt you."

  In reply, Byleth reached down between their bodies and gently wrapped her fingers around his manhood. "I love you." This was a claim, as sure as the sunrise. Dimitri's shoulders snapped taut, his whole form yearning for their joining. 

  "My beloved," he gasped, feeling her graze the head of his cock over her slit. " Please , Byleth." Her fingers guided him safely in and Dimitri finally breached her with a moan. He could not stop the savage snarl that built in his chest upon feeling her wet heat close around his shaft, and he fought to hold himself still. "Are you alright?" He asked raggedly, stroking her cheek.

  Byleth nodded, her expression dazed. 

  "My beloved, are you certain?" Dimitri was unsure what to make of her face, even as his instincts screamed for him to plunge himself deeper, deeper- -His fingers gripped the luxurious sheets beneath them. "Byleth?"

  She crooned to him, closing her eyes and arching her back. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat when she moved, her body accepting more and more of what he had to offer her. 

  "Goddess," The King growled, " yes ." He could do this, he realized suddenly. He could make love to the woman who had his heart and not hurt her. She could enjoy him fearlessly. He shifted his weight over her and cupped her cheek, a tender caress. "Would you like more, my dear professor?" He asked her softly. 

  Byleth's hand covered his own on her cheek, as it had when she had returned to him in the cathedral. 

  "Teach me, my love."

  …

  She woke just as the sun was beginning to pink the horizon. Byleth's body ached sweetly from the night's exertion, making her moan as she stretched.

  Dimitri's heavy arm was slung over her hip, the King still deep in slumber. His fingers twitched fitfully. Byleth carefully rolled over so she could see him and was utterly mesmerized. When he slept, the raw edge of him seemed to smooth ever so slightly. Here, lit only by the soft hue of reluctant dawn, his blond hair fanned out on the pillow, he looked like a sleeping prince from a fairytale. 

  Aside from the numerous love bites that littered his neck and chest, of course. Those gave him a bit of a different look, somewhat less chaste and sterile. Byleth flushed as she realized her own breasts were peppered with similar marks. Neither of them had been particularly subtle in their affections, she supposed, still a little giddy about everything that had transpired.

  Dimitri groaned in his sleep, muttering something and then wrapping her in his arms once more. Her head slotted beneath his chin like it was made to be there and she smiled, closing her eyes. "I love you, Dimitri." She whispered, kissing the underside of his jaw.

  His mouth turned up at the edges and he snuggled her tighter, mumbling more nonsense words in her ear. The sunrise slowly illuminated the room, bathing the two drowsing lovers in a rosy glow. Soon enough, their work would intrude. But for just a moment longer, they ignored responsibilities and titles in favor of basking in the contentment of each other's embrace. 

  The Savior King and the Guardian Of Order .

[valeriethepussycats]

I’m Only Human

Chapter 6

Pairing- Loki x Reader, Thor x Reader( Best friends)

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts in italics.

texts messages are in bold.

 Heimdall stands at his post, watching the scene. He lowers his head.

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Jane stands with Selvig and Darcy in the empty lab. Darcy picks up the book Selvig checked out of the library, looks through it.

“I can't just leave him and Y/n there.”  Jane scolded herself.

“Why not? Y/n can take care of herself.” Erik told Jane.

“You didn't see what happened.” Jane murmured.

Darcy points at an illustration of Thor's hattmmer in the book. “Hey! Myeu-muh!”

Jane looks at the illustration in the book, turns to Erik knowingly.

“Where did you find this?” Jane Asked.

About the illustration Darcy was talking about Erik grabs the book from them, quickly closes it.

“In the children's section. I wanted to show you how ridiculous his story was.” Erik replied.

Jane is unconvinced by this. She knows he wants to believe.

“Aren't you the one who's always told me to chase down all leads, all possibilities?” Jane commented.

“I was talking about science, not magic!” Erik voiced.

“Magic's just science we don't understand yet. Arthur C. Clarke.” Jane informed.

“Who wrote science fiction.” Erik told Jane.

“The precursor of science fact.” Jane Corrected.

“In some cases.” Erik agreed somewhat.

“If that's really an Einstein-Rosen Bridge out there, then there's something on the other side. Advanced beings could have come through it before.” Jane pointed out.

“Jane...” Erik trailed off.

“A primitive culture like the Vikings might have worshipped them as deities.” Darcy Chimed in.

They give her a look, surprised by her unexpectedly insightful input. Darcy shrugs. Jane points at her, grateful for the support.

“Yes! Exactly! Thank you!” Jane cheered.

Darcy beams.

“Jane, if you do this, you'll find yourself in a situation that I won't be able to get you out of this time.” Erik remarked.

“I'll help you.” Darcy declared.

Jane looks grateful. Selvig looks at her, sees there's no stopping her. He sighs.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n checks her phone and see there’s a texts message from Erik

Shield came and took everything do you think you can do something?

Y/n text Erik back

Thor got Capture and I’m gonna need you to make him profile I’ll come up with the rest. And I’ll see what I can do about getting everything back.

Y/n heads to  The entrance to the base

“I’m Agent Munroe here to see Phil Coulson.” Y/n told the guards at the entrance of the base.

“We will need to check.” Said one of the guards.

“Sure. That’s fine I can wait.”  Y/n said calmly.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Thor sits in a chair, staring forward blankly, hands cuffed behind him. Coulson stands across from him.

“It's not easy to do what you did. You made us all look like a bunch of mall cops. That's hurtful.” Coulson started. “The men you so easily subdued are highly-trained professionals, and in my experience, it takes someone who's received similar training to do what you did to them. Would you like to tell me where you received your training?”

Thor sits silently.

“Pakistan? Chechnya? Afghanistan? Then again, you strike me more as the soldier of fortune type. What was it, South Africa?” Still no answer. Coulson leans in close to him. “Certain groups pay well for a good mercenary. Especially HYDRA.” Coulson remarked. Coulson waits for a response, but gets none.

“Who are you?” Coulson questioned

“Just a man.” Thor answered.

“One way or another, we find out what we want to know. We're good at that.” Coulson noted before walking out the room.

An agent walks up to Coulson and notifies him that Agent Munroe is here. Coulson walks over to where Y/n is waiting.

“Agent Munroe?” Coulson questioned. “What are you doing here your tracker has your location in New York at your apartment.”

Angrily gets up from her sit. “Trac- tracker there’s a tracker on me. What the hell Phil.” Y/n swore.

“Agent Coulson.” Phil corrected Y/n.

“Ok We’re being formal what the hell Agent Coulson.” Y/n replied.

“All agents have a trackers Directed Fury makes it an requirement.” Coulson answered.

“Oh really so show me yours.” Y/n insisted.

“That’s classified.”  Coulson replied.

“Oh that’s Rich he has a tracking device on me is he worried November 18th is gonna happen again?” Y/n Asked.

“We don’t speak of November 18th you know that.” Coulson told Y/n. “What are you doing here.”

“Where is Donald Blake.” Y/n Asked.

“Who?” Coulson asked.

“Oh you know built real nice, pretty eyes, blonde hair, beard.” Y/n replied.

“He’s in shield custody he broke into our facility and beat up most of our man.” Coulson informed.

“I could’ve took him down easy but you want to watch the show.” Clint Chimed in.

“Clint you’re here?” Y/n said “shock” walking over and hugging her longtime friend.

“Director Fury assigned me along with Coulson to this assignment it’s kind a like sword in the stone.” Clint answered. “I told you that she was near by. Was that your doing with the rain.

“Sadly no that wasn’t my doing. I just got here when I found out my base was rated by Shield.” Y/n lied.

“So your here with Erik Selvig?” Coulson questioned.

“Yes.” Y/n answered. “And so is Donald Blake. I just want my friend back ok if you would so kindly release him in my custody we will be on our way.” Y/n claimed.

“How does he know how to fight like that?” Coulson questioned.

“I’ve been teaching him and he had some lessons when he was a kid and he’s my friend.” Y/n told a half lie half truth.

Well Thor was taught how fight to fight when he was younger so am I really lying.

“All right fine you want him to be released he would be released to you and your custody.” Coulson announced.

“Thank you Agent Coulson.” Y/n said with a Controlled smile.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Thor hangs his head low.

“I thought he'd never leave.” Loki said appearing before Thor. Thor looks up, shocked to find Loki standing there, dressed in 21st century attire.

“Loki? What are you doing here?” Thor Asked.

“I had to see you.” Loki replied.

“What's happened? Tell me! Is it Jotunheim? Let me explain to father.” Thor urged.

“Father is dead.” Loki lied.

Thor stares at him, stunned. “What?”

“Your banishment, the threat of a new war, it was too much for him to bear.” Loki started.The implications of Loki's words dawn on Thor -- he's responsible for his father's fate. Loki draws close to him, looks in his eyes, consolingly. “You mustn't blame yourself. I know that you loved him. I tried to tell him so, but he wouldn't listen.”

“It was cruel to put the hammer within your reach, knowing you could never lift it. Thor stares ahead, falling deeper into the abyss. “The burden of the throne has fallen to me now.” Loki finished.

“Can I come home?” Thor wandered.

“The truce with Jotunheim is conditional upon your exile.” Loki explained.

“But couldn't we find a way to--“

“Mother has forbidden your return. Thor nods, lowers his head, beaten. This is goodbye, brother. I'm so sorry.” Loki Noted.

“No, I'm sorry. Loki... thank you for coming here.” Thor said sincerely.

“Nothing could have stopped me.” Loki Told Thor. Coulson enters the room, but seems to take no notice of Loki. “Fare well, brother.”

“Good-bye.” Thor replied to his brother.

“Good-bye? I just got back.” Coulson announced.

Thor looks up to see that Loki is gone. “Now. Where did we leave off?”

Agents and Scientists work to repair the damaged area around Mjolnir. They take no notice of Loki as he steps up beside the hammer. He stares at it -- intrigued, wondering. Can he do it? He reaches down, tries to lift it -- but can't. He lets it go, eyes it with contempt, then steps away. He gestures with his arms. An odd green and gold light rises from the ground, enveloping him, then he disappears. Just as Loki disappears Y/n looks over at Thor’s hammer.

I could’ve sworn there someone just there. Maybe it’s my imagination.

Y/n walk to The entrance of the beast and see Erik.

Perfect timing.

Sitwell enters the room and speaks to Coulson.

“Sir... he's got a visitor.” Sitwell informed Coulson.

Coulson and several other Shield Agent stand across from Erik Selvig and Y/n.

“I’ve already told Agent Munroe that I will be releasing Donald Blake but I want to know do you have to say.” Coulson told.

“Doctor Donald Blake. He's part of our team. MD turn physicist. He's quite brilliant,really.” Erik explained.

“Uh-huh. You mind if we take a moment to verify his identity?” Coulson told them not really asking.

“Certainly.” Erik replied.

The Techie at a computer nearby runs the name.

On the Techie's monitor, a DMV record from the State of New York pops up reading "Dr. Donald Blake". The license photo is indeed a picture of Thor -- the one Darcy took with her cellphone.

“Release Dr. Blake to Agent Munroe here.

The Techie looks to him, surprised. “Make sure he stays in town for the next few days in case we need to talk to him again.” Coulson told Y/n.

Erik shakes his hand. “Thank you.”

Y/n bursts into the room with a to find a seated Thor.

“Donny, Donny, Donny! There you are!” Y/n beamed.

Just Go with it. Y/n Broadcast her thought to Thor.

Thor looks up,and see Y/n. She pulls Thor to his feet, gives him a warm hug. “It's going to be all right, my friend. Come on, I'm taking you home.” Y/n promised. Y/n leads the bewildered Thor out the door.

As Thor, Y/n and Erik make their way past the Shield Security Room, Thor notices Jane's possessions and equipment from the Smith Motors lab stacked under a tarp. He spots Jane's hand- written journal among them. As he passes, he quickly takes it from the pile and pockets it.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Coulson looks at the computer bearing Donald Blake's DMV record. A security warning over the image clearly reads "SECURITY ALERT: FALSIFIED DATA."&#157; He knows it's been a ruse Pall along.

 He looks to Y/n,Erik,and Thor heading away from the Security Room, then follows them outside. Coulson and two SHIELD Agents watch as Y/n walks with Thor away from the base to the SUV. Coulson calls to Y/n. “Just keep him away from the bars.”

“I will!” Y/n lied.

“Where are we going?” Thor asked Y/n and Erik.”

Erik rops his cool demeanor.      

“To get a drink.” Erik told Y/n and Thor.

Y/n, Erik, and Thor climb into the SUV.As they drive off, Coulson turns to the other two agents -- Garrett and Cale.

“Follow them.” Coulson ordered.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Loki, looking apprehensive, walks alone across the icy surface of the planet. Darkness shrouds the ruined temple, save for the shafts of light which knife their way in through the damaged ceiling. Loki enters. Frost Giant guards surround him on all sides. Laufey approaches, towers over him menacingly.

“Tell me why I shouldn't kill you.” Laufey commented.

I've come alone and unarmed.” Loki replied.

“To what end?” Laufey wondered.

“To make you another proposition.” Loki answered.

“So you're the one who let us into Asgard.” Laufey realized.

“You're welcome.” Loki grinned.

“My men are dead, and I have no Casket. You are a deceiver.” Laufey declared.

Laufey lashes out, grabs Loki around the throat, but Loki voiced. Calmly stands his ground. “You have no idea what I am.” The blueness spreads across his face, as Laufey and the guards stare in shock. Loki grins.“Hello, Father.”

Laufey releases him. Loki's body turns back to normal. Intrigued, Laufey sizes up his son.

“Ah, the bastard son. I thought Odin had killed you. That's what I would have done. He's as weak as you are.” Laufey told Loki.

“No longer weak. I now rule Asgard, until Odin awakens. Perhaps you should not have so carelessly abandoned me.”  Loki remarked.

This gives Laufey pause.

“Or perhaps it was the wisest choice I've ever made. I will hear you.” Laufey grinned.

“I will conceal you and a handful of your soldiers, lead you into his chambers, and let you slay him where he lies. I'll keep the throne, and you will have the Casket.” Loki explained.

Laufey studies Loki's face.

“Why would you do this?” Laufey questioned.

“When all is done, we will have a permanent peace between our two worlds. Then I, the bastard son, will have accomplished what Odin

and Thor never could.” Loki noted.

“This is a great day for Jotunheim. Asgard is finally ours.” Laufey answered.

“No. Asgard is mine. The rest of the Nine Realms will be yours, if you do as you're told.” Loki disclosed.

Laufey considers the proposition.

“I accept.” Laufey told Loki.

Loki turns to leave. As he goes, the slightest trace of a smile crosses his face.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Loki emerges out of the Bifrost, as Heimdall steps away from his controls. Heimdall glares at Loki. Loki notices.

“What troubles you, Gatekeeper?”  

Part 7

[just-horrible-things]

Loiral and Marcus - Recapture - 7.i

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Loiral runs at the breakneck pace that only outright terror permits. He is acutely aware of the gravel giving under his imperfectly-fitted boots, stealing his momentum. His hand moves to the sword on his hip. Not fast enough. He’s sure it won’t be fast enough. 

Several paces in, he realises he has to decide where he’s going. Away is not good enough. He can hear the human’s deep voice ringing out in sonorous incantation behind him. 

The next wagon down -- some of the mercenaries are still in there. They made a pact. Technically for outside the city -- but maybe they’ll help him fight. He can’t face Marcus alone, he knows that much.

His skin tingles with the distinctive touch of magic against his back. He doesn’t have time to wonder what the spell might be or whether it’s taken hold. He flings himself up onto the back of the wagon and dives through the unlaced doorflap -- breaking line of sight -- before the surfacer priest can cast anything worse.

“Enemy!” he yells, “Incoming!” “Oi!” one of the duergar snaps, standing up, “Your feuds are no business of ours.” “No feud,” Loiral half-lies, jumping up onto the table and eyeballing his chances of making it through and out the front without anyone grabbing him for bolting past them. “What other kind--” the duergar starts. But they are interrupted as the wagon shakes under the human’s considerable armoured weight.

The door is torn open hard enough that the canvas rips. The towering man has to stoop to enter. His broad frame seems to fill the entire space. Loiral skips backwards, heels knocking plates aside, as a single stride brings Marcus within striking range.

The mercenaries are on their feet, hollering and drawing blades. They might not want any part of Loiral’s trouble, but he’s brought it to them and they’ll definitely fight to save their own skins. Marcus shows no hesitation in coming at them with steel.

There are goblins on the table with Loiral. He doesn’t know if he can flee, so he lunges forwards instead. These are the best odds he’ll get. A duergar axe has caught the rapier in a parry, and in the brief moment of stillness Loiral hopes to land a solid strike on Marcus’ extended arm. His aim is true, but the armour turns the blade away.

He’s saved from a counter-attack by one of the goblins charging in. The creature brushes recklessly close across Loiral’s side, barking a guttural battle-cry. Marcus blocks its sword with one armoured forearm, knocks it off balance, and follows through with a gauntleted fist to the face.

Fueled by desperation, Loiral lunges again, hoping that the goblin doesn’t try to come up between his legs as he steps over it. He can’t afford to give ground. Fighting here at the edge of the table negates a little of the human’s height advantage - though not his reach. Their swords meet with the same bone-shaking force Loiral remembers. He already has a knife in his off-hand, aiming for the underarm. But his momentum isn’t enough. His strike lands short and screeches across the breastplate instead.

Marcus’ fist clips the side of his head as he jumps back, making his eyes water and his ears ring. He narrowly avoids colliding with the second goblin. Distracted, the creature botches a parry, and the rapier takes it in the throat.

The duergar are faring a little better. Marcus treats their axes as more of a threat than the swords. A particularly vicious swing makes him step back, buying Loiral enough time to find his footing and blink his vision clear.

Gods and devils, he hasn’t even left a scratch on the armour.

How is he supposed to fight this? 

Again he thinks of running. But with an ally on either side, is he ever likely to get better odds? He levels his sword, and looks for an opening.

Marcus towers over the squat duergar, and in the cramped space they don’t have enough room to flank him properly. Loiral recognises the tactics duergar always use against larger creatures - they’re aiming predominantly for the knees, hoping to drop him to their level. The best thing Loiral can do to help is to keep that sword high. So he aims for the face. Maybe he can even manage to get between helmet and gorget or through the face-plate. At the very least, he can play distracton.

Swipe, lunge, void, lunge, parry, riposte. He can’t spare much attention to monitor his allies’ swings. Three against one and Marcus is on the defensive, but he’s still a threat. Loiral lands a couple of hits but none of them with the strength he’d like, and none of them get past the plate steel. Three against one and they still haven’t drawn blood. The human moves like a master. Loiral is beginning to despair.

Then at last Marcus grunts and staggers. Loiral’s heart leaps. There’s an axe buried in the surfacer’s calf. Loiral presses the attack eagerly.

But Marcus catches his sword in one hand, and throws it to the side violently enough that Loiral is pulled with it, losing his balance and staggering off the table into the way of one duergar.

Anticipating a lethal follow-up, Loiral dives forwards, rolls, and comes up clumsily against the canvas. He finds his feet just in time to see Marcus boot one of the duergar squarely in the face. And then blood sprays as the rapier is driven through the unfortunate mercenary’s chest.

They aren’t going to win this fight.

So Loiral bolts.

Back out through the torn-open doorway and he hits the ground running. Maybe the surviving stranger will buy him precious seconds.

He runs for the line of stables, hoping to lose himself amongst the buildings and the noise. But there’s at least a hundred metres of open ground between him and the uncertain safety of that cover.

Behind him he hears another death-scream, and then heavy footfalls in pursuit.

He sprints flat out, but the human is faster. The footfalls get louder and nearer with every step, closing his narrow lead.

He’s not going to make it. He can almost feel the razor-sharp blade slipping between his ribs. Or a heavy hand closing on the back of his maille, yanking him off his feet yet again.

He’s not going to make it.

Loiral jumps left and spins, hoping to catch the man off-guard with a desperate swipe. His options are running out and the tide of panic is rising, choking rational thought into silence.

His judgement is poor, and his slash is easily avoided. He back-pedals, sword pointed at the human’s face, desperate to defend himself. “I won’t!” he shouts breathlessly, “I’ll fight and I’ll die!” Panic panic panic pounds his pulse in his chest.

Marcus’ response is in no language Loiral speaks. He recognises the cadence of prayer and leaps forwards again, hoping to break the priest’s concentration. But he’s not quite close enough. His skin stings as the magic slams through his defences and into his core. He jumps back --

-- but --

-- he doesn’t.

Nothing happens.

He’s frozen.

Panic has him trying to thrash like an animal caught in a snare but he doesn’t move. His muscles are unresponsive. He’s stopped stock still in an unsteady stance, limbs trembling. His lungs suck in quick, automatic breaths but he can’t even control that, can’t will himself to breathe more deeply. All he can move is his eyes, staring in stark terror as Marcus closes the remaining distance in a single stride.

One enormous hand grabs his wrist with painful force, while the other takes his sword by the blade and twists, effortlessly ripping it from Loiral’s unresponsive fingers. The sword is tossed aside and his other wrist is pulled forwards. One hand is sufficient to encircle both and yank them above his head.

Loiral isn’t sure if the magic releases him then, or if sheer terror gives him the will to break out of its grip. Either way it’s much too late.

He twists and struggles, trying every trick he knows but he can’t break free. The human is impossibly strong and his wrists are held too high. It’s like tugging against steel cuffs. He screams obscenities and kicks wildly.

“You are mine, drow,” Marcus snarls. “Did you think you could escape me?” His grip tightens until Loiral is keening in pain, feeling the bones grind against each other. He’s yanked roughly off his feet, swinging from his wrists. His legs come up reflexively, kicking out against his captor, but his boots find only polished metal and he finds himself scrabbling ineffectually for purchase.

Marcus’ fist strikes him solidly in the gut. The maille links provide no defence against the impact. The second blow drives up beneath his sternum and knocks the breath from his lungs. Loiral’s struggles become more frantic and less coordinated. He can’t breathe to shout insults. He can’t break the vice-like grip.

The world lurches as he’s swung sideways and then down. Impact is a jolt through his bones, a flare of pain along the left side of his body. While vision is still snapping back into place, a massive hand grabs his face with crushing force and slams his head back against the stone. The world is white, then black, then blurred and swimming. He still can’t breathe and the animal terror of suffocation only compounds the splitting pain in his skull.

Another full-body impact, and all he feels is the white-black flash of redoubled pain in his skull. Then the grip on his wrists releases and for a moment he is falling before the world reorients and he’s on the ground, twisting wildly in panic. His arms come up to try and cover his head, but there’s a sharp, tearing pain in his abdomen and he curls up around it. Was he kicked or stabbed? And the pain keeps coming.

“Last time.”  -- the words are distant and distorted, punctuated by pain -- “I gave you a choice. You. Chose. To. Submit. This time.” -- Loiral can’t tell which way is up, can’t shield his face or gut --  “I will show you.” -- pain and terror and the taste of blood --  “That choice. Is. A. Luxury. You cannot run from me.” -- ribs crack, breath is a distorted whine --  “You cannot hide from me.” -- hot bright unbearable pain in knee and skull and knee again --  “You cannot stand against me.” -- pain fear pain --  “You. Are. Mine.”

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

roddy plays fire emblem: three houses - prologue

all I know about this game I learned from twitter. I don’t know much of anything about this game. but I’ll tell you what I know about the characters anyway.

I’m only doing characters who I can distinctly recall off the top of my head. I’m not looking up anyone’s names because there are so many characters in this game.

Byleth - the player character. a teacher at this academy, despite not being much older than the oldest students here. game devs are cowards who couldn’t believe that lady Byleth could be Big Sexy in proper armor and instead they gave her fuckin....thigh-highs and lace and a titty window and a belly-button window ma’am your organs are there, you can’t expose that. my disdain for impractical lady armor is outweighed by my desire to play as the girl whenever possible, so like, I’ll play Lady Byleth, but I just won’t be happy about it. 

Jeralt - Byleth’s dad? I think it’s Jeralt? There’s some other guy who looks a lot like the guy who I think is Byleth’s dad so I can’t actually tell you if I got the name right. he’s a mercenary. I don’t know why he and his kid are hired at a fuckin....church academy? but they are. he raised Byleth basically as a feral child and he doesn’t even know how old they are? even though his wife died in childbirth and I think he talks about how long ago that was? or something? there’s something about him not knowing how old his own kid is. Dad what the hell.

Rhea - the lady pope of The Church, but not a cool ladypope like Leliana Dragon Age. I saw someone compare her outfit/hair to Ghetsis from Pokemon and I sent that meme to Wolf and Liam asking if they could confirm or deny and they told me that’s an insult to her but Ghetsis is slime of the earth so relatively, we still don’t know. I don’t trust her because I don’t trust quasi-historical-inspired-setting fantasy church leaders, except for Leliana/Vivienne/Cassandra.

Seteth - green hair? all the church people have green hair are they related? is it magic? I think it’s magic, Byleth’s hair is sometimes green. he’s like the Hot Dad but since he’s not your dad you can romance him. I don’t know if I trust his goatee but one of my friends retweets a lot of art of him and I trust her so maybe I trust him? he’s on thin ice.

Flayan? Flayn? Flyann? I’m calling her Flan like the custard but I know there’s a Y in there somewhere right? - more green hair, so a church person I guess. I have no idea how old she is because this is anime and she could be anywhere from 12 to an ancient dragon person because I know this series has some of those. maybe Seteth’s daughter?? I get that vibe??

Sothis - the ancient dragon person who looks like a 12 year old girl. more green hair. I couldn’t tell her and Flan apart for a while.

BLACK EAGLES

why aren’t they the Red Eagles? they’re red. the other two are blue and yellow. who named these guys. what the fuck.

Edelgard - every time I see the pokemon Eldegoss in SwSh I think of her. leader of the BE. controversial. very controversial. doesn’t like the Church. I can handle this, I romanced Anders in my first playthrough of DA2 which was my first time playing any Dragon Age game, controversial and Church-hating is like.... sometimes you just gotta blow up a fantasy church, you know? I get it. even if I don’t end up agreeing with her, like, I get it, I guess. she didn’t always have white hair but something happened. there sure is a lot of magic hair color shit in this game. I think Dmitri is her stepbrother.

Hubert - Edelgard’s right-hand man. vampire jokes for days. I’m gonna cut myself on that edge....the edge of his cheekbones they are Sharp. I don’t buy that this guy is a teenager. I don’t know whether he’s actually tall or people just play that up because it’s funny to draw him Tall and Looming behind Edelgard.

Ferdinand von Aegir - I AM FERDINAND VON AEGIR!!!!!!!!

Dorothea - she’s the opera singer one, right? if I got the name wrong, I’m talking about the pretty opera singer one with the hat that’s kinda like a beret. she’s my favorite because I’m gay and she’s very pretty and looks very sweet. she’s like the only one of the Eagles who’s a commoner I think? I don’t know why she’s here but okay. I like her. I would like to kiss her.

GOLDEN DEER

Claude - that’s not his real name. leader of the GD. he’s an archer and he has a big fuckoff dragon wyvern. his mother is from whatever country this game is set in but his dad isn’t and lots of people are rude and racist to him for it. he seems kinda chill but also suspicious of everyone which honestly I get it. also he might poison people? I trust him and I’m sure he has good reason to do it. I support him.

Hilda - Claude’s right-hand lady. pink hair anime girl with a giant fuckoff axe. I thought I knew more about her than that but nope that’s all I’ve got. has an older brother.

Lorenz - purple haired anime boy. look at his post-timeskip haircut this boy is Gay and there’s nothing anyone can tell me that would change my mind. needs to be smacked with some good ol’ Character Development to grow past being a pretentious noble prick but he’s pretty cool once that happens. one of the artists I follow who turned overnight into a FE3H twitter for like six months is a big Lorenz stan so I think I could be biased toward him already but that’s just How It Be when you’re coming into this via osmosis.

BLUE LIONS

Dmitri - leader of the Blue Lions but everyone calls him a boar. gets absolutely hammered by Bad Times in the timeskip and comes back with an eyepatch and absolutely feral and unhinged. murdered a bunch of people? Dimi You Can’t Just Go Around Murdering People. 30-50 feral hogs in a big fuzzy mantle. very unfortunate that he’s being forced to do Leader Shit and just wasn’t allowed to be chill and relax and get to work through his issues instead of getting more of them and going feral.

Dedue - you cannot convince me that this man is not a 30-year-old father of two. how is he a student. get out of here. you’re wrong and you’re lying. who did these character designs. I think out of almost everyone here, he is the guy who Does Not Deserve All Of This but fate has been a dick to him. everyone he loves got murdered by I think Dmitri’s countrymen but now Dedue is Dmitri’s right-hand-man which I do not understand. He deserves better both in-game and also from the writers because they just kind of write him out post-timeskip I hear. just free this man from whatever the fuck is going on in his life and the game. I still don’t believe you that he’s of any age to be a student.

Sylvain - the redhead. childhood friends with Dmitri and someone else but I don’t remember who. The Horny Guy. may just automatically be recruited by Lady Byleth to their class, betraying his country and his oldest friends because he saw a belly-button window. just y’know. sometimes it be like that. 

FELIX - he’s the other childhood friend. I don’t know shit about him.

OTHER STUDENTS WHOSE NAMES I CAN RECALL BUT I DON’T KNOW WHERE THEY ARE AND IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE YOU CAN RECRUIT ALMOST EVERYONE TO ANYWHERE ELSE

Caspar (artist?), Linhardt, Bernadetta (Bernie, my brain keeps just swapping her and Dorothea around because they both have these long regal names but I don’t think they’re actually anything at all alike), Petra, Leonie, Marianne,

ASHEN WOLVES

they’re not really a house they’re just a bunch of people who live in the fucking basement and I think it’s the church’s fault.

Yuri - the other purple-haired anime boy. got kicked out of war crimes academy somehow. declared himself the leader of the basement people and they were just like “hey sure cool I guess”. 

Someone who’s a friend of I think Hilda’s older brother - not even a student or someone who needs to be living in the basement, he’s just down here for tax fraud? debt evasion? again, it be like that.

THE PLOT

matchmaking simulator. Byleth plays matchmaker for all of their students by setting them up into the most healthy friendships/relationships that are as ambiguously gay as the COWARDS writing this game will allow. I know there are a few, but it’s mostly a few Byleth romances, so. that.

also Byleth makes the other professors’ jobs easier by poaching all their students so that they only have to teach like two people while Byleth has everyone in their class. recruit the students by giving them gifts and having tea with them. eat lunch like five times a day trying to hang out with everyone. go fishing. go fishing some more. the game limits your amount of bait per month because otherwise this will be a fishing simulator. I know this specifically because I asked Wolf and Liam if I could just fish infinitely forever and they told me no. I was upset. the day that the game starts is 4/20. I know this because Wolf made a meme about it and that’s what started our long conversation about the game that established nothing.

immediately after everyone graduates, Byleth goes into a fucking coma for five years and wakes up and the five-year reunion is interrupted by a war between the three houses. -rimshot- also there might be some greater threat called the Flame Emperor or some shit but I know fuckall about that. mostly I just know everyone’s despair as they are forced to kill their friends who they didn’t manage to recruit.

I’ve never played a Fire Emblem before and I’ve never known what a tactic is in any RPG I’ve ever played. this is going to be fantastic.