#rae'lia

[skarmoree]

the light the fire brings

G, f/m, chrom/custom f!robin (rae'lia) word count: 3294

Chrom takes a hit during battle. He's "handling it".

written for @sicktember day 1: hopelessly bad at self care

read here on ao3 / full fic under cut

Chrom swung Falchion, easily catching the risen’s axe by the blade and sending it flying a few feet away. The risen snarled, lurching forwards, and he flicked his wrist, bringing the blade down again and slashing through them, familiar screech and crumble to ash following.

He didn’t give himself the chance to breathe, spinning on his heel to face his next foe.

It was closer than anticipated, and Chrom cursed, only just managing to bring Falchion up to knock away the oncoming lance. He felt off balance, planting one foot behind him and dropping closer to the ground to shift his centre of gravity.

The lance cut through the air once more, Chrom ducking clear of the arc before stabbing back with his own sword.

The risen felt like they were getting tougher with every battle, almost as if they were gaining experience, learning to read their opponents. He knew Rae’lia thought so too, pouring herself into every tactics volume she could find, staring at every map she could get her hands on.

He was pushed back again, staggering a little from the blow, teeth grit as he stared at the risen. It wasn’t capable of expression, but he swore there was a grin on its masked face as it raised its lance above its head.

Chrom tucked himself down to the ground, making an attempt for a roll to get behind his foe.

The lance came down on his unprotected arm, slashing through skin. He bit back a yell, slashing the risen’s legs out from under it, already feeling the strength from his swing weaken as his dominant arm bled, crimson streaming down to drip to the ground, droplets quickly soaked into the hungry dirt.

The risen crashed to the ground, and Chrom kicked away its lance, standing over it for a moment before stabbing down through its chest.

The screech hardly reached his ears through the throbbing pain through his arm, in time with his heart.

Falchion’s tip dropped into the ground as the risen turned to ash beneath it, and Chrom let out a weary sigh. Around him, the sounds of battle continued— the clash of swords, the crackling of thunder magic, a piercing shriek with every risen dispatched.

He couldn’t afford to rest, even now.

None of the Shepherd’s healers were nearby, and Chrom, in his usual manner, hadn’t taken any vulneraries from their stock before heading out. But he had to staunch the flow somehow – at least until after the battle when someone could look at it. Tearing a strip from the bottom of his cape, Chrom roughly wrapped his arm, tightening the knot with his teeth, grimacing as he did so. Lissa was going to have his neck for this.

_____

Forget Lissa, his tactician was glaring daggers at him, wiping down her blade with a cloth.

“Everyone’s alright,” Chrom reported, and her eye sparked a little brighter, “no major incidents.”

“No major…” Rae’lia muttered, tucking the cloth into her belt and sliding the sword back into its sheath, “Chrom,”

“It’s not major!”

“Chrom,” she repeated, expression morphing from anger to something much softer for the briefest of moments, before flickering away again, “why haven’t you gotten it looked at yet?”

“I handled it,” Chrom waved to the makeshift bandage.

Rae’lia stared at him in disbelief.

“You know what,” she said, turning away and speaking over her shoulder, “if you’re not going to seek out help, that’s on you.”

“Are you mad at me?” Chrom hurried a few steps forward to catch up, “Rae, c’mon-!”

“I’m not responsible for how you take care of your injuries,” Rae’lia said, not looking to him, even as he fell in stride on her good side, “I’m a tactician, not a cleric.”

“It—”

“The conversation is over, Chrom.”

“But—”

“Over.”

_____

“So instead of going to, I dunno, your sister? The healer? You came to me instead?”

Chrom huffed out something akin to a laugh, dropping to sit on the bench, lifting his uninjured arm up to scrub a hand through his hair. “Something like that.”

Gaius hummed around his customary lollipop stick. “Y’know,” he said, “I’m starting to see why Bubbles is mad at you.”

Chrom sighed, leaning back into the table, staring at the canvas above their heads. “Don’t rub it in.”

“‘s not what I’m doing at all,” Gaius said, “but if you’re saying that, you know how this looks.”

There was a tear in the tent roof. He’d have to get someone to repair that.

In response to his silence, there was a crunching noise, presumably as Gaius bit down on the lollipop.

“Get it healed.”

“And have to face Lissa’s ire, too?” Chrom pulled a face.

“She’s not your only option.”

“Maribelle.”

“… point taken.”

Chrom went back to staring at the tent roof, ignoring the pain in his arm. It had lessened now, after some time, just a dull ache compared to the initial throb. “Why is Rae so mad, anyway?” he asked.

“Crivens,” Gaius muttered under his breath, “seriously, Blue?”

Chrom let his gaze slide back down to the man by his side. Gaius stared back, empty stick dangling uselessly in his mouth. “What?”

Gaius shifted to one side so he could reach into his pocket, pulling out a small bag. He fished a sweet out with two fingers, popping it into his mouth before holding the bag out to Chrom. When Chrom didn’t take one after a few seconds, he shrugged, tucking it away again. “You’re wondering why our tactician, who’s job is to get us through with as little injury as possible, is mad?”

“I’m the only one that sustained anything, so…”

Gaius gave him a flat look.

“Well, post-battle, in any case,” he continued, waving his uninjured arm, “nothing out of the usual battle nicks and scrapes, right?”

Gaius made a loud sucking noise around the piece of candy in his mouth. “I think what you’re dealing with is a mite bigger than our ‘usual battle nicks and scrapes’, eh?”

“I’m taking care of it!” Chrom insisted, sounding less certain with himself by the minute. He sighed, turning away from Gaius’ face, instead looking at the bloodsoaked fabric tied around his arm. “I’m fine. It doesn’t need magic to heal.”

“Magic isn’t a finite resource,” Gaius said, voice a little softer than before, “you won’t be bothering anyone with it.”

Chrom didn’t reply. The wound sat below his brand, the mark on his skin still proudly displayed.

“Everyone just wants to see their Captain safe’n sound.” There was a shift as Gaius got to his feet, brushing past Chrom to exit the tent, leaving him alone in silence.

Chrom leant against the table again, back of his head resting on the wood as he stared up at the plain canvas, pinpricks of light through tiny holes and tears marking their own constellations through the fabric.

Did Gaius really cut right through his defences just like that? The man always was more perceptive than he let on.

The ache in Chrom’s arm hadn’t left. He winced, rolling his shoulder in the hopes it would alleviate itself some. It had the opposite effect, and Chrom grit his teeth.

He had to do something about it, but the prospect of facing Lissa about it was daunting. If he went to Maribelle, he’d have to deal with her prickly response and then Lissa’s afterwards, when she inevitably found out from her best friend. The best option was to find the supplies and treat it himself.

_____

Chrom waited for Lissa to leave the medical tent, casting a glance across camp in case anybody spotted him. With nobody nearby, he ducked through the entrance, peering around at his surroundings. It was quiet, the tent entirely unoccupied, the lamp extinguished, leaving it dim, but not dark yet. Lissa’s staff was leaning against the empty cot, a pile of blankets and towels folded neatly next to it. Chrom’s eyes darted back to the door as a couple Shepherds walked past, chatting casually.

He’d done this before, it was nothing new – so why was he nervous this time?

He swiped a roll of bandages off the little supply table as he moved further into the tent, casting a glance about for where the medicine was stocked. He knew Maribelle liked to have them shelved up as soon as camp was set, rather than having to pull supplies out of crates whenever they were in use.

The glint of a green bottle on a shelf caught Chrom’s eye, and he looked up, squinting in the dim light to read the label.

Someone cleared their throat behind him.

Chrom jumped, turning at the noise and knocking into the shelf. It shook behind him, and he threw a hand back to steady it. The bottles rattled, but thankfully nothing fell.

Rae’lia still had a hand up to push away the tent flap, shadow long as it was cast by the light framing her, making her small stature seem much more intimidating, even after she had shucked her thick coat.

“Rae,” Chrom said.

“Chrom,” she replied, voice icy, “care to enlighten me as to why you’re sneaking around?

Chrom winced. “Looking for something.”

A beat of silence. “In the medical supplies?”

“I’m handling it,” Chrom turned back to the shelf, pulling down the green bottle, checking the contents.

A loud exhale, followed by approaching footsteps, and the bottle was plucked from his hands. “Sit down,” Rae’lia said.

Chrom stared blankly at her for a moment, and she blinked, “what?”

“What?” he echoed, half lost.

Rae’s eye was bright in the dimness of the tent, and she searched his face for a moment, golden flecks amidst the brown. “Sit down,” she repeated, nudging Chrom towards the cot with her hip, “I can’t help if I can’t reach.”

Chrom dropped to sit on the cot, unable to take his eyes off Rae’lia as she peeled off her gloves and turned to light the lamp. Her hair was loose from its customary ponytail, hanging down her back in a violet wave, and she pushed it back over her shoulder as she sparked a flame at her fingertips. Once lit, the lamp cast a soft amber through the tent, giving her more light to work with.

“I’m still mad,” she said quietly, moving to wash her hands in the basin.

Chrom felt the corner of his mouth turn upwards. “I never would’ve guessed,” he said, if only to get her to glare at him over her shoulder. She held her hand out for a towel, and he passed one over, catching a flash of purple on her hand as she reached out.

She took the pitcher by the basin and filled a bowl, summoning another small flame in her hands to heat the water.

“I thought you said you weren’t a cleric.”

“Chrom,” she said, setting the bowl forcefully down on a stool, water sloshing over the sides. “If you want my help, please refrain from the snark.”

Chrom bit his tongue at that, holding back any variation of ‘look who’s talking’ and ‘I never asked for your help.’ that bubbled up from his chest. She must’ve sensed it, because she shot him another sharp look before sitting next to him, pulling his arm closer to her so she could check over it.

“You didn’t even clean your wound,” she said, appalled, grabbing at a rag and soaking it in the water; before wringing it out and sponging away the blood dried in a messy trail down his arm. “Don’t you know how to treat injuries?”

“I do!” Chrom said, drawing back for a moment. Rae’lia made a grab for his wrist to pull him back again, scrubbing at where the blood had dried heaviest, in the crook of his elbow.

Rae’lia’s hands were calloused – that was to be expected, with their line of work; and she turned his arm from side to side, checking her work.

“... so why didn’t you?” she asked after a pause, twisting to rinse out the rag in the basin, wringing out pink water.

Chrom reached up to rub the back of his neck with his free arm, Rae’lia concentrating on cleaning his other one, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot of blood. “I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone with–”

“Inconvenience?” Rae’lia interrupted, grip on his wrist tightening, blunt nails digging slightly into his skin, “Chrom, why would you think that?”

He hesitated. “I can’t just– it’s–” he cut himself off, shifting a little, “it’s… difficult to explain.”

The silence was punctuated by water splashing as Rae’lia rinsed the rag out again.

“Well,” she said, “we’re going to be here for a while, so you’ve got time to put your thoughts in order.”

Chrom nodded absently, eyes wandering about the tent. “You had a plan,” he started after a moment, “you gave us all orders, and positions for the battle.”

“So?”

“So I wasn’t going to break that for a light wound,” Chrom said, “you were very insistent on following this one.”

“So?”

“...so?”

Rae’lia let out a sharp huff, deft fingers coming up to untie the knot Chrom had tied in the strip of fabric around his arm. “I do recall somewhere in that plan saying ‘break it if things get dire’...”

“I think you and I have very different definitions of dire,” Chrom said, still not looking down to meet her eye.

“Any injury that is harsh enough to need magic, or unexpected numbers from the enemies.”

“This didn’t need magic.”

Rae’lia froze for a split second, before continuing with her task. “Amendment,” she corrected herself, halfway to a mutter, “that should be healed by magic.”

Chrom opened his mouth to respond, only for Rae’lia to finally get the knot untied, some of the pressure on his wound lessening. He hissed, jerking out of her grip.

“Hey!” he complained, “that hurt!”

“I haven’t even unwrapped it yet!”

He settled again, allowing Rae’lia to slowly pull the strip away. She frowned as she unwrapped it further, squinting down at the bloody fabric. “Is this… from your cape?”

“I didn’t have anything else on hand.”

She closed her eye for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she opened it again to continue her work, her face was carefully neutral.

The makeshift bandage had stuck a little to the wound, and Chrom clenched his jaw as Rae’lia peeled it away, hissing between her teeth in sympathy. “Sorry,” she said, dropping it to the floor and reaching for the bowl and rag again.

The blood had clotted enough that it wasn’t bleeding freely anymore, but the cloth being removed pulled at some of it, revealing fresh blood underneath. Rae’lia was gentle with her movements, careful to dab about the wound as she cleaned it. “What caused it?” she asked as she turned to rinse out the rag.

“Lance,” he said, involuntarily flinching a little, “couldn’t dodge in time.”

Rae’lia hummed. “It’s a clean slice, at least,” she said, “small miracles.”

She worked in silence for a bit after that, shifting back and forth in the light to check she’d done a good job cleaning out the wound. “Pass me another cloth?” she asked, and Chrom picked one up from the pile next to him.

Rae’lia uncorked the vulnerary, filling the air between the two of them with the harsh scent of medicine. “It’s going to sting,” she warned, glancing up to meet his eyes. There was a spark of gold in her eye; caught by the lamplight. Chrom couldn’t help but smile at that.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Chrom replied, still watching Rae’lia. She stared back in suspicion for a moment, before watching her hands as she soaked the cloth in the vulnerary, taking care to not spill any.

Some hair slipped from her shoulders, falling in front of her face like a curtain. Chrom resisted the urge to push it back again.

Rae’lia tucked it behind her ear herself after a moment, and Chrom tore his gaze away, the spell broken.

The vulnerary made contact, and Chrom yelped, pulling out of Rae’lia’s range.

“I warned you it was going to sting,” she said, somewhere between amused and impatient.

“I know, I know,” Chrom replied as he settled down again, tensing up in anticipation for her to continue her task. She curled her other hand around his elbow as if that would stop him from trying to escape, tucking the bottle between her knees to leave her hands free, “Still, don’t you flinch from something cold, even if you know it is?”

Rae’lia rolled her eye, carefully dabbing the vulnerary into Chrom’s wound.

“...Thank you,” he said, after a pause. Rae’lia met his eyes again for a brief moment, before darting back to her work. “I know you’re upset with me, but you’re still helping so… thanks.”

“I’m… less upset than I was,” Rae’lia replied, “I still am, don’t mistake that, but…”

She paused, reapplying vulnerary to the cloth before returning to his arm. “I know you could’ve treated this properly on your own, which is why I was so frustrated about the situation.”

He watched her pause to flick her hair back again, having come free from behind her ear. She pulled a face as it fell forward again immediately, pausing so she could pull it all over the opposite shoulder. “Why didn’t you take any medicine into the field with you?”

Chrom sighed. “You’re not going to take ‘I forgot’ as an excuse, are you?”

“I’m not, you’re right,” she agreed, “turn to the light?”

He followed her instruction, and she peered at the wound. “The bleeding’s stopped, and now that it's clean, it doesn’t look so bad.”

Chrom opened his mouth to respond, and she flicked the brand on his shoulder. “You do not get to be smug about that,” Rae’lia said, “it could’ve been worse, and you know it.”

Dutifully, he handed over the roll of bandage.

Rae’lia poured the rest of the vulnerary into the cloth, folding it into a little square and holding it to the injury. “Hold it there while I wrap it,” she instructed, and Chrom did, watching as she wound the bandage over it, making sure each turn lay flat and even.

“It’s a bandage,” Chrom said, a little amused, “it doesn’t have to be neat.”

“I can let you do it up alone again,” she threatened, before pausing. “How did you do it the first time…?”

He grinned at her.

“Eurgh, Chrom!” she pulled a face, “seriously?”

“What,” he laughed, “try to tell me you don’t use your teeth when you don’t have a spare hand.”

Rae’lia sighed. “I suppose I should just be glad you wrapped it…” she mumbled, tying a knot at the end of the bandage, “there. All done.”

The smile still hadn’t faded from his face, and Chrom got to his feet, rolling his shoulder a little. It still ached– of course it did, it wouldn’t miraculously heal in an instant without magic– but having it cleaned and treated properly was doing wonders already.

“I mean it,” he said warmly, watching as Rae’lia also stood up, throwing the used rag and bloody strip into the burn pile, grabbing the water bowl to tip out outside the tent. “Thank you for this.”

She brushed him off with a quiet snort. “You can thank me by taking better care of yourself, okay?”

“No promi–” he broke off at the intensity of her glare, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle, “all right. I’ll try.”

It was the first smile he’d seen on Rae’lia’s face since before the battle; small and wary. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly, before she left the tent, door flap swinging uselessly behind her.

[mayordea]

it's time.

marie santos for @rookierambles. i saw her a while ago and thought id draw her eventually, and now was a perfect time!! AF profile

@snicks-doodlez's puyo puyo oc nyayashii since you asked to be next and i figured my attack lineup could use a simply shaped goober. yay AF profile

venatrix for @deltagalacticdaydreamer. he just joined artfight so all of you should attack him NEOW !!! AF profile

@skarmoree's awesome fe awakening oc rae'lia lowell done as revenge !! AF profile

backpack_hermit's oc rae geyser, also done as revenge :D AF profile

yipeeee

[robboyu]

art fight attacks!! (format totally not borrowed from mayor)

and speaking of @mayordea , their fe awakening oc: Reflect! (heres their art fight profile go draw their ocs)

Aalto (for hhyunn on AF)

Hayate for @lavelven (lavellan on AF)

Helion (for chachasuii on AF)

Botan (for dergrumpy on AF)

Odysseus (for whymsics on AF)

Malie for @rezakiofficial (Rezaki on AF)

Lavender (for scorpi on AF)

Ava (for Okaana on AF)

Abby (for Raccoon__bear on AF)

Ferya (for Tem_Tempura on AF)

Azrial (for Kiryu_Chan on AF)

Aeon for @zobinks (ZoBinksArt on AF)

Alecto (for brighburner on AF)

Rae'lia for @skarmoree (skarmoree on AF)

Mira (for Appleslices05 on AF)

Medea for @a-little-pigeon (Pigeonsnest on AF)

Ive been having so much fun drawing everyones ocs, they're all so pretty! more to come once I have another big batch probably

[skarmoree]

I will stay (all the way)

G, gen, lucina & custom f!robin (rae'lia) word count: 1023

Lucina catches an illness. Rae'lia keeps her child company.

written for @sicktember day 3: "what happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?"

read here on ao3 / full fic under cut

Lucina let out a groan, rolling over to lie on their stomach, burying their face into a pillow.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad," Rae'lia chided, setting herself down on the edge of the bed, reaching across to run a hand over her daughter's hair.

Lucina let out another groan. "Why'd Morgan have to get me sick?" he asked, still muffled into his pillow. "He should've kept to his own room, it's not like we don't have staff to bring anything we need..."

"While it is very amusing to hear you complain," Rae'lia said, smoothing out Lucina's cowlick, something he had inherited from her, "I do believe it was you that wanted to take care of your brother?"

Lucina was silent for a beat.

"Shut up," she said, rolling back over to glare at her mother. "I just didn't want him to die on me, not after managing to survive everything else so far."

"I'm sure Morgan thinks he's immortal at this point," Rae'lia joked lightly, still smoothing out Lucina's hair, "if nothing's killed him yet, he’ll believe nothing can."

Lucina's face flickered with some unidentifiable emotion for a moment, before returning to annoyance. "Yes, well..." he sighed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "... forget it."

"You're holding up fairly well," Rae'lia said, shifting so she could turn to face Lucina fully, tucking one leg under the other, "either you'll get off without the illness taking too hard—"

Lucina grimaced, "or it just hasn't come down over my head hard in the beginning."

"I suppose we don't know just yet," Rae'lia said.

"You shouldn't be here," Lucina said, "what if I get you sick?"

"That would be difficult," Rae'lia said mildly, shrugging a shoulder, hint of a smile dancing over her face, "I hardly ever get sick."

"...Weren't you bedbound for most of your last pregnancy?"

Rae'lia swatted Lucina's shoulder. "No snark, young man," she said, ignoring the fact that her daughter was the same age as her, "and that is an entirely different circumstance."

Lucina hummed. "Alright," she said, unconvinced.

“It’s true!” Rae’lia insisted, “I have a phenomenal immune system. I was the only Shepherd to not get sick during the Plegian war.”

“... I feel as if that’s a rather low bar, Mother.”

Rae'lia sighed, long and slow, pushing her fringe from her face. "Enough of that," she said, "How do you feel?"

Lucina continued to stare up at the ceiling. "Awful," they said honestly, "congested and stuffy. Like I cannot focus on anything. How did Morgan read so much in this condition?"

"You know your brother," Rae'lia said, amused, "if he's not devouring a book at any given time, I fear he'd fall to pieces."

Lucina made a noise of agreement. "I suppose you're right..." she said, “but what am I meant to do if I struggle to focus? You can’t possibly expect me to sit still for days on end.”

"Is that your way of asking for company, Starlight?"

"... maybe."

Rae'lia felt a fond smile overtake her face, and she tucked back another of Lucina's stray hairs. "Very well," she said, "now, get under the covers. There is no point to trying to recover from an illness if you won't help yourself."

Lucina obediently did what he was told, shifting his pillows so he could sit comfortably against the head of the bed, bringing the blankets up over his lap.

"I ah... do not remember the last time I had someone care for me when I was sick," Lucina admitted softly, picking at a loose thread in the seam of the blanket. "I'm... unaccustomed to it."

Rae'lia nodded in understanding. "I doubt there was time for such in your time..."

"There wasn't," Lucina agreed, "any illness could be a weakness; we couldn't stop to rest for even a moment."

"Pushing through is never a good method."

"We didn't have much of a choice."

Rae'lia's smile took on a sympathetic quality, gentle and sorrowful. "I know," she said softly, "I know more than I ever wished to."

Lucina blinked hard, tipping their head back to rest against the headboard. "I'm sorry," they got out, forcing back tears.

A hand closed over the top of Lucina's, brown and scarred, the back blank of any mark that had ever found its place there. Rae'lia squeezed Lucina's hand firmly. "Starlight," she said, "I have never once thought that you need to apologise for anything. You've endured more than anybody ever should, and I should be the one apologising for not being there with you through it."

Lucina sniffed. “Gods,” she choked out, halfway to a laugh, “I was already struggling with a blocked nose. “Why do you have to be so…” she trailed off, waving her free hand uselessly in the air.

“So?” Rae’lia prompted.

“So you!” Lucina got out, before grimacing, tipping her head back further, “can you pass me a handkerchief?”

Rae’lia fished one out from her pocket, holding it out. Lucina took it without looking, holding it to their nose before tilting forwards again. “Guess the congestion is fixed…” they said, before looking back to Rae’lia, still holding the handkerchief to their nose. “I appreciate it, Mother. Truly. But I don’t expect you to have to make up for the shortcomings of… urgh, now that I’m saying it out loud, it… you know what I mean.”

Rae’lia breathed out a laugh. “Eloquent.”

He pulled a face. “I simply mean that… you’re not the same mother I lost. You don’t have to atone for her mistakes.”

A lull in the conversation. Rae’lia drew back, folding her hands into her lap. “You may be right,” she said slowly, “but is it too much to want to give you the support you should have had back then?”

Lucina sniffled, swiping the handkerchief underneath her nose. “Okay,” she got out.

_____

“What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?” Lucina called, leaning on the doorframe with her arms folded.

Rae’lia threw a pillow at her. It only made it halfway across the room before hitting the floor, and Lucina’s smirk grew.

“Let me convalesce in peace,” Rae’lia said dramatically, throwing an arm over her eyes.