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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years ago

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Healer - Part 10

Ivar x Modern!Reader

(Warnings: (Y/H/T) is Your Hometown, also Ivar is being a concerned drama queen)

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You watched Rollo with intrigue, eyes slightly narrowed as you watched him, Ivar’s hand on your thigh, as it usually was, while they were talking. The older man glanced at you finally after stating his one condition for helping, that Björn was spared, his eyes taking in every detail of you before looking back at Ivar “who is this?” he asked, gesturing to you and Ivar smirked pridefully, straightening his posture and looking at you with so much love and adoration “my wife. She and I will marry when we have taken back Kattegat” Ivar informed, looking back at Rollo who nodded, giving you a polite smile “welcome to the family, may I ask where you are from?” he asked and without thinking you answered “I was born in (Y/H/T) but I lived in Chicago for a while before I got here” you said, only realising afterwards that he had no idea about anything, where you were from, how you got here, which you honestly wasn’t quite clear on either, and how long you had been here. Rollo looked at you confused and you cleared your throat “it’s, uh… complicated” you added, Rollo nodding hesitantly before looking back to Ivar.

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You frowned as you stared at your food, Hilda noticing and kneeling down by your side on the tree stump. You were back where you were not that long ago, only it was a different location, the same people protecting you. Ivar had predicted the length of this battle to be longer than before, therefore making sure you had water and food with you so you wouldn’t grow hungry or thirsty, the thought sweet and heartwarming but right now you just felt sick. You hated when Ivar went on without you, even when he sailed to England with his father for the first time, you hated how he was away from you even then. You hated being left behind for every battle, when they took York, when they first battled Lagertha, and now again. You felt as though the food in front of you was unappetizing, even though it was far from it, the water in the leather sac having no appealing qualities either. Hilda sighed and sat on the ground beside you, watching you for a bit longer as you battled internally, trying to force yourself to eat it as you felt your stomach growl. Eventually you ended up putting it back in the small bag you had with you, Hilda sighing at the act “you do not like the food?” she asked and you shrugged “I do but-... I don’t know… I don’t like how Ivar is in danger, out fighting while I just sit here” you admitted, Hilda giving you a soft smile in sympathy, gently rubbing your upper arm in an attempt to comfort you.

You picked up the leather sac that had water in it, debating if you should try, Hilda giving you a reassuring nod, making you try and take a sip of the water. You forced it down, not feeling any of the sickness fading, quite the opposite, actually. You frowned, handing the water hurriedly to Hilda, accidentally spilling some on her before you turned away, your knees hitting the wet ground as you emptied your stomach into the ground, Hilda holding your hair back with a worried frown as you threw up, gently rubbing your back in comfort. You winced at the taste left in your mouth, Hilda helping you to sit on the stump again, handing you the water to try and clear the taste from your mouth. You noticed how worried she looked and once you had cleared your throat with water you spat it out to the side, groaning at the remaining taste in your mouth “I’m okay. Just nervous, I think” you said, Hilda nodding with a suspicious look in her eyes.

You could still hear the battle sounds, swords hitting swords, screams and yelling, it made you feel as though you were going to throw up again.

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You nervously bounced your leg as the sounds of battle had faded, your hand mindlessly rubbing the tattoo on your wrist nervously, sort of wishing it was one of those bracelets where if you touch it, the other person with the same bracelet feels it vibrate, letting them know that you are thinking of them. You heard horse hooves and shouts, followed by clear sounds of wheels, your eyes wide as you got up, Hilda by your side as Ivar came into view on his chariot. Without thinking you ran to him, getting up in the chariot and hugging him, ignoring the blood that covered him as one of his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly against him for as long as you needed. You parted from him and kissed him, ignoring the copper you tasted on his lips, you knew it wasn’t his, he wasn’t hurt. You parted from the kiss, kissing his sweat covered cheek that had small splatters of blood on them, hugging him tightly again “you’re okay” you whispered, mostly to yourself, Ivar giving a small nod in affirmation, about to say something when his eyes caught the worried eyes of Hilda. Hilda gestured to your vomit on the forest ground while you were still hugging him, causing Ivar to frown worried, fear instantly taking hold of him, were you sick?

“Let’s go home” you said with a big smile, Ivar nodding as he forced a confident smirk, but he continued to think about how tired you looked, what if you were sick? No, you were a healer, you’d know it if you were… right? Ivar didn’t have any more time to think of it as you sat down on the floor of the chariot, smiling up at him and leaning your head back, eyes closing as Ivar drove towards Kattegat with you by his side.

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You smiled as you got out of the chariot, watching Ivar smirk at you, sitting still, just watching you, until Hvitserk approached, holding a woman by her arm. She looked disheveled and paranoid, her eyes all over, scanning everyone but Ivar and Hvitserk. You frowned and glanced at Ivar who seemed to tense at her presence, anger clear in his eyes as you approached him, standing by the front of the chariot and reaching up, gently touching his arm, bringing him back to reality, to you, his gaze softening as he looked at you. You gave him a soft smile “who is she?” you asked quietly, Ivar’s gaze glancing to the woman and then back at you, jaw clenched “Margrethe” he said through gritted teeth and instantly your smile faded, your eyes going back to the woman Hvitserk were still holding onto. You bit your lower lip in thought and walked over to Hvitserk “I’d like to talk to her, bring her to the Great Hall?” you asked, Hvitserk nodding “I’ll be there soon” you called after Hvitserk and walked back to Ivar with a sweet smile, Ivar looking at you confused. You smiled softly when you noticed his confusion “I want to know why any woman would be as cruel as she was to you” you explained. Ivar had told you more of Margrethe, how she was the one who told Sigurd and his brothers he couldn’t have sex. How she humiliated him after he was so vulnerable in front of her, it made you furious that a person could be so cruel.

You walked into the Great Hall, nodding at Hvitserk who left you alone with Margrethe, her eyes downcast as she nervously looked around, she seemed sort of twitchy, disoriented, even. You frowned at her “hello, Margrethe” you said, her eyes nervously glancing at you but never making it all the way to your face “y-you’re the one with Ivar” she said and you nodded “yes, we’re going to get married” you explained, Margrethe laughing “why? He cannot please a woman, he is not a real man” she said and you glared at her, jaw clenched as you took a step closer to her “Margrethe… I am a healer, I took an oath to do no harm, to help people, with that being said…” you said and grabbed her by the hair, bringing her closer to you “don’t talk of my husband that way” you warned, Margrethe being scared but forced it away, being as dumb as to taunt you further “he is mad! He tried to kill me!” she snapped with a grin, making you scoff “be glad I won’t” you growled, letting go of her, pushing her away from you with such force that made her fall to the ground with a yelp “if I ever hear you talking of Ivar that way, ever again, I will break my oath for him” you warned, looking up and finding Ivar at the edge of the hall, standing in the doorway with a shocked Hvitserk, but Ivar, Ivar smirked proudly, limping closer, not even sparing Margrethe a glance on his way to you. Ivar’s hand went around your waist as he reached you, pulling you against him and kissing you with a passion that made you moan into his mouth, Ivar’s hand reaching down and giving your ass a firm squeeze before parting from you, smiling softly, lovingly at you before glaring at Margrethe, his mood changing so quickly you’d think he was pregnant and having mood swings due to hormones.

Margrethe crawled slightly back under Ivar’s heavy gaze, clearly scared of him and you scoffed at her, looking back at Ivar “come on, she is not worth it” you whispered, Ivar smirking at you and limping towards the bedroom meant for the rulers, you hot on his heels with a giggle as Ivar held your hand. You cast one last glance over your shoulder at Margrethe as Hvitserk pulled her up by her arm again, dragging her out of the hall with an annoyed expression as she tried to literally seduce him on their way out. You smiled softly at Ivar as he held the door for you, you bowed your head at him with a grin “why thank you, my king” you teased, Ivar scoffing and smirked at you “you’re welcome, my queen” he teased back, earning a quiet laugh from you. Ivar watched you as you looked around, his playful demeanor turning worried and concerned, a frown on his brow as he watched you, it was only when you turned and saw his worried look that you yourself frowned “what is it?” you asked, Ivar limping closer to you, cupping your face in one of his hands, feeling you lean into his touch, making him almost groan out of satisfaction, but his worry for you by far won over his desires. “Are you sick?” he asked flat out, seeing you tilt your head confused at him, prompting him to sigh and look away, eyes downcast before looking back at you “I saw that you had been sick… are you hurt? Are you sick?” he asked frantically and you sighed “no, Ivar. I-... think I was just worried about you, that’s all” you said, trying to make him worry less but he just kept on frowning, his eyes studying you for a few seconds before he grabbed your hand and turned to walk out of the room “we will go to the healer” he said as he pulled you along, not that you resisted to begin with.

“What- Ivar I am a healer” you pointed out and Ivar shrugged “I do not care, we will go to a healer” he declared casually, continuing to drag you along to one of the healers, Katria, who had sailed back with Ubbe when he sailed off while you were taken captive in England. “Ivar, I am not dying” you once again tried to convince him you were fine, though you might as well try to convince a brick wall it can grow wings and fly. Ivar scoffed “how do you know, hm? What about one of those sicknesses you once told me of, cancer? A silent killer, you had called it” he said and you instantly regretted every medical information you had ever told him, your eyes nearly rolling out of your head as Ivar led you to his chariot, driving off the second you held on to him “Ivar, I am just fine” you tried once again, Ivar just straight up ignoring you at this point “Ivar, I am not coughing up blood or-” Ivar just shook his head “maybe not yet” he cut you off, making you groan “it is not cancer, I am not coughing up blood, there’s no blood when I... relieve myself, no lumps in my breasts or any growth that wasn’t there before. I do not feel any pain, except a headache but that is because of this” you tried to reason with him, hearing him sigh annoyed “what if it is something else, hm? What if it is something you ate?” he asked and you sighed “then I know what to do, and it is not something I ate” you tried once again but fuck it, you were already at the cabin at the outskirts of Kattegat. You sighed tiredly as you got off of the chariot, watching Ivar get off as well and limp towards the cabin, fully expecting you to follow, which you of course did.

As you walked inside you sighed again, Ivar glaring at you before turning to a surprised Katria “healer, my wife is dying” he said and you rolled your eyes “I am not dying” you retorded, Ivar scoffing and glaring at you again before looking at a very confused Katria “well, heal her!” he ordered and gestured to you as if Katria was the slowest person in the world and he was in a hurry, poor woman probably just wanted some peace and quiet, and then along comes the biggest drama queen of all, Ivar the Boneless himself. You rolled your eyes again and walked up to Katria “I am definitely not dying” you stated again, glancing at Ivar as you said it before letting Katria lead you to a room to examine you, Ivar following behind, not getting the hint that he should probably stay outside “stay here, Ivar, I will be back shortly” you said with a soft smile and Ivar, puppy eyed and everything, cautiously nodded and sat down on a chair, anxiously watching you disappear behind a wall.

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Tags:

@not-another-viking-fanfic-blog

#Ivar x Reader #Ivar x Modern!Reader #Vikings fic #Healer fics

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zeldas-cigarrette · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!!! I love your writing for Zelda and was hoping to request one where readers hired by hilda (readers human) after sabrina dies and ambrose leaves the mortuary, to help out zelda (aka make sure shes not lonely, makes sure she eats and doesnt smoke excessively) and zelda starts crushing even though she’s annoyed af by her new secretary at the mortuary

- ❥author’s note: Hi!! Tysm<3 I really hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing🤍

The secretary.

You had known Hilda for a couple of years now and you had heard of their loss. The blonde, usually cheery Brit, worked at the bookstore. She always had the latest gossip about people you had never heard of, nonetheless, Hilda was a polite a friendly woman you were happy to know.

You two were close, it seemed as if she was your only friend in town and you cherished her existence very much. That’s why you couldn’t hesitate to help her after the loss of her niece. „I’m not sure how to ask you Y/n, but I really need your help with this,” her voice carried concern. „Just say it,” you replied not averting your gaze from her worried face. „My nephew is out of town, I have to be here and my sister is all alone and she doesn’t take good care of herself,” she sighed before starting a new sentence, „Would you mind, taking a job at the mortuary as a secretary? Just to make sure Zelda is okay while I’m here?”

„Sure?” It sounded more like a question than a statement. „Don’t worry, she can be very nice when she warmed up to people.�� To be honest, this didn’t sound too promising, but to make Hilda feel better you gave it a shot, what could go wrong? Hilda’s „Just don’t tell her you’re looking after her.” should’ve warned you in the first place. Your naïve mind just shook it off, you knew how much Hilda loved her niece and how hard it was for her to lose that girl, you couldn’t imagine how it was for her other aunt, so you felt the need to help.

Two days later you were marching through the woods, thick layers of mud covering your shoes. It rained the night before and you have never been at the Spellman’s house and didn’t know that the way would lead you through the forest. The smell of rain lingered in the air and even though you had never met the other Spellman sister you hoped she wouldn’t hate you too much. From what Hilda had told you she didn’t seem like a charming person, but you didn’t want to judge too much before you actually meet her. When you arrived at their front door you softly knocked and waited for a response, nothing. Another, more eager knock, seemed to awake response in the house because the door flung open and revealed a mischievous redhead. „What is it? I don’t want to buy anything,” the woman scoffed and was about to close the door again. „Hello, I’m the new secretary,” you smiled innocently. Zelda, who you thought it was, rolled her eyes. „Come in.”

You assumed that she just wasn’t the type of person for warm welcomes. Stepping into the house, a cloud of smoke surrounded you, that must be one of her habits, excessively smoking. „There,” she pointed at a table, „Just take the calls or whatever.” As fast as she appeared, the fast she disappeared into the kitchen again. It left you frozen in place. Before you could worry about anything, luckily the phone rang and brought you your first client.

—♡︎

Weeks had gone by and from time to time you were able to check on Zelda. It was hard to do it without waking to much mistrust in the woman. It was late noon and you had brought rice and vegetables for cooking lunch. You knew she would be in there and you might have a chance to talk to her.

You sat at the table, observing the older woman from time to time. It was a miracle, Zelda never left the table, she sat there smoked her cigarettes and read her newspaper, the whole day. It worried you, to say the least, seeing this woman who was smart and also very beautiful, destroying herself piece by piece. „Have you eaten today?” your voice was shaky, fearing she wouldn’t answer. It nearly surprised you when she slightly shook her head. „Would you like to have some rice then?” Just another shake of her head. „Could you at least stop smoking when I’m in here?” I asked. „It never bothered you until now, what is your problem?” Zelda’s voice grew in rage. „Okay, no need to freak out it was a subtle question,” you tried to ease the tension between you two. Zelda averted her gaze and turned a page in her newspaper. „I’m going to cook now, if you want anything let me know,” you almost whispered and got up from the chair. Soon the smell of freshly cooked food filled the kitchen and you placed bits of it on two plates. „In case you develop appetite in the next time,” you said and placed a plate in front of her. You left the kitchen with you. „You’re annoying,” was the last thing you heard before you entered the hall again. „I know.” She may not hate you as much as she used to.

As the day went on no calls were incoming, no people came, nothing at all. „Do you mind if I join you for a while?” you entered the living room with a book in your hands. „No just sit.” Even the living room smelt as if fifty people were smoking in there. You opened your book on the page you last stopped and continued reading the novel. Sometimes coughs interrupted the suffocating silence. It felt good being near the woman, though she doesn’t seem to like you very much it made you feel at ease to know that she was doing nothing severely hurtful to herself. „I really don’t want to bother you, but could you please stop smoking?” you asked anew not bothering to look up from your book. Only a sigh in response, but she stubbed it out. It surprised you, to say the least. Normally smoking didn’t bother you at all, but smelling it so prominently the whole time took a toll on you and when Hilda said that her sister chain-smoked the cancer sticks madly you think it was one of the reasons why she hired you.

—♡︎

Days after, a lot of calls were incoming. It was a busy day and you arranged days for the grieving family members to see their loved one dressed nicely in their coffin. You spent the morning talking on the phone almost with no breaks, you wondered what had happened in the last days that so many people died.

You entered the kitchen when you made sure nobody would call in the next few minutes, to get a glass of water. Zelda sat at the table once again, reading her newspaper. At least she wasn’t smoking.

„Want something to eat?” „I’m good,” her voice sounded strained. „There were a lot of people calling today,” you explained before taking a sip of water. „Is there someone for the morgue stuff or…” you wanted to continue but you heard suppressed sobs. „Oh God, Zelda are you okay?” it almost worried you immediately. You had never seen her like this before, nor did you think she was even able to cry. You quickly scurried over to her, wanting to comfort the woman. The soft sobs turned into uncontrollable cries. „What’s going on, please tell me,” you panicked when the woman buried her head in her hands. „Get Sabrina back!” the redhead screamed through her tears. You didn’t know what to do, you knew you couldn’t get her back. „Zelda, just talk to me you need to calm down alright,” you caressed her cheek. „I can’t.” „Yes you can, get up we’re going in the living room,” you cooed in her ear and took her hand, not caring about the sudden contact.

„Just sit down, it’s going to be fine,” you placed a cushion behind her back. Her sobs became less and less audible until they stopped completely. „Do you want to talk about it?” „I’m sorry I didn’t want to-“ „Don’t apologize Zelda it’s fine,” you forced a smile onto your face. Silence.

„We don’t have to talk about it, we can just sit here in silence,” you reassured her putting her hand back on her thigh, not wanting to be clingy. „Could- Could you take…” referring to your hand she stared down at yours. „Sure.” You took her hand again and caressed her palms with your thumb. Zelda’s body relaxed and she leant back on the couch, letting her head rest on it. A look in her direction let you know she had fallen asleep, sound and peaceful. You carefully placed her hand on a cushion next to her and got up. „Don’t go?” it almost sounded desperate. „I’ll be right by your side when you wake up,” you smiled before sitting down again. Your mind went on and on about how incredibly sad Zelda was, and how much you grew fond of her. You watched her sleep, how her nostrils slightly twitched every now and then and how some of her hair fell into her face. „Y/n!” the sudden noise startled you. „Jesus, what’s happening?” you asked perplexed and closed the book in your lap. „I’d thought you left,” Zelda admitted and sat up straight. „I told you I’ll be here,” you smiled and scanned your opposite. „Is there something you’d like to tell me because you seemed to dislike me from the very beginning, Ms. Spellman,” it was hard to hold back a chuckle. „Well…, I might have taken a liking to you Y/n,” it came like butter over her lips. „I might’ve too,” you took her hand and squeezed it, letting her know that you were there.

„I’m glad Hilda asked you to stay here with me,” she yawned and closed her eyes again. „You knew, huh?” it didn’t surprise you, Hilda wasn’t a secretive person. „We both know my sister.” „Can’t say anything against it.” Zelda’s arm slowly pulled you closer to her, fearing you’d be gone just as fast as Sabrina was. „I’ll be there tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere,” you mumbled and one could almost hear you smile. „I’m not taking the risk,” the grip around you got stronger, but you didn’t mind.

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little-lemon-lattes · 4 years ago

Text

The Set Up

🌜Zelda Spellman x fem! reader

—— Word count: 2.2k

—— Warnings: none, just a little bit fluffy 🥳

—— Summary: You are left home alone with Zelda one weekend and you’re full of nerves! She has been nothing but an ice queen since you met, and now seems like the perfect opportunity for her to tell you exactly what she thinks of you while everyone else is gone.

It was just the two of you in the house this weekend. Just Zelda, just you.

It shamed you to admit it, but when Hilda had told you that she was going to test the waters in staying the whole weekend with Dr C- followed closely by Ambrose and Sabrina’s revelations that they, too, would be spending the next few nights with their respective partners – it had been hard to contain the strange bubbly feeling that had ignited in your belly. Only you and Zelda in that enormous house, for two whole days and nights?! It would be an understatement to say that it was making you nervous.

Zelda Spellman was a formidable woman, to say the least. It had been close to three months now since Hilda had extended the Spellman hospitality to you, offering you a large and handsome room, along with all the usual luxuries everyone had grown so jealous of the Spellman cousins for. Hilda had never explained why she did it – you expected she had her reasons in there somewhere – but you were now, and in every essence, a part of the Spellman family. And it was no exaggeration to say that from almost the moment you had walked through their colossal front door (nothing but a rucksack in hand), all signs had pointed to Zelda’s utter disapproval of you.

You were desperate to gain even a simple ounce of her obviously hard-won trust. It was important to you that she see the magnitude of exactly how thankful you were for her hospitality at a point your life of Hades-bottom. You delivered blackcurrant-nightshade tea to her study, as she worked in her dressing gown to the late witching hour; astral travelling to the most obscure countries, to collect the newspapers for Zelda’s morning reading; and, on the odd occasion, hexing anybody you heard whispering unsavoury things about her in the hallways of the Academy.

And yet, for what? What had it all earned you?

Nothing but calculating scans and narrowed eyes.

Thus, you thought it seemed only natural to be nervous, alone in the mortuary with her. To be honest, it wouldn’t have totally shocked you if Zelda took the opportunity to finally tell you exactly what she thought of you, away from the ears of the other Spellmans. What the pair of you didn’t know, however, was that this was exactly what these ‘other Spellmans’ had in mind when vacating the house for that weekend.

At first, there had been an awful lot of plain staring coming from Zelda; and this alone had been enough to pique the interest of her sister Hilda. Hilda hadn’t been sure, at the time, if anyone else had noticed much out of the ordinary. But, having been by Zelda’s side for numerous centuries now, it almost immediately struck Hilda as strange the lack of comment supplied from her sister. She had always known Zelda to be a reasonably opinionated, and if she were caught looking for longer than usual at anything, it would be certain it was because she had something to say about it. Hilda supposed it was because her sister was unaware in those times that she even had an audience to provide commentary for. The younger Spellman sister had eventually cooked up a competition in her head of how many times a day she would look up from her little world at the stovetop and catch Zelda watching you. At first, it was all stoically and quizzically, as if analysing exactly what your every move meant; but later changing into something more girlish and slightly wistful, often with her cheek resting in the palm of her hand. Hilda would never dare mention it, of course. She suspected that Zelda wasn’t even aware that she was doing it.

Another such thing that Hilda suspected had emerged from her sister’s subconscious was the large percentage of conversation with Zelda that your name seemed to find its way into. Whether the younger witch was asking her if she wanted her pumpkin roasted, or her thoughts on the newest appointment of Transylvania’s High Priest, talk would always return to how illusive you were.

“ Do you mean to tell me, sister, that you don’t feel it every time she is in this damn house?”

“Erm... feel what, exactly, Zelds?” Hilda had peeped.

“I don’t know what it is, Hilda, you tell me!” she had exclaimed, “ some form of heaven-bent , wicked energy. Like electricity, one might say. Yes. I’m almost certain that y/n is slowly but surely cursing the entire mortuary, because – Hilda – it seems I can’t escape the nauseating feeling in my stomach, no matter what wing of the house we are in!”

Hilda had to draw on all the power of the mortal and immortal realms she could muster in order to keep a fit of laughter at bay. Her sister was definitely the smartest and most impressive witch she knew, but this little bout of oblivion where you were concerned totally provided some much-needed comedy to Hilda’s day. Her certainty at what was going on was only confirmed further, when Sabrina had come to her with interesting reports of a mystery master of hexes striking in the hallways of the academy.

“ - and naturally, I had to do a bit of digging,” Sabrina continued,

“ Naturally,” her aunt had agreed.

“ So I took it upon myself to do a bit of… ‘Q and A’ with the victims, let’s call them. And, once I’d persuaded them to loosen their tongues a little bit, a pattern begin to emerge: they all admitted to having a little word or two about Aunt Zelda. Interesting, huh? But just wait for it, Aunty, here’s the kicker. Guess when the hexing started?”

“Hmmm... I don’t know, my love, when?” Except, she was pretty sure she did know.

“ Three months ago! Right about the time that-“

“- Y/n started teaching at the Academy.” Ambrose finished for her, as he materialised in the kitchen next to Sabrina and their aunt.

“ Forgive my interruption, cousin, Auntie. Coincidentally, I was looking for Sabrina to discuss with her whether Satan had finally removed my frontal cortex, or if I wasn’t the only one who had noticed the abnormal, puppy-like devotion for Aunt Zelda that constantly radiates from y/n?”

“YESSSS!” The women shouted together.

“ Ah good. My cortex lives to see another day.” Ambrose remarked.

“Well, to be fair though,” Hilda started, “I do think it’s partly because the poor dear feels as if she has to move Hell and Earth just to melt away even a teensy bit of that awful ice that Zelda has gone and put up around herself.”

“Yeah, what is with that? I swear I haven’t seen her so closed off, like... EVER. And what did y/n ever do to her?” Sabrina remarked.

“Why, isn’t it obvious, cousin? She’s put a spell on dear Aunt Zee. And not the kind that can be cast, if you take my meaning.”

You had finally arrived home for the evening. Shrugging your midnight-blue coat off and replacing it on the coat rack, you called into the open abyss of the house: “It’s just me, Zelda!”

Hilda, Ambrose, and Sabrina had all left that morning, meaning it was just you, Zelda, and Uncomfortable Tension left in the house.

There was no answer to your call, and it felt pretty chilly in the house on that midwinter’s evening. Pulling the pins from your French twist, you flicked a lazy hand at the hearth. Orange flames sprung to life where seconds before had been merely dust. You decided that Zelda was probably busy in her study, and wanted to be left alone. You would take a plate of food to her later. So, you began climbing the stairs to your room on the third floor, directly above the Spellman sisters’, unwinding your scarf as you went. Letting it dangle open around your shoulders, you turned the corner of the second floor staircase toward your chambers. Your eyes slid past the sisters’ door out of habit. As you raised your foot to continue your ascent, you stopped. Zelda was sitting on the edge of a meticulously perfect-made bed that you could only assume was hers, staring glassy-eyed into space. The expression on her face made your heart hurt for a moment; it looked as if she were in slight pain. She was gently biting her lip, and the outer corners of her eyes were tilted down. She fiddled nervously with her fingers.

You backed up a few paces, coming to rest outside her door. Crossing your arms, you leant your head against the frame, waiting to see if she would acknowledge you. But, it seemed as if she had no idea that you were even there.

“Zelda...? Is everything alright?” you ask tentatively. Suddenly, her obvious anxiety began to make you anxious. Though you seemed to have broken her from her trance, because at your words, her eyes flickered to your place at the doorframe, and her expression morphed into something a little nauseous. It was evident that something big was on Zelda’s mind. You had crossed the room in seconds to her, and sank into the mattress next to her.

“What is it? What’s wrong? I know you don’t trust me, Zelda, I get that... but just know that you can tell me anything you feel you need.”

The Spellman let out a tiny puff of air, as if she had been holding her breath. There was silence for a minute as you watched her. It was clear that was carefully choosing her words.

“It’s just...” she tried to begin, “I just... I have had something playing across the many facets of my mind lately, y/n, and-“ she sighed, “I have become briefly overwhelmed by exactly how unattainable to me it is.”

You were shocked. Something unattainable to THE Zelda Spellman? Impossible. And you told her as much.

She smiled at you ruefully.

“Unfortunately, y/n, I think this time that you are wrong.”

You frowned.

“Why? Why would I be wrong? Why is this thing so out of your reach?”

Your mind, as keen as ever, was desperate for answers.

Zelda swallowed, and glanced at you. You replied with an inquisitive raise of your eyebrows. She inhaled, expelling everything in her breath out: “Because my prime came and went centuries ago. I’m nothing but an old crone!” She buried her face in her hands.

That was it; that was all it took for your heart to break into a million pieces.

All reservations out the window, you took her hand fiercely and turned your body to completely face her. Your knees were touching hers.

“That is the most utter nonsense, you hear me? You’re easily the most powerful, awe-inspiring, shining witch in any given room, plus the fact that you’re definitely the most stunningly beautiful woman I’ve ever seen! You can-“ Your words were beginning to catch up with your brain, and it seemed that everything you felt for her that you had desperately tried to quash was deciding to make an appearance too, “-you can... do anything you put your mind to.”

The sentence ended on nothing more than a whisper. Shit. Well, that wasn’t exactly the way you would have appreciated being exposed.

You had convinced yourself that Zelda was something of a role model to you and that you were ongoingly gracious for her hospitality- when in truth, she had probably been the least hospitable to you of the family. That explanation had been easy to tell yourself- she was just SO great that you wanted to be her! Not be with her, right? Wrong. The time for a taste of reality had come.

Zelda looked gobsmacked. She frowned a little, as if trying to work something out. After a brief pause, she asked: “Does that mean what I think it does?”

You swallowed.

“What exactly do you think it means?”

The other woman looked a bit meek for a moment. You could tell that her inherently Zelda-ish fear of being wrong was toying with her.

“That maybe... it’s not so out of my reach after all?”

The way her voice raised at the end of the sentence had the astounding effect of transforming her into a scared little girl in a millisecond. Could she BE any more vague, though? She wasn’t addressing your slip of the tongue at all!

Oh hold on.

Unless...?

You chose your next words very carefully.

“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

It seemed that you had thrown her! She let go of your hand and looked away from you to her feet, all while biting her lip again. She dug her nails into her palm.

When Zelda looked up at you again, she seemed ten times braver than she had moments ago, when she had looked to the ground.

“Would I be overstepping my place if I were to do this,” the High Priestess slid her hand up your thigh, “or this,” she placed her hand on your cheek, “or this?”

She finished by leaning in so close that your foreheads were touching.

By Hecate, she took your breath away. You stilled for a few seconds, just to really see her this close, and to admire every single pore of her being. You could feel Zelda’s laboured breath on your skin, dripping with want.

Finally, you spoke.

“Not at all.”

And it was you who closed the space between the pair of you, smiling against her lips. ✨

#zelda spellman #zelda spellman x reader #caos #Sabrina #lgbt #fanfic #hilda spellman #sabrina spellman #ambrose spellman #chilling adventures of sabrina #miranda otto #caos imagine #wlw #caos fanfiction #your pov

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pieces-by-me · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Eyes

Words: 2627

Summary: There aren’t only rats in the tunnels under York. A big surprise for Ivar that takes his breath away.

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, imprisonment. English is not my first language and first time writing for Vikings.

@maggiescarborough - thank you again for the help with this!! I hope you like it and still want to read it (Even though it took me four months to write this)

Ever since Eadrick and Hilda found out she was with child they knew that it would be special. They knew because the pregnancy felt different. Hilda didn't have sickness in the morning and her emotions stayed the same all throughout the months. When they went to the healer of their small village he told them that it was a curse from the Devil. For no women had ever a pregnancy like it, it was unnatural. Eadrick couldn't understand why the healer had the idea that his child could be a curse. How could it be? They tried for so long and never were blessed with one and now that it finally happened they had to hear that it was the Devils work? Hilda had tears running down her face as she stood tall and declared that the healer should feel ashamed. “My child is not made by the Devil but blessed by God!” The healer sneered after them as they exited the small cottage.

Months passed by and the happy pair couldn't wait to see their little boy or girl.They didn't care what the child would be as long as it was healthy. But with the time fleeting and the stomach growing the looks from the people of the village would grow as well and become more and more evil. Word had got out that Hilda supposedly carried the Devils child and with every day that passed Eadrick became more worried for his wife. He knew that he had to protect her and his child, so he did everything to build them a little home in the middle of the forrest surrounding the village.

When Hilda went into labor Eadrick feared for his beloved. The healer refused to help birth 'a cursed child' and they were alone in their small home. Only a fire to help and warm them in the cold winter month. The birth went so fast it was as if it never really happened. And the strangest thing was that Hilda felt not one bit of pain. She was smiling when she pushed and then her child came into the world. Hilda birthed a little girl and Eadrick couldn't help but look at his family with love and adoration. He swore to God that he would do anything, even sin, to protect his family.

She didn't scream when she came into this world. Her big eyes were just looking, searching, for her mother and father. And as soon as her little eyes met the tear filled ones of her father she let out a little laugh that made both her parents cry for joy. Her eyes had the color of light. An almost golden hue that could not be discribed. She was not a curse. She was a blessing. They decided to name her (Y/N). The little girl with sunshine in her eyes.

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Ivar wobbled through the streets of York with eyes in search for any small thing he could have missed. He had to make sure that everything was in order and that nothing would go wrong. The smoke from the burned up rats and rotten meat made it hard to examine the traps but he managed. More annoying was the smell. He had to swallow back his already eaten food to not vomit all over the street at some points. That would not be a good look for the ruler of the Heathen Army. But that also was something he managed. Ivar sent Hvitserk away to survey the catacombs under York after his big brother questioned his plan. Idiot. As if he didn't build everything in his head to a point and thought about how everything could turn out. Of course he had a plan. A plan that would soon be taken into action, for as the Saxons were on their way to take back York. With an almost malicious smile Ivar made his last round around the outer ring of the city. Oh yes, the Saxons would come soon and think that death took all the heathens away. But they would be met with nothing but death for themselves.

Hvitserk cursed his younger brother. He knew very well that Ivar was not an idiot and had a plan. He just wanted to be included. Not be left out and always chasing answers and responsibility. Not unlike with Ubbe. But now he kind of wished that his brother would have given him another order. And not running around the dirt and rat infested tunnels that stretched out under this Christian city. He didn't really know for what he, and the other worriers that went down with him, should be looking for, but he guessed that if he found something suspicious or wrong he would see and know.

After walking through the foul-smelling tunnels for hours, Hvitserk was about to call it quits and wanted to go back up the ladder when he caught something in the corner of his eye. It was a door. A rotten door with huge metal bolts that looked like it would bust with one small push and fall out of its hinges. He walked closer to it, intrigued to find something after hours of nothing. The wood on the door felt rough to his touch making him think that it was not used often. When he tried to open it though it wouldn't give. It stayed shut and only then did he see the whole for a key.

'You're not the first thing that wanted to stay untouched but I always got my way.' He thought with a mischievous smirk as he thought about some of his past conquests. When he slammed his body for the third time against the door, with running start, and it's still not budging he grew irritated. The wood definitely being more robust then it appeared. What the hel was behind this door that needed to be so protected? After one last push something in that room moved. Hvitserk could hear it. Almost like a hound. Whimpering and shuffling as if to get away. Why would the Saxon leave an animal locked in these dark tunnels?

His thoughts were broken up by the sound of running feet and people flooding the tunnels. The time has come. The Saxons were here. With one last glance to the door Hvitserk made his way back to the entrance where he was supposed to meet up with Ivar. As he rounded the corner he saw how his little brother was being hoisted down and someone was already waiting with his crutch on the ground.

_______________________________________________________________________

The Saxons entered the city. Empty of all beings except the rats that crawled over the muddy grounds. Why were the rats on the ground? The Bishop looked at the small rodents with uncertainty. It was not common for rats to run this free around people. Soon the cheers of the soldiers were washing his worry to the back of his head. Bells were ringing and people celebrating; they have defeated the Vikings.

But while the rats ran free on the ground the tunnels swarmed with Viking warriors lusting for blood. Ivar did it again. He came up with a plan that fooled his opponent and would guarantee his success. He looked up through the manhole to the feet of soldiers walking over him unbeknown to the threat underneath their them.

Hvitserk arrived and made his way over to his little brother. The two Ragnarsons met eyes and in both radiated the intend and want to kill and mark the streets of York with the blood of the Christians. In the back of Hvitserks head the thought of the mysterious door and animal surfaced for a split second, he would go back there and try to open it when the battle is won. With a little shake of his head to get back to now he heard the Saxons cheer for their victory.

Ivar and Hvitserk met eyes again, both smiling like two mad men. Anticipation running through their veins at the thought of finally running their sword and axes through bodies and bones. And with a small turn from his body Ivar watched his warriors, everyone at the soles of their feet to start, threw is right hand in the air and ladders were pulled up. Everyone had to be silent.

As the first men stepped through the opening, Ivar and Hvitserk letting out roars of battle, the Saxons had to realize that they made a huge mistake.

Cheers turned to screams of shock and the streets turned red with blood and gore.

The Heathens were not dead but they brought it with them.

_______________________________________________________________________

The battle was done. The bishop in chains and Ivar was basking in his win. Heahmund thought he was looking in the eyes of the devil when he saw the crawling figure coming closer and closer to him. Chuckling like a demon. While he relished in the humiliation of the Christian, his brother was distracted by something else. In the back of the church were two dogs that fought over a bone, it seams that ever creature was fighting on this day. But the display and sounds brought back a memory to Hvitserks mind. The animal in the tunnels.

He went out of the building without a word in search of a bigger ax. His brother not even realizing he left. When Hvitserk made his way back into the tunnels he had a harder time finding the mysterious door again. The shine of the torch not being light enough for him to see everything. With his luck we would get lost. But the gods were on his side and after he ran into a dead end for the fifth time he found it. 'You're done'

His shoulder hurt after the battle. One Saxon having brought their sword down further then Hvitserk could reflect with his. The dried up blood was still on his clothes. It seamed to open up again as warm liquid trailed down his arm in small droplets. But he didn't care. He needed to know what exactly was behind this stupidly, hard to open door. With a final blow of the ax the wood splintered away and gave sight into the room.

It was dark and the smell of sick and rotten flesh made its way into his nose. It was worse then when they burned flesh for the plan. Even with his torch he couldn't see inside so he made his way back a little and began to bring the ax back to the hole he created. More and more wood split away and after only four more hits he could fit through. Of course it was probably not the best idea to go blindly into a locked room but his curiosity won over common sense.

At first he didn't see anything. No animal running towards him. No treasure or anything being stored in this room. All his eyes were met was stone walls that were covered with vines and mold, water running down in small streams down the sides and puddles of old and dried up blood littering the floor. This was not a room for save keeping. No this looked like a cell if he ever seen one. He turned around and was about to climb back through the door when a sound made his body freeze.

It was the same thing. The small whining of a broken animal. Barley there but in the silent room it appeared to echo from everywhere. He turned around and really searched every corner and halted when his eyes came on a small bundle of brown fabric. Fabric that moved in a feeble attempted to get away from the viking. He took a step closer, cautious as to not scare it even more. He didn't even know what lied before him until two golden eyes looked back at him with so much despair he faltered in his step.

It was a girl. A small, sickly Saxon girl that, by the looks of it, was trapped in this cell for only the gods knew how long. She trembled and flinched and even though he didn't move closer she tried to get away even more. But her body seemed to gave up on her. All throughout her weak attempted to escape the threat they held eye contact until the gold vanished and she collapsed on the ground.

'What in the name of Odin?'

Hvitserk ran up to the girl and up on a closer look saw that her hands and feet were shackled to the walls. Her wrist scraped raw and red. Ankles crusted over with old blood.

Unbeknown to Hvitserk the closer he got to the girl the less his shoulder bled and hurt. But with the situation a little bit more severe he just simply couldn't focus on it. He blamed it on his new discovery and excitement and moved on. With his ax he had little effort with the chains that weighted more then the girl herself, picked her up over his shoulder and made his way back to the church. He couldn't wait for his brothers reaction of his find.

Ivar was getting impatient. Sitting on the table at end of the hall he wondered where his brother was. A small feast was being held to celebrate the defeat of the Christians. He wanted to talk to him about the bishop and then rub it in his face a little that his plan worked. The rumble of conversations died down a little with the sound of opening doors and people made room for whoever entered the hall. By now Ivar could see that ,finally, his brother came. But what he nor anyone expected was the sleeping girl in his arms. What was going on?

With each step from his brother Ivar felt something change inside his body. He couldn't put it into words but there was a force spreading from his chest to his legs. Hvitserk went to the middle of the room and laid the girl on the floor right to his feet. Ivar's eyes widened, breath stuck inside his lungs. Could it be? He didn't feel like this since he was just a little boy. He only remembered that once he had felt it because his beloved mother told him. With a start so abrupt he made everyone in the room look at him he lowered his body to the ground.

Hvitserk looked at his little brother who crawled over the unconscious Saxon girl. Faster then he ever crawled. As if she was the only thing that would keep him alive, that she was the last drop of water for a dying man. His whole body covered hers and he was only breaths away from her. The look on his face was a fuse of shock, astounding, revelation and skepticism. But also, if you were close enough, fear. He looked as if the biggest treasure lay under him. The other vikings in the room stopped at what they were doing and observed what their leader would do. No one said a word. There wasn't even the sound of a single breath. Ivar's eyes didn't even blink as he slowly graced her face with his bloodied hand. Leaving a small trail of blood on her cold face. Who was this girl?

“Ivar, what it is? What are you doing?”

Ivar could only vaguely hear his big brothers words. But they came through the haze he was trapped in and with a small voice, so quiet Hvitserk had to lean closer to the two bodies lying on the ground to even hear him, he said:

“I don't feel any pain in my legs.”

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Thanks for reading and let me know what you think about this. I have an idea for a little series with this.

Hope everyone has an awesome day!

#history vikings #vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar imagine #ivar x y/n #my work #ivar fanfic

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candescentclitoria · 4 years ago

Text

What About You? What About Me?

Pairing: Zelda Spellman x Reader, Other Character x Reader.

Warnings: Does unrequited love count? Cause that shit hurts.

Co-Writer/Editor: @empatheticroses

A/N: This took a long while mainly because my friend and I had classes up our asses.

You had been pining after her for years. Two, to be exact, but it felt like an eternity with how your attempts to let her know had been disregarded. Specifically, when you would do little things to help her work as the Unholy Choir’s director—bringing her cups of crisp cold water, sometimes cups of hot tea when she had a sore throat. When you would visit the Spellman residence, just to see more of her and to say ‘hi’ to the family, you would help her tidy up, make her drinks, tiny snacks; even helping to clean up after dinner. Your help didn’t go unnoticed by the other residence members, who thanked you with either a hug, specifically a Hilda hug, those were the best or a kind tone of voice.

Whenever Zelda did notice, she would nod and gently pat you on the head. Saying a quiet ‘thank you.’ Perhaps you were petty for wanting more gratitude from the redhead.

Months go by, Zelda was with Marie now, and for a while, you thought you could handle it; and you did for the most part. You were holding it well, all the way up till Hilda and Cee’s wedding reception. After Sabrina had saved the coven from “The Uninvited,” the evening’s festivities continued. Sipping on wine, you innocently looked over, you saw Zelda and Marie kiss, after that, it was over, you had to leave. Tears in your eyes and walking, you accidentally bumped into Hilda. “Darling, what’s wrong?” The blonde asked, her hand gently grasping your forearm. You shook your head, “No, I am fine; I don’t want to ruin your night. I just have to go.” You said, not without looking away at Zelda one last time. Hilda looked at you after you turned your head to her; an understanding look from the blonde was all you needed from her before you left.

Everyone had noticed how you craved the attention and acceptance from the redhead, even her sister. When it came to it, Hilda was your shoulder to lean on when Zelda was seemingly prospering, and you were shriveling, dejection, and hurt filling your soul. When Zelda had married Faustus, you tried your best to support her. Being her friend, you felt you needed it; however, Hilda told you that feeling the way you were, betrayed and hurt, was perfectly fine.

When Zelda had come back from her Honeymoon under the effects of the Caligari Spell, you tried your best to reach her, yet she pushed you away, saying she had always been that way. When she had the spell broken, you were right by her side, placing a hot cup of tea in front of her. You had pushed yourself to dig your happiness’ grave just to please her, your mental and emotional health pushed to the side to prioritize her’s. To say that you were breaking was an understatement. You were already far gone, broken, yet you chose to stay, pampering Zelda as she walked off with another. Hilda held you as you sobbed that night, wailing at the heartbreak that consumed you once more.

Your legs push you to the main foyer of Dorian’s, a quiet ‘lanuae magicae’ leaving your lips as you walk. Your surroundings turn from those of the nightclub to your bedroom; quickly, you move to gather your things, using your magic to finish quicker. Your suitcase, full of your clothes, was ready to be put in your car. Any type of electronic you own is packed separately and carefully. Your bed is stripped of its dark grey sheets and comforter, packed in another suitcase. You were doing it. You were leaving. Finally, after years of pining after Zelda, pampering her every need and want, and your suffering, you were putting yourself first. You decided then and there; you would never let yourself get hurt just to please someone ever again, mainly when they chose not to acknowledge you and your attempts to please them.

Changing your clothes, you place your dress in the suitcase with your clothes, zipping it up and teleporting it to the trunk of your car, your other bags following as well. By now, your trunk and backseat were bound to be full, perhaps even your passenger seat. Walking downstairs, you grab your spare money jar. It was meant for paying bills, but you wouldn’t need to pay them for a while, not until you settled down somewhere else.

Ten thousand dollars in cash, you had ten thousand dollars. That itself was more than enough combined with your current amount in the bank.

With a small sigh, you turn off all the lights with a wave of your hand, and staring back into the darkness of your living room, you shut the door and leave. Your first stop was the Spellman residence. No one would be home, so it was perfect for you to get in, get out, and leave a note for Hilda. An apology. You apologized for so many things in the letter you had no clue what it was about anymore, just an apology, you supposed.

Admitting it hadn’t been hard, but you would miss your chaotic adoptive niece, always causing something to happen in Greendale. Ambrose, still having to help her fix the mistakes. Your little, yet highly elder, nephew. His small spouts of wisdom from all his years of living. Hilda and her kind heart, her ability to calm you down just by existing. And Zelda, there was so much to miss about her, the snooty remarks, the ways she’d reel you in hook, line, and sinker. She was leaving you deft and dim, leaving you to crack and pour.

The letter was addressed to Hilda, and you had hoped that she wouldn’t tell Zelda with the begging inside the note. You hoped she would tell Ambrose and Sabrina and tell them not to let Zelda know. You were moving on. That was that.

What you hadn’t expected when you left and arrived in Scarsdale, a small quaint town outside of Greendale, was to meet a woman. A beautiful, kind, and acknowledging woman. When you had bumped into each other, her coffee spilling all over her, you repeatedly apologized, saying you’d buy her another coffee and pay for her dirty clothes to be cleaned. She nodded and let you guide her to the coffee shop, buying her a replacement drink and a pastry. And then, she asked you on a date. Her name was Edalyn, Eda for short. She was in her thirties, much younger than Zelda, and very foxy. She had bright ginger hair, wild like a lion's mane, yet well kept. Her eyes were very light brown, and in the sun, they were golden.

Eventually, one date turned into two and two into three. Soon enough, five months of seeing each other passed, and you decide to move in together. Eda herself turned out to be a witch.

Yes, it did remind you of Zelda, but you had Eda now. You didn’t need Zelda, and you didn’t crave her affections anymore. You desired Eda’s, and she gave it freely. Whenever you would bring her little snacks or drinks, she would kiss your cheek, take your hand and say ‘Thank you.’

When you would bring her lunch for work- dinner if she stayed later than usual- she would pull you into her lap and nuzzle into your neck, mumbling tiny ‘Thank you’s. Fixing her a bath before bed rewarded you with kisses all over your face, tiny ‘I love you’s leaving her throat. Even if you didn’t do anything for her, she would kiss you, whether it was on your cheek, neck, lips.

This is the affection you always deserved. You reminded yourself.

Eda fixed you, and she said that you set her as well.

This is the affection you deserve.

At night you would cuddle into her arms and fall asleep to the sound of her heartbeat, her chin resting on the top of your head.

You deserve to heal.

Some days, Hilda would apparate to you, checking in on you. She would kiss your cheek and hug you, telling you that when she finished apparating, she would teleport a basket of pastries to you. She would ask you how you were doing if you had met anyone. You told her you had. You told her how happy Eda made you, how well she treated you. Hilda would smile and place her hands on top of yours, “You deserve every bit of affection she gives to you! So long as you return it!” And you did, you told her. Every time Eda would be affectionate, you would be affectionate back. A smile would cross her face, and she would tear up, “May I say something?” You’d nod. “Zelda is… she’s going nuts dear. She hasn’t heard from you, and she thinks you're just ignoring her. Just be careful alright? You know Zelda, she always does something bizarre when she needs an answer.” You had nodded and Hilda frowned slightly, “I have to go now. Sabrina and Ambrose miss you dearly; we all do. And don’t worry, we haven’t told Zelda what happened.” A small ‘thank you’ left your lips, and you smiled at Hilda. “Bring Sabrina next time, okay? Maybe Ambrose if possible.” She would nod, and then, she would be gone.

The next time she visited you, Sabrina was with her, and Eda was home. Hilda approved of Eda quickly and telling you she, as Sabrina would be right back, they disappeared and reappeared, this time there. Hilda’s warm arms welcomed you, and you teared up as you laid your head against her shoulder. Sabrina moved to wrap her arms around you, and she nuzzled into your shoulder.

Tears freely flowed down her face, her brown eyes almost shining. “I missed you, Auntie (Y/N).” A shaky, “I missed you too, kid,” escaped your lips, and you kissed her forehead. You turned your head to look at Eda. “Eda, this is Sabrina and Hilda, Hilda, Sabrina, meet Eda.” Hilda had moved to hug her immediately, thanking her for taking care of you. Sabrina shook her head gently, little chuckles escaping her mouth. After Hilda had finished her ‘thank you’s, she had set out to your kitchen, with yours and Eda’s permission, to cook some dinner.

Sabrina gently put her hand out, “It’s nice to meet you. Auntie (Y/N) talks about you to Aunt Hilda all the time!” Eda chuckled, moving her hand to grips Sabrina’s, “And have I made a good impression?”

“The best.” Sabrina glanced at you. Your hands were busy making the broth for the soup. “Anyone who makes my Aunts happy has my full approval.” A smile graced Eda’s face, and she looked at you. “I make her that happy?” Sabrina Nodded. “Yeah, My other Aunt, Zelda- the one (Y/N) is in hiding from- held (Y/N)’s affection for a long time. One day she had enough and left, finally choosing her happiness and mental health over someone’s Auntie’s. My Aunt Zelda was foolish not to realize what was in front of her all this time, but it’s too late. (Y/N)’s moved on, she’s happy now, and I can’t thank you enough for helping her fix herself, Ms. Eda.”

“Thanks, Sabrina; I’m glad I make her that happy.” Sabrina nodded and walked off to the kitchen, leaving Eda to her thoughts. She never knew how happy she made you and the fact that she knew now? She wanted to give you the best life possible, so she promised herself she would.

Eda’s eyes glanced to look at you as you worked beside Hilda. A smile was plastered on your face, and Eda couldn’t help but smile as well. She walked over behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek. She was whipped for you, no doubt.

Another thing you hadn’t expected, after being told that Zelda had no clue you had indeed left, was for her to turn up on your doorstep. She looked paler than usual, her hair was the slightest bit frazzled, and her makeup was much more minimal than usual.

“Thank Hecate. I’ve finally found you.” Blinking rapidly, you open your mouth to speak, “How the hell? How did you find me? Who told you where I was?” Shaking her head, she steps past you into the living room. “No one, but that fact that others knew and I didn’t hurt. Let me guess, and you told Hilda, Sabrina, and Ambrose to hide it from me that you left? Am I right?” A small nod is all you can muster up, eyes glancing up into hers. “Well then, it’s time for you to come home. I’ve realized I made many mistakes when it came to you. You’ve been by my side through everything, and I want you as mine.”

You raise your brows in shock. Is she serious?

“You’re- You’re joking, right?” You say quietly, fists clenched at your side. “No, I’m not. I realized that I’ve been horrible to you. I didn’t even consider your feelings or your mental health; I’m sorry (Y/N).”

A raspy voice calls out to you, “(Y/N), what’s going on, babe?”

Eda!

She rounds the corner and moves to you but stops as she lands her eyes on the redhead. “Who is this?” Closing your eyes tightly, you gently take Eda’s hand. “This is Zelda, Eda. Zelda, this is Eda, my girlfriend.” Zelda’s eyes widen, her hands raise slightly, but she puts them back at her sides. “So you’ve… you’ve taken a lover.” You nod, hand tightening on Eda’s. “Yes, I have.”

A growl escapes Eda’s lips, and she glares at Zelda, “What the hell are you doing here? After everything you’ve done to her, you have some nerve.” Zelda throws her hands up, stepping back slightly, “Trust me, I have no harmful intentions; I just wish to talk to (Y/N).” You place your hand on Eda's shoulder, shaking your head when she looks at you. Now wasn’t the time for Eda to lash out. Truthfully, Eda always had a temper, letting her anger sometimes get the best of her. She was never abusive in any way, instead she tended just to cry or punch a pillow. Her rage was never brought out on you.

“What do you want, Zelda? Why’d you come looking for me?” Zelda gently grabs your hand and moves with you to sit down on the couch. “As I said earlier, I’ve realized how I’ve made you feel. Forgotten, unloved, disregarded: like you don’t matter, but you do, I promise. It took me a while to realize that I’m sorry (Y/N). Please, come back with me, give me another chance, and I promise I will make it up to you. I miss you, darling” A scoff leaves your throat, anger slowly taking over your calm mood.

“You’re joking, right? You’ve got to be. Zelda, why do you think I left? I left because you pushed me to the side and treated me like I didn’t matter. You don’t get to make me feel like shit; you don’t get to parade around my house and throw a pity party for yourself. You had every chance to miss me before, miss me when I was at the wedding, miss me when I left early, but you chose to miss me when I moved to Scarsdale and finally found someone that cherished me! Someone that showed me the love and affection I deserved when you wouldn’t do any of that! You have no right to claim that you’re upset when you didn’t notice how much I craved your attention; how much I cried over you! When you married Faustus, when you fell in love with Marie, Hilda held me while I cried because I felt like you didn’t love me. Hilda held me every time I was hurting because of you- and I chose to stay because even though I was in so much emotional pain, I cared about you more than I cared about myself!” Tears come to Zelda’s eyes; her hands clench against her chest.

“So if anything, fuck you, Zelda Spellman, fuck you for thinking you get to march into my life and confess your love. Go back to Marie; maybe she’ll kiss your ass and make love to you.”

Small sobs fall from Zelda’s lips, her form starts to shake, and she wraps her arms around herself. Your eyes widen, and you glance at Eda. “Marie is gone (Y/N).” You look at the broken ginger before you, sighing, “I’m sorry, but this allows you to grow yourself.” You say, looking at her with compassion despite the storm of anger raging inside you. Zelda looks at you and nods timidly, “I...I will let myself out. I hope you have a good life here, thrive the way you deserve, darling.” Zelda says before walking towards the door, and then she leaves. Eda’s hands gently land on your shoulder and you move your hand on top of hers, “It’s over (Y/N), you don’t have to worry about her hurting you like that anymore.” A nod is all you can muster and you turn around, placing your head against Eda’s chest. Small sobs leave your throat, hands gently holding Eda close by her waist. That was it; you had finally put your foot down, finalizing the burned bridges between you and Zelda- and as much as it hurt, you felt better than before.

#zelda spellman x reader #zelda spellman #zelda x reader #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #CAOS #zelda spellman x mambo marie #hilda spellman #ambrose spellman #sabrina spellman #mambo marie

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pastelsandpining · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 31

hurt & comfort

disaster zone | trauma | prisoner

the further you fall - part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

warnings: this is just all around not a great piece but that’s okay no one knows ALBW anyway :)

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“Hilda, don’t do this!”

Hilda didn’t want to turn around. Her hands were shaking in the absence of her staff, and she stumbled backwards to put as much space between her and the Hyruleans as possible. The figure that stepped into the emptiness must’ve been a ghost. He wasn’t facing her, but she knew that stupid bunny hood, and that little bird that always accompanied him no matter where he went. She knew that wild, unruly hair when he lowered his hood, and she knew that voice when he started to speak–but it wasn’t to her.

“Well, funny story there,” he said in response to Zelda’s curiosity, and Hilda watched as he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew how flustered he must’ve looked. She knew him that well–or, used to. “Your hero and I have gotten to know each other pretty well. But not long ago, I served Princess Hilda here in Lorule.”

Her name, fresh off of his lips for the first time in what felt like years, cracked that little concrete wall she’d since cast her heart in. The same heart that was beating hard in her chest.

“So,” Ravio continued, like there was no question in the air at all, “begging your pardon, Princess Zelda, but would you mind if I intervene here?”

And then he turned.

He looked mostly unharmed, save for a few scratches here and there that probably came from getting here, although she was certain Link had long since cleared the way. His eyes were as green as she remembered, and his smile was still stupid and crooked and wasn’t enough to make his eyes crinkle like it used to. Hilda wished she had her staff to grip, but her hands balled into useless fists at her side instead as she took a step back.

“Your Royal Highness…” Ravio began as he lowered himself to one knee, but she cut him off before he could get another word out.

“You… you’re alive?” she asked, her brows furrowed even though the proof was just in front of her. She had no reason to believe he was real and not just another twisted trick of magic. Ravio blinked, his features morphing into confusion.

“Yes…? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You left,” Hilda said softly. “You left, and Yuga said he’d found you, dead, on the outskirts of Lorule.”

Ravio frowned. Happiness and a carefree spirit fit his face far more than anger or sadness did. She never liked to see him upset, though it was more often an occurrence than she would’ve liked in those weeks before he left.

“Yuga lied,” he replied simply, and even after the betrayal, she couldn’t bring herself to believe him. It was just the type of thing Yuga would do–yet Hilda shook her head with another small step back. “Princess, I didn’t– I’m right here.”

“You left,” she repeated, shaking her head again. “Why did you never return? If you’re not dead– I grieved for you for months, Ravio! And you never thought to- to write or, or reach out in any way–”

“I’m sorry,” he said, bowing his head. Those bangs kept his face from her sight. “Yuga was right, Your Highness. I’m a coward at heart. I- I couldn’t find the courage to come back after I left and–... But I was smart enough to go to Hyrule, where I knew they’d have a hero who could help me. And I met Link.”

Whether he intended it or not, the realization behind his words made Hilda want to scream. Why had the gods cursed her so? Was she ever to have one person who would not betray her?

“You wanted him to defeat me?” she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper. He did not lift his head. He would not look at her, and that told her all she needed to know. Hilda fisted at her skirts with her shaking hands, glaring down at him with the hurt of an eternity. This was by fault of her own, the rational side of her said, but there was nothing rational about her anymore. She was hurting, she was scared, she was hopeless, and she knew she was doing little more than projecting. “I thought I–... I truly thought better of you, Ravio.”

“I’m sorry, my princess,” he replied, and it wasn’t fair how much those words hurt her. “It.. was with the best of intentions. I… I really do want the best for Lorule, but–this would bring out the worst in us.”

“Then tell me what to do, Ravio!” Hilda said, shrill and shaky. “Would you rather see Lorule crumble, as it has been doing for years?!”

The accusation finally made him lift his head. He looked so hurt, and she wondered if he felt as defeated as she.

“No,” he told her, shaking his head. “But there has to be another way.”

“You have used that argument over and over again, but we have never found any other way.” She wanted to turn her back on him and leave him behind, just as he’d done to her, but her feet would not lift from their spot on the ground.

“There’s a reason our Triforce was destroyed,” Ravio began, and she shook her head because she didn’t want to hear the same old story again and again. “It was to stop all of this.”

“That’s not-”

“Princess… this is exactly what happened. Chaos, violence… All I wanted was to save you from this. You, who’ve worried endlessly about the fate of Lorule. And I– I know I’m not a hero, and I can’t just…swing a sword and make everything disappear, but I…”

She couldn’t stand there and listen to him say kind words she didn’t deserve to hear. Finally, she turned away from him with ragged breathing.

“What now, then?” she asked. “You’ve come back to– to stop me., but I can’t just change my mind, Ravio. I have put my everything into this. Into restoring this kingdom. Do you expect me to turn my back on it now?”

“No– No, but I-... This is a better fate than being condemned for what we would do to Hyrule.”

Hilda wanted to scream. Why should she care about Hyrule? Why should she care what would happen to Hyrule, so long as her own kingdom was flourishing and happy again? But, stubbornly, she did care. She cared because she knew what it would be like to look out upon a crumbling kingdom and be so desperate for any last piece of hope that she’d kill. So, she took a deep breath and turned back around. Ravio was no longer kneeling, and he was holding out her staff like he’d expected this of her. Of course he had. He tried to see the good in everyone, even where there was no good to be seen.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, taking the staff in her hands. She partially meant it, because she was certain Zelda did not appreciate being shoved into a painting, and Link did not appreciate being used. “I… Let me take you both home, please.” So she could sit in her grief without the eyes of strangers watching her.

The Sacred Realm was in as sorry a state as the rest of her kingdom. The golden light spilling from the crack was the only thing that offered any warmth, but that was gone with the hero and the princess, and she was left with her cold, dark world.

“You could have gone with them,” she said quietly, though she did not turn to look at the boy she was speaking to. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“I didn’t want to leave you again,” Ravio replied.

“I drove you away. I suppose after all this, I’m deserving of the decrepit kingdom I inhabit. You deserve to live in some place like Hyrule. Vibrant, warm…”

“What good is Hyrule to me if it doesn’t have you?”

“Lorule is hardly anything but a disaster zone. Monsters and darkness alike will just continue to roam. You should have gone.”

A gentle warmth filled her hand, so soft she was afraid she was going to break it, and Ravio gave her a small squeeze. She wanted to turn around then, fall into the comfort he was trying to offer, but she did not let herself. Instead, she only shook her head and wished she could tune him out.

“I’m not leaving you, Princess. Not ever again,” he said, and if the kingdom wasn’t so dark and dreary, on its last legs of life, then maybe she would’ve believed him. But he tugged her hand, bidding her to turn around, and when he smiled, she didn’t know if it was just him, but her surroundings began to feel a lot warmer.

Maybe she did believe him.

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masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post

#whumptober2021 #no.31 #disaster zone #legend of zelda #fic #albw #a link between worlds #hildavio #ravilda #idk #this isn't great but hey #i did it

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krispytidalwavesheep · 4 years ago

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Hi! I saw that you were interested in requests for Zelda x f!Reader, among others, so I decided to send something and I hope you don’t mind :) An idea based on „We all shipped them together before they made it official because she kept scoffing that she did not like her and yet she always looked at her first whenever someone told a joke just to see if she was laughing too” post I saw some time ago. Basically a reader who is much younger, more optimistic and affectionate than Zelda. Zelda initially maintains her facade, of course, and constantly denies being interested in her. However, everyone, and I mean really everyone, can see what it is really like and they are both just made for each other, despite their apparent opposites. Thanks in advance, have a nice day!

I was/am really nervous about this, but thanks for the prompt! I hope you like it, I wrote this in the middle of the night, while being absolutely sleep deprived. Hope you enjoy! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zelda disliked you from the very beginning, even though she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was your happy-go-lucky attitude or the fact that you were so damn affectionate with everyone, that it almost made her sick. Well, everyone except herself, but she made sure that you understood that you wouldn't stand for such foolish actions. It was kind of pathetic, you hanging of Hilda as you did, and the way you always cuddled up to Ambrose and Sabrina. Who did you think you were, anyway? Nothing more but a nuisance, that's for sure. Zelda couldn't believe that she caved when Sabrina practically begged her to take you in.

Where exactly you came from was still shrouded in mystery. One day you just appeared in the woods, wounded and with amnesia. Of course, Sabrina had to take you in and now everyone was all over you and it annoyed Zelda to no ends. As soon as you got better and more comfortable around everyone, you were practically all over everyone, like a bitch in heat. You even tried to hug Zelda himself a few times, but she made sure that those notions wouldn't occur again. Still, you were so unbelievably nice and cheery, even to her. Disgusting.

You stared at Zelda, who seemed deep in thought and annoyed about something. You were pretty sure that that something was the fact that you were cuddled up to Hilda for some comfort since your night was plagued by nightmares again. Hilda took care of you when Brina brought you to the mortuary and you felt very much thankful for that. You didn't remember a lot of your life before you appeared out of nowhere and with no memories. All that you knew was that you were deadly afraid and hurting all over. Your body was covered in smaller wounds and half of your face was swollen, but the moment you laid your eyes on Sabrina you knew that you would be okay. She had a chaotic but albeit calming aura so you went with her willingly when she took you to her aunts.

At first, you met Hilda and her aura told you all you needed to know about her. She was a protector and she took you in without questioning, taking care of you as if you were one of her own. You trusted her immediately and especially after she helped you through your first nightmare. You met Ambrose next and even though he was cautious of you, he took to you rather fast. You were simply fascinated by everything he told you about magic and mysteries and he liked the audience. Brina and you became fast friends too, even though you didn't agree with everything she did. But she was sixteen and some teenage drama was expected. Especially after what she went through in the past months.

Brina was rather direct and you quite liked that about her. She was like a little sister to you, and she was the first one to muse that you weren't used to affection, which was why she gave it to you willingly. It was kind of cute to see your reactions to physical affection. She knew that it was unusual to trust someone so fast after everything that happened, but you were practically a cinnamon roll and no one ever sensed any weird vibes from you. Except for Zelda of course. But Sabrina had her theory about that...

When you and Zelda first met, the morning after Hilda took you in, you were captivated. You couldn't remember ever seeing a creature more beautiful than her. Her behavior and her aura were completely at odds around you and you wondered why. Especially since her familiar loved you to bits and pieces from the very beginning. Wherever you went, Vinegar Tom was sure to follow and you couldn't sit down without him jumping in your lap and curling up, demanding to be pet. Of course, that was just one more thing Zelda disliked about you. Everything was just affectionate with you, as you were with them, and Vinny's betrayal didn't make it any better.

But still, every time Ambrose told one of his stupid puns her gaze wandered over to you to see you laughing. Although it made her feel weird, she couldn't stop watching you. Just to make sure that you weren't up to something, of course. But everyone, really EVERYONE, had the audacity to imply that she, in fact, liked you very much. Which wasn't true at all. Not in a thousand years.

Her gaze was drawn to you again, as you made cooing noises at Vinny and played with him in front of the hearth, smiling affectionately.

“You're smiling, Zelds,” Hilda smirked and Zelda gave her the patented death glare.

“Whatever you are implying Hilda, I can assure you that it is all in your head,” Zelda huffed and hid behind her paper. Hilda had the audacity to giggle and Zelda gripped the paper just a bit tighter. She tried to ignore you for the rest of the morning, although she wasn't very successful.

“You want some more coffee?” you suddenly asked and leaned over her shoulder, placing your hand between her shoulder blades.

“Remove your hand or I'll cut it off of you,” Zelda just said haughtily, not liking the tingling feeling your hand evoked.

“Sorry, sorry, won't happen again,” you said and held your hands up in a nonthreatening gesture. Which somehow ticked Zelda off even more.

“Remove yourself from the kitchen right now,” she said for good measure and glared you down. Why the heavens did you get so under her skin with just existing? But what happened next shocked everyone deep down to their core. You started yelling.

“What is your fucking problem? Is the fact that I exist that bothersome to you? Why do you hate me so much, what did I ever do to you?! I go out of my way to stay out of your hair and you still so fucking everything you can to make me feel unwelcome! You agreed to me living here, so what. Is. Your. Problem?!” you yelled and to the mortification of everyone, including yourself, you started crying. You stormed out of the house and into the woods, frantically rubbing at your eyes, and before you realized what was happening, you were lost and the sun was disappearing behind the trees...

“Zelda Phiona Spellman! Was that necessary?!” Hilda yelled and glared at Zelda.

“I-I wasn't-”

“That was cruel, even for you Aunt Z,” Sabrina said and grabbed her coat.

“Oh no darling, you stay here. Zelda can go after her and set this right again!” Hilda growled and ripped the paper from Zelda's hands. She was so shocked that she complied and grabbed two coats before she went outside. It was early spring, but it still got cold at night. And Night it would soon be.

Zelda was shaken to her core. You were right, what was wrong with her? Why was she behaving like this, even though you never gave her any reason to? You have been nothing but nice to everyone, helping out where you could, and yet... Zelda felt not like herself around you and that made her angry. Irrationally so. But why? Why did she feel this way around you, the last time she felt like this was when she first met Mambo...oh. Oh no. It couldn't be... her problem wasn't that she disliked you... The problem was that she liked you a bit too much.

Her sub-consciousness must have been so scared of the fact, that it made her dislike you so much. She walked a bit faster after that realization, she had to find you and set things right with you. Apologize.

Zelda was almost frantically running through the forest, using a spell to trace your footprints, but you were faster than her and she cursed her heels. It was getting darker and harder to see, but Zelda knew the forest almost better than her own house. You didn't though, and Zelda found herself sick with worry. She was such a horrible person...

You were shivering in the cold evening, curling yourself into a ball to conserve body heat. You should have taken your coat with you, but you were so angry when you left the house. What exactly was Zelda's problem with you? What did you ever do to deserve such behavior?

You always noticed Zelda looking at you when she thought no one was looking. You even caught the odd smile, unconsciously thrown in your direction when you laughed or played with Vinegar Tom. You always thought that she was shy or something like that, that she liked you but wouldn't be caught dead admitting to it. You heard Hilda and Ambrose talking about how head over heels Zelda must be over you, with all that secret glances and small smiles and you hoped. Hoped, that when enough time passes and you proved that you could be trusted, Zelda would come to like you. Not necessarily as you liked her, but one could hope, after hearing Ambrose and Hilda talk about it, right?

But all your hopes were dashed earlier, when the situation escalated. You were probably no longer welcome at the Spellman house, but you didn't care. No one ever wanted you. You still hadn't got back all your memories, but enough to realize that you were never loved by anyone. Maybe you were too much. Hilda, Sabrina, and Ambrose would come to that realization too. So you should leave now, as long as it is still kind of your choice, but it was so cold, that you couldn't move a muscle.

“Maybe it is better this way...” you mumbled to yourself and closed your eyes.

“Don't you dare to go to sleep, not when I just found you!” an all familiar voice growled and you opened your eyes in shock, looking at Zelda Spellman herself. You just huffed and closed your eyes again. It was just so much easier.

To your utter shock, you felt warm arms wrap around you and the shock was enough for you to open your eyes again. Zelda lied down next to you, pulling you flush against her and somehow you managed to blush.

“We need to get you warmer so that I can bring you back to the house...” Zelda whispered and put the extra coat around both of you. 'Fuck it' you thought and buried your face in Zelda's shoulder. She smelled so good, and you were so tired.

“Don't fall asleep y/n” Zelda urged you and you huffed in surprise.

“You never called me by my name” you whisper and smile. It sounded good coming from her lips.

“Listen y/n I am... I am sorry for how I treated you. It wasn't fair and I regret deeply that it had to escalate like this before I saw reason.”

“'s okay,” you mumble and snuggled a little bit closer. Zelda's hand started rubbing your back gently and she couldn't get over the fact of how right it felt to hold you like this. She was a horrible person for treating you with such resentment when you deserved so much more.

“What I will tell you now, I will tell you just one time, so you better listen, okay?” Zelda mumbled, still rubbing your back.

“Aaaahh there is the Zelda I know and lo-like,” you smile, almost slipping.

“We'll see how deserving of your affections I am when I told you what I need you to tell,” Zelda said, ignoring what you just said for now, even though her heart started to beat faster.

“I am no easy woman. I lash out when I feel vulnerable and my temper is the worst. I treated you like vermin, and you didn't deserve this. I lash out when I feel vulnerable, and I feel that around you, a lot. Even though I didn't realize that until now. I am not as happy-go-lucky as you are, and I am not an affectionate person. At least out in the open. I was told that I am a stone-cold bitch on more than one occasion and I can't help but to agree. I have been hurt y/n, and it pains me to admit, I am afraid that I will get hurt again.”

“Hilda told me what happened. With Blackwood and Mambo Marie. Don't be mad at her, she just wanted to help,” you whisper and Zelda scoffed. You had to smile at that. You two lay like this for a while longer, until you felt how the numb feeling left your extremities.

“I think I'm better now,” you say reluctantly but Zelda didn't let you go just yet, asking for just a little while longer. You wiggled your arms free and wrapped them around Zelda too, slowly and carefully, not to scare her away. Zelda melted instantly into your arms and you smiled. Seems like you weren't the only one starved of affection. Stone cold bitch my ass, you thought and nuzzled a little closer.

“I'm gonna be brave now, okay? I like you very much Zelda, and somehow I think you like me too, don't think I didn't notice the way you look at me when you feel like no one is looking. The point I am trying to make is, that I wouldn't dream of hurting you, at least not willingly. I can be a massive idiot sometimes, but I want to get to know the real you. The one that hides behind all those walls of fear and hurt and I want to... just be there,” you mumble and to your utter shock you heard small sobs coming from Zelda.

“Hey, it's gonna be okay... Sorry if that was too much, I just told you what felt right!” you say and leaned back to look at Zelda. You were panicking. Did you say something wrong? But Zelda just took your face into her hands and bestowed the softest kiss to your forehead. It felt like an absolution.

“No one ever told me that they wanted to get to know the real me. I can't promise you that I will be able to show you my true self, but I will try,” she whispered and buried her face in your neck.

“That's good enough for me.” You said and cuddled closer... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Still taking prompts, and since schools are closed due to Covid I have a lot of time to write and imrpove!

#Zelda Spellman x Reader #Zelda x Reader #caos #Zelda Spellman

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the-tactician-magician · 3 years ago

Text

Whoops this @flufftober2021 piece got away from me. It was originally going to be a Raphael/Bernadetta fic, but a conversation in a Discord server gave me brainworms, so here we are with yet another Claude fic. Also the ending is a bit rushed because I wanted to finish it, so sorry about that lmao.

Flufftober Day 15: Silly Traditions

Rated G, Mostly Claude & Golden Deer friendships, with a dash of Claude/F!Byleth and Hilda/Marianne, 2855 words

Braids were pretty popular in Almyra, among men and women and kids and adults alike. And why wouldn’t they be? They kept long hair out of one’s eyes, taught the fine motor skills needed to craft and shoot arrows, and gave a hectic family such as Claude’s a reason to sit down and enjoy some quiet bonding time. In fact, the braid that he wore right now was the same kind of braid his mother would pleat on lazy afternoons, nestled among blankets and pillows and blissfully ignorant of the world outside their room.

So Claude was surprised that hardly anyone wore braids in Fodlan. Out of all the students in the Officer’s Academy, only Marianne, Ingrid, Petra, and Claude himself had a braid. However, Marianne’s skinny braid over the top of her head barely counted one, and Petra’s long and luscious braid from Brigid was more indicative of her foreigner status, much like his own tiny braid. Which left Ingrid as the sole Fodlander with a braid that would fit right into Almyra, although Claude probably shouldn’t tell her that to her face.

He didn’t mind the lack of braids though. Sure, some haughty nobles (Lorenz) scoffed at his strange hairdo, but most others didn’t comment upon it. If Claude had to hazard a guess, his many other peculiarities drew their attention away from his braid, leaving him free to keep it for as long as he liked. And he definitely planned to keep one of his few mementos from home for a good while longer.

But as it turned out, just because people didn’t talk about his braid didn’t mean they hadn't noticed it. Claude found that out one morning, before Teach arrived in their classroom to start the day. While the other Golden Deer milled about and chatted amiably, Hilda was trying to tie Marianne’s hair up in its usual hairdo, but couldn’t even make the tight braid needed to secure her bun in place. Claude thought that such a task would be easier for Hilda the fashionista, but the way her fingers flailed about and tossed blue tresses at Marianne’s face proved otherwise.

“I-I’m sorry for being a bother…” Marianne muttered to Hilda, eyes half-closed out of regret.

“You’re not a bother!” Hilda retorted. “Every girl has an off-day once in a while! Honestly, it’s incredible that you’re able to do all your hair by yourself! If I had even an ounce of your talent, I would be taking this world by storm! So I guess I ought to learn a thing or two from you, huh?”

She said that, yet she still fumbled about uselessly until she gave up and shot Claude a pleading look.

“Hey, Claude! You’re good with braids, right? Mind helping us out?”

Claude blinked, not understanding what Hilda said. It took him a few seconds for her words to finally register in his mind, but he still didn’t get why she was asking him of all people.

“What makes you think I’m good with braids?” He laughed out loud.

“Uh, cause you’re wearing one right now?” Hilda gestured to the right side of his face.

Claude laughed again as he gave said braid a twirl. “This old thing only takes like five minutes to make. It’s nothing like Marianne’s hairdo.”

“Yeah, but it’s still something.” Hilda pouted. “But if you won’t help us, then it looks like Marianne will have to suffer under her unruly hair until someone else takes pity on her.”

At that, Marianne’s gloomy expression somehow darkened further. As much as Claude wanted to prove a point to Hilda, he couldn’t do so at Marianne’s expense. A sigh escaped his lips as he got out of his chair and walked over.

“Fine. Looks like it’s up to me to save the day. Though I can’t copy your old hairstyle exactly, so I might have to improvise a bit. Is that alright?”

Marianne gave him a slight nod in response. She looked a bit happier already, which was all the motivation Claude needed to carry on.

To be honest, Claude wasn’t that great of a hair stylist. The only hair he ever braided, besides his own, belonged to his parents, and he eventually grew out of that too. So Claude had to rely on vague recollection of hairdos he had seen on other women, such as his half-sisters, cousins, and members of the royal court. Regardless, his fingers moved swiftly, following muscle memories he thought were long forgotten, sweeping and tucking Marianne’s soft blue locks until he came up with something respectable.

The end result, a pair of braids tied into a bun in the back, wasn’t anywhere close to Marianne’s usual style, nor was it as well done as the braids of his childhood. Yet Marianne thanked him with a small smile as she gingerly touched her new hairdo, and Hilda’s eyes sparkled so fiercely, they kind of scared Claude.

“Claude! Why were you being so modest before?! I bet you could make a killing at doing people’s hair if you weren’t already the next Duke Riegan!”

“It’s nothing special. Really.” Claude let out an airy laugh. “I bet you can become as good as me, or even better, if you make an effort to learn.”

“Yeah, but that takes time.” Hilda whined. “And that still won’t help me with my own hair. Hey, speaking of which, could you braid my hair too?”

Once again, Hilda’s words caught him off guard. Claude gave her a quizzical look, and Hilda fired back a cute, doe-eyed stare.

“But your hair looks fine. Do you want me to ruin it?”

“You aren’t going to ruin it, silly!” Hilda waved a hand to brush off his concern. “And I have to have braids to match my best friends!”

He thought that she just meant Marianne at first, but to his surprise, she gestured at Claude as well. She really did consider him a friend, huh? Even though she barely knew anything about him. Then again, it should’ve been obvious from how Hilda trusted Claude to fix Marianne’s hair, and now her own.

With a show of faith like this, how could Claude turn her down? He smiled and grabbed a strand of Hilda’s pink locks. “Alright. Do you want a braided bun like Marianne?”

“Nah. Give me some pigtails, like what I have right now. Except, you know, braided.”

“So much for trying something new.” Claude chuckled under his breath. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

Hilda laughed quietly alongside him, but he got to work anyway. He had to admit, there was a certain irony in giving a Goneril braids based off of his Almyran childhood, although it wasn’t like anyone besides him was going to notice. Still, he used this secret delight to guide his fingers through the repetitive motions once more. Once he was done, Claude flicked the pair of braids at Hilda’s face.

“All done. What do you think?”

“I think it looks great, but what do you think, Marianne?”

Hilda showed off her new and improved pigtails to Marianne, whose face brightened almost immediately. “You… I-I mean, they look very pretty.”

“Aw! Thanks, Marianne!” Hilda gave her hair one last flourish before letting them go. “And thanks to you too, Claude!”

In his humble opinion, it seemed like Hilda was more pleased about Marianne’s praise than her pigtails, but Claude couldn’t complain. He never could have imagined that someone besides his parents would be happy over his handwork. And he most certainly couldn’t have imagined that the other Golden Deer wanted to join in on the fun, yet a booming voice from the other side of the room proved him dead wrong.

“Hey, Claude! Can I get a braid too?” Raphael suddenly chimed in, nearly startling Claude out of his seat.

“But, uh, you don’t have much hair to work with?” Ignatz asked in an incredulous voice.

“That’s ok. There’s enough for me to figure something out.” Claude said.

“Hey, I got an idea!” Hilda piped up. “How about we all get braids from Claude?”

Her suggestion, as expected, produced quite the commotion throughout the classroom. Some people like Lysithea and Leonie just sighed and shook their heads. Others, like Ignatz, looked downright confused. And of course, Lorenz had plenty to say on the subject.

“My hair is already at the pinnacle of fashion! Experiment with your own hair if you must, but I will not allow Claude to sully perfection!”

“Oh, Lorenz, no.” Hilda struggled to hold back laughter. “Your hair is far from perfect. As the Golden Deer’s resident fashion expert, I say you’re the one that needs a makeover the most!”

Leonie, sensing an opportunity to bully Lorenz, changed her mind in an instant. “And shouldn’t we all match to show our, uh, unity? Point is, you don’t want to be left out!”

“Why, I-”

“Hey, if Lorenz doesn’t want a braid, that’s fine with me.” Claude interrupted Lorenz before he inadvertently started an argument. “I doubt that I’ll even get to him before Teach shows up.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, where is the professor?” Raphael wondered out loud.

Lysithea scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you guys see the memo on the chalkboard? It says that she’s going to be at a meeting for most of the morning, and we’re supposed to be independently studying instead of goofing off.”

Claude glanced to the front of the room, where there was indeed a note from Byleth explaining her absence. Huh. He must have missed that. If he had known earlier, he would’ve spent the morning elsewhere instead of here. Then again, he supposed that braiding hair was also an acceptable alternative to classes…

He turned his attention back to his friends and shrugged. “Hey, we’re not goofing off. We’re engaging in some quality team building exercises. Or something to that effect.”

“And I bet your hair will look gorgeous after Claude works his magic on them!” Hilda exclaimed. “Pristine white and silky smooth hair like yours deserves something special, not that they don’t already look great!”

“W-well I think it’s fine as it is. Who needs fancy hair, anyway?” Lysithea stammered out. Her sudden meekness, combined with the slight blush across her face, raised several flags in Claude’s mind, but like Lorenz, he wasn’t going to push the matter if she was at all hesitant.

“How about we just start with the actual volunteers?” He said instead as he strolled over to Raphael. His thick and sandy blond curls grew close to his scalp, providing quite a challenge, yet Claude dug his fingers into his hair and braided away.

Well, braid them as much as he could. Claude only managed to weave a few stubby braids that stuck out like little trees. Nonetheless, Raphael was immensely grateful for his makeover, and showed his appreciation with a big hug. At least he released Claude before he crushed his ribs though.

Next on the list was Ignatz, who volunteered himself after seeing how much his friend enjoyed his braids. Since his hair was longer, Claude was able to give him a braid in the back. For Leonie, whose hair was nearly as short as Raphael’s, Claude pleated a pair of tiny side braids over her temples. The once-reluctant Lysithea ultimately acquiesced when it became her turn, and got a lovely half-up, half-down braid. Hilda profusely complimented both Lysithea and Claude for a job well done, causing the former to blush some more.

Seeing most of his classmates in braids left a funny feeling in Claude’s heart. Because braids were so commonplace in Almyra, they also carried some cultural significance. Mainly, if someone allowed you to braid their hair, they basically considered you their close friend. After all, while their back faced towards you and your hands were on their head, you could easily choose to hurt someone instead of braiding their hair.

But not a lot of Almyrans allowed an outsider like Claude to braid their hair. Hardly anyone besides his parents, actually. And he was well aware that braiding hair didn’t mean anything in Fodlan, that people here didn’t think twice about this seemingly innocuous task. Yet the level of trust they displayed, as they placed their fate in Claude’s hands, was not lost on him. Their faith washed away his prior anxieties and put a smile on his face.

Even if he had to wait until Lorenz, the last unbraided Golden Deer, gave into peer pressure before making his move. He had to admit that it felt a bit awkward to touch the hair of his archnemesis, but the tension faded away when he gave him a short braid that was basically identical to his own, except it dangled on the right side of his face. Mostly because that was the best he could do with Lorenz’s hair, but also just to see his reaction.

“Claude!” Lorenz exclaimed, flabbergasted. “Is this a joke to you?”

“But it actually looks good on you!” Hilda laughed out. “Much better than whatever your old haircut was supposed to be!”

“Hmph. If you meant that as a compliment, it didn’t feel like one.”

“Well, uh, I think it looks nice…”

At Marianne’s words, Lorenz instantly softened his expression. Claude was admittedly a little disappointed at how quickly Lorenz got used to his braid, but he wouldn’t have had much time to enjoy his squirming anyway. Mere seconds after Lorenz settled down, the classroom doors opened up to reveal their professor at long last.

“Heya, Teach!” Claude said as he pulled his hand away from Lorenz. “What kept you?”

Byleth didn’t respond right away. She merely glanced from person to person, soaking in all of their newly woven braids. Her azure gaze ended on Claude and his unchanged hairstyle, which painted him as the apparent culprit behind this latest fad.

“I was at a meeting.” She stated plainly. “Why does everyone have braids now?”

“Well, it was actually Hilda’s idea, and-”

“Professor! You should get a braid from Claude too!” Hilda shouted, cutting Claude off mid-sentence.

Claude mentally groaned at her suggestion. It was one thing to braid the hair of his classmates. It was another thing entirely to give Teach a braid. She was already perfect as is, and the thought of sinking his hands in those wavy teal locks quickened his heart and filled him with a peculiar kind of dread. Besides, there was no way she would agree, right? Byleth used to be a mercenary, and mercenaries didn’t dabble in frivolities like braids-

“Sure.” Byleth agreed.

“Wait, hold on-”

He was interrupted yet again by Hilda’s delighted squeal. Through the high-pitched noise, Byleth continued on in a considerably more subdued tone.

“I would be satisfied with any braid you give me, but if I may make a request… I would like two braids, with pink and white ribbons.”

“Ribbons?” Claude repeated after her. Where on earth did this come from? He didn’t peg Byleth as someone with such girly tastes, but he didn’t have the heart to turn her down either…

“Oh! I got some ribbons right here!”

Hilda didn’t waste any time pulling the aforementioned ribbons out of her bag and plopping them in Claude’s hands. Everything was moving so fast, he could scarcely object, or protest, or question how or why this was even happening. All Claude could do was guide Byleth to a chair and braid her hair to her specifications.

Shit. He might’ve done too well, because when he was finished, Claude couldn’t look at Byleth without blushing. Her two braids, intertwined with Hilda’s ribbons, made her look cute. The Ashen Demon. Their stoic and formidable professor. Cute. And pretty, but mostly cute.

Predictably, Hilda kicked up a fuss about Byleth’s new hairstyle. Less predictably, some of the other Golden Deer joined in with their own opinions. Claude was trying very hard not to pay attention to all the praise, lest his burning cheeks betrayed him, but when Byleth glanced his way with her hands on her braids, he couldn’t help but perk up.

“Thank you, Claude.” She said softly. “I… like these a lot.”

Claude forced himself to smile through his blush. “You’re very welcome. And hey, if you ever want braids again, you can hit me up anytime.”

He wanted to smack himself the instant those words left his lips. He could barely control himself around Byleth when she had cute braids, and now he offered to prolong his own suffering by doing it again?!

Fortunately, Byleth didn’t notice how he flinched. She just took his words at face value, gave him a nod, and headed to the front of the classroom to begin their lessons. Though, as Claude’s blush died down and he scanned over everyone, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he braided people’s hair in the future. Not just Byleth’s, but all of the Golden Deer’s. He may not be in Almyra anymore, but when he was surrounded by a sea of braids, braids that he made, he felt a little less lonely and a lot more beloved.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #claude von riegan #golden deer #byleth eisner #claudeleth #fics #flufftober2021

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hyperpsychomaniac · 2 years ago

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The Curse of the Black Hound - Chapter 2

Summary: Sequel to 'Lost in the Wilderness'. Erik Ahlberg has a problem. And he’ll solve it like a man - by himself, and dragging no one he cares for needlessly into the whole confounded mess. Gerda is having none of it. She’s determined to figure out why he’s being so secretive and protect him, whether he likes it or not. But when Erik finally asks for help, he finds himself alone, with those he’d always thought would stand by him, his biggest threat.

First Chapter

***

Gerda dashed out of the coffee shop, coffees in hand. Her radio buzzed and chirped, and she clamped it to her ear. “Ja, this is…” She cut herself off with a huff. She hadn’t pressed the transmit button, and, with two coffees, couldn’t until she put at least one down.

Gerda weaved her way deftly past the patrons on the sidewalk cafe - “Excuse me.” “Pardon me.” “Safety Patrol - coming through!” - and saw Hilda at one table, sitting by herself with a book. If she wasn't on duty, she would have said hello. And, if her deputy had not just reported a problem with a Troll right outside the city’s wall.

Gerda rolled herself into the open door of the Safety Patrol vehicle, deposited both coffees into the centre tray cup holders, and tore out of her parking space to the blare of a truck’s horn. Only then was she able to send a message. “Deputy Selby, what is your status?”

“Look, my Trollish isn’t that good,” Selby replied, now considerably calmer than when he had called in his earlier plea for backup. “But I think she may just be inviting me to share a sandwich.”

Gerda took her foot off the gas. There was no need to terrify the citizens of Trolberg with her ‘on serious business’ driving when the Troll wasn’t a threat. The number of false alarms had increased as the Trolls encroached closer, now they had been allowed back into the city. Gerda was certain most of the citizens looked on this favourably. Nevertheless, Trolls were very, very big. They did not speak the same language, and miscommunication was inevitable. It was why she had insisted Safety Patrol learn Trollish.

“Okay. If you’re not in any danger, I’m calling it a night.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll sort this out - make sure she’s not going to come wondering on inside and ask anyone else if they want to share a meal - and head home myself.”

“Night, deputy.” Gerda pulled over at the side of the road and chugged down half a coffee. It seemed she wouldn’t need both. But one wouldn’t stop her sleeping. And, with the presence of the Troll outside a nonevent, it looked like she’d get home on time. She stuffed the empty paper cup back into the cupholder, promising herself she’d be sure to remove it when she left the vehicle, and put the car back into gear.

An almighty crash sounded from the wall. Birds alighted from the nearby trees, squawking in annoyance at being disturbed right before bedtime. Dust rose, catching in the fading light.

Gerda snatched up her radio handset. “Deputy, what happened? Did your friend not like you turning down her invitation?”

“That wasn’t my Troll, ma’am,” Selby replied. “She looks as startled as I am. It’s further down the wall.”

The radio crackled, and another voice broke in. “I can see him. A big old brute just ran smack bang into the wall.”

The old bell keeper. He was still working for Safety Patrol. When Gerda had spoken to him since her promotion, he’d said he was more than happy to stay on. She’d asked him, seeing as he’d been around so long, whether he had any ideas of how Safety Patrol might be improved. It had taken three attempts before he had given her a sensible answer, instead of just grumble. And then, Gerda could not take notes fast enough - the Bell Keeper had a lot to say on where Safety Patrol fell short and what needed to change.

She had never understood why Erik fired him back when they’d tried to implement the automated belling system. It made sense to keep someone on to monitor the system, especially someone who had been around so long. She’d told Erik so, but he had insisted a machine was more reliable.

Since Erik had retired, she’d asked him why again, one night at the pub when he’d seemed rather amicable. He’d gotten all huffy and changed the subject. She’d never asked again. Sometimes, it just wasn’t worth it to contend with Erik’s moods.

“And, he’s chasing…” The Bell Keeper sighed. “Erik Ahlberg.” Somehow, even over the airwaves, his pronunciation of ‘Ahlberg’ dripped with utter scorn. “I guess he’s gone and got himself in a spot of bother.”

Gerda tensed. “What have you gone and done now, Erik?” Rescuing him after he and Hilda had got lost had been tolerable. After all, whilst Hilda had blamed him for crashing the Woff, Gerda could not quite be mad at him. He’d done his best to look out for Hilda, throwing himself in front of a Barghest and all. It had hurt him pretty badly, too.

“I can see him from the bell tower,” the Bell Keeper continued. “I would go down and help him, but…” Even with his disdain of the former captain, he wanted to help. But he was not outfitted to take on a Troll.

“Don’t worry,” said Gerda. “I’ve got an off-road vehicle. I am heading your way.” She turned on her siren and floored it.

Why did Erik keep heading out to the Wilderness? Surely it was only a few Trolls who felt they had a bone to pick with him - much like there were only a small percentage of Trolberg citizens who detested the idea of Trolls being allowed to set foot in ‘their’ city. But those few had made a hell of a lot of noise about it. And if those few Trolls were the same, they could cause trouble for more than just Erik. He should at least have had the sense to wait until the heat died down before venturing beyond the wall.

Gerda scowled. It wasn’t the first time since his run in with the Barghest she’d found him out there. She’d spotted him walking back in one morning, a little disheveled, but none the worse for wear. All he’d tell her was that he’d been out for a walk. Which may have been reasonable, if foolish - something that wasn’t beyond Erik.

But the strange thing was, as he tried to appear chipper and blathered on, Gerda had taken in what he was wearing. The jacket sort of fitted him, but it was stretched taut across his shoulders, and she doubted he’d be able to comfortably zip it up. Erik didn’t go overboard with what he wore, but he took pride in it. He would never slum around in ill-fitting clothes. Odd, and she should have questioned it. But all she’d done was offer him a lift back home, which he’d wearily accepted.

And here he was, outside the wall again. But this time, he’d ticked off a Troll. Gerda’s fists tightened on the steering wheel. No. She could not let this slide any longer. Friend or not.

But first, she had to once again rescue him.

***

Erik ran.

Behind him, Bastel let loose a thunderous roar. Trees whipped forward under the onslaught, then quivered violently as his footfalls shook them. Each boom came closer and closer together as Bastel picked up speed. “You’re mine!”

This would be the part where the hero said something witty. Erik just swore and forced his legs to churn faster. Back towards Trolberg. And safety. And more people for an angry, vengeful Troll to crush. Good lord, he couldn’t lead this thing inside the wall. Bastel didn’t seem the sort of chap who would be kind to those innocents.

“You turned our King to pieces. I’m going to rip you limb from limb! I’ll break your bones and snap your pitiful human joints!”

Erik winced at the mental image. Suddenly understanding Troll should’ve been useful. Better than everything else that had gone wrong since coming out of the hospital. But no. He just got more fodder for his nightmares.

“Come on,” Erik begged himself. “If this damned shoulder’s going to go all tingly on me…” But as he ran, his breath became more ragged and wheezy. His body stayed useless and frail, at least as far as standing up to a Troll was concerned.

“Oh, damn it all!” At the last second, Erik made a sharp left, and instead of going back inside, ran along the outside of the wall.

Behind him, the pound of Bastel’s footfalls lost their rhythm. “Son of a…” said Bastel, or the closest Troll equivalent, and slammed into the wall with a truly thunderous boom.

Erik put a hand over his head as pebbles rained down upon him. “Where the hell is Safety Patrol!? Damned, heel dragging…”

A bell tolled. Erik’s heart lifted a little. He even risked a look back over this shoulder. Mistake. Bastel hadn’t been downed by his run in with the city wall. And the bell tower that was ringing was behind him. If anything, the sound was driving him towards Erik, and Bastel seemed mad enough that he might contend with the annoyance if it meant he could get his hands on the human he deemed responsible for his King’s destruction.

Erik wondered, briefly, if the Monster King had been hunted. Which was a stupid thing to wonder when you were running for your life. Much like carrying a big, heavy book. Erik glanced at the heavy tome, still clutched under his arm. His eyes narrowed, and he skidded to a halt and spun around.

“Hey! I may not be Safety Patrol anymore! But I can still throw the book at you!”

It was glorious. The book sailed in a perfect arc and smacked Bastel across the face, and stuck there, open across his eyes. It brought the Troll to a bewildered halt as darkness enveloped him.

“Ha!” Erik punched the air. “That’ll teach you to mess with Erik Ahlberg!”

Bastel’s chubby fingers found the book and snatched it away. Then - much like Jerry Ferguson often had before Erik hit his growth spurt - ripped the book clean in two.

Erik’s jaw dropped. “That… that was a library book!” he spluttered. “I have to return it!” He could only handle one terror at a time. He was flat out dealing with Trolls who wanted him dead. He didn’t need to contend with librarians, too.

“You shouldn’t have killed our King!” Bastel flung the tattered remains aside and strode towards him.

Erik backed up. “We were at war! It was an accident. I mean, I meant to, but, but I didn’t…”

“You are a threat to Troll-kind,” Bastel snarled, towering over him. “A monster. And I’m happy to be the one to put you down.”

Erik threw up his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

The wail of Safety Patrol sirens rent the air. A Safety Patrol vehicle tore up beside them, and Gerda tumbled out, light gun in hand. “Back off! I will not hesitate to use this.”

***

The big Troll roared. Only it wasn’t simply a roar. Before, Gerda may have thought it so. But his stony lips formed words, still snarls and growls, but laced with meaning. It took her a second to focus in - on understanding, not fighting this thing. She caught the word: “Vengeance.” Either that or, “Justice.” Gerda couldn’t differentiate between the two just yet. They were likely the same. “You. Protect. Him?” The last word carried a note of question, inflected upwards, just like humans did.

Gerda held the gun steady. “Ja, I protect him.”

“Gerda, help…” Erik stared up at the Troll, frozen to the spot.

“Get behind me. Now,” Gerda said curtly. She hadn’t intended to snap at him. Erik talked big, but as soon as danger showed up, he was about as useful as a cabbage. At least he did as he was told, jogging over behind her, and the gun.

The Troll watched her, breathing heavily, but he made no further move.

Gerda slowly lowered the gun to her side. “What’s your name?”

The Troll eyed the gun, then his eyes flicked back up to meet hers. “Bastel.”

“Well, Bastel,” Gerda said, imitating the name as best she could in English. “Right now, you may be outside Trolberg’s wall. But you’re still well within Safety Patrol’s jurisdiction. I can’t let you harm this man.”

“Gerda,” Erik said. “What are you doing? He wants to kill me!”

“Be quiet, Erik. I’ve got this under control.” Don’t make it worse. Gerda shut her mouth before being tempted to say that aloud.

“The mushroom is right,” Bastel growled. “I would kill him. But you’re in my way!”

“I cannot move. This is my job. And he is my friend.”

“He killed our King! Our laws demand justice/vengeance!”

“If you want your justice,” she said, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “You’ll do it outside my city.”

Bastel’s lip curved up, and he snorted. “Hmm. ‘Your city’?” And with that, he turned and faded into the night.

Gerda winced, regretting her phrasing. When had managing Safety Patrol become so hard? Maybe she couldn’t blame Erik for simplifying it so. Trolls a danger, mindless monsters; the city, the humans, to be protected. But it was more complicated than right or wrong, good and bad, humans, and everything else monsters.

“You understood him?” Erik asked.

“I’ve been learning Trollish. As have the rest of Safety Patrol.”

“You scared him too,” Erik sighed, and his shoulders drooped. “I… thanks, I guess.” He scratched at his bad shoulder. “It can’t be easy. Learning another language.”

Gerda huffed. Everyone seemed to forget she already had. “It isn’t any harder than English. At least the grammar makes more sense. Although, I don’t know why he called you a mushroom. Perhaps it’s a Troll insult or something.”

“Mushroom?” Erik harrumphed. “Gerda, he clearly said-” He paused, then squared his shoulders. “Monster.”

Gerda’s guts tightened as she looked up at Erik’s towering frame. No wonder this Troll wanted him dead. Bastel had snarled ‘monster’ with bitter anger and a faint hint of fear. Now that Erik had pointed out her error, it certainly made more sense than ‘mushroom’.

But how could he fear Erik? Even as he held himself now, trying to make himself look big, he wouldn’t look intimating to a Troll. He didn’t even look intimating to her. He was just silly old Erik. Trying too hard, like being called a monster no more upset him than if it had been mushroom.

But Erik had killed a Troll. Using Safety Patrol, and the city’s money, its tools. And its citizens’ fear and hatred, cooked up into a frenzy by his many words. He’d wielded those things as haphazardly as he’d handled the prototype light gun. And all that had made him dangerous.

But he had changed. Hadn’t he? He’d stopped before he destroyed Trolberg. But he was still the man who had killed a Troll, when Gerda had refused to do so for him. She still couldn’t comprehend how he could hate a creature enough to do that to it, as big and intimating as the Troll’s king was.

“What is wrong with you? How did you get to the place? How did you convince yourself? How?” Words she wanted to scream at him, digging her fingers into his big arms so he couldn’t escape her. But she wouldn’t. It’d be rude. It’d spoil their friendship. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Will you stop looking at me like that? You know, you have a habit of zoning out and it’s really a little unsettling sometimes.”

Gerda blinked. “I…” And as she pulled her mind back to the moment, she frowned. “Wait a minute, how do you understand what the Troll said?”

“Er…” Erik flushed. “I, er, um, Hilda! Yes, Hilda taught me a few words of Trollish. I did figure… well,” he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I suppose I wanted to know how to say ‘sorry’ to them. And, er, it’d be good to understand their response. You know, the difference between ‘I forgive you’ and ‘I’m going to rip your arms off’.”

“Oh, right.” The knot in Gerda’s stomach undid itself. Erik had changed. She reached out and squeezed his arm. “Hey, I am glad you’re trying to understand them better. But it’s dangerous for you out here. The same as the last time I found you out here. Why are you here, anyway?”

Erik wouldn’t look at her. He looked instead towards the moon peeking up on the horizon, round and full, glowing brightly even in the dim light of dusk. Then down at his hands. “I… well, nothing I guess.”

“Erik, that Troll wanted you dead! Nothing isn’t good enough.”

Erik stooped and came up with the tattered book cover in his hand. “I was reading this. Guess I got distracted.” He flicked through the remaining pages and sighed heavily. “I suppose I’d better return it. Pretty sure my borrowing privileges are going to be revoked.”

It wasn’t much of an explanation. “Do you want a ride home?”

“Your shift is up. You should get home too, and…”

“Erik, part of my job is seeing you home safe. Especially as I don’t trust you’ll get there on your own.”

“So not asking, huh?”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt. Anymore than you have been already.”

Erik sighed and looked away, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets. “Gerda…”

Erik had always been so forthright and in your face. He’d had a spark, which had initially drawn Gerda to the new Captain who wasn’t afraid to set Safety Patrol on a new, better course. She wasn’t sure if it was because they were closer now, or something was going on that had him down in the dumps. Something he wouldn’t share with her. But now, sometimes, he would let his guard down. And when he did, he looked lost, and a little sad.

“I’m perfectly fine. And a grown man. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Oh. How she wished.

The drive back to Erik’s place was quiet. Erik leaned an elbow on the window, looking out at Trolberg’s lights. The only time he’d been completely silent on any of the many times he’d been in a Safety Patrol vehicle with her was when he’d dozed off. What was wrong with him?

Gerda was struck with the sudden urge to grasp his hand, ask him what was going on. Another small part still wanted to shake him, because that might be the level of physical contact required to rattle loose an answer.

“Thanks for the lift,” he said, unclipping his seatbelt.

“Erik,” Gerda said, bringing his attention back to her. No physical contact needed. “Will you please tell me why you were out there?”

Erik looked away. “It’s private.”

She would not push. Even if the curt reply hurt a little. “Okay, but whatever the reason, you need to be careful wandering out into the Wilderness, especially after dark.”

“Gerda,” he said, a growl creeping into his voice. “I said I’m fine. I can look after myself.”

Gerda seriously doubted that. But it was not her only concern. “You’re not only putting yourself in danger. If I, or Safety Patrol, have to come after you. I don’t want you putting my people in danger, too. Your actions have consequences.”

Erik let out a short laugh. “Oh believe me, you do not need to lecture me on consequences.”

“Good. Then I won’t. Look, if you’re in danger, or get yourself in trouble, I will always be there for you. But, if you’re deliberately going out there for no reason and I or anyone from Safety Patrol have to put themselves in danger or waste resources, for something that you should know to avoid…”

Erik’s frown was deepening, but Gerda plowed ahead.

“I will fine or arrest you if I have to.”

Erik snorted and made for the door handle. Gerda didn’t think it was fair to actually lock him in, despite how serious she was about this. She unlatched the vehicle from her side, so he could get out. “You know Safety Patrol has the right to—”

“Yes, I know!”

“Erik…”

“Message received, all right? Good night, deputy.” Erik headed up the garden path towards his cottage, grumbling and fumbling in his pockets for keys.

Gerda waited at the kerbside until he’d unlatched his front door and pulled it in behind him. He couldn’t stop her from doing that. But, if all she could do was make sure he got through his front door safely, well, it just didn’t feel good enough. Something else was going on, but Gerda was stumped what she could do if Erik wouldn’t open up and let her help.

***

Chapter 3

#hilda #hilda netflix #hilda the series #hilda fanfic #hilda fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #erik ahlberg #gerda gustav #ahlhound

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zeldas-cigarette-holder · 3 years ago

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Ground Control to Major Tom

ao3

Faustus finally allowed himself to tear his gaze from Zelda’s face to look at the dog, felt his heart nearly stop when he realized that Satan, she had surely gone bloody batshit. It wasn’t a dog, the mere ghost of one — and poorly stuffed, at that.

I don’t truly know why I wrote this, but it ended up way sadder than I had ever expected a story about Zelda’s ugly stuffed dog to be. Tagging as spellwood, but there’s truly no shippy moments unless you read between the lines exceptionally well.

Enjoy xx

It had been ages since he had walked up to the mortuary, even longer since had seen her outside of any professional setting — perhaps decades, he mused to himself as he strolled up the long driveway.

The house looked the same as it had the last time he was there, just a few short months before the Spellman parents’ passing. He had gone to break the news of his engagement to Constance — left with his heart shattered at the shocked, tearful look in Zelda’s eyes. She so rarely showed emotion, it shook him to his core to see it. After that — the image of her mouth agape, eyes welled up with tears she refused to let fall, and the breathy little sound she let out as a response — he did his best to stay away under the guise of it being better for her.

Faustus skipped their parents' funeral, Edward’s wedding, Edward’s funeral, any non-church event held in the Spellman home — couldn't stomach seeing her again, the pain in her eyes. He knew it was cowardly, that he couldn’t manage to be there for the only person he had ever loved despite all of her pain and suffering. He couldn’t stand seeing that look in her eyes — so much pain and hurt and devastation — not when he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

Truthfully, he wouldn’t have even considered going over if it weren’t for Hilda and her lilting voice, a hint of an accent he hadn’t recalled her having years ago when they last spoke.

But Zelda was alone with the girl — Sabrina — while Hilda was overseas with Ambrose for his trial.

His hand raised to the door, fingers barely brushing the cold metal knocker before the door was flung open, a curious little girl looking up at him. She was almost exactly half Edward and half Diana — face pinched like her mother’s, a fire in her eyes that rivaled her father’s. He found himself smiling warmly at the girl despite all of his hard edges and cool exterior, straightened his tie and felt suddenly small under her scrutinizing gaze.

“Are you the pizza man?” The little girl’s eyebrows were knit together in confusion, her lithe frame still shoved between the wall and the half opened door. “Where’s the pizza?”

“I’m… a friend.”

Why was this so awkward? She was a child, a half mortal child at that. He had sized up demons ten times his age, consorted with the council without the first shake of his hand, but this child had him in a cold sweat.

“Can I come inside?”

“No! What?” She scrunched her nose, hand scrubbing over her face in a way that was so Zelda-like it shocked him. “I don’t know you, you’re not my friend. Why should I let you in?”

Was he really going to argue with a child?

“I’m friends with Zelda.”

There was a long pause before the girl let out a peal of laughter. She pulled the door a little closer to her, obscuring his view from the inside of the house. Shame, as he was just able to squint down the long hallway.

“That’s how I know you’re a big fat liar. My Auntie Zee doesn’t have friends.”

The sound of heels clicking down the hallway distracted him from whatever witty retort he was going to throw back at the little girl. And her voice. Satan, it was like velvet to him — made his heart ache at how mature and weary she sounded compared to years past. He was almost surprised at how she had managed to completely ignore him for years — to filter in and duck out of Black Mass before he got a chance to speak to her — but Zelda was nothing if not as stubborn as a mule.

“Is that the pizza man? Damn it all to heaven, I’ve only got big bills…” Sabrina stepped back as Zelda flung the door open, wearing a look of exasperation that morphed to slack jawed shock. “Father Blackwood?”

She was as gorgeous as ever — possibly even more gorgeous now that he was looking at her closer and not fifty feet away, hiding in the back of the desecrated church. Faustus felt his heart race at the way she looked so effortlessly gorgeous — in a simple, loose black dress, a stark contrast to her severe wardrobe he usually saw her donning — one hand on the door and leaning against the doorframe.

“What are you doing here?”

“You missed Black Mass, Sister Zelda.”

It was a lie and they both knew it, but he couldn’t think fast with her looking down at him with that scowl that made his mouth go dry. It was the same scowl she wore as a younger witch, always looking down her nose at him in a poor attempt to hide what was glaringly obvious infatuation.

“I haven’t missed a service since…” She paused to think, pushed a stray piece of hair back into the bun that sat atop her head. “Since before you married Constance.”

It was bitter and more spiteful than she had any right being, but there was a self satisfied hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips and a gleam in her eyes despite her uncouthness. She had been itching to say it since he broke the news of his proposal, and it felt so good that she would have kept hurling insults at him if it weren’t for the fact that he was the High Priest.

“Hilda sent you. I’m not a ninny, nor was I born yesterday.”

There was an awkward silence that fell over them, and Zelda wore an expression of smug righteousness. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to slap her or kiss her — tried in vain to keep his lips from twitching up in a bemused half smile and knew he was failing miserably.

“Who is that guy?”

“Sabrina.”

Zelda’s tone was admonishing and she wore a pinched scowl to match. It was almost comical to watch — Sabrina had grown into a near mirror image of Zelda herself, he knew that from his quiet observation of the little girl at church events, just as inquisitive as Zelda had been.

“I told you, I’m a friend.”

“And I told you that Auntie Zee doesn’t have friends.”

Faustus let out a loud, bellowing laugh at that, watched the way Zelda’s face contorted into a grimace to hide her embarrassment. She was exactly the same as she had been the last time they spoke, and yet nothing like her old self.

“Then I’m an old friend.”

“You surely are old. Like, what? Five hundred?”

“Sabrina.”

“What? He said he was old.” She paused, her face pouting in concentration in a way that was undoubtedly learned from her aunt. “Aren’t you going to invite him in? It’s proper.”

It was eerily silent as Zelda stood motionless at the door, her lips pursed into a thin line as she was clearly thinking about turning him away. He almost let her, if it wasn’t for the niggling curiosity at the back of his mind. How was she, really? Was she dating again? Was it anyone he knew?

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stepped away from the doorframe and silently opened the door a bit wider. For someone as big on manners and decorum as she was, Zelda surely didn’t act as such, and the thought made Faustus smirk to himself.

Same old Zelda but new somehow.

Sabrina tugged at the waist of her aunt’s dress and Faustus was shocked at how naturally maternal it was to watch her lift the little girl onto her hip — like she was born to be a mother. It made him wonder why — why she never wanted domesticity with him, why she never had kids, why the world was so unjust and cruel to someone as good as her.

“You can sit in Hilda’s chair.”

“No.” Sabrina’s voice was strong and unwavering, just as Zelda’s had been as a child. “Only Auntie Hilda sits in her chair. Your old friend can sit on that spot.”

She pointed towards the stiff side of the couch across the room, her little eyes narrowed in a near-perfect scowl — would have been perfect if she wasn’t smiling, but Faustus appreciated her feistiness nonetheless. Sabrina would certainly grow into a force to be reckoned with, like all of the Spellman siblings had been in their own way, and Faustus let himself smile at the way Zelda’s eyes nearly beamed with pride at her niece’s assertiveness.

“The house hasn’t changed at all.”

It was a poor attempt at small talk — something he had never been particularly good at —but it was the truth. The same bag of knitting sat on the table by Hilda’s chair, and Zelda’s end table was just as chaotically messy as it had been decades ago, a perfect reflection of her personality. It was a cluttered disaster of spilled ashes, loose napkins with her frenzied notes scrawled across them, precariously stacked books, and empty glasses nested in each other — so completely her that it was almost adorable.

“It’s changed a fair bit since… the incident. You’d know if you kept in touch.”

Zelda sat gingerly in her chair, eyes following Sabrina as she puttered around the room. She was steely and quiet, a challenging gleam to her eyes despite not knowing exactly what she wanted to know. Was she upset that he married Constance? Or was she more upset that he cared so little that when her brother passed — her Eddie, her protector, her everything — he didn’t even care enough to show up at the funeral and see if she was okay?

The question had nagged at her for years, swirling in the back of her mind when she got drunk and nostalgic — a rare occurrence now that she and Hilda had a child to care for — only let herself pull out the old photographs then, and tucked them away safely before her sober self could find them and cry.

“Auntie?”

“Yes, Sabrina?”

“Do you want Tommy?”

There was a hesitation in her eyes at the mention of her familiar, lips back to that tight pursed look that meant the walls were back up again. Faustus idly wondered if he would ever be able to tear them down again, to see her relaxed and smiling and happy.

“You could bring him in here, yes.”

“He’s still alive?”

Faustus’ familiar, though only slightly older, had passed decades ago. He wasn’t sure if he was more impressed with the goblin-turned-dog’s age, or the fact that he was so heaven bent on protecting Zelda that he had stayed around for this many years. Anubis, after several years of Faustus being decidedly less reckless than he had been in his youth, had finally decided it was time for him to pass on. He knew Zelda was reckless, but was that old beagle the only thing protecting her?

“He’s… he’s been around.”

Classic Zelda, he thought, talking herself in circles until he felt like the dumbest person in the room. She had always been good at evading questions like that, a master of building walls so high no one could see over them. It was something she had to have learned from her parents, he had decided over the years, because Edward had been the same way.

“How old is he now? Satan, he’s nearly the same age as Anubis and he passed when? Thirty years ago?”

“He’s old.”

“Just old?”

“Very old. Is that better, Father Blackwood?” Her nostrils flared in annoyance, hand scrubbing over her face in the same anxious habit she had held in her youth. “Why do you care so much about my familiar?”

He couldn’t answer that question, only leaned back and raised his eyebrow.

“He’s heavy. What are you feeding him? Bricks? Stones?”

Zelda let out a puff of laughter when Sabrina came back into the room, pulling the dog from her niece’s grasp and settling him safely at her side. She stroked at his head, fingers moving deftly as though it was unconscious, the grimace slipping from her face and giving way to a relaxed, easy smile.

“Bacon. And stuffing.”

They both laughed as though they were conspiring about something, Sabrina’s eyes pointedly on Faustus in a way that made him feel smaller than he actually was. If the girl were to end up at the academy, he would surely be in trouble, the spitting image of Zelda Spellman reincarnated into a tiny blonde body.

The dog had never been particularly cute in his prime, always awkward and clambering around with too big paws and too long ears, but there was something about him that had never failed to make Zelda smile that big, unrestrained grin Faustus loved so much. But this poor reincarnation of Vinegar Tom? The poor thing was downright disgusting.

His face was stretched too tight, body lumpy in some areas and sagging in others, and his ears were nearly bare of fur. Surely Zelda had to know that this wasn’t Vinegar Tom — more likely a poorly done art project by Sabrina, if he had to guess — and yet she was worrying his ear between her fingers and cooing as though he was still a pup.

“Zelda… is he alive?”

“Well he’s not dead, Faustus.” She was indignant, eyebrows knit together as she looked down at her familiar. “He thinks you’re dead. What a rude guest, isn’t he, Tommy Boy?”

Faustus wasn’t sure if he was horrified or amused— decided to go with a mixture of both, tried his best to stop the smirk from spreading across his lips lest she smack him right where he sat. There she was, Zelda fucking Spellman of all people, cooing at a dead, stuffed dog as though he was alive and kicking.

“He hasn’t moved since Sabrina brought him in here.”

“Tom doesn’t like men, least of all you.”

“I don’t think he has the ability to like anything because he’s dead.”

There was a tense silence, Zelda’s fingers picking at the dog’s ear with a fervor now. Sabrina, just as well behaved as she had always been during church services, had chosen that moment to leave the room and Faustus wasn’t sure if he was thankful or annoyed.

“Take it back.”

“What?”

“Take it back.”

She was fucking insane. Absolutely bloody bonkers in a way he would have never expected — would have never realized if he had turned away at the door and wished her a good day — much less from her.

“I said take it back.”

“He’s dead, Zelda. That isn’t a live dog… he’s not even stuffed well. What is wrong with you?”

Satan, he wanted to shake her and yell and scream and find the smart, sane Zelda that he once knew. Maybe this is why Hilda had sent him over, to try and talk some sense into her.

“He’s not dead. Tom isn’t dead. He’s my soulmate and he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t leave me.”

Her eyes were glistening with tears she was too stubborn to let fall, her upper lip quivering and damn it, no matter how insane she looked clinging to that dead dog, Faustus wanted nothing more than to hold her and wipe her tears away.

“He wouldn’t leave me like.. like everyone else. Like my parents and Eddie and Hilda—“

“Hilda hasn’t left you, she’s overseas with Ambrose.”

“Hilda and you. And I’m sure Sabrina will leave me too, and Ambrose would if he was allowed to leave this Satan forsaken house, he’s told me that.”

Zelda lifted a delicate finger to the corners of her eyes, dabbed her tears away and let out a very un-Zelda-like sniffle before setting her expression back to the look of annoyance she was so used to wearing.

“So no, Vinegar Tom isn’t dead and he hasn’t left me. Not yet. Just let me have it, Faustus. What do you care if I carry him around?”

He wouldn’t have cared, shouldn’t have asked so many damned questions, but now his heart was achy with guilt and sadness and pity. Pity for that steely, bitchy Zelda he knew centuries ago, and pity for this Zelda sitting in front of him, sniveling pathetically while stroking a dead dog.

Faustus was suddenly glad he hadn’t asked who hurt her, wouldn’t have been able to handle that the answer was him.

“Do you bring him to Black Mass?”

“Only sometimes.”

“And what do you declare a worthy occasion for Tom himself to grace my church with his presence?”

Zelda’s smile reached her eyes when Faustus finally gave in and played along. It was nice to live in the bubble of fantasy — to pretend that for once, someone loved her enough to stay.

"Anniversaries.”

“Of?”

“Deaths, mostly. And the one service a year in which you glorify your marriage to the entire coven like it won’t shatter me all over again.”

It was bitter and cold and so angry that if he was sitting closer, she would have surely spat on him. Zelda had easily broken his heart a dozen times in one short conversation, and yet she looked so fucking smug that it almost angered him.

They both jumped when the heavy wooden door slammed shut, a clatter coming from the front hall before Sabrina raced into the room. A welcome distraction from the serious turn to their conversation, and Zelda looked almost relieved, albeit a touch embarrassed at Sabrina’s clumsy galloping.

“Pizza! Auntie, the pizza’s here!”

Zelda just barely saved the boxes from falling to the floor and ruining their meal, a bemused gleam hiding in her eyes behind a stern tone when she told Sabrina she wouldn’t get a single piece of pizza if she didn’t go wash up first.

“Is your old friend going to stay?”

“He’s just a friend, Sabrina.”

“I should be leaving now, really.” He was shocked when thin fingers clasped around his wrist and pushed him back down into the couch. “Unless you want me to stay?”

She paused for a moment, eyebrows knit together in thought as she fanned herself with a paper plate. It was a look he knew well, the little smirk playing on her lips when she was thinking up a particularly witty retort.

“I don’t care if you stay or if you go, but it’s rather rude to not stay for dinner and make sure I’m okay after you made me cry. Twice.”

Faustus nearly scoffed at her haughty tone and the way her eyes twinkled with mischievous glee. He pretended to focus on the way her hands moved as she served the pizza, the way her hands were decidedly more veiny and frail than he had remembered them being.

“I seem to recall only seeing tears once.”

“The first set gave way to the second.” He pretended not to notice when she delicately placed a piece of pizza crust in front of Vinegar Tom’s nose. “You’re certainly lucky that no tears fell, I would be guilting you from now until the day you die.”

“That would be a rather long time, wouldn’t it?”

“Not if you insult my dog again.”

#Spellwood #my writing #caos #zelda spellman #faustus blackwood #sabrina spellman #vinegar Tom #sweet Zelda and her Tommy boy #queue should see me in a crown

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imaginethreehouses · 4 years ago

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Imagine being trapped in an elevator after months of mutual pining with...

[🦁 Blue Lions]

Dimitri: He wears his feelings on his sleeve since his breakdown at the start of the war, so he's aware that his crush on you is likely to be an open secret. He wouldn't want to risk a worse accident by using his strength, so he would be content to sit down and wait for rescue with you.

Dedue: He would apologise that you have to be forced to spend time with him. If you reassure him that you are actually glad to get the chance, the two of you might finally get to talk your feelings out.

Annette: Too focused on panicking to be worrying about who she's trapped with. She would get angry and frustrated, and later would feel terribly embarrasaed that she acted that way in front of you. But you wouldn't have her any other way, right?

Mercedes: She doesn't even try to get out, she's completely chill and reassures you that you'll get rescued soon. Mercie is the type to act completely normal around her crushes, and she would be amused to see you act flustered, if you do.

Sylvain: Would try to act normal because he doesn't want to put pressure on you, but if you're brave enough to make the first move, he wouldn't miss a beat before going for a kiss.

Felix: He's been avoiding you since he realised he has feelings for you, which means he greatly misses you, so for him this is both a blessing and a curse. He would try to keep it together but would likely end up confessing if you're trapped in there long enough.

Ashe: Like Annette, he would panic, and then be disappointed in himself for not acting like you would expect from a knight. You would have to reassure him that everyone's allowed to have weaknesses and fears, even knights.

Ingrid: She would act like you would expect from a knight, stoically keeping her cool through the whole situation... unless she sees you acting all blushy around her. As soon as she realises that there's a chance that you might like her, she would start getting flustered too.

[ 🦅 Black Eagles]

Edelgard: She's always on the edge of a breakdown, so if the conversation takes that kind of turn, she would be tempted to let this be the time she will show weakness and cry in your arms.

Hubert: Won't get a thing out of him. His duty to Edelgard comes first, so he will take his crush with him to his grave if he has to. Will confess in time, but a setback as small as this one will not be the thing that prompts him to do it.

Ferdinand: Would try his hardest to reassure you that everything will be alright. Even if you're not the littlest bit scared, he will vow that he'll ensure that you will get through this, together. Would not understand why you're laughing.

Caspar: Would fight the elevator. Surely you will be impressed by his strength, right? Would also not understand why you're laughing.

Bernadetta: She would start waxing about how if she has to meet her end in a place like this, at least she is glad that it is with you by her side. Wait, did she say that last part out loud?

Linhardt: Would take the situation as a very welcome break. Nothing left to do but to take a nap as you wait for your rescue. You would probably be more comfortable if you leaned on each other while you sleep, right?

Petra: She would act normal at first, but it's likely that after talking for a while, the conversation would end up touching the matter of feelings. She would not think it a good moment to confess, but she would definitely decide that she wants to do it soon.

Dorothea: She would see her chance and seize it. Might wait a little to see if you make the first move, but will definitely do it herself if she thinks you're just too shy to go for it.

[🦌 Golden Deer]

Claude: He would feel uneasy to have no escape route in case he needs one, so he would try to keep the conversation as casual and lighthearted as possible.

Ignatz: I think he would be slightly claustrophobic and start worrying that neither of you are strong enough to break free on your own if rescue doesn't arrive. You would have to reassure him.

Hilda: Would immediately start talking about the obvious romantic implications of the situation. It would be impossible for you to tell if she's joking or not.

Lorenz: Would start feeling frustrated if he can't manage to escape on his own. He knows he will start getting flustered if the situation drags on for long, so his main focus is to find a way to open that door.

Marianne: She would think it's her fault that this happened to you, so you would have to reassure her that it is not. Then, she would feel bad that she's making you worry for her, but if you keep talking to her, she would likely start feeling better and the two of you would actually have a good time.

Raphael: Would immediately start worrying about being trapped long term without food, and would check on you constantly, asking if you're hungry, thirsty, tired, etc. You have to remind him that it's literally been six minutes.

Lysithea: She has no time to be stuck in here while she has so much left to do. As time goes by, you can tell she's feeling worse and worse. If she hasn't told you about her shortened lifespan yet, she might do it now.

Leonie: She doesn't mind being trapped, she knows there is no real danger. Her main focus would be to make sure you're doing okay. She rarely takes a moment to just stop and chill, so as long as you're doing well too, she would actually have a good time.

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iturbide · 3 years ago

Text

United in Song

okay so this has been in my drafts for I don’t even know how long and I’m tired of it sitting there collecting dust, so please enjoy this fluffy 3H platonic one-shot.

/////

If there was one thing Dorothea missed about the opera, it was the audience. There was a certain kind of thrill that came with standing on the stage, staring out into the darkened crowd while the music swelled beneath her voice and feeling their tension, knowing that they held their collective breaths in anticipation, in wonder of her song…there was nothing else quite like it, in her experience. And while she didn’t really want to go back to that life of endless practices and performances, of cutthroat rivalries and patrons as dangerous as they were wealthy, she felt a little pang standing in the Garreg Mach cathedral, singing her heart out for absolutely no one.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. The monastery choir had finally gotten a few more members, and as the nun in charge dismissed them for the day, Annette and Hilda hurried over before she could wander off. “Wow, Dorothea! You were really amazing!!” the little redhead gushed.

“Aw, thanks, Annie,” Dorothea giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You were both great, too!”

“You’re so sweet,” Hilda smiled. “But we couldn’t hold a candle to you! Your voice was so beautiful -- and I swear, it filled the whole cathedral.”

Well, that might explain all the sharp looks and decrescendo gestures she’d been getting from the director.

“It’s really a shame nobody else was around to hear,” Annette sighed.

“I know exactly what you mean.” Dorothea scanned the rows of empty pews as they walked toward the doors, feeling again that ache of longing. Even when they did get to stand before an audience, something told her they would just be the choral lead to a devotional hymn for some religious service or another. “Sometimes I really wish we could just…go out and perform, you know? Show off a little, hear the applause…”

“…well, why couldn’t we?”

Dorothea paused at the top of the steps, reeling her mind back from another stage dream to focus on Hilda. “I didn’t think they did that here.”

“Not that I’ve seen. Or heard about,” Annette agreed.

“So why not do something about it?” Hilda asked. “Put on a musical performance! There’s lots of places that would work, like the lawn outside the classrooms, or the walk along the dormitories…”

“Would that really bring in an audience, though?” Annette pointed out. “Back in Fhirdiad you’d see performers doing shows on street corners, but they never really drew crowds or anything.”

“And wouldn’t it be nice to have a real stage, and a real audience?” Dorothea sighed. It was a quiet walk across the bridge to the monastery…and the whole way, she just kept turning Hilda’s suggestion over and over. It really would be nice to have an opportunity to perform…maybe she could ask Professor Manuela about it--

“This is it!!”

Dorothea jumped at Annette’s excited squeak, whirling just in time to see her grab something off the Bulletin Board. “What is?” she asked, taking the parchment and smoothing it out.

“A flier for the Weapons Tourney?” Hilda read over her shoulder. Apparently this month’s challenge was for axe-wielders, and while the pink-haired noble might excel, something told Dorothea that she wouldn’t go anywhere near it without proper incentive from the Professor.

“No! …well, I mean, yes, that’s what it is, but I mean -- this is the answer! We have a music tournament!”

“…a music tournament?” Dorothea repeated.

“Yeah!” Annette giggled. “We could have sign-ups, and people could bring their instruments or sing, and it could have brackets just like they do in the training grounds, only they’d be competing with their music! And the audience response could be how the winner’s picked!”

Dorothea felt a smile dawn across her face. “…Annie, that’s brilliant! We could get a sponsor to help judge ties, and offer a grand prize for the winner…”

“We could make fliers the way they do for the training ground matches, too!” Hilda added.

“I bet if we ask around the monastery, we could get tons of sign-ups -- and I’m sure lots of people would want to see it!” Annette insisted. “Ooh, this is so exciting!!”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Dorothea agreed. “And I’m sure if we join forces, we can make it into a dazzling show.”

As they put their heads together to plan, for the first time in ages, she felt a thrill of excitement for what lay ahead. Garreg Mach might not have much appreciation for music now -- but if they got their way, Dorothea would make sure that changed.

-----

“A music show? Oh, you mean like they’ve got at the fair? Hey, count me in! Are you gonna have snacks?”

“No, Raph,” Dorothea sighed.

“You sure? Everybody likes good food -- I bet you’d get a ton of people to come if they could eat while they watched.”

She shook her head, fighting back a smile. It was hard to be frustrated with him when he was so enthusiastic, but she did wish he’d think about more than food. “Do they have snacks for the weapon tournaments at the training grounds?”

“Heck yeah they do!” he laughed. “I never miss a tourney, they’ve always got something for the people in the stands…”

“…huh.” She hadn’t known that. Maybe they could ask about refreshments: after all, everything else had been going splendidly so far. Professor Manuela had been over the moon when they approached her with the idea, and had swiftly appointed herself as their ‘impartial’ judge (said with a wink that made Dorothea certain she was far more partial than she’d ever admit to being); while the former diva took to planning and preparations, including venue selection and construction, she left the three students in charge of gauging interest and getting early sign-ups so they could start preparing their brackets. Hilda, rather expectedly, had complained of feeling poorly, so Dorothea had agreed to help out in canvasing the Golden Deer…which had led her, rather unexpectedly, to Raphael and his surprisingly helpful suggestion.

“Alright,” she agreed, making a note for later. “I’ll see what we can do about snacks, then.”

“All right!!” he cheered. “You’re the best, Dorothea!”

“Aw, thank you,” she smiled. “But would you want to take part? You know, be up on the stage in front of the audience? We’re looking for any kind of musical talent, whether you sing or play an instrument…”

His face scrunched up for a minute in deep, somewhat painful-looking thought. “Hmmm…I’m mostly good for muscle,” he shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I love music! I’m just not much good at makin’ it -- oh, hey, have you asked Bernadetta yet?”

“Bernie?”

“Yeah! Oh, man, she’s got this little brass thingy she plays -- she was playin’ it in the greenhouse one day, an’ I heard it from all the way in the training grounds! It was the best thing I’d ever heard!”

“Interesting,” Dorothea mused, scribbling another little note down.

“You didn’t know?”

“Bernie’s pretty shy about her talents,” Dorothea confided. “Seems she’s got all kinds of hidden ones…”

“Uh…if you go ask her, can you maybe…not tell her I told you?” he asked nervously. “See, uh…she got pretty upset when I found out, and made me promise not to tell anybody, but then you came talking about music an’ stuff and I just got real excited about maybe seein’ her up there an’ hearin’ it again, so…”

“Oh, Raph, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” she giggled. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”

“Thanks, Dorothea,” he beamed. “You really are the best.”

-----

“M-music show? Me? Perform!? How did you find out? Did Raphael tell you!?” Bernadetta demanded through the tiny crack between the doors of her room.

“Raphael? I haven’t talked to him,” Dorothea lied. “Hilda’s asking around with the Golden Deer, since they’re her classmates, just like Annette’s asking the Blue Lions and I’m asking all my fellow Eagles. We’re trying to get a list together of students who want to take part. Do you have any musical talents, Bernie?”

“N-n-no!” she stammered. “Nope, not me, Bernie’s just good for staying out of the way, yes indeed…”

“I think you’re good for a lot more than that,” Dorothea insisted. “I know you’ve got so much talent, and it’s such a shame to hide it all away. Maybe you sing in here, or play an oboe when we’re all away from the dorms…”

“Trumpet,” the archer mumbled. “B-but I could never get up in front of so many people!”

“Oh, but from on stage, under the lights, you can’t even see most of the audience -- and wouldn’t it be great to share all that talent with the whole academy?”

“Maybe for you!” the archer squeaked. “All those people out there in the dark, staring at me, and no place to hide? That s-sounds terrifying!”

…Dorothea actually hadn’t thought about that. She was so used to basking in the attention…but that would be scary for someone as shy as Bernadetta. “That’s okay,” she smiled. “You don’t have to. But…would you maybe come to watch? Ferdie and I have already signed up to take part, and we could always use someone to cheer for us.”

“…m-maybe,” came the muffled reply.

“And if you do change your mind about being on stage, you know we’ll both be cheering you on, right?” she coaxed. “Annette even told me that Felix promised to come watch the performances, and you know how he feels about everything that isn’t training. We’d all really love it if you joined in.”

Silence from the other side of the doors. Had she pushed too hard…?

“I’ll…I-I’ll think about it.”

Beaming, Dorothea made a note on her sign-up sheet. “That’s all we’d ask for. Just let me know, okay?”

And maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard the smallest sound of agreement before the doors clicked firmly shut between them.

-----

Even in her fantasies, Dorothea never could have dreamed things would go this well. Not only did they get enough sign-ups to make a full five-round bracket, the whole monastery was buzzing with anticipation days before the event. It reminded her a little of Enbarr the week before a Mittelfrank production, where every group she passed on the street seemed to be talking about the upcoming show -- whether it was about their excitement to see the spectacle or despair over not getting one of the endlessly coveted (and frightfully limited) tickets. Here, thankfully, seating was hardly an issue, since Professor Manuela had managed to secure the Reception Hall for the event: the whole student body could fit there with standing room to spare, even with the stage taking up the front quarter.

Come the morning of the show, posters listing the contestants appeared on every bulletin board, and Dorothea scanned the starting matches before the thought of breakfast even occurred to her. She recognized more than a few names: Ferdinand of course, and herself (naturally), as well as Lorenz (unfortunately), Hilda, Annette, and even Bernie.

It was all so exciting, she could hardly bear it.

Time crawled by while she waited for the tournament to begin. Before noon she’d warmed up, improvised a few little tunes as practice, and rehearsed a few of her favorite songs in preparation. By the time the Reception Hall opened to the competitors, she’d chosen her starting and ending arrangements and decided on the pieces she would use if she faced any real competition. And once the doors opened and the audience began to crowd into the available seats, she felt her heart begin to race in anticipation of what was soon to come.

She didn’t even mind that she had to wait. The first match, to her delight, featured Annette and Bernie: blushing fiercely, the little red-head made her way cheerfully through an obviously original tune, while Dorothea’s fellow Eagle stuck to a familiar Imperial melody, squeezing her eyes shut tight and playing her trumpet at the stage rather than the audience. In spite of that, it was a remarkable performance, and Bernie might have won just by virtue of Raphael’s enthusiastic applause -- but his thunderous cheer startled the poor recluse and sent her bolting from the stage before the match could be officially declared, forfeiting her chance to proceed. But that might have been for the best, she supposed: Bernie clearly wasn’t big on the spotlight.

The rest of the first round and all of the second went smoothly enough. Though she didn’t bother watching every pair, she saw both Ferdinand and Annette proceed on to the quarterfinals, while Hilda lost to Lorenz in her second bout (though the noblewoman hardly seemed bothered by the loss). Dorothea’s own matches barely required any effort on her part to win: she’d spent so long practicing her favorite songs from her favorite operas in the days leading up to this competition, but a few simple melodies were all it took to ensure that she made it through the preliminaries. Even against her third opponent, all it took was the chorus from an Adrestian folksong to seal her victory...though Annette lost her own bout against Ferdinand in the same round. Dorothea congratulated her all the same, and promised to win for Annie’s sake -- perhaps a bold promise from anyone else, but one that the former Mittelfrank diva felt assured she could keep.

And sure enough, in the semifinals she not only faced her fellow Eagle but beat him handily with one of the arias she’d so carefully prepared. He lost quite gracefully, too, applauding her as enthusiastically as the audience itself and conceding even before Profesor Manuela could announce the final judgment. And with the round done, Dorothea made her way back behind the stage, humming to herself as she waited for the intermission to end and the finals to begin…

“Congratulations on sweeping the competition, Dorothea.”

She paused, turning to see the leader of the Golden Deer House grinning at her from a few feet away. Mustering up a pleasant enough smile, she offered a nod in greeting. “Why, thank you, Claude. Are you here to wish Lorenz well before I crush him?”

The nobleman blinked. “Why would I do that? Lorenz got knocked out in the last round.”

Dorothea stared at him for a long, silent moment. “To who?” she demanded, hunting about for a bracket that might give her an answer--

“...me, actually.”

Slowly, carefully, she turned again to face the leader of the Golden Deer. “Guess you weren’t watching the match,” he chuckled, hefting an odd lute-like instrument. “Lorenz was...less than thrilled with the outcome, if it helps.”

Actually, it just made her regret all the more that she hadn’t paid attention: she’d been looking forward to seeing his face when he finally lost. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order for you, too, then,” she said, turning away from him again. “May the best musician win.”

“Oh, uh...about that.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as he drummed his fingertips along the neck of his instrument. “I was...well. I was wondering how you’d feel about calling it a draw.”

A thin smile carved its way across her face. “Are you that confident you can beat me, Claude?”

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “I have no doubt that you’d mop the floor with me.” She felt sure he was flattering her -- but she waited all the same, watching his grin soften almost shyly, though it still didn’t quite touch his eyes. “I was just...hoping I could perform with you, instead of having to compete against you. Y’know, everything here at the monastery is about pitting us against each other: the weapon tourneys, the fishing competition, and now this...I feel like we could put on a better show working together than we could separately trying to one-up each other. You can have the prize, too, if you want,” he added. “Pretty sure you’d win it anyway, but...what do you say?”

Beyond the curtain, she heard Professor Manuela take the stage again and announce the final round to the audience. Claude only watched Dorothea, though, seeming content to be patient and wait for her even as their names rang out over the wild cheering of the crowd.

And at last she smiled, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. “How are you at improvising with that lute of yours?”

“If you can sing a few bars, I can probably make something work,” he grinned.

“Why don’t we put that to the test?”

“With pleasure,” he agreed, bowing playfully before offering his arm to her. Returning the gesture with a teasing curtsy of her own, Dorothea accepted -- and they walked out onto the stage together, applause washing over them in waves of wondrous sound. They parted smoothly, Claude taking up his instrument and strumming a few notes to ensure it was properly in tune before looking expectantly to her, waiting for her lead; Dorothea turned her own attention to the darkness, savoring the anticipation of the shadowed audience before her...and finally beginning to sing, the somber melody echoing throughout the crowded reception hall.

“Reach for my hand, I’ll soar away, Into the dawn, oh I wish I could stay…”

A soft chord joined in, the notes as sweet and clear as her own...and yet it did not overpower her voice: instead it seemed to carry the words higher, elevating the music in ways she had not heard since she left the Mittelfrank Opera House. She did not falter, though: instead she continued, allowing a smile to creep into her voice as she sang.

“Here in cherished halls, in peaceful days I fear the edge of dawn, knowing time betrays…”

“Is this really gonna be the last song we do?” Claude asked, his voice carrying out into the dark and startling her back to reality. “Come on, Dorothea, we’ve gotta liven it up a little!”

Even as he spoke, his fingers flew over the strings, keeping the key but tumbling into a bright, rousing accompaniment. He winked at her when she turned to stare at him, repeating the same refrain in invitation...and though she’d only ever heard the piece as a wandering lament before, she could not deny his compelling harmony.

Their music rang through the reception hall, her voice rising into the rafters on the strum of lute strings...and for the first time since she’d come to the Officer’s Academy, Dorothea felt that familiar, wonderful thrill again as the enraptured crowd watched them perform their duet on the stage.

-----

In the fortnight following the tourney, Dorothea had become the most popular girl in Garreg Mach. It seemed like every young man, noble birth or otherwise, wanted a moment of her time, a scrap of her attention...and, of course, a chance to hear her sing again.

While they’d agreed to a draw before ever taking the stage, Claude had gracefully conceded when Professor Manuela declared Dorothea the winner. It had bothered her when it happened -- all the more for how she couldn’t correct the matter over the riotous applause -- and try as she might over the intervening days, she’d still been unable to set the record straight with anyone she spoke with (aside from Hilda, who didn’t seem the least bit surprised to hear it). But strangest of all was the fact, despite now having an audience eager to hear her perform again...she couldn’t find that thrill anymore. It had been there while she was on stage with Claude, but in every performance since -- no matter how many people she had hanging on her every note -- she just felt the same hollow sort of yearning she had in the cathedral before all of this began.

Dorothea sighed as she made her way out of the dining hall, taking the stairs down to the fishing pond and wandering toward the dormitories. All the attention did get tiring after a while; luckily the grounds seemed deserted this afternoon, and she stretched her arms high as she tipped her head back, breathing in the crisp autumn air while the sun warmed her face and the soft sound of music drifted by…

She stopped, scanning the lawn and the path along the row of dorms. No one was there that she could see, but she could hear the strum of lute strings; she hurried on, listening to the music grow louder and louder until she felt certain she was close -- but the sound was too clear to be coming from behind the closed doors, and there was still no one around that she could see. “Claude?” she called, raising her voice as much as she dared.

The music stopped. “Dorothea?” the nobleman’s voice replied -- not from beside or behind her, but from above.

Tilting her head back and shading her eyes, she stared at the young man peering at her over the eaves of the dormitory roof. “What are you doing up there?” she asked.

“Playing,” he said.

“How did you even get up there? And why are you playing on the roof, for that matter?”

“It’s complicated,” he shrugged. “...well, alright, it’s not that complicated, but...should I come down so we can talk?”

Dorothea opened her mouth to agree...and paused. “...I could always come up,” she offered.

A grin twitched across his face. “I’ll meet you at my room, then,” he laughed, waving before disappearing from view. Hurrying back down to the greenhouses, she turned into the stairwell leading to the second floor of dorms where most of the noble students stayed; at the top of the steps, she saw Claude poke his head out into the hall, beaming at the sight of her. Smiling despite herself, Dorothea hurried over and ducked past him without even thinking...and as he closed the doors, she stifled a giggle at the sight of his room.

She had seen cluttered her share of dorms before -- Linhardt’s came immediately to mind -- but she’d never seen anything quite like this, with books taking up half the bed, papers spilling off the desk and onto the floor, and shelves cluttered with a mix of plants, vials, and strange brass instruments she couldn’t identify. Claude seemed briefly puzzled by her reaction...though, after another moment, he rather sheepishly began gathering up the parchment piled on his chair to give her a place to sit. “So what can I do for you?”

“Well, first of all I’d like to know how you got onto the roof,” she replied. “And off it so fast, for that matter.”

He quirked one eyebrow in apparent surprise. “What, that? It’s easy.” Dropping the papers in a haphazard pile on the desk, he stepped up onto the wide ledge beneath the open window, leaning out into empty space and stretching one arm up...

Claude jumped.

Dorothea lunged for him, knowing already it was too late -- but he did not fall. She stumbled into the sill, gaping as he effortlessly pulled himself up out of sight; crawling up onto the ledge, she cautiously poked her head out the window...and saw him lean out over the eave, grinning down at her from his perch. “That doesn’t look easy to me,” Dorothea pointed out.

“It just takes some practice,” he laughed. “Want to come up? The view’s great,” he added, reaching a hand down to her.

The sensible, logical, rational part of her brain insisted that she’d rather not break her neck trying to get a nice view of the monastery...even as she extended her own arm, gripping his wrist and feeling him hold fast. She heard the instructions he gave her -- she was more than certain of that, since she never would have done this on her own -- but whatever he’d said escaped her the moment she stepped off the ledge into empty air, clutching tight to Claude’s wrist even as his pleasant laughter rang in her ears. In the end he did most of the work pulling her up beside him...but once she caught her breath and her heart stopped feeling like a bird trying to escape its cage, she had to admit that he was right: the campus was lovely from so high up.

“You doing okay?” he asked, patting her shoulder gently.

“Better, I think,” she agreed, scooting further back from the edge. “So, that explains how you got up here -- now why are we here?”

“Well, in my case it’s because it’s a nice day, I don’t have anything going on, and I’m tired of dealing with Lorenz, so I figured I’d come up here and play a bit. He can yell all he wants from down there, but I’m not stopping unless he gets on this roof to make me.” As he spoke, he removed the lute strapped to his back, strumming a few notes and idly beginning to tune it again. “But what brings you up here?”

“Well...actually, I was looking for you,” she admitted, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t seen much of you since the music tourney.”

“You’ve been busy,” he winked.

Dorothea rolled her eyes, leaning back against the slightly pitched roof. “Don’t remind me, I needed to get away from it for a while.”

“Really? I thought you’d be happy about all the attention.”

“I was at first,” she sighed, “and it’s been wonderful to have more chances to sing, but…”

She trailed off, watching a few wispy clouds wandering across the pale blue sky. After a moment, the quiet strum of lute strings fell silent; glancing over at the nobleman, she found him watching her with interest, his head canting slightly to one side as he gestured for her to continue. “It...doesn’t feel like I thought it would. Back in the opera, it was always so grand and emotional, singing to an audience -- I loved that feeling, and it’s one of the things I’ve missed most since I left. I’d hoped the competition would bring it back, and singing with you I found it again, but...I haven’t felt it since. I’ve been feeling guilty about the way it ended up, and…”

“Hey, I said from the start that you’d mop the floor with me in a competition,” he laughed. “I don’t mind. I’m glad I got the chance to perform with you -- that was my prize.”

“Be serious,” she huffed. “I’m trying to apologize!”

“And I’m saying you don’t have to -- it’s not like you had a say in Professor Manuela deciding on a winner.”

“But if I don’t get it sorted out, how am I supposed to enjoy singing like I used to?”

“Are you sure guilt is what’s keeping you from it?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“You said that you haven’t felt that thrill since you left the opera. You didn’t get it again until the finals, right?” She nodded in agreement. “And then after the finals it was gone again?” Again, she nodded in agreement. “So what was different about the finals, compared to everything before and after?”

“The drama of the grand finale?” she offered.

“Well, that, too,” he chuckled, “but you weren’t performing alone, either: your melody had a harmony.”

Dorothea scoffed at the notion. “That seems…”

She trailed off as Claude leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands. She hadn’t thought of it like that before, but...her fondest memories from the opera were of performances with accompaniment: grand arias carried by a full orchestra, soft odes lilting over quavering strings. “...possible,” she conceded.

“So maybe what you were really looking for was a chance to sing with somebody, instead of going it alone or singing over them.”

“I’m flattered you think I’m so selfless,” she giggled. “Really, I just wanted an audience.” But even so, that final performance with him, building on one another’s leads and creating something far grander and more beautiful than Dorothea could have done alone...it had brought with it a familiar, delightful frisson.

“Well, I know I had more fun playing with you than I did taking Lorenz down a peg -- and I really enjoyed that,” Claude laughed, strumming his lute again, “and I, for one, would be honored to reprise the performance -- though, fair warning, I can’t promise a crowd this time around.”

“You know, I am free this afternoon,” she grinned. He beamed back at her, picking a cheerful tune on his lute strings -- an Adrestian folksong she recognized instantly; as she started in on the first verse and their duet drifted out over the quiet campus, she felt the thrill lift her heart again...and maybe it was just her imagination, but she swore Claude’s smile finally reached his eyes.

#fanfiction #fire emblem: three houses #dorothea arnault #claude von riegan #dorothea & claude #these two could have had such interesting conversations #but the only way to get that is with fanfiction #which is a shame #the title song reference is one of my favorite nods #dorothea singing it at half tempo to start #and then claude kicking it up to the faster pace #is just so much fun to me #also even though they don't have a huge impact on the piece as a whole #i just love the bits with raph and bernie so much #overall i'm still a little unsure about this particular one #but i really wanted to get it done since it's been sitting around for so long #and i needed something to get my mind on other things #let me know what you think #and if you'd like to see this one kicked over to ao3 too

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