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bouwrites · 1 year ago

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Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 56

Shocks of White

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

“I was prepared for bloodshed,” Leonie sighs. “As a mercenary at war, I’ve seen more than I care to remember, but… I guess I’m still not used to this.”

Ignatz hugs himself tightly. “Even our enemies were fighting for their own cause. They held out without fleeing until the bitter end…”

“Fools,” Veery sighs. “No cause is worth all this death. They should have run.”

“I wish…” Ignatz shakes his head sadly. “But they were resolved to die for what they believe in, and we can’t afford to stall here.”

“If that’s what you have to tell yourself,” Leonie says. “Not everyone who dies in war truly believes in what they’re fighting in. But I do, so I won’t let it stop me. I just wouldn’t want to become the type of person who feels nothing when someone dies, even if they are my enemy.”

“Is everyone ready?” Claude calls from his usual spot at the unusual table. While they talk, the last of those invited arrive, so it seems the meeting is finally starting. It feels strange to be doing this here in this new room at the Great Bridge of Myrddin rather than the war room at Garreg Mach. “Good. We have a few things to discuss. First and foremost being our next step.

“The Great Bridge of Myrddin is ours,” Claude says. “Well done, everyone. This is an important victory, and you all performed wonderfully. Now that Count Gloucester is no longer under Imperial threat, I’m going to have to return to Alliance territory and convince him and the other remaining lords to join us. Lorenz, would you return home for the time being and lay the groundwork with your father?”

“Fine,” Lorenz says. “After all, this is for the Alliance. Or rather, for all of Fódlan. We must be unified if we hope to face Edelgard.”

Claude nods. “For those of you who live in Alliance territories, I ask that you return to your houses and spread the word about the current situation. Until we finish our preparations, Judith and the knights will do everything in their power to defend the Great Bridge of Myrddin.”

Judith snorts. “That’s a casual way to dole out such a deadly mission, boy.”

“Do you object?”

“Just who do you think I am? I won’t let the Empire pass this way, even if it costs me my life.”

“Too bad you’re not allowed to die. The Deer know this already, but I’m counting more on you surviving than I am on holding any military advantage. Fight like your life depends on it, but flee if you’re ever truly in danger. Always.”

“A tall order, as always. And a very you perspective. I’ll use my best discretion.”

“Good, any other objections?”

“None from the Knights of Seiros,” Seteth says. “Go forth and secure us a sufficiently powerful army.”

“You can count on it,” Claude says. “But if we hope to convince the remaining lords to lend us their soldiers, we have to know what we’re doing with that army. I trust you’ve been talking amongst yourselves about our options from here? Are we still putting it to a vote, or have we come to an agreement?”

They have been talking. Extensively. It’s the subject of many long, long debates around the monastery, most of which Veery eavesdrops on rather than participates in.

“No agreement, I’m afraid, though I can tell you right now we have a clear majority,” Lysithea says, “so a vote would just be a formality.”

“All the same,” Claude says. “Does everyone consent to a vote? Majority opinion dictates whether we invade Adrestia, or travel to Faerghus.” When he gets a unanimous agreement, Claude says, “Then, all in favor of invasion directly from the Great Bridge of Myrddin.”

Claude, Hilda, and Teach all raise their hands. Judith, Catherine, Shamir, Alois and Cyril though somewhat reluctant-looking, as well as Leonie, Ignatz, Raphael, Marianne, Lorenz, Lysithea, and Veery. All of the Golden Deer agree, it seems. It’s their allies who have objections.

“All in favor of bringing our army to Fraldarius to back up the Kingdom and bring the war to the front lines there.”

Dorothea, Petra, and Manuela, of course, and Flayn and Seteth.

“It seems we’re outvoted,” Manuela says. “Oh, well. There is a very good case to go straight for Enbarr, so I won’t complain.”

“It is not how I would lead,” Petra says, “but neither option is wrong. I trust that you know what you are doing, Claude.”

“I appreciate that trust, Petra. Remember, everyone, that this means that once I get the remaining Alliance lords on our side and the last of our reinforcements, we’re going to be entering enemy territory. The battles ahead are going to be the toughest this war can throw at us, so we’ll need to be prepared. If you can, this also may be the last time you’ll get the chance to visit home.” He sends a reluctant, apologetic glance to Dorothea, Petra, and Veery. “I encourage you all to take advantage of that chance. Prepare yourselves; say goodbye if you need to. We’ll be meeting back here before we know it.”

The meeting is dismissed, but Veery… doesn’t really know what to do with himself. Claude is going back to Derdriu where he’s going to gather the rest of the lords for a proper Alliance meeting. Veery thinks Teach will probably go with him. Everyone else who has a home to go to is going there.

But Veery’s home is across a continent and an ocean. Just like Petra, he just doesn’t have time to make the journey all the way there and back. (He thinks, maybe, that’s still better than Dorothea and Manuela, whose home is not so far at all, but where they cannot visit all the same.)

Veery supposes he’ll just stay here at the bridge. Help Judith defend it while Claude and the others are doing their jobs.

Claude dithers about whether to bring Veery to Derdriu with him, it turns out. It gets to the point that, just before they leave, Hilda just takes Veery aside and asks if he wants to come.

Apparently, the cat saint being present is something akin to having the prospective next leader of the church in Professor Byleth there. The Church of Seiros is so fractured at this point that traditionalists, with Teach as the figurehead, and the Cult of the Cat Saint, who follow Veery, are both abundant between the remaining lords.

Ironically, neither Professor Byleth nor Veery have any interest in either of those factions, or indeed the Church of Seiros as a whole.

Either way, Veery remembers the last time Claude makes him try to convince a group of people to calm down using his position as the cat saint and emphatically refuses the invitation. Hilda nods understandingly and says that, if only one of them is going to show up, Professor Byleth is the less divisive one, anyway, and that part of Claude’s indecision about it is that he doesn’t know if showing Veery’s face will incite the traditionalists against the resistance regardless of Professor Byleth’s theoretical position in the old church.

That’s just fine with Veery. He’ll gladly avoid Alliance politics, and all politics really, for as long as possible.

When Hilda and Claude do leave, Veery figures that’s that, and that he’ll just bunker down here at the bridge with the knights and soldiers until everyone is ready to move. He doesn’t expect Lysithea to find him, or to ask him to accompany her back to Ordelia territory.

In the face of her request, Veery just dumbly blurts, “Why?”

Lysithea chuckles. “There’s something… I have a theory, and I want to run it by you. But there’s also something you should know, and if I’m right, it could be very important if we hope to win this war.”

“But why me?” Veery asks. “I know Claude is busy, but if it’s really that important it should be something to go to him about, isn’t it?”

“That’s true.” Lysithea inclines her head. “But I specifically want your opinion, and… and there’s something you need to see. It’s relevant specifically to you.”

Veery blinks. “Uh… okay, then. I’ll come. Sadi, Hoarvug, and Caub can come too, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t think to separate you. Although… when we get to the details, I am going to want to have that conversation with you in private.”

“That’s fine,” Veery says immediately. “I’ll get the others and we can go.”

Wasting no time, Lysithea gives him a nod and leaves him alone to prepare for the journey. Veery likewise sniffs out his friends and guides them over to where Lysithea is already packed and ready to go.

The journey isn’t long compared to some journeys Veery has been on. Ordelia territory is just east of the Great Bridge of Myrddin, towards the edge of Leicester, but still just down the Airmid River. Lysithea notes that it’s especially important for her to go home for the time being, since her territory is the next best place to cross the river into Adrestia, and vice versa, with bridges much less regulated and observed, as they’re present for travel and trade rather than as a military checkpoint. So, as long as the Great Bridge of Myrddin is held, it’s actually Ordelia which is the Alliance territory under greatest threat of counter-invasion by the Empire.

“Are you worried about that?” Veery asks.

Lysithea hums noncommittally. “Not especially. It’s possible, of course, but the Empire doesn’t have enough troops to spare for that. If they attack Ordelia, they’ll be leaving themselves wide open so long as we have the Great Bridge of Myrddin. It’s the same reason we took the bridge rather than invade through my family’s territory to start with. Besides, I’ve had spies on the bridges ever since the war started. If they do choose to invade, my parents will have notice, and Holst can mobilize the Goneril forces to come protect us if necessary. It wouldn’t be pretty, but I think we’d survive.”

Well that’s… good. It at least convinces Veery that he’s unlikely to have to fight on another bridge on this little excursion.

When they arrive at the Ordelia estate, a place not quite as pretty, but just as impressive as the Goneril estate, they’re greeted warmly by an older couple who don’t for a moment question why three cats and a heavily armored Albinean are gathered just behind their daughter.

It’s actually a little impressive just how nonplussed they are. Most people at least stare a little, but Lysithea’s parents only look at each of them with politeness.

They don’t look all that much like Lysithea, though, in Veery’s opinion. Sure, humans mostly look the same to him, but he at least knows enough that families generally have certain traits in common. Just like in agell. Their hair and eyes, especially, since more minute details tend to slip past Veery’s notice. But Lysithea’s parents both have greying brown hair, and their eyes are much more of a vibrant color than Lysithea’s. Veery always assumed the white hair was just a genetic thing.

Well, whatever. The lord and lady of the estate greet Veery and his friends with respect and eagerly put them up in rooms where they can lay their things and rest from their journey. They eat together, making small talk and much larger talk about the war and the state of it. Lysithea dominates that conversation for obvious reasons. Never once is Veery’s presence questioned, so he figures Lysithea’s parents know why she’s brought him here.

It’s the next day that he finds out, himself.

Lysithea grabs him in the early morning, before much of the estate is up, and leads him quietly to a dusty corner of the estate that doesn’t look like it’s been in use for some years. Silently, she slides a large iron key into a lock and opens a heavy door, then begins her descent down the steps past it.

“Eighteen years ago,” Lysithea says as they pad softly down those steps, “House Ordelia was involved in a rebellion that took place within the Empire. After it was quelled, all of the key officials were caught and put to death. The Empire sent replacements, who they used to take control of House Ordelia.”

“This is…” Veery racks his mind, sure he knows what she’s talking about. “The Insurrection of the Seven?”

“Yes and no. It’s the Hrym rebellions that led up to the Insurrection. It’s considered the cause of it, and so House Hrym is considered one of the Seven Houses involved, but the coup itself took place around four years later, long after House Hrym was destroyed.”

Veery hums. All this is something of a footnote in the history books he reads five years ago, but it’s starting to come back to him. “Okay,” he says. “So, at that point, the Empire took over House Ordelia.”

“That’s right,” Lysithea says. She comes to a halt outside of another door, and Veery has seen enough of castles and estates at this point to suspect they’re just outside the dungeons. But instead of going in, she turns to Veery with a deadly serious expression on her face. She looks so… haunted, in such a way that it feels almost as if the darkness peels off the cold stone walls to press in and try to extinguish their little magical lights.

“Among the people sent by the Empire were mages dressed in black. They were… unsettling, in a word. Skin as pale as death.” Lysithea says, voice detached. “It took me a while to piece it together, partly because I thought that my perception of them might’ve been colored by my age, and I just imagined them into such unsettling nightmares because of what they did, but I always suspected, from as far back as the Gaspard Rebellion. It wasn’t until Edelgard announced herself as the Flame Emperor and the connection between them and the Empire was confirmed that things fell into place with any certainty.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out sharply. “Those mages were Agarthan. I’m positive. They didn’t use those bird masks they did back in the academy days, but they were dark mages, pale skin, dressed similarly, and… well, you’ll understand when I tell you what they did here.”

Agarthan mages in House Ordelia when Lysithea couldn’t be more than a child? How old is she now? Veery doesn’t know, but humans age so quickly that she must’ve been so tiny so long ago. What could people willing to raze entire innocent villages do to a child?

Lysithea folds her arms across herself, shrinking as small as Veery has ever seen her. “Those mages imprisoned the children of my house,” she says. “I was only two when it happened. One by one, they performed horrible rituals on my siblings. Blood experiments. Even me. It didn’t stop for four years, until finally all of my siblings were dead and I was deemed a failure. When I was just six years old, they left. There was nothing more they could take from us. When my parents finally took me out of this dungeon… that was the first time I could even remember seeing the sun.”

Oh gods… “That’s horrible.” What else can Veery say? He doesn’t know how humans work well enough to know what exactly two- to six-year-olds are, but at least according to Lysithea, somewhere in that range is where her long-term memory sets in.

Veery comes from a place where the sun can effectively disappear for such a length of time that Fódlanders balk and wonder at the possibility, but even he can’t imagine not seeing the sun for years. He wonders if she even knew to miss it. Just imagining it makes Veery feel hollow.

And that’s not even starting on the blood experiments. Although, at this point, that’s almost typical of Agartha.

“Wait, blood experiments…” Veery lashes his tail, “like with Flayn?”

“Exactly,” Lysithea says. “You see why I’m so confident that those mages were Agarthan. Or, worked for the Agarthans, at least. It was the Flame Emperor, Edelgard, who was behind Flayn’s kidnapping and the experiments done on her, but ultimately that blood was used for an experiment performed by Solon, who we know Edelgard was working with, and who we know to be Agarthan.”

“It does make sense,” Veery sighs. “So… what did they do?”

Lysithea closes her eyes for a moment, hanging her head, then turns and unlocks the dungeon door. “That,” she says, “is what I want to talk to you about.”

Of course. It’s not like her to drag him all the way here just to share a story about her personal life. There’s business to be done. Veery dutifully follows her in, eyeing carefully the empty, moldy cells clearly no more cared for than the rest of this wing. He wrinkles his nose at the smell. Stale air and mold hang heavily in these dark confines.

“My apologies for the stench,” Lysithea says. “You understand why no one ever comes down here.”

Oh yes, he understands well enough. After something like what Lysithea’s family has been through, it makes sense that they’d avoid such an obvious reminder.

“I’ll get right to it. The purpose of the experiments done on me was to bestow the power of two Crests on a single individual. I bear the minor Crest of Charon, as well as the Major Crest of Gloucester.”

“Two Crests?” Veery frowns. “Did they give you both, or were you born with one?”

“I have no clue. I was only two when my siblings and I were imprisoned here. House Ordelia technically does have an ancient connection to the Charon bloodline, but we don’t test at birth like some houses do. It’s not as important for us, and that connection is so old that there hasn’t been a record of House Ordelia producing the Crest of Charon for generations. Today, it’s assumed it’s completely gone.”

Lysithea pauses outside a cell – they’re moving so slowly that Veery almost doesn’t notice until he has to stop himself from running into her – and stares into it for a long while. “I’ve often wondered if maybe I did somehow have the minor Crest of Charon. That might explain why I survived where my siblings didn’t.” She sighs. “But then, I’m also the youngest. I was the last to be experimented on, so I’m sure they just developed their technology and refined their methods to that point. Personally, I think that’s more likely.”

“Huh.” Veery taps his chin, idly swinging his tail as he thinks. “And you have both Crests?”

“I do.”

“Then… You said that the Agarthans deemed you a failure. What went wrong?”

Lysithea takes a moment to grit her teeth and breathe before she answers. “…A drastically shortened lifespan. According to the tests those mages ran on me, I’ve only got five more years at most. Maybe less.”

Veery… doesn’t know what to say to that. Human lifespans are already so short. It doesn’t matter that much, that difference, because agell so rarely survive the full two hundred years or so of their natural lifespans – Veery himself rarely expects to survive the day – but he can’t imagine having a clock put on his life like that. For him, if he’s skilled or clever enough to survive the threats the world throws at him, the end of his lifespan is so far away he can’t even imagine it.

He’s… probably uniquely unqualified to understand this particular pain of hers.

But it does explain something that Veery does understand. She is always working so hard, always so impatient and determined, because she does not have the time to slack off and still accomplish her goals. In a way, Veery respects that a lot. Having effectively endless time to work with, Veery can be quite lazy himself.

He also knows, because of that, that Lysithea will probably appreciate relevant questions and an attempt to get work done over platitudes. “Do you know what caused it?” he asks. “Is it something we can reverse, if we can figure out how?”

“No,” Lysithea says. “Of course, I’m trying everything I can to do so, but the ideas I have are all purely theoretical. Even if we pull them off, there’s no guarantee I’d live any longer because of it. My best option right now is to find some way to remove these Crests. Without the strain of their power on my body, I might be able to recover. Of course, the reverse is also true. They might’ve weakened me to the point that to lose that power now would kill me.”

A way to remove Crests… Veery wonders if such a thing can really be done. His understanding is that they are biological, like his own. The power of Veery’s heart, of his Crest, is instinctual, as natural as breathing. It’s just a part of him, and he can’t possibly imagine parting from it. It would be, quite literally, removing his heart.

But Crests can be given, and Veery’s perception of them doesn’t allow that any more than it does taking them away. So, clearly there’s something about them which can be transferred, if not created. (Veery does not have time to examine the Crest Stone from the demonic beast at the Great Bridge of Myrddin closely yet, but it’s different in a way that nags at his soul. The silence from it has thus far prevented him from even trying to share with it, but he has a terrible feeling he’s going to have to put to the test before bringing it to Claude.)

Perhaps they can also be taken. Well, Veery is already doing research on Crests and their power. Maybe he can do something to help. “I can try looking into it, if you want.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” Lysithea says with a strained smile. “It occurred to me that all this business may help you with your own Crest research. It all revolves around the same principle, after all, making Crests as powerful as they can be. Whether that’s through the creation of Relics to hold that power, boosting the strength of an already native Crest, or bestowing multiple Crests, the end goal is the same.”

Veery has the same thought when Hapi mentions the experiments on her.

“To that end, I thought I’d show you the workplace the Agarthans used while they were performing those experiments.” Lysithea halts once more next to a nondescript door and idly gestures to it. “I… I’m sorry, but I can’t go in there.”

“That’s fine,” Veery says. “I’ll look around on my own. See if I can find anything helpful.”

She nods. “Okay. But there was something else.” She bites her lip for a moment, then raises a hand to her hair. “You know, my hair wasn’t always this color. You’ve met my parents – it used to be the same color as theirs. During the experiments, one morning, I awoke like this – a shock of white hair, all trace of pigment, gone. It’s… such a small detail, and one that hasn’t seriously impacted my life, aside from a few odd stares. But we both know someone else with the exact same hair, don’t we?”

It clicks. “Edelgard,” Veery breathes. “You said the Insurrection of the Seven was four years after House Ordelia was taken over. And… and then you said you were imprisoned for four years, didn’t you?”

“That’s right. The timing, and the fact that Agartha is known to operate in the Empire, is extremely suspect. Did you know, the Imperial lineage traditionally has brown hair? I looked into the records. Edelgard, as a child, was recorded to have brown hair.” This is crazy theory territory, where things start adding up just too well, but Veery does not like the conclusion its leading to. “She also had ten siblings. Eight older, two younger, all written into the Imperial family tree with brown hair.”

Veery’s throat feels dry. “Edelgard has never mentioned siblings…”

“That’s because they all died. Shortly after the Insurrection of the Seven, they reportedly were struck by disease one by one until only Edelgard remained.”

Just like Lysithea’s own siblings. Lysithea eyes him, knowing he makes the connection, but Veery does not voice it aloud.

Instead, all he can say is, “How can she work with them?”

“That’s the part that pisses me off.” Lysithea sighs sharply, lip already curling as she prepares to speak. “Ironically, in any other situation, I would be on Edelgard’s side of this war. She plans to create a world where Crests no longer exist. I, of all people, know how terrible Crests can be for those who bear them. And even though I know starting a war is a horrible thing, I just don’t have the time to be satisfied with the slow and steady option. War, toppling the system as it is, quickly, so that I can actually see the benefit when it’s all over, is extremely appealing to me.

“If she were just Edelgard, an Imperial emperor bent on changing Fódlan, I’d have joined up with her in a heartbeat. But she’s not. She’s also the Flame Emperor. And I cannot, will not, ever abide working together with the Agarthans. For that sin alone, I will destroy her. The fact that she has been through the same thing as me? That only makes me angrier.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Veery says. “Why work with them at all? After what they did to her, she should… well, she should want to be rid of them as much as you do.”

Lysithea sighs, steadying herself to speak more calmly again. “That, I don’t know for certain. Claude mentioned she said before that she thinks their power is necessary to take down the church. That, if she doesn’t use them, she has no chance of success in this war.”

“That’s right. She said the same thing to me. I think it was in the letter she sent, asking us to join her right after the Revelation.”

Lysithea hums. “This is only speculation, but my best guess is that they just indoctrinated her into believing whatever they feed her. At face value, she might despise them, but when it comes down to it, she’ll do whatever they say. Whether that’s because she doesn’t believe she has the power to resist, or some misguided belief that she’s actually the one using them… it’s irrelevant.

“Without any evidence, we’ll never know, but I suspect that she’s acting at least partially on their information. I had to check and double check after she released her manifesto, but there are a few things in there that seem to support that she’s basing her beliefs off of what they give her. Notably, her assertion that the church orchestrated the secession of the Kingdom, and later, the Alliance, in order to split Fódlan.”

“Is that wrong?” Veery asks. “I don’t know the history well enough.”

“Even most Fódlanders don’t,” Lysithea says. “And in fact, I had to reference several dozen different texts just to rid myself of any doubt. But the church didn’t touch the War of the Eagle and Lion until years into the conflict. They did end up backing Loog and the Kingdom, and did end up with a lot of influence there because of that, but the church’s influence was, by and large, solely a mediating role. And then during the Crescent Moon War? Aside from the church’s simply being present in what was an extremely devout country, there’s no record of them so much as looking at the war.

“I thought, perhaps, that part of her manifesto is just Imperial propaganda at worst, but then I realized that while the Church of Seiros has slowly been dying out in the Empire, the two were never truly hostile. The church actually seemed almost strangely accepting of their dwindling influence. Sort of like in the Alliance. And in fact, at the time of the War of the Eagle and Lion, the church enjoyed a very good relationship with all of Adrestia – which covered all of Fódlan. They had no reason to weaken Adrestia except for perhaps groundless paranoia. But the really incriminating thing? I only found it after we went back to Garreg Mach. In Abyss’ library. Burnt reports, badly damaged but legible. The fact that I know Hubert has almost definitely seen them pisses me off to no end, but let me see if I can summarize them.

“The first one, about the War of the Eagle and Lion, mentions that Loog, the leader of the Faerghus Rebellion, somehow acquired mysterious weapons something like the Heroes’ Relics, which I can only find the vaguest references to elsewhere. It also mentions Loog’s tactician, Pan, and implies that he was a member of a group that the report called, ‘Those Who Slither in the Dark’.”

Wow, Veery is sure glad they’re not calling the Agarthans that. It’s so… verbose. And just overly dramatic. “That definitely sounds like the Agarthans.”

“Mhm. There was also something on the Crescent Moon War, as well. The author of the report seemed to believe that King Klaus I, whose death destabilized Faerghus and, ultimately, led to the Crescent Moon War, was assassinated, and that his will, which separated Faerghus among his heirs and started the internal conflict and involved Leicester to begin with, was fake. There’s no evidence that it’s the Agarthans who orchestrated it, except that it’s definitely in line with their methods, but there’s also no evidence that the church did anything. And knowing Rhea is effectively immortal and was almost certainly the Archbishop of the time no matter what name she went by, I have to conclude that assassination and fake documents is not in line with church methods.”

“She tends to prefer domination and fear over subtlety,” Veery agrees. “So, you think the Agarthans just fed Edelgard false information? Blaming things they did on the church to give her an enemy she can’t fight on her own, then convince her that she needs them to win that fight… I think I can see how that might work.”

“That’s my suspicion, yes,” Lysithea says. “In the end, she really is just a puppet of Agartha. I’d pity her if I wasn’t so angry about it. As it is, I don’t think I can find it in me to feel pity for anyone willing to work with them, no matter how manipulated she may be.”

“I don’t feel bad for her, either,” Veery says. “It’s terrible what happened to her, and if you’re right, she’s just being manipulated, but she still started a war. Reasons aren’t excuses, and people are dead and suffering because of her. I don’t care how traumatized the axe trying to kill me is; I’m still going to fight back.”

Lysithea huffs. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Does Claude know all this?”

“Not all of it,” Lysithea says. “I admit I’ve been putting it off because I don’t particularly want to have that conversation about my past. I have pointed out the errors in Edelgard’s manifesto, and the possible Agartha link, so he at least knows that she may be motivated by their information, but I haven’t told him the full details. Teach knows about my past, but I don’t know if she’s made the connection with Edelgard or not. No one else should know anything.”

“Okay. I know you’ll let them know whatever’s relevant. But… If Edelgard went through the same experiments you did, she should have two Crests, right? One is public knowledge – I don’t remember which one exactly, but what’s the other one? Do we know? They give special powers, so it might help us fight her if we know.”

“Her Crest of Seiros is well known,” Lysithea says. “And I have my suspicions about the second one. But you’ve fought her directly as well, so you tell me if I’m right. One known effect of certain Crests can heal the bearer, sapping the enemy’s strength for their own much like a Nosferatu spell. Claude’s Crest of Riegan effectively works this way. The details are a little different, naturally, but did it seem like Edelgard perhaps had more energy than she should? Did she maybe fight unhindered through wounds that should have crippled her?”

Veery wracks his brain to remember. “…Something like that. I kept trying to counter whatever that Crest was with Nosferatu but she just kept going at full strength.”

“As I suspected. I don’t know much about the end goal of the Agarthans who performed those experiments on me and my siblings, but I do remember whispers about a weapon.”

“Edelgard once told me that they view her as a weapon,” Veery says.

“And if the goal is ultimately to topple the church, perhaps even specifically to kill the remaining Nabateans, then… thinking back, how did they overpower the Nabateans last time?”

“With Nemesis?”

Lysithea nods. “Nemesis, who wielded the Sword of the Creator.”

Oh. “Teach heals like that, too, doesn’t she? Because of her Crest?”

“That’s right. I suspect that Edelgard’s second Crest is, in fact, the Crest of Flames. If the Agarthans wanted to make a weapon capable of toppling even the Church of Seiros, there is no better Crest to grant her.” Lysithea sighs. “This is all speculation, of course. But that’s everything that I know. Go ahead and search the Agarthan’s old workspace. They cleaned up and took their equipment when they left, so I doubt there’s anything to find, but I admit no one has looked very thoroughly. If you think of anything, or need anything from me, just come find me. And… if there’s anything at all, here or if you figure something out later, that you learn about the Agarthan Crest research, please share it with me.”

“Of course. You’re so much smarter than me, I’m going to need your help to figure anything out, anyway.”

She smiles. “You give yourself too little credit. Anyway, good luck. I’m… going to get out of here. This place is horrible.”

“Yeah, go,” Veery smiles for her. “I’ll find my own way out.”

She nods, tosses him a key, reminding him that it’s for the door at the top of the stairs on the way out, and then takes off. Veery watches her back fade into the dark, shakes his head, and faces the door behind which cruel blood experiments were performed on one of his most trusted friends.

It’s so cold, but strangely enough, realizing that Lysithea trust him enough to ask him to search through this place, to look through what remains of the darkest part of her life, makes him puff up his chest a little. He can’t let her down.

So, he better get started.

Veery spends a long time in House Ordelia’s dungeons, despite the fact that there isn’t really much to see. As Lysithea says, the people who used this area have clearly cleaned up after themselves. And the Agarthans, being as underground and hidden as they are, it’s no surprise that they’re thorough in their cover-up when they operate somewhere as openly as this.

Still, it’s not wholly empty. Veery can see the equipment that can’t easily be moved – tables and other surfaces mostly, many with straps meant to hold someone down on them – and what little remains of what anyone would consider the trash, plus Lysithea’s account of what happened, and piece together something of a story.

Honestly, were Veery not a healer, he would not know where to begin. But this scene, old and dank and long abandoned, is not so different from a surgery room. Surgery isn’t all that common, at least not five years ago, because for the most part, a combination of magical healing and the relative peacetime they were in meant surgery was rarely necessary.

In war, or up in Albinea where magical healing is scarcer (though knowledge or the necessary conservation of the healer’s magic reserves for more patients), surgery is a more relevant option. That said, Professor Manuela was quick to make Veery participate in such tasks. Mostly because he has little trouble keeping a steady hand in the face of grisly gore. Many who choose the path of a healer are much more soft-hearted than him.

Or, much less used to it, anyway.

Veery surveys the room with as analytical an eye as he can muster when the straps on that table are so close together. Thinking as someone who works on people, who uses equipment probably not that dissimilar to what the Agarthans used, Veery arranges things in his mind to how he would do it.

Scuff marks on the floor, that desk was close to this table at some point. The mage would stand there, extract blood, or perhaps inject it? and use the desk to hold his equipment.

Veery searches the room up and down, and most of what he comes up with is pure speculation – there just isn’t anything to work with, but he does find a broken needle rolled to the edge of the room.

And that’s it.

He comes away, eventually working his way back through the dungeons and up the stairs back to the rest of the estate, with nothing concrete and nothing particularly new. Lysithea can tell him about the experiments in far greater detail than he will ever glean from that room.

What he does learn is that whatever methods the Agarthans used weren’t purely magical. Yes, Lysithea can tell him as much, but observing the workplace itself does give Veery a better understanding of how the operation works. It’s closer to something he’d see in Albinea, where magic is more of a supplement, than something he’d expect in Fódlan, where magic is more readily relied upon.

So, perhaps some form of alchemy, or even blood experiments, was also used in Hapi’s experimentation and to create the Relics. A little less magical, a little more scientific. In which case, roping Claude in to help, if possible, may prove fruitful.

It’s an idea, at least. In the meantime, Veery talks at length with Lysithea, reviewing everything he can think of. They talk about Crests, about the Heroes’ Relics, the Crest Stones themselves and the corruption within them, and they also talk about Agartha, who they are and where they may be located.

Lysithea wants to hunt them down and wipe them out, keeping a careful eye constantly on her spies’ reports for any sign of their whereabouts, but Veery quickly talks her down to simply killing the Agarthans which wish to meddle with Fódlan. If they truly do have a base, and a whole civilization, then Veery cannot believe that every one of them poses a threat to the people of Fódlan.

To wipe them out entirely would be just another genocide. Another extinction. Once he points it out, Lysithea readily agrees. Veery suspects she’s mostly being hyperbolic, anyway, and means that from the start, but he’s relieved at her so easily backing down from such an extreme position.

And Veery spends a long time reading through Lysithea’s reports, lending his eye to try to find any hint of either Agarthan or unusual Empire activity.

It all seems normal enough to him. Until they get to a report made recently and rushed to the Ordelia estate. When Lysithea receives the message, they both suspect Empire movement, but then she opens the letter, letting Veery read it over her shoulder, and instead it reports something quite different.

A small force – downright tiny compared to the forces in play in the war, but still enough to draw attention – on the Leicester side of the Airmid River, slowly working its way east. This report indicates that they ignored the Great Bridge of Myrddin – Judith wouldn’t have let them pass, anyway – and are currently travelling into Ordelia territory.

This force is flying the banner of House Blaiddyd.

“We’re going back to the Great Bridge of Myrddin tomorrow to continue the war,” Lysithea says. “But I don’t think I’m comfortable leaving this alone. If this really is Dimitri and the others…”

“Should we try to intercept them? If it’s Dimitri, they may just be trying to cross the Airmid over here. But… then why not just try to talk to the Alliance? At worst, he camps out close to Myrddin for a while until Claude gets back.”

“The fact that they didn’t even try does concern me,” Lysithea hums. “Remember what Sylvain said about Dimitri? It could have something to do with that. Or, it could just be bandits flying Blaiddyd’s banner. Either way, we should at least confirm that this force is Faerghan. If they’re going to be running around Ordelia, or entering the Empire form Ordelia territory, I want to know who they are.”

That makes sense to Veery. “I’ll get Caub and the others.”

“I’ll confirm their location and find some troops. If they are hostile, I’d rather have more than just the five of us. And we probably won’t be coming back to the estate, so pack anything you don’t want to leave behind.”

#write #fanfiction #FE Fanfiction #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h

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blarp-is-tired · 2 years ago

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Chapter IV: “Rhea’s Here...”

About an hour or so later, the relatively small group is still walking to the monastery. Alois and Jeralt were in the front of the group, the House Leaders and Byleth in the middle, and Xiyon and O’Ren in the back. Byleth looks behind him every now and then to make sure they were okay.

“So… We’re almost there, huh,” Xiyon turned to his sister and asked in a whisper. “Almost to the beginning of…” “Yeah. Actually I never thought about this, but where will we be placed,” O’Ren uttered, more to herself than to her brother. “Eh?”

“The monastery, dummy,” O’Ren insulted him. “I told you a million times that Lethy will pick his House. But… I don’t know what House he’ll pick, it was always up to the player!” “Ah. I see. What House do you think he’ll pick? Maybe we could convince him to pick the Golden Deer or Blue Lions?” “Possibly. I’m just glad that you know that we shouldn’t go to the Black Eagles. Hubert is way too unpredictable and dangerous. I also don’t trust Ingrid or Hilda.”

“Hm… You’re on good terms with Felix, right? Maybe you could get him to protect you,” Xiyon speculated in an attempt to find a solution to their newest conundrum. “That sounds like the safest option, Xai. He could even keep Ingrid away from us.” Xiyon nodded, this is for the best, right?

The group kept walking until a large castle-like structure. “It looks just like in the game,” O’Ren thought to herself. “I won’t let this place fall, I swear on it! You hear that, Edelgard!? I’m going to stop you!”

Edelgard looked at the duo. “We’ll arrive at the monastery shortly, O’Ren, Xiyon.” The young girl smiled at the Imperial Princess. “Heehee,” O’Ren giggled. “No one calls me that, call me Ren! That’s all I really go by, anyway.” Xiyon looked at his sister in confusion, before realising what her intentions were. He decided to play along.

“Yeah, Ren’s never been too fond of that name anyway. If anything, calling her ‘O’Ren’ is a bit of an insult. In her eyes anyway,” Xiyon informed the princess. “Oh, really,” Edelgard questioned, flabbergasted. Then she turned to O’Ren and bowed her head. “My apologies, Ren. It was not my intention to disrespect you by using a name that you do not wish to associate with,” she apologised formally, guilt eating up her tone.

O’Ren smiled at her earnest response. “It’s alright, Ma’am. How about I give you a nickname, hm? That way we’ll be even.” Edelgard tilted her head. “A nickname, you say? Alright then. What did you have in mind?”

“Edie. I’ll call you Edie. How does that sound to you,” O’Ren finally decided. Edelgard nodded with a smile before speaking. “Are you sure you want to go to Faerghus? I think that you’d fit right in with those who live in the castle.” “Ah, yes, of course… Wait, what?”

“The castle,” Edelgard giggled. “I want you to go back to the castle with me. That is… If you don’t mind.”

The younger girl chuckled before smiling awkwardly. “I’m not sure… I don’t think I’d do very well being separated from my brothers for a long time.” She glanced at Byleth who was already slowing down to walk beside them. “Besides, I don’t really think I’d fit in there. Though I suppose it’d be better than Faerghus.” Byleth’s eye twitched slightly at the thought of his little sister living in a country he doesn’t know much about. Damn, they really fucked up the plot didn’t they it things really shouldn’t be going this way. Oh, well, nothing can be done about it now. Edelgard turned her attention to the castle looking structure once more and took a deep breath.

“It looks like we’ll be reaching the monastery shortly,” she said with slight anticipation. A bitter taste of nostalgia filled O’Ren’s mouth as she looked at the distant area. She herself began to question whether or not her own plan was feasible. She frowned bitterly, subconsciously glaring at the source of her problems, otherwise known as Edelgard. The princess noticed the magic user looking at her with pure disdain.

“Um… Did I perhaps do something to upset you,” she questioned with the utmost sincerity. “You look quite angry with me.” Edelgard tried her best to get O’Ren to respond to her but she seemed to be in her own little world, a very angry one at that. After a little while of being ignored, Edelgard reached out to shake her shoulder to get her attention. Xiyon acknowledged this and decided to stop her from doing something stupid. Which ‘her’ he was referring to is up to debate.

“Don’t worry about Ren, Lady Edelgard,” he said calmly, with slight trepidation that only Byleth and Jeralt noticed. “She just tends to come up with ideas that make her angry so she ends up glaring at people. She’s not angry with you.” Edelgard breathed a sigh of relief while putting a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank goodness. She just looks so… Angry and disgusted. Seeing a child with such mature facial expressions is very unnerving.”

“Heh,” Xiyon chuckled. “No worries, I understand. You just get used to Ren makin’ faces that don’t suit her own. She’ll get out of her own head and back to reality soon enough. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll get her attention.” Before Edelgard could politely say ‘no’, Xiyon roughly nudged his little sister in the hip with his elbow.

“Ow, ow, ow! What was that for,” O’Ren wailed in faux agony. Xiyon raised a brow. “Oh, grow up. I can tell that didn’t hurt you.”

“Still! Why’d you hit me,” O’Ren continued to complain. “You were glaring at Lady Edelgard and it made her uncomfortable. Besides, if I just let you keep doing that I betcha would’ve walked right into a tree.” O’Ren widened her eyes at this.

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry,” the girl hastily apologised. “I didn’t know what I was doing! Oh my gosh, how can I ever make it up to you!?” Edelgard smiled a bit before giggling. After that, though, it turned into full-blown laughter. Granted she is very polite and covered her mouth with her gloved hands. “Hee hee! Ha ha! I just,” she couldn’t even finish her sentence before going back to laughing at the dark skinned girl, of which just silently deadpanned. O’Ren blinked slowly before looking at her brother, then back at the white haired girl who was turning red at this point.

O’Ren looked at her brother who seemed like he had something to say. “Is this normal,” the older sibling whispered his query. “Not in the slightest,” she whispered back. O’Ren turned her attention back to Edelgard and smiled politely. “Um… You might want to take a deep breath. I’m no expert, but I feel like if you keep laughing you’ll pass out.” That statement got Edelgard to slow to a small giggle; she seems so happy and free.

After a while, Edelgard was back to her normal composed self, though she looked quite happy regardless. “My apologies,” she said out of breath from the near five minutes of non-stop laughter she just got over. “I don’t think I’ve laughed like that ev- ahem, in forever,” she almost let years of ‘character development’ slip. The brother-sister pair shook their hands at her dismissively.

“No, no. It’s alright,” Xiyon said kindly. “Yeah, yeah. It’s good for people to laugh,” O’Ren said in a sweet tone. “Besides,” the tiny girl went on. “You look a lot lighter after laughing a bunch! Even though I still don’t know what I did to get you to laugh that hard.” Edelgard shook her head.

“Forgive me for laughing at your expense,” she said softly. “I didn’t expect someone to talk to me like that, and it came out like laughter.” This caused the sibling duo to giggle and chuckle respectively. “It’s alright, Edie. No harm done.”

“Besides, Ren’s secretly all about people being happy. It’ll make more if you get to know her… Maybe. I’ve known her for her entire life and some of the things that go through her head still don’t make sense to me,” Xiyon said lightheartedly, not-so subtly making digs at his sister. That last little statement made O’Ren scowl.

“I don’t see you doing much better yourself! No wonder nobody wants to be your friend,” O’Ren sneered. The youngest’s screaming caught the rest of the group’s attention, granted the trio didn’t notice. Meanwhile, Xiyon narrowed his eyes in faux contempt. “That so? Well, keep that energy up and I’ll tell Lethy about The Incident.” That got Byleth’s attention while O’Ren gasped in shock. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Xiyon smirked. “Would I? Do you want to find out?” “I’m not going to find out anything, but Lethy will. He was especially curious about why you came home injured last month. It’d be a real shame if he found out what really happened.”

“Now, now,” Edelgard said, putting her hands up in an attempt to lower the tension. “How about we settle this calmly? There really is no need to bring up old information that has been allowed to rest.” Just as she said that, Claude and Alois’ hearty laughter filled the air.

“Oh no, no. I’m curious. What’s The Incident? And how’d Xiyon get injured last month,” our Friendly Neighbourhood Claude taunted. “I have to admit that I am curious as well,” Alois’ rowdy voice proclaimed incredibly loudly. “Yes, I’m curious, too. What happened,” Byleth demanded, eerily calm.

Xiyon looked at his sister, and she looked back at him. “Hey, Lady Edelgard. I think we’ll take you up on that offer. Besides, what even is The Incident?” “Yeah, yeah! And Xiyon hurt himself by falling off a tree, and nothing else! Right, Xai?” “Mhm! Nothing to worry about, Lethy! Just your very responsible siblings having an immature argument!”

Byleth blinked slowly, likely surprised by the 180 that the siblings shifted when he got involved. “I don’t believe you,” Byleth uttered after a moment of silence. “And by the looks of it, you don’t believe yourselves either. But there’s no need to worry. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about what you’ve been up to. Dammit, Xiyon and O’Ren can now officially kiss life goodbye. They’re scared of a lot of things: like spiders, death, loud noises, your mom, you know, the normal things. But nothing and I mean NOTHING is scarier than Byleth when he’s angry, they learned that the hard way.

After that bit of entertainment, the rest of their walk was in a comfortable silence… By that, I mean they only had little side-bar conversations that would add nothing to the overall plot of the story. So that means, yes anything that they talk about that is explicitly stated is important to the plot, feel free to theorise about this. Anyway, back to the story.

Finally, at the gate of the monastery, the trio of siblings moved to the front of the group and all looked up in awe.

“So this is what Garegg Mach looks like in person… Did it look like it in-” Xiyon’s sentence was cut off. “Yes. Just like this,” O’Ren, still looking at the building, smiled. “It’s so much prettier in person. I never thought I’d be within the walls of such an important place in the Church. Never in a million years.” Byleth reached out and patted the girl’s head.

“You curious about this place, Ren,” he asked his sister, gently. “Where did you hear about it, anyway?” O’Ren looked up and moved his hand before speaking.

“From Felix. He told me that he would be attending the school there; he told me where to send letters if I wanted to communicate with him.” The other members of their little party looked at her, mildly confused with Dimitri wholly impressed. “I haven’t sent him a letter yet, but if we have to leave then I will. Erm… What’s with the face, Lethy?” While the girl was talking about Felix, Byleth’s face morphed into a sneer. He doesn’t like what he does not know.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, Ren,” Byleth advised. He quickly willed his face to go back to his usual neutral expression. The House Leaders and Alois march ahead, likely to speak to the Archbishop.

“Rhea’s here,” Jeralt announced bitterly. Byleth looked befuddled when Jeralt mentioned her, while the siblings looked mildly anxious. “Who’s Rhea,” Byleth asked, now fully facing his father.

“We’ll worry about that later, we’ll probably meet her soon, anyway. I think that we should try to catch up to Alois, what say you,” O’Ren hurriedly tried to move things along. Granted, her little idea did work, she regularly jumped ahead to things in the future while disregarding the present. “I suppose you're right,” Jeralt sighed out. “I’m gettin’ way too old for this,” he continued under his breath.

They continued walking forward, Jeralt trying his best to ignore the Archbishop. Walking past some guards and students alike, the family of four eventually reached the Audience Room, with a decently tall older man who had chin length green hair, reminiscent of a forest. He had a commanding presence, he had his arms crossed only adding to that, he had somewhat ‘fancy’ clothing that was navy blue with gold accents as well as a gold circlet that seemed rather expensive. The circlet had the Crest of Cihol on it, causing Jeralt to believe that he was a higher-up in the Church. Finally, he looked over and noticed them.

“Ah, there you are. Come, and quickly! We mustn’t keep Lady Rhea waiting,” his somewhat deep voice ordered in an even tone. No greeting or anything, Byleth was a little thrown off by that. Still though, the man made sure they were following him before turning and inching toward the door. Opening the grandiose doors, they were greeted by a lovely room with plenty of sunlight bleeding in through the stained glass windows.

In front of the largest window, stood the Archbishop, granted, the family had yet to acknowledge her. She’s quite tall, standing at 5’8, with the same beautiful mint green hair colour as Seteth. Lovely and long, it easily flowed past her waist, it also slightly wrapped around her cloak. She wore a lovely golden headdress covered in hearts, it had a circlet with a heart hanging right over her forehead and golden tassels on either side of her head. There are also beautiful liliums from either side of her head leading to the back of it. Her cloak was an ashen shade of gold with the Crest of Seiros all over it. The dress she wore under it was form fitting until it reached her ankles, where it began to pool outward. It had a very nice ‘cosmos-esque’ theme to it.

The trio of siblings looked around in awe, this was much fancier than anything else they’d ever seen before. In the midst of looking around, Rhea caught Xiyon’s eye, worried, he nudged his sister. “Don’t get distracted,” he whispered to Ren. “This could go extremely poorly.” The girl in question nodded, a serious expression crossing over her face.

“Greetings,” Rhea’s elegant, velvety voice rang through. “I have been told that you four were the one to have saved the students from the bandits, you have my thanks for that,” the Archbishop continued in her ever-formal tone, gesturing toward each and everyone of them. O’Ren bowed lowly.

“It was nothing, My Lady,” she said before rising. “We were simply doing what we believed was right.” Rhea smiled sweetly. “A lovely way of thinking, Darling,” she said in her lucious tone, then her eyes flitted over to Jeralt’s. Her smile grew wider upon seeing him.

“Ah, it’s lovely to see you again, Jeralt,” she glanced at Byleth. “Oh! If I may, who is this young man?” Jeralt offered a strained smile, of which twitched lightly. “This is my son.” “Ah,” she giggled, covering her pink lips, with her left hand. “So I see the gift of fatherhood has been given to you. And you, Dear, what is your name?”

The young man smiled stiffly, before bowing with a hand on his chest. “My name is Byleth, pleased to meet you,” he said in a rigid and tense tone. That said, Byleth’s outlandish behaviour was only considered off-kilter to his family. “Byleth… A lovely name,” Rhea proclaimed, before she turned to face the newest additions to the Eisner family. “I’m so sorry for not properly acknowledging your presence beforehand. Might I ask your names?”

O’Ren grabbed her brother’s hand and tugged lightly, a means of telling him to bow along with her. Thankfully, he caught the hint. “My name is Xiyon,” he spoke up first. “And I’m O’Ren, but everyone calls me ‘Ren’,” Ren chirped in an attempt to quickly get on Rhea’s good side. “Xiyon and Ren, what lovely names! And Jeralt, you said that they, too, are your children?”

Jeralt immediately stiffened and tapped his armoured glove, subtly telling the children to step closer to him. As per usual, they listen to him, much more quickly than usual, seeing as they don’t trust her either. “Yes, that is correct. We met by chance about an hour’s trek from Remire Village five months ago. They’ve been with us ever since.” Rhea smiled wryly, unknown to anyone but her, however, it wasn’t out of malice, but rather of poorly displayed curiosity.

Sighing, she spoke. “As much as I am disheartened to say as such, we will have to cut our niceties short. Though we will have time for pleasantries later, I have… A proposal for you.” Jeralt raised a brow, scepticism written all over his scarred, aged face. “What type of proposal?” Rhea made a face, one of confusion, and looking closely, of hurt.

“I’d simply like for you, Jeralt, to return to the Knights of Seiros as a captain once more.” Jeralt narrowed his eyes, and widened his stance. “As a captain!? But I’ve been gone for twenty years, and I’m perfectly content with simply being a mercenary,” the old man couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. Rhea smiled in faux sweetness. “Yes, and I want your children to become part of the Officers Academy. I’d prefer it if your eldest joined the staff as a professor.”

“I… I don’t,” Byleth stammered, he really didn’t like this proposal. Rhea giggled at his doubtfulness, though, there was a touch of hurt that only Seteth could note. Meanwhile, O’Ren and Xiyon were quietly panicking in the background, things weren’t supposed to go this way. Byleth wasn’t supposed to hesitate.

“It’s alright, don’t worry,” Rhea said calmly. “How about you rest for the night? All that has happened must have weighed on you so.” Byleth only nodded, dumbly, not even caring about anything she would say next. “Alright, then. There are rooms for you to stay in. Byleth, please do not stress yourself out over this; but I would also like for your decision to be made by tomorrow night, if it does not bother you.”

“I… erm…. Yes, Milady,” Byleth said hesitantly.

Rhea simply smiled. “Seteth,” she called, immediately making the man stand up stiffly, as if that were possible. “Please escort Jeralt’s children to their rooms.”

Seteth nodded, seeming quite bitter. “Of course, Lady Rhea.” Seteth averted his eyes and looked at the family. “Please make sure to follow me, many people tend to get lost when navigating throughout the monastery.” O’Ren just smiled politely.

“Yes, Sir,” the young girl said amiably. “We’d hate to bother you more than we already have… Say, what do the dorms look like, anyway?” Seteth paused for a moment and looked at the girl behind him.

“They’re quite ordinary, at first,” he said, looking ahead. “We give the students the privilege to decorate their rooms how they see fit. However, because of their frivolous parents, the nobles get larger and more specialised rooms upstairs. The rooms of the House Leaders are specially curated in accordance with that House.”

While he was talking, O’Ren was looking around in complete awe. “I understand… But do you really have to bend to the nobles’ will or is it more of a moral thing?” Seteth just blinked owlishly.

“You talk quite maturely for your age.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Somehow, I believe that.” Seteth once again looked ahead, while the girl’s siblings simply gawked at how casually she just spoke to the Archbishop’s right-hand. “We will arrive at your Xiyon’s dorm soon. He will be on the left-most side facing us if we were to face them; a student in the Golden Deer, Leonie is next door.”

Xiyon nodded. “Of course, Sir. Though, what of my younger sister and elder brother?” Hearing this, a ghost of a smile stretched itself across Seteth’s lips.

“You really care about your family… But there is no reason to fret, you will all be within walking distance. Your sister will be in the middle, and your brother will be on the far right. If you wish to, I might give you special permission to visit each other after curfew, seeing as your siblings.”

O’Ren simply nodded before turning her head to the left to look at the dog that was approaching them. “Well, hello there,” the girl greeted enthusiastically. As if understanding her, the dog barked before trying to crawl up her leg. “Woah! Easy, there, I’ll pet you plenty!”

“This was bound to happen sooner or later,” Seteth said, covering his forehead with his right hand, a bit annoyed and remorseful. “There are quite a few animals that seek shelter here. It could be because of the sanctity of this place or simply because the students who live here feed them regularly. Though, I suppose that does not matter, seeing as they are already here…”

“That leads me to my next question,” O’Ren said, mischief coating her tone. Xiyon was already rolling his eyes, while Byleth simply chuckled, soundlessly. Both knew what she was going to say next. “Are students allowed to have pets?”

She doesn’t know this, but it took all of Seteth’s willpower not to groan or sigh at what she said. “No, students are not permitted to bring pets to the monastery, nor are they granted permission to bring pets into their dorms.”

“Aww! But she’s so cute! How can you say no to this adorable little face!?”

“Please refrain from shouting. You could disturb your peers, and that would not be a good look for anyone.”

#fe3h x oc #fe3h #x oc #Freeing Fódlan

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monstierider · 4 months ago

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I honestly always saw Edelgards fate as essentially what happens to her if she ever slips off the tight rope her ambitions have set her one, it's a fate worse then death for her as it completely robs her of her will, yet at the same time is realistically the only way Edelgard would be allowed to live should she lose the war, because at that point it isn't even really her, it's a child trapped in her body. It's certainly not a happy fate, but I always viewed it as more of a showing of the true risk she takes going through with her path, in honestly somewhat a similar way to the Hedgemon husk. In one case, if her path is cut short she risks becoming a puppet, in the other case, she risks losing her humanity. Both are meant to show the true danger her path takes her down, as both are fates worse then death that only happen if either her body or her will falter.

In regards to Claude, I did sort of feel he was out of character, but not because he was scheming and conniving, I honestly loved that, but because he just seemed to.....accept everything he was told about the church by Edelgard during that little peace talk. Claude was designed to be a truth seeker in houses yet he never really does that, at all in hopes, and it just made him feel a bit....dumb I guess is the best way I can put it. It's like they couldn't figure out a way for him to be both a schemer and a truth seeker at the same time and just decided to give us one or the other. Also, in regards to the idea of Claude playing the role of villain....I don't think it makes any sense for him, he's shown in every route making the decisions most likely to keep Leicester alive, no matter what, because its the smallest country with the weakest army, his schemes can only carry them so far, if he tried to take on the kingdom and the empire at the same time he'd be crushed.

With Shez, I always viewed Shez in Golden deer as only being there because of Claude, but they don't really seem to happy about it. Hell, first scene we see of them post time skip is Shez threatening to leave because they aren't being payed enough. Their bond never really felt all to strong to me. With Crimson Wildfire I just feel like the relationship between Shez, Edelgard and Hubert were really one sided. Sure, Shez liked them, but a point that gets hammered home over and over again in that route is that Edelgard and Hubert never seem to really trust them, not until after the final battle and you only ever hear a true apology for it from Hubert if you give him your merc whistle, Edelgard just sort if gives a half apology and leaves it. Even after telling Shez they trust them earlier in the story, if you recruit Byleth, during the chapter where Epimenides possess Shez to attack Byleth, they make it seem like they were expecting Shez to betray them the entire time, so it never really felt like an actual relationship to me. With Azure Gleam though, it feels like the only one where Shez both doesn't care about the money he's getting and where he's genuinely trusted. At no point does Shez warn about leaving if they're not payed more, which speaks volumes considering they're a mercenary, a sword for hire, but the blue lions show genuine trust in him the entire way, even Felix shows a genuine degree of trust in them and we all know how Felix can be, even during the Epimenides chapters, the blue lions don't react with any sort of anger or expectation towards the possessed Shez, just confusion and some sense that something must be forcing Shez to attack an ally, because they all trust them enough to know Shez would never willingly betray them, at least that's how I see it.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels like Crimson flower did a terrible job of making Edelgard....not a villain

Like, I feel like IS sort of couldn't find a good way to justify siding with Edelgard to the player beyond liking her as a character and the only way the could sort of doing it was by reducing Rhea to near Duma levels of insane, but even then while I won't condone her actions I can understand why she lost it, from her perspective she just saw someone she allowed into her home, break into the burial site of her dead siblings with the intention of desecrating them and robbing their graves and then watched what is, from her sad, broken perspective, her own mother choose to side with the person trying to take all she has left of her family away from her, I too would lose it under those circumstances. And then there's Edelgard not even being very smart, like, does she really believe her troops would hear "the church has nukes" and not either, question why they only dropped the one on the one location and why only now or just....lose all morale??? And then there's the battle at the Tailtean plains and the good old conversation between Dimitri and Edelgard, "must you continue to conquer?continue to kill?!" "Must you continue to re-conquer? Continue to kill in retaliation?" Like.....it's like even she realises she has no moral high ground over him and is just trying some desperate redirection to not be the villain she knows she is. And also the entire "king of delusion" scene where Dimitri, in his final moments, swears to avenge everyone who died for her, who she killed, to avenge all his fallen friends and family who died because of her and her ambitions and she basically just calls him a nut job.

Like??? Did IS just....give up on trying to make Edelgard look good and just hope that off her fucking rocker Rhea and Edelgards tragic backstory would cover that up???

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hamadynes · 5 years ago

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Claude’s a walking disaster I love him

#fire emblem three houses #cf plays feth #i was going through old screenshots...#the golden deer are always going to be best house though

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butwhatifidothis · 2 years ago

Note

On the note about how claudes writing in hopes is just fucking horrific and well feels pretty racist. i just did not like how they enforced the whole "he's actually a schemer therefore he's a backstabbing asshole" on not JUST a brown character but a brown character who's inspiration is from west asia aka the middle east which its a pretty standard stereotype used in the west

this is gonna go slightly personal but i myself am middle easterner by birth and three houses claude felt like a breath of fresh air on a more positive depiction of a west asian inspired character (even though i was kinda curious if he rlly was super sus or not lol) and then seeing he's willing to call out almyran bandits who are posing as the navy in alois and shamirs paralouge just felt. nice yknow that hes gonna go and tell to their faces that "your pillaging and plundering is the reason why we're getting shit on" and he's not a bloody conquerer and more "ok i just want people to get along and not be judged from where they come from" and hes more neutral between the two lords in a sense like it just FEELS NICE because i live in a region that 2/3 of the place is in SHAMBLES and we rarely get positive rep in media. and hes kinda the reason how i slowly started to embrace my culture after years of internalized racism. plus theres some aspects in his design, his real name 'khalid' and the instrumentals of his theme "golden deer and the crescent moon" just felt so familiar to me (plus adding nader whos name means rare or unique in arabic and he just looks like how i imagine gilgamesh would look like in an anime lol its kinda funny)

so you could imagine how fucking appalling it was for me to witness this shit in golden wildfire. like "yeahhhh lets make him out of character and make him sort of appease the empire and collaborate with them" like this ALREADY gave me bad vibes. like ok im fine with him making treaties and plans that could be risky. thats how strategies goes. but going on and try to invade another nation because you forcefully want them to surrender someone you want to get rid of because itll end the war apparently. thats not the man who said something about wanting change but does not agree on CONQUERING AND UNNECESSARY BLOODSHED . like ok i get he might not like rhea too much at first but he couldve just what he does best in three houses is probably idk TALK HER ON WHY FODLAN IS SO ISOLATIONIST??????!?. like im trying to like some aspects thats making him slightly different but i just CANT. dont get me started on how dirty almyras been portrayed in hopes. like i can acknowledge VW having writing issues (its my first route and i still enjoy the interactions) but having GW as your first route because haha im biased was just "ok so we can just. oh. OH NO". and before anyone goes around saying this means i hate edelgard. i dont. nor do i adore her. im pretty neutral about her (gasp this almost sounds completely impossible to some knuckle heads) but i feel like there was prolly some restraints to her writing. and i DESPISE this fandom when they try to say "oh if you like claude like this then you like dimitri" or "oh if you like claude that way then you like edelgard".

how about shut the fuck up and enjoy the fact hes trying to be different than the two because there are claude fans that like both dimitri and edelgard and others just dont care because its not their business. stop thrusting us into this dumb shit like we're just a status type to be harassed for these two characters. theres so many other things i wanna say but frankly im too tired

anyways this was long so tldr; claude deserved better. thank you for coming to my ted talk

It's just. Not good.

Like I said, I always try to give writers/creators in general the benefit of the doubt when something like this happens, since it's entirely possible that they weren't aware of what exactly it is they're writing. But that doesn't mean that the end result still isn't something that, bare minimum, is very upsetting to the groups of people involved. I’m so sorry that Hopes made you so uncomfortable, after 3H had finally given a character that deviated from such shitty tropes.

Because, like, say what you will about Almyra's writing in 3H - how they weren't fleshed out, how they already had some uncomfortable aspects to them (like invading for literally no reason) - but at the very least they didn't actively engage in pillaging. That was never once implied to have been something that they did, so the fact that Hopes just randomly throws that into the mix is... Not Good. Very Bad, in fact. Especially when combined with Hopes lack of any mention whatsoever about the Gonerils taking Almyran soldiers as slaves to work for their household (and the abuse the Almyrans suffer while being there), and when combined with how it’s a Fodlan (white) character who has to tell the naughty little Almyran to not plunder. Say what you will about 3H's depiction of Almyra and how untouched it was, that doesn't mean that Hopes had to make the Almyran King so incompetent at his job as to be genuinely dangerous - literally anyone with Nader's favor could manipulate him into signing off anything they want like Clyde does. Shahid is an entirely new character! They had all the free reign in the world to make Shahid damn near anything (within reason), and they make him... a stupid, power-hungry, violent invader. And nothing else. Again, "attribute not to malice" and all that, but to straight up ignore the troubling new additions Hopes gives to Almyra - some, again, with NO backing from 3H to explain them at all - isn't the right way to go about it either imo.

I've talked at extensive length about the absolute character assassination Claude went through in the majority of the game, but holy fucking shit am I with you on that stupid take. "The only people who hate Hopes!Claude/think Hopes!Claude is OOC are Dimitri stans" because apparently only Dimitri stans are able to see Claude's lack of curiosity or intellect, or how his newfound proclivity to use violence first and thinking second is diametrically opposed to how he ever acted in 3H, or the inherent contradiction in "Claude's goals are to better foreign relations, now watch as he actively uses and worsens Faerghus' foreign relations with Sreng for his own gain," or how him bringing up the war between Faerghus and the Alliance that happened centuries ago as an excuse to invade Faerghus now is ANOTHER thing that literally completely goes against the entire point of his character. Claude fans would of course obviously no-brainer know that these mutually exclusive traits between his 3H and Hopes renditions could totally for-realsies surely coexist and be consistent.

Although, ngl, I myself have said that it's mostly Edelgard fans that like this rendition of Claude. Not that there's no way a Claude fan couldn't at least find some things to enjoy about Hopes!Claude, but that it seems that a laaaarge majority of his fans are people who prefer the lady lord over him. And, well, it makes sense considering that a big thing a lot of Edelgard fans - not even just stans tbh - tended to do with Claude is just make him Edelgard's snarky yes-man who just mindlessly believes whatever it is she says... and, well, Clyde is either just a snarky yes-man to Edelgard who just mindlessly believes whatever it is she says, or he's getting chewed out/killed for going against her. Unless it's AG! ...where by the time Claude is having any part in the story Edelgard is no longer the actual threat anymore and is just a puppet of Thales. In the route where he doesn't ever actually directly confront her at any point. Clyde is almost a typical case of how Claude would be written in, like, an Edel///claude fic or something like that.

Man am I so glad for those leaks because if I had gone into GW completely blind like I intended to then OOF I would’ve been incomprehensibly pissed. Not just at the OOC writing, but, just, everything about it, once the second part hit - KNOWING about what happens with Faerghus and Sreng didn’t make actually sitting through it any more bearable, just because Clyde and the GD in general were such massive fucking penises to the people they were LITERALLY INVADING AND KILLING THE PEOPLE OF, so diving in without the heads up might’ve made me spontaneously combust. Without even going into how utterly against Claude’s character it is to do that in the first place, or the not-lowkey racist aspects of how certain things were handled, GW is such a sludge to play through if you’re paying even an iota of attention to the story.

I can definitely get the frustration in getting kinda the tug-of-war treatment from the fandom lmao, where Claude isn't so much Claude than he is "like Dimitri" or "like Edelgard" in this-or-that way. Now, I certainly understand - and partake in - the occasional comparison, just because there are some ways Claude is akin to/different from Dimitri and Edelgard that are genuinely interesting to me. But, like, to use your phrasing as an example: there's like, literally 0 people who ever say "if you like Dimitri in this way you like Claude." The other two aren't ever used as, like, a barometer or some shit to gauge whether you like Claude, while that is in fact how Claude ends up being used in the fandom a good bit of the time. Cuz apparently you can't, just, like, be a Claude fan or anything lmao.

In general Hopes made it... not the most fun to be a Claude fan :/ Glad I could give ya a place to vent because I know that there’s a lot to vent about lol

#ask #anon #Fire Emblem Warriors Three Hopes spoilers #Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes spoilers #though just a slight correction: it was general bandits (affiliation unclear) who were posing as the Almyran navy #but whatever lol that's kind of a nitpick #Claude for all his flaws in his writing managed to avoid falling into the typical and shitty Invading Middle Eastern trope #through wanting to always resolve things with diplomacy first and violence last #even if he had planned on using less-than-honorable ways of going about that he still always went the route with the least bloodshed #so seeing Hopes throw that all away just so he can be obsessed with expanding his influence and invading others #is. um. Fucking Terrible. to say the least #and GOD to go back to the initial days of Hopes' leaks/release and see EVERYONE pretty much unanimously shit on Clyde #where all these ''BuT hE wAs AlWaYs LiKe ThIs GuYs'' peeps weren't nearly so prevalent/annoying/condescending #it'd be one thing if GW (and SB) were Like That if I could at least go to others to rant/vent about it #but now GW (and SB) exists AND there's tons of people who try their damndest to tell me that if I don't wholly accept Clyde with open arms #then I'm not a ''real'' fan of Claude #ugh. so fuckin' annoying man #also sorry if this response was all over the place lol #clyde discourse

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dreamerstreamer · 4 years ago

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Into The Woods

Pairing: werewolf!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Werewolf!AU] It’s love at first sight when you move into a quaint, little house by the forest’s edge, but you soon find that there’s more waiting for you in the woods than you originally thought.

Word Count: 10k

A/N: my third commissioned story! this work has been altered so everyone can read it, but the plot remains the same. this story was a blast to write, and i hope you all enjoy it! <3

With a step back and a firm tug, the back door slammed shut with a satisfying click. You grinned as you turned the key in the lock. Slipping the silver keyring into your pocket, you turned on your heel, your gaze sweeping over the vast open forest that stretched out before you. Viridian green leaves loomed over the earth, standing in stark contrast to the clear, cerulean blue sky that stretched across the horizon overhead. On the ground below, the occasional wildflower sprouted up and out of the earth, their soft petals shyly unfurling and fluttering in the warm summer breeze.

For such a lovely view, you never would have guessed that you would be able to afford a place like this for so cheap.

Then again, Elmwood Ridge wasn’t a particularly notable town. Best known for its countless acres of elm forests and the large lake that laid at its centre, the town had become something of a nature reserve unto itself, despite being anything but. It was a quiet, quaint region, somewhere you had always distantly dreamed of visiting, if only because of its peaceful atmosphere. You never thought that you would end up living there, though.

It had been a split second decision made on impulse, and looking back, maybe it wasn’t the smartest move you’d ever made, but you didn’t regret one bit. Your new house was two stories tall and built with lovely stone bricks that looked like they came right out of a fairytale. The triangular sloping roof hung just over the sides of the house to provide some shelter from the rain, and the second floor had two balconies—one in the front and the back. Needless to say, you were sold in a heartbeat. Not only was the house pretty, but so was the price tag. You vaguely remembered hearing something about complaints of noisy wolves in the forest, but you weren't deterred. A little noise never killed anyone, and you were more than happy to share your space with nature.

Hopping down the back steps, you gently tread across the soft grass, careful not to step on any flowers as you walked. After moving in two days ago, you had planned to take the day off to hike and learn all that you could about your new backyard. You would head into town tomorrow and look for a job then—right now, all you wanted to do was explore and appreciate your new home.

Gazing up at the rustling elm leaves one last time, you smiled to yourself before stepping out of your lawn and into the forest.

In the distance, a faint howl rang out across the trees.

Between stretches of chestnut wood, a flash of tawny brown and golden fur dashed across the earth, powerful paws pushing off the ground with each leap. Landing atop a fallen log, the wolf raised his head, his muzzle raised toward the sky as he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring.

Fresh. Clean. Warm. The faintest scent of flowers.

He exhaled, emerald eyes blinking as he scanned the open forest around him.

Carrying out routine morning patrols around the pack’s territory was one of the alpha’s many duties, but Clay still wasn’t quite used to it.

Stepping down from the log, he let his tongue hang out of his mouth, his ears flicking as he took in every sound. Somewhere above him, a bird flapped its wings, chirping as it took flight. Along the breeze, he could pick up the distant scent of deer coming from the south. His eyes flashed at the smell. He would have to report that to the pack when he returned—it had been a few days since they last had a large hunt. Sniffing one last time, he began weaving between the looming trunks, his entire body rapt with focus.

He had only been appointed as alpha a little less than a month ago, and although he had technically been taught the ropes, it took more than just a few lessons for a wolf to truly become alpha. He could still remember how the former alpha had pressed his nose to his side, nudging him onto the rock peak in front of his pack with an aging howl. He had been getting older, and everyone knew it—it was only a matter of time until a new leader was selected, but Clay never would have dreamt he would be the one who was chosen.

Only a few people were as surprised as he was, though. He was one of the larger wolves in the pack, and while he wasn’t the tallest in his human form—that title belonged to the young, curious Ranboo—he was by far the strongest, having led more than his fair share of hunts before. It was only natural that he ended up in his position, and he was welcomed into the upper ranks with open arms.

A glimmer of warmth washed over him at the memory, and he would have smiled if he wasn’t shifted. He had never felt such pride before, feeling everyone’s excited gazes on him as he howled up at the gleaming, full moon. The shouts that filled the starry night sky made his heart swell in his chest, and he just knew he was going to do his best to make everyone proud. He would protect them to the ends of the earth, if he had to.

Kicking away a stray branch, his eyes quickly flicked over his surroundings. He recognized this area, and he knew that he had almost completed a full circle around the pack’s perimeter, by now. There was only a tiny stretch left before he would return to the camp and fill everyone in. Raising his head, he let his jaw fall open to catch any aromas that travelled along the breeze.

All of a sudden, a new scent wafted over his nose, an unsettling sense of unfamiliarity striking deep within his core.

There was something in the woods—something that did not belong here.

In an instant, Clay’s lips were pulled back in a snark, his sharp canines bared as he sank his paws into the soil below. His claws latched onto the dirt, his grip firm and unwavering as he pressed himself closer to the ground, careful not to let his scent travel in the air.

They weren’t common, but every now and then, hunters would venture into the woods with their heads held high and guns drawn. Most of them came hunting for game, shooting down the occasional deer or elk to bring back to their own families. Clay didn’t have a problem with those hunters, but as for the ones who came in search of wolves?

Clay wasn’t sure he could be so lenient with those ones.

Prowling forward, he kept his haunches low, his tail brushing over the shrubbery as he took step after step toward the strange, new scent. Ever so slowly, he crept closer, his pupils dilated in focus. Suddenly, he stopped, freezing in place.

He could hear footsteps.

Inhaling deeply, he let his eyelids fall shut.

One, two, three...

His eyes shot wide open, and he whipped his head up, only to go stock still as a silhouette came into view.

It was a person, a regular person.

He blinked as he lifted his head, his expression growing neutral as he watched you crouch down to examine a small pile of stones stacked beside a tree, one that he vaguely remembered being made by Tommy and Tubbo when they went exploring a few weeks ago. There was no gun strapped to your body, no pack hanging off your hips as you rose back up to your feet. You didn’t seem to be a threat at all, and from the back, he couldn’t tell if you were even carrying a weapon.

Just then, you turned to the side, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

The world suddenly fell away, his surroundings melting into nothing more than a hazy blur as his eyes locked onto your face. His heart came to a screeching halt in his chest.

You were beautiful.

The light framing your lovely face made your cheeks seem all the more lively as you rose. He watched as you brushed your fingers delicately over the bark of a tree, your brilliant eyes meticulously tracing over the curve of every leaf as you walked past. Your feet never lingered in one place for long, constantly moving and skittering across the forest floor like a rippling stream. It was almost as though your every movement cast streaks of dappled sunlight everywhere you stepped, the marvelling spark flickering in your gaze making his head spin with wild abandon.

Clay felt something warm and tight curl against his insides, unmistakably soft and affectionate. It was almost hard to breathe with the way his lungs squeezed and shook behind his ribs. He hadn’t felt this feeling before, but he had heard enough stories to know exactly what it was.

His mate—you were his mate.

There wasn’t any one way to truly describe what a mating bond was, but the most commonly accepted one was that it was a connection that tied people’s souls together, uniting them in perfect harmony. Every werewolf had a mate, and most of the time, they would find their mate in another one of their kind. But right now, as Clay stood in the forest, his gaze glued to the most beautiful human he had ever laid eyes on, he knew that he wasn’t going to find his mate in some other shifter like everyone else had said he would.

Having a human for a mate was rare at best, and unheard of at worst. After all, not every human had a mate, and he had heard stories of shifters being rejected by their human mates. Some of the elders in the camp still refused to believe that having a human mate was even possible, but nearly all of the younger shifters had accepted it—embraced it, even. But never in his pack, at least, had someone learned that their mate was a human.

It looked like he was going to be the first.

For a few long moments, he simply stood there, watching you silently with wide eyes as you slowly made your way deeper down the path. A part of him wanted to chase after you, yearned to walk by your side for as long as his legs would let him. But as soon as he raised his paw, he quickly lowered it again, a pang of guilt shooting through him.

He couldn’t go up to you—not like this, and most certainly not now. He didn’t have nearly enough experience under his belt as an alpha yet, and bringing you to his world could just make everything even worse if he wasn’t careful about it. He swallowed, taking a single step back as you slowly slipped out of view, disappearing into the trees and carrying your lovely scent away with you.

Anxiety gnawed at the inside of his gut, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you would even return. Surely you must live around here to be hiking in these woods—maybe you would hike here again, if not even more often.

He paused, then nodded to himself before whipping around, his tail swishing behind him as he clenched his jaw.

Tomorrow. He would come back tomorrow.

A few feet deeper within the trees, the sound of a stick snapping shattered the forest’s silence.

Along the lightly-treaded path, you whirled, your head pointing toward the sharp sound. Pausing, you raised your head, your gaze darting to the forest canopy above. The sun peaked down at you between swaths of vibrant green, and you squinted, raising a hand to shield your eyes. The trees remained quiet around you, only whispering with the soft rustles of their leaves.

A moment passed in silence. A robin warbled.

You let out a long exhale and shook your head. Turning once more, you stepped over a small crack in the ground, humming as you walked further into the woods.

It was probably nothing.

Sapnap grunted as he dropped the pile of sticks onto the ground, the wood clattering at his feet in a heap. He scowled at the sight, resisting the urge to kick the pile down. He couldn’t believe Wilbur had actually tricked him into doing something as simple as collecting firewood. It wasn’t difficult or anything, but he was the beta, for crying out loud! He could have at least passed the buck to someone like Tommy, that brat.

“Sapnap.”

Sapnap blinked at the familiar voice, turning to find himself standing face to face with Clay. His dirty blond hair was disheveled atop his head, and his cheeks were flushed with heat. A smile tugged on his lips at the sight. “Oh, hey, Clay. Welcome back.” He squinted at the way Clay’s chest heaved, his breaths coming out shaky and uneven. “Um, you good, there? Did you run back here or somethi—”

“It happened,” Clay blurted.

Sapnap blinked, raising a single brow at him. “What happened?”

Clay swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I met my mate.”

Sapnap paused. “Oh. Oh.” A wide grin stretched across his face, and he reached over to clap a hand to Clay’s back. “That’s awesome, man! I’m guessing it happened on your patro—”

“My mate’s human,” Clay said suddenly.

Sapnap paused again. “Oh. Oh.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Clay’s shoulders went slack at his side as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his scalp. “I, um,” he said, his words coming out in a hazy rush. “I don’t think I’m ready to—” He stopped, feeling Sapnap’s patient gaze rest on him, then opened his mouth, again. “I can’t just reveal our world so soon. I’ve only been alpha for what?” He gestured vaguely. “A month? I’m not experienced enough, yet.” He slumped forward, a hollow, wistful look settling onto his features. “It would be too much for both of us.”

Sapnap nodded thoughtfully, understanding flooding his face. “It’s okay, Clay. Take your time.” He fell silent for a brief moment, then quietly added, “Did you reveal yourself or anything?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I was too surprised to even move.”

Sapnap’s lips quirked up into a tiny smile. “Then there’s no rush,” he said. “You’re allowed to build up your confidence first, dude. Your confidence as a wolf. As an alpha.” His eyes flashed with soft reassurance. “As a mate.”

Clay raised his head, blinking as Sapnap gently nudged his shoulder with his. “You can do this. Plus,” he added, his tone growing more lighthearted, “I’m your beta. You know I’ve got your back.”

The chuckle that escaped Clay’s lips was low and short, but he could already feel the tension seep out his shoulders like a leaking dam. “Thanks, Sap.”

Taking a step back, Sapnap hummed, offering him a lopsided smile. “Anytime.”

Clay turned on his heel, jerking his head toward the centre of the camp. “Well, I need to organize today’s hunt, but I’ll catch you later. I trust you’ll keep things under control while I’m gone.”

He nodded. “Of course—you know me.” With a short wave and a small grin, Clay began walking off in the opposite direction. “Oh, also,” Sapnap suddenly shouted after him, “don’t forget to grab something to eat before you go hunting today, yeah? I know you missed breakfast.”

Clay didn’t look behind him as he shot a thumbs up at Sapnap from behind his back, but Sapnap could already picture the way he would roll his eyes with a smile. Shaking his head, he turned back to the firewood scattered around his feet, a new glower creeping onto his face.

He was so getting back at Wilbur for this.

Every morning after, Clay dutifully woke up early and strolled deep into the woods, shifted into his wolf form as he scented the air and patrolled the area just as any good alpha would. But time and time again, that one sweet scent never seemed to return, almost as though it had vanished from the forest entirely. At times, he thought he caught the faintest whiff of it, but some further exploration would only reveal a small patch of flowers, never you.

Needless to say, his disappointment was palpable.

It had been a full week now, and Clay was running out of hope. Maybe he was wrong—maybe you wouldn’t ever come back. His heart ached at the thought.

He had been too hasty, wasn’t he?

Hanging his head, he whimpered to himself in the quiet forest, sniffing absentmindedly as he ambled about almost aimlessly. He still had a duty to fulfill, he knew, but he couldn’t ignore the empty feeling burrowing deeper and deeper into his chest.

But right then, just as he paced another few feet forward, he heard it.

A melody.

It was soft, the singing travelling down from the west in a distant murmur, or perhaps a hum. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he surely would have missed it. He didn’t know this song, didn’t recognize it one bit, but he could already tell that it was sweeter than any thrush’s song or any loon’s call. He felt his heart flip in his chest, and just like that, he knew.

In a flash, he was racing across the earth, his paws flying out beneath him in a blur as he ducked under branches and darted past deer, missing the way they startled at his sudden approach. The song was louder now, and he could smell it—smell you.

It was only a few seconds later that he came to a stop, his paws digging into the ground as his heart leapt into his throat.

Soft hair. Bright eyes. A dazzling grin.

You were back.

You had headphones on this time, he realized, and you were humming aloud to yourself, your feet most likely moving in time to the beat of whatever song you were listening to. You were a little off-key and occasionally stumbled over the refrain as it came around, but he found himself entranced nonetheless. Even when you were doing something as simple as humming, you were stunning.

Why come back today of all days? he distantly wondered to himself. What made today so different from any other day?

He wracked his mind as he felt the sun shine down on him gently, warming his back as he crouched down a little. He rarely kept track of the days—that was Sapnap’s job—but he knew that there hadn’t been any special events or holidays going on in the human world. Pressing his ears flat against his head, he scratched his paw at the ground in confusion. Just what made today so special?

That was when the realization slammed into him.

It had been a week since he last saw you.

Once a week—you must hike here once a week.

If he could smile in this form, he already knew that he would have the biggest, stupidest grin plastered to his face. He wanted to leap for joy and howl like there was no tomorrow, but he didn’t want to alert you of his presence just yet. Again, it had only been a week, and he was still far from being a worthy mate for you.

Once a week, he thought once more, his eyes glued to you as you skipped further down the trail and out of his sight. I can wait another week.

The wind sang in his ears as a gentle breeze brushed over his tawny fur, the forest murmuring a silent lullaby into his ear as he whirled back around. As much as he wanted to stay with you forever, he had a patrol to finish and a pack to defend. He let his eyelids flutter shut for the briefest of moments, your face engraved into the rosy crevices of his heart as your humming filled his ears once more.

He couldn’t wait to see you, again.

One week later, you grumbled to yourself as you stomped through the woods, complaining about your new job under your breath. Clay wished he could comfort you, but stayed put with his claws buried in the dirt.

Two weeks later, you watched with wide eyes as a doe and her fawn drank from a nearby stream. He made sure not to hunt those two down in particular later that week.

Three weeks later, you were snapping photo after photo with the camera hanging around your neck, your eyes absolutely brimming with curiosity. He thought you were prettier than any view the forest had to offer.

As one week stumbled into the next, the months began to pass in a blur. Summer collapsed into autumn as the leaves turned gorgeous shades of crimson red and golden orange before tumbling from the sky. Shortly after that, the forest was covered in a blanket of ivory white snow, leaving the branches bare and awaiting the return of spring. The snow soon melted into rain, and puddles littered the forest floor while flowers began to bud and bloom once more. In almost a whirlwind of seasons and waiting, summer rolled around once more, marking the first anniversary of your arrival in Elmwood Ridge.

With each passing season, Clay continued to watch you from afar with a tender gaze. Some days, he would listen to you hum as you trekked along while other times, he would only manage to catch the tiniest of glimpses of you between the trees. No matter how short the instance was, every second he got was well worth the wait, and Clay could feel his affection bloom like a new spring flower. As the trees grew larger, as did his confidence. Time was the best teacher the forest had to offer, and it didn’t take much longer for Clay to grow comfortable with his duty as the alpha of his pack. But despite his newfound strength, he still didn’t feel ready enough to approach you outright, to reveal himself to you as he was. Doubt swirled in his mind like a raging storm, eating away at him like a gnat digging through mud.

He was beginning to fear he may never be ready.

Lifting his head, he sniffed the air, the now familiar scent of his mate drifting across the new summer breeze. You were taking a new path today, he noted in an instant. Perhaps you were doing some exploring.

Padding through the trees, leaves crunched beneath his feet as he leapt over logs and puddles, following after your scent as it grew stronger and stronger. It only took a few moments for him to find you standing atop an elevated rock face, your head lifted as you gazed up at the light scattered between the tree leaves. Your face almost seemed to be glowing in the pale, morning sunshine, your eyes looking like two dewdrops as they curved into tiny crescents. Clay’s heart rattled in his chest, and he resisted the urge to howl to the heavens above.

You were lovely, his mate. If only he could work up the courage to properly tell you.

Basking in the sunlight, he watched as you took a few steps forward closer to the cliff’s edge, your eyes still trained on the sky above. It wasn’t a terribly deep fall, he knew, but the fall was most certainly far enough to hurt someone if they fell at the wrong angle. He narrowed his eyes as you stopped dangerously close to the edge, halting just a few inches from the drop. Surely the stone was strong enough to support your weight, even as old as it was, right?

Apparently not.

Clay saw the cliff crumble before you did.

Terror shot through his body like a bullet as he watched the rock face collapse under your shoes, your feet tumbling out beneath you. Your hands desperately reached for the cliff face, but he could tell from the way your scream cut through the forest’s silence like a sharpened blade that you weren't going to be able to grab it in time.

There was no time for him to think—his body moved first.

In one moment, he was standing with his mouth slack and his emerald eyes blown wide with horror. In the next, he was lunging across the rock face, his jaws wide open as he reached for the lower collar of your shirt. The moment he felt his nose brush against the back of your neck, he snapped his jaws shut, careful not to pierce your skin with his sharp canines as the cloth caught between his teeth. Your weight bounced beneath him once, and the gasp that escaped your lips made his head spin dizzily.

Close—you were so close, and your scent was intoxicating.

You turned your head ever so slightly, and he felt it the moment your eyes locked onto his. You were scared, he could tell, but as you took in the sight of the wolf holding onto you, you almost seemed to relax in his grip. Planting his paws firmly against the rocky earth, he tugged his jaw up and backwards, pulling you away from the cliff face and over even ground. Your hands scrambled to latch onto the cliff edge, helping to pull yourself up until finally, he let go of you, your now torn collar resting against the back of your neck.

Heaving a sigh of relief, you let yourself collapse against the rock face, lying on your back as you gasped for breath. Your chest felt tight like a wound-up spring, and adrenaline pumped through every vein in your body, yet you felt oddly calm. After a minute or two, you slowly pushed yourself forward on your arms until you were just barely slouching forward, looking over your shoulder. A few feet away from you, the wolf stood, his eyes trained intently on your face as you swallowed.

“Um,” you breathed, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Hello?”

He didn’t say anything in return, simply shuffling further away from you. He was giving you space, you realized after a brief moment, and you blinked as you scrambled to sit completely upright. His fur was a soft, golden brown, and you had half the mind to distantly think that you wanted to run your fingers through it. Something about him seemed comforting like that.

“Hi,” you whispered once you were seeing him eye-to-eye. “Ah, um, thank you for saving me.”

Maybe you were just imagining it, but you could have sworn his eyes widened in an almost human-like manner. He didn’t move from his spot a few feet away from you, and you swallowed. You thought you would be more scared than this, more terrified of the beast standing before you. But as you sat there, watching as he blinked at you, you felt as though you were anything but. An unfamiliar yet strangely comforting warmth curled around in the pit of your stomach as you tilted your head at the wolf.

He felt so... safe. So familiar, almost like you had met him before.

“Are—are you a nice wolf?” you asked after another moment, your voice faltering the tiniest bit. “I’d like to think you’re a nice wolf, since you just saved my life.”

Once again, you were greeted by silence, the only indication that he had heard you at all being the way his ears flicked. What am I doing? you suddenly thought, your mind running at a million miles a minute. I’m talking to a wolf—an animal. I’m not a Disney character.

This was weird—or at least it was supposed to be. Yet, as you stared at this wolf who simply stared back at you with these bright, stunning green eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that everything in this moment was just perfect. Like you had been waiting your entire life for this moment to happen.

“You’re really pretty,” you suddenly blurted. In an instant, you were slamming your palm over your mouth, your cheeks flooding with heat. “Oh my god, that was embarrassing,” you murmured, your voice coming out muffled. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage like a caged bird begging to be let out, and ever so slowly, you lowered your hands from your mouth, offering the wolf a shaky, sheepish smile. “Um, thank you, again,” you said gently, honestly. Leaning forward, you pressed your hands against the cool stone to balance yourself, your fingers digging into the rock as you spoke. “I don’t really know how you knew I was there or how you knew I was going to fall, but I really appreciate it.”

The wolf blinked at you once more, then took another step back, subtly dipping his head. Your smile widened at the sight. Pushing yourself upward, you rose to your feet, brushing off the dust from your frontside before standing upright, fidgeting almost nervously.

“I—I,” you stammered, suddenly feeling awkward, “I think I’m going to go home now, but...” You swallowed, raising your hand in a small wave as heat rose in your chest. “...thank you so much, again!”

Before the warmth in your heart could burst, you whipped around, sprinting away as fast as your legs could take you. You didn’t see the way the wolf practically crumbled into a ball on the ground, whimpering to himself as you disappeared out of sight.

Bolting down the hill and past the trees, branches blew past you in a blur as you dashed between the trunks and over patches of wildflowers. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears like a beating drum, and your chest felt oddly light. You couldn’t shake the memory of how intense that wolf’s gaze had been on yours, his eyes swirling with something that made your stomach churn and your mouth go dry.

He really was pretty.

Sapnap yawned as he stretched his arm behind his back and above his head, rolling his neck as the joint popped back into place with a satisfying crack. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in like this, but he did not regret it one bit. Clay had given him the okay, after all. One late morning wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Sapnap, you are not going to believe this.”

Sapnap yelped, whipping around with eyes as wide as saucers as he stumbled back a step. The drowsiness left his body in an instant, almost as though he had never been tired to begin with. Clay’s hand shot out to grab his arm, steadying him as he swallowed, relaxing once he realized who he was looking at.

“Holy crap, Clay,” he gasped, pressing a hand to his racing heart, “you scared me! I know you’ve gotten better at this whole stealth thing, but that was just straight up terrifyi—”

Clay’s grip on his arm tightened. “I saved them today,” he whispered.

Sapnap froze, and there was a beat of silence. “You did what, now?”

Just like that, Clay had flung his arms up and around his head, his fingers buried in his hair as he began to pace, his tone frantic and rushed. “There—there was this steeper area with this cliff but it was kind of hidden, and then it was breaking and I just knew something bad was going to happen, and I couldn’t just let that happen, so I moved without thinking and I was pulling them back and—”

A pair of hands suddenly grabbed onto his shoulders, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Breathe,” Sapnap instructed calmly. “You need to breathe, dude.” Clay opened his mouth, but Sapnap spoke before he could. “You are talking so quickly right now, and I can’t understand you when you talk like that.”

Clay closed his mouth, mulling over the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions steamrolling through his head. After a few moments, he finally spoke once more. “I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, suddenly sounding completely and utterly awestruck. “My mate actually stopped and thanked me. And called me pretty.”

Sapnap’s fingers loosened around Clay’s shoulders, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “Yeah?”

Clay sighed, sounding absolutely lovestruck. “Yeah.”

Pulling his arms back to cross them over his chest, Sapnap eyed him up and down, cocking his head. “So,” he began gently, “how are you feeling?” When Clay opened his mouth, Sapnap quickly added, “Slowly, please.”

Clay groaned, teasingly rolling his eyes before leaning back on his heels, rocking back and forth as he began to speak. “I only revealed myself as a wolf,” he said softly, “so I don’t know if they know about the mating bond yet. I don’t even know if humans can feel it like we can.”

He tilted his head back, gazing up at the cerulean blue sky. “But there’s something about the way we looked at each other that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, humans can feel it,” he whispered, sounding breathless all at once. “Call it a gut feeling, I guess. I don’t know.” He cast a glance over at Sapnap, his eyebrows furrowed. “Do I sound crazy?”

A thoughtful look flickered across Sapnap’s face. Then, he grinned. “A little bit, yeah.”

Clay sighed, something he noticed he had been doing a lot more, lately. “I just…” He swallowed. “I just don’t want something like that to happen ever, ever again.”

Suddenly, he fell quiet, his lips parting as the wheels in his head began to turn. Sapnap watched as a tiny spark came to life within his focused gaze, small but oh-so vibrant.

“You got an idea there?” he prompted after a few seconds of silence.

Clay blinked once. Twice. Then, a smile stretched across his face—a smile as bright as the full moon.

“Something like that.”

It was probably a dumb idea for you to return to the forest for your weekly hike as if nothing had happened, but you couldn’t quite quench the curiosity that bubbled up inside you every time you thought about the wolf who had saved you. His gaze had been fiery, yet compassionate, and he had been purposely so gentle when tugging you away from the cliff. You weren't a fool—you knew how powerful a wolf could be. Then why did he treat you so kindly?

You had to find out.

Marching through the brush and shrubbery, you whipped your head this way and that, scanning every strip of forest you could lay your eyes on. Wolves were good at hiding, you knew that. After all, if they weren’t as stealthy as they were, they would never be able to catch a meal. But you had been hiking for almost an hour now, and you still hadn’t seen a single glimpse of the wolf. You couldn’t say you were completely surprised, since it wasn’t like you knew every inch of the forest, but you were frustrated to admit that you were at least a little disappointed. Maybe this was a lost cause.

But then, you heard it.

The sound of a stick snapping.

Freezing, you paused, turning as you glanced to the sides. Nothing out of the ordinary stood among the bushes. You stopped again, then pursed your lips.

No, something was there.

A tender curiosity sparked between your lungs, but it was coated in a thin layer of reluctance. Sucking in a deep breath, you whipped around, squinting at the seemingly empty trees around you as you opened your mouth.

“Wolf?” you called out slowly into the quiet. “Is that you?”

At first, all was quiet, and you held your breath. The leaves rustled around you almost tauntingly, and you distantly heard the caw of a crow. You were just about to give up and go home when a flash of gold caught your eye.

Standing motionless a single yard away was a wolf—your wolf.

A grin stretched across your face, joy surging through your body as you carefully took a few steps forward. Oh, this was definitely a dumb idea, but you was more than brave enough to keep going.

“Hi, there.” You shuffled your feet, a tentative look passing over your face. “You’re, um—” You gulped. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Clay’s eyes went wide, and he took a step back. No! he thought, hoping you would be able to read his expression, even as a wolf. Never. Not in a million years.

You stared at him for a long moment, blinking slowly as you scanned his face up and down. Then, your lips quirked up into the tiniest of smiles.

“No,” you murmured in the softest of voices, and he felt his heart melt in his chest. “If you were going to do something, you would have done it by now, wouldn’t you?”

Clay nearly sank in relief, and he barked. You raised a brow at the sound, furrowing your brows slightly. “Do you want me to keep you company?” you asked, beginning to walk up to him. “Is that what you’re doing?”

You had only made it a few steps when he suddenly barked again, taking a step toward you. In an instant, you froze, watching with bated breath as he curled around to your other side and gently nudged at your leg with his nose. You shot him a curious glance, stumbling forward the tiniest bit. “Hey,” you said, “what are you...?”

You trailed off, a cut rock face suddenly catching your attention from the corner of your eye. The stony grey wall was nearly perpendicular to the ground and looked almost eerily similar to the one you had nearly fallen down the week prior. Just like that, it clicked.

There was another small cliff right there. He was trying to keep you away from it.

“Oh,” you breathed, your lips splitting into an even wider grin as you made sure to steer away from the short cliff, “you don’t want me falling again, do you?”

He snorted, and you blinked at him. That sounded far more human this time—almost too human. It almost reminded you of a dog, if anything. A triumphant smile slowly crept onto your face, and with your head held high, you turned on your heel, marching onward and away from the rock face.

“Well, wolf,” you said, a teasing arrogance seeping into your tone as you glanced over your shoulder at him, “I promise you that I’ll be much safer this time arou—woah!”

The toe of your shoe caught on a protruding stone, and with a sharp yelp, you stumbled forward, gravity pulling you downward with a harsh pull. With a flail of your arms, you only just barely caught your balance as your hand shot out to grab onto a tree and steady yourself. Your heart flipped in your chest as you planted your feet firmly against the ground, the soles of your shoes pressed flatly against the earth as your fingers curled into the bark. Your chest heaved with surprise as you stood upright, turning to look over your shoulder at the wolf. He blinked at you, and while you knew wolves couldn’t quite smile, something about his gaze almost seemed cocky—like he was laughing at you. Heat crept up your neck and onto your face, your cheeks bursting with warmth.

“Y-You did not see that,” you sputtered, coughing into your sleeve as you brushed off your pants dismissively.

Almost as if to spare you some embarrassment, he turned his head away from you, although you could see his eyes glance your way every few seconds. Pouting, you huffed, whirling on your feet as you continued to trudge down the path. Soon enough, the sound of soft footsteps trailed after you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound, knowing that he would follow you even if you weren't looking.

That night, you dreamt of whispering trees and a pair of bright, viridian green eyes.

What had once been a weekly ritual of watching from afar soon turned into an amicable companionship between human and wolf. You weren't afraid as you walked into the woods to see a familiar pair of eyes waiting for you, your eagerness to see him only growing with each passing week. Clay himself could hardly contain his excitement. Actually walking beside you was so much better than simply watching from the woods, hidden by the trees. He loved your company and absolutely basked in your presence, even if you sent his heart into an absolute frenzy.

“Sometimes,” you said aloud one day, “I really do think you can understand me.”

Clay stiffened, praying you wouldn’t notice the way his ears pressed flat against his head as he turned to look at you. You sat on a tree stump while he padded atop the fallen trunk it sat beside, your gleaming gaze slowly blinking at him as he silently circled around you.

“I think it’s got something to do with the way you react to some of the things I say,” you murmured. You watched the way his tail flicked behind him, the soft fur brushing gently against the low-growing plants. A second later, you sighed, waving your hand. “Ah, I’m probably just imagining things.”

Clay nearly heaved a sigh of relief, continuing to pace. You would say surprising things like that every once in a while, and it would send his heart racing. Well, you usually only said one absurd thing per week, so you probably weren’t going to say another thing like that toda—

“Can I pet you?”

His paws came to a halt. Perhaps he thought too soon.

Before he could even properly process what you had said, You were backpedaling, shaking your head with an apologetic look. “Agh, that’s a terrible question. You’re a wolf, not a dog. There’s no way you wou—”

All of a sudden, he was crawling up to you, jutting his forehead toward your hand. His muzzle was clamped shut as his eyes bore into yours, and you gaped at him, the realization beginning to dawn on you.

“Wait,” you breathed in disbelief, “you’re actually going to let me?”

He didn’t move, lowering his eyes to the ground almost shyly as his ears curled toward you. Slowly, you raised your arm with a shaky hand and reached forward, letting your fingers gently brush over his tawny fur with a feather-light touch. You nearly gasped at the feeling, not noticing the way his legs trembled beneath him.

“Wolf,” you whispered after a few seconds, “you’re really soft.”

Clay nearly combusted on the spot. Perfect—everything about you was just perfect.

With your hand buried in his soft fur and the summer breeze ruffling your hair, You smiled, sighing with warmth lighting up your heart as the wolf at your feet melted beneath your touch.

Sapnap tapped his foot impatiently, squinting up at the glaring sun. George slept in, again. He was kind of used to it now, but even though he wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t afraid to admit that he was more than just a little ticked off.

“My mate pet me today.”

Sapnap tensed for a split second, turning to see Clay staring at him with wide eyes. Relaxing once more, he stared at him for a long, long moment before speaking. He really needed to start giving him some sort of heads up at this point.

“Dude,” he said, “I know that the last time you asked me if you sounded crazy, I said a little bit, but I feel like I might have to change my answer.”

Clay shot him a glare, and he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching in amusement. “Sapnap,” he said bluntly, “you act like you don’t talk about Karl and Alex like this.”

Sapnap looked taken aback for a moment, raising a finger, then lowering it with a defeated look. “Touché.”

As Clay walked off with his head held high and a bounce in his step, Sapnap chuckled, watching him leave with a small smile. He recognized the gleam in his eyes, the rosy hue of his cheeks.

Love—Clay really was in love, wasn’t he?

“I’ve been thinking,” you said one day, a few months later.

Clay perked up at the sound of your voice from where he lay at your feet, soaking in the first few rays of sun. It had been well over a year since he had first laid eyes on you now, and a little over a few months since you began walking together. It was only a matter of time until the leaves would turn golden brown once more as autumn descended upon them.

“I dunno,” you murmured, knocking your legs back against the stone you sat on. “I feel like I should give you a name instead of just calling you wolf all the time.” You flashed him a shy grin, your gaze darting this way and that. “It feels kind of awkward, you know?”

He cocked his head. A name? Chances were you probably weren't going to guess his actual name. He supposed he wouldn’t mind a nickname. Then again, he didn’t think he would mind anything that you might do. Lowering himself closer to the ground, he let out a quiet bark of approval.

Your lips twitched the tiniest bit at the sound, and you hummed, drumming your fingers against your thigh. “How do you feel about... Aaron?”

His emerald eyes flashed as he took a step back, ducking his head the slightest bit. Your lips pursed into a small pout, and you leaned down to rest your chin on your hand. “Alright,” you murmured, “not Aaron, then.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a second. “Roy?”

Clay didn’t even have to think about it for more than a second before he was whimpering, pressing his head to his paws as he dropped his haunches close to the ground. You snorted at his obvious disapproval, tapping the toes of your shoes together with a pensive look.

“Okay,” you said slowly, drawing out the vowel sound, “maybe we should try some less... human-sounding names.” You tilted your head, letting your gaze trail up the tree trunks and up at the sky above. The sun wasn’t shining directly into your eyes this time, and you blinked with surprise to see a puff of white fluff blocking out the light.

“What about,” you offered with a hum, “Cloud?”

You glanced down again, only to see the wolf staring back at you blankly. You couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes, but you had a feeling he wasn’t quite satisfied with this one, either. Lowering your chin, you puffed your cheeks, glancing this way and that across the forest around you. You couldn’t just call him something like Leaf, or Sky—those would be too obvious, too plain for a wolf as lovely as him.

Sighing, you let your eyelids flutter shut, letting the sun wash over your cheeks and warming your skin. He was... special, even if you knew you were biased in your opinion. There was some special quality about him, something that made your chest swell and your heart skip a beat, almost as if he came straight out of a—

“Dream,” you whispered at last.

Clay’s ears perked up at the new name, and he lifted his head, flicking his ears at you. Maybe it was the name itself, maybe it was the way you said it, or maybe it was just you, but something about it just felt right. He barked once, lifting his tail as he stepped toward you.

You blinked at the sight, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Dream?” you repeated. “You like the sound of Dream?”

He barked again, leaping up onto his hind legs for a moment. You grinned, giggling at the sight of such a large wolf acting almost like a dog around you. “Alright,” you murmured, reaching your hand out toward him, “Dream it is.”

Leaning closer to you, he sank into your touch as you rubbed your hand over his head, scratching behind his ears as he let out a soft whine from the back of his throat. Your eyes softened, and you curled your knees a little closer to your chest, resting your chin on them.

“It probably doesn’t matter to you since you’re a wolf and all,” you said softly, your voice almost sounding shy in the quiet of the morning, “but my name is [Y/N].”

Clay felt a tender warmth blossom in the cracks beneath his chest, heat unfurling from the depths of his soul as something inside him swelled beyond belief. Your hand continued stroking his fur all the while, not at all noticing the way he pressed his head a little closer into your soothing touch, yearning and longing for more.

“[Y/N],” his heart sang, shooting from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. “[Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N].”

Had a name ever sounded as beautiful as yours?

Sapnap was going to wring Skeppy’s neck. Skipping out on a morning meeting was one thing, but skipping it to hang out with your mate? Not even he did that.

“[Y/N].”

Sapnap didn’t bother flinching as he turned to see Clay standing in front of him, panting like his life depended on it. This was far from the first time this had happened, and he was sure it most certainly would not be the last. “What?”

Clay shook his head, half-looking like he was about to collapse on the spot. “My mate’s name is [Y/N].”

Sapnap blinked, then his lips curled up into a smile. “Congrats for learning what it is, man,” he said honestly, patting Clay’s shoulder with his free hand. “That’s fantastic, really. You’re making progress.”

Clay swallowed, and he reached up to drag a hand down his face before letting it drop loosely at his side. “Sapnap,” he said slowly, his voice sounding quiet and raw, “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Sapnap’s eyebrows knit together, confusion rippling across his features. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You can’t keep visiting?” Something uncomfortable and cold tugged at the back of his mind. “There’s no way you’re just gonna give up like that, are you?”

Clay’s jaw dropped. “What? No! I mean that...” He paused, squeezing his fist for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t think I can keep showing up in only my wolf form.”

The cogs in Sapnap’s whirred to life as he took in his friend’s clenched jaw. Then, his eyes went wide. “Are you saying...?”

Clay nodded, pursing his lips as he swallowed thickly. “I’m going to reveal who I am.”

His eyes flashed with determination.

“Who I really am.”

You hummed as you twisted the key in the hole, the back door locking shut with a click you had grown used to hearing every week for the past year and a half, now. Whirling around, you could already feel the smile start to spread across your face as you leapt off the porch and ran toward the well-worn path, the forest beckoning you forward with a distant howl. You didn’t remember when exactly your weekly hikes grew to become your favourite part of the week, but you couldn’t imagine life without them, anymore.

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest swelled at the fresh air rushing into your lungs, excitement flickering through your body with every step you took. You couldn’t wait to see Dream again, as strange as it may sound. He had grown to be a greater comfort than you would have ever imagined, even if he was just a wolf. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but you knew your feelings were true—you couldn’t deny the warmth he made you feel.

Whipping around a tree trunk, you felt your heart skip a beat. You already knew Dream would be waiting for you at your rock—the one he had saved you from all those weeks ago. It had become a sort of meeting spot for them, and every week without fail, he would appear there, no matter how early or late you were.

As the shrubbery gave way to a clean, dirt trail, you lifted your head, squinting your eyes. You recognized this part of the forest, and you knew that you were getting closer. Just then, you saw it—the familiar streak of grey stone slanting up from the earth in a small cliff face. Usually, Dream would sit at the cliff base, his ears already pointed toward you. But today, your brows furrowed when you didn’t see a pair of ears facing you, but a head of hair.

Someone else was at your rock.

Slowing your pace to a walk, you paused for a moment, eyeing the figure sitting at your usual meeting spot. It was a man, you realized, and he was facing away from you. He wore a simple white shirt with jeans, and his hair was a shade of dirty blond with streaks of gold. Even if only from the back, it looked almost oddly familiar gleaming underneath the morning sun.

Taking a tentative step forward, you curled your fingers into your palm. “Hello?” you called hesitantly.

The man startled for a moment, then turned toward you, his face coming into view. As his gaze locked onto yours, he opened his mouth and uttered two simple words.

“Hi, [Y/N].”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat.

His voice was soft, gently wrapping around you like a soothing blanket. Your gaze only briefly raked over the comforting smile gracing his lips, instead focusing on the gleam in his eyes that danced with something warm and inviting.

His eyes were green—a shade of green that you had grown to know and adore.

No, you thought, your heart trembling in your chest. He couldn’t possibly be...

You took another step forward, closing the space between them by another few inches. With your eyebrows knitting together, your voice dropped to a small, curious whisper. “Dream?”

He shot you a crooked grin, chuckling softly. “That’s my name—or at least the one you gave me.” Leaning forward, he rose to his feet, the sun casting a bright streak of light across his cheeks. “My real name is Clay.”

All of a sudden, you felt as though all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. “Clay,” you repeated, your mind slowly growing murky with confusion, “but you’re also Dream. How...?”

A sheepish look skittered across his face, and he ducked his head. The way he lowered his chin was familiar, looking almost far too like a certain wolf you knew. “I—I guess you could say I live in two worlds with two forms,” he began. “Sometimes I’m a wolf, sometimes I’m a human.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but you didn’t miss the way his shoulders remained tense. “You already know one of them, but I didn’t want to keep hiding this form from you, so...” He gestured to himself with a bashful look. “...here I am.”

You blinked at him slowly, the muddled fog in your head slowly giving way to a strikingly warm clarity. But before the clouds could fully part, your lips began to move.

“You’re still pretty,” you blurted, your eyes going wide as soon as the words left your mouth.

In a flash, Clay’s cheeks flushed crimson, a haze of rosy pink dusting his freckles. “H-Huh?”

Waving your hands in front of you, you took a step back, embarrassment shooting up your spine. “I-I mean to say that you’re still pretty as a human! Because you’re pretty in both of your forms!” You stiffened, exasperation soaking your features as your knees buckled. “Wait, no, oh no, that’s also embarrassing... wait, please, um—”

Suddenly, he began to laugh. You fell quiet as you watched Clay clutch at his stomach, his lips split into a wide grin as peals of laughter tumbled from his lips. A familiar pit of warmth flared up in your stomach, one you had felt standing here with Dream so many times before.

He really was Dream, wasn’t he?

As his chuckles finally died down into silence, he stood upright once more, wiping a barely there tear from his eye. “I’m sorry for laughing,” he managed with an apologetic smile. “You must be confused about, well, everything.”

You offered him an honest, lopsided grin. “A little.”

His smile slowly melted from his features, and he cleared his throat as he turned to face you head-on. “Well, this is probably going to sound weird, but you and I...” He swallowed, his gaze flashing. “We’re mates.”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise. Something in your chest slowly expanded. “Mates?” you repeated softly.

He nodded, his expression firm yet hesitant. “Yes, mates. It means that in one way or another, our souls are connected.” Inhaling deeply, he screwed his eyes shut before continuing. “It’s a lot to take in, I know, but I just want you to know that you don’t have to accept the mating bond.” His voice was trembling now, growing quieter by the second as he squeezed his hands into fists at his side. “You don’t owe me anything. I know this must be scary for you, and the last thing I want is for you to feel pressured because of m—”

“I’m not afraid.”

Clay’s eyes shot wide open, and he raised his head, shock etched into his features. “You aren’t?” he whispered.

The smile on your face was open and kind, and you shook your head. “No,” you murmured, sincerity lacing your every word. “Not at all. Dream, Clay... no matter what your name is, you’re still you, and I know you.” You took another step forward, your eyes never leaving his. There was hardly any space between them now, and Clay could feel his shoulders begin to shake with the sheer gravity of the moment. “I can’t explain it, but I just know I do.”

He swallowed, a whirlwind of anxiety and affection brewing just beneath the surface of his skin. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I know I’m just a stranger to you.”

You shook your head, again. “You’re not,” you said quietly. “Not to me.”

Before he could even register what was happening, you were reaching for his hand, clasping your palms around his fingers and holding them gently. His heart flipped in his chest at the feeling of your skin against his, and something stung at the back of his eyes.

You were so warm.

“I want to do this,” you whispered, just for him to hear and him alone, “I promise. I—” You gulped, your gaze remaining steady. “I might not know anything about your world yet, but I want to learn.”

You squeezed his hand. “I want to learn more about you.”

Clay sucked in a ragged breath. With shaky fingers and a gentle touch, he pressed his other hand to the back of yours, squeezing back ever so slightly. “I want to learn more about you, too.”

The smile you flashed him easily outshone the sun and every star that scattered across the night sky, and for a moment, he thought his heart had stopped in his chest.

“I’m glad,” you said, your eyes gleaming with delight. “I think we’ll have plenty of time to do that on our hike.”

Right then, a breeze came drifting past, the distant scent of rain filling the air. The trees murmured with rustling leaves and flapping wings as two birds landed on a hanging branch above, gazing down at the two silhouettes standing at the base of the rock face. Just for a moment, or maybe even two, the entire forest went still.

And unbeknownst to you and Clay, right between your feet, a flower began to bloom.

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goldoanheart · 2 years ago

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Dream Warriors

frauleindermorgen:

nagaficat:

The dreams here in Rusalka are unlike anything Deirdre has ever experienced and she has always been a dreamer. They have been frighteningly realistic and that arena, well, she has tried her best to forget that.

Now, they are to enter a new dream. But this time, they will be prepared. It is terrifying but also almost thrilling. To think that magic is able to do such a thing! She is beginning to believe, with everything she has seen and experienced, that magic here in Fódlan knows no limits. But at least they know, at least a little bit, what they are going into.

Deirdre smiles and waves over the members of her team. If they are to work together and succeed, they will need to be familiar with each other. She recognizes many faces but there are still some she has not yet had the pleasure of befriending. That must change!

“It would be wise, I believe, if we spend a few moments to get to know one another.” She tries to address the crowd but this type of leadership role has never been one she is particularly good at. Lord Sigurd and Lord Arvis would be able to command attention far better. Deirdre attempts to stand straighter as she continues. “I am Deirdre of Grannvale, a professor with the Black Eagles house. I am skilled with a staff and I shall do everything in my power to keep each of you safe. I look forward to becoming friends!”

From one dream to the next, was it? Micaiah thinks she should rub her eyes but she isn’t drowsy in the slightest… and as for tired, well, the less said about that the better. It seems wrong for her to be relieved her friend Kurthnaga is here as well as someone as gentle as Professor Deirdre (no matter how proficient in magic she might be), but the familiar faces with the same memories of her own does bolster Micaiah’s spirits.

“I believe the professor to be right. I know some of you but not all of you so - greetings, I am Micaiah of Daein. A Black Eagles student. I too specialize in healing but I’ve also become proficient at war tactics so I would appreciate knowing everyone’s abilities here.”

She nods to the next person standing in the circle, feeling a little more herself

He knows that whatever mission they are about to embark on into the dream, whatever they will encounter in there, it is important to do it, even if they are to encounter true horrors, things even worse than the dreams of battlefield after battlefield that had plagued him a mere few nights ago.

Still, he feels steadied by familiar faces around him, those who he has known before, even if it was shortly. Professor Deirdre of the Black Eagles house who seemed so kind and sweet, and certainly skill with magic if she was teaching in that house. And sweet Maria, who he had hardly had time to get acquainted with while they were in that book, but he certainly looks forward to being able to know her a little bit better. He also recognizes Cecilia from the battlefield in their dreams, and offers her a sympathetic nod, knowing what they had gone through in those arenas. And of course, there is his dear Micaiah. He already feels safer and steadied just with her by his side, as he always does.

He clears his throat softly, hovering ever so much closer to Micaiah than anyone else, but not far close enough to actually touch her. Just near enough to be able to calm his racing heart. She is certainly dear to him, but he also wishes to get know everyone else in their ragtag little group. He bows his head as he begins to speak, wishing to be cordial and not seem rude in the slightest bit.

“I agree with Deirdre as well, but I will not waste anyone’s time with such platitudes. I suppose it’s best to get right to the point and offer my greetings. I am Kurthnaga of Goldoa, though you are welcome to just call me Kurth. I am a professor of the Golden Deer house proficient in magic, but I have also taken to wielding an axe recently. I hope everyone will stay safe, I do not wish to see any ally’s blood spilled within the dream this time.”

#ic posts #ic: i'll rely on my own strengths #thread - dream warriors #threading: there is wisdom in looking beyond our borders #supports: i am growing rather fond of seeing everyone #support: micaiah #support: deirdre #support: ares #support: sirius #support: lyon #support: randal #support: leo #support: forsyth #support: cecilia #support: maria #support: valter #support: chrom #[support tags: pending]#KEruins2023 #:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧《ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ | ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: ᴅᴇɪʀᴅʀᴇ #.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.《ᴍᴀʏ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇɴᴅ | ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: ᴍɪᴄᴀɪᴀʜ #*✧･ﾟ:《ꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅꜰᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ | ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: ᴄᴇᴄɪʟɪᴀ #//rest of ya'lls get support tags when we spilt into smaller groups lol #events: an oppourtunity not wasted!#event: keras kai elephas #frauleindermorgen #nagaficat #gradible #dyshonor #sacretic

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solemnly-mischievous · 3 years ago

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rivalry (d.m. x reader)

You and Draco Malfoy have a rocky relationship, at best. It'd be better to describe it as a rivalry. But all it takes is a bit of fire from your end to finally make him snap.

(AKA: I just really wanted to write an enemies-to-lovers trope for my first fic.)

A/N: Hi! First fic. Hope you like it. :)

Contains: Degradation, slight edging, d/s elements, slight dub-con (but not really; full consent is clearly given), light humiliation

Word count: 3.9K

-----

Normally, Defense Against the Dark Arts would be your favorite class. The spells you learn are fun and useful; Professor Lupin is always a plus, and most importantly, you’re good at the subject—so bloody good, you’ve bested even Hermione and Harry multiple times.

But lately, you’ve been finding yourself dreading the lessons. So much, in fact, that you were half-considering asking Hermione to hex you just to get out of your afternoon class.

Why? It’s a pretty easy answer when you got down to it.

Draco Malfoy.

You’d had an ongoing rivalry with the git since third grade. He’s been terrorizing you and your friends, mostly because of Harry, but along the way the two of you had begun building a personal vendetta.

(He probably hasn’t quite yet forgiven you for hexing him so badly he’d had to stay in the Infirmary for weeks, and you certainly haven’t forgiven him for causing your friends so much grief over the years.)

This year, you’d thought you could try your best to avoid him, with your upcoming N.E.W.T.s and all. But DADA had other plans.

Professor Lupin had begun experimenting with mixing up partners for class—it was, after all, a very hands-on class—and had apparently decided that cross-house interaction would build bonds and skill. His exact words were, “If they’re your friend, you’re gonna go easier on them. In the real world, you never know who you’re fighting with—or against.”

So he’d randomized the name list. You, being Gryffindor, knew immediately you wouldn’t be with any of your closest friends—but you hoped that perhaps you’d be paired with Cedric, or Luna, or anyone but—

“Your partner is Draco Malfoy,” Professor Lupin informed you when he got to your name, and you immediately make to protest.

“Her?” a voice came just as you complained “Not him”, and the students parted to reveal Draco himself, glaring daggers at you and Lupin.

“Yes, her,” Lupin replied, unruffled. “Now, pair up, everyone. We’re practicing Stunning today.”

That day, you’d fucking limped out of the classroom. Not to say Draco had gotten it easier—he could barely stand after you Disarmed, Stunned, and hit him with a nasty stinger hex just for the sake of it. (You’d gotten detention, but it was worth it.)

Today’s your second class with Malfoy, and you’ve never wanted more to be able to commit violent actions in your life.

“Please,” you whisper to Hermione as your group enter the DADA classroom. “Just one hex. I won’t even go to Pomfrey. No witnesses. You could just Petrify me, if that’s more to your liking.”

She sighs. “I’m not going to Petrify you.”

“’Mione,” you say, scandalized. “I thought we were friends.”

“Pair up, everyone,” Lupin calls out. Your friends shuffle away and you close your eyes, already getting a headache from the thought of—

“Well, well.” That fucking smarmy voice. “If it isn’t Potter’s little friend.”

“If it isn’t Daddy’s boy,” you snap, opening your eyes and glaring at Malfoy, who already has his wand out. “Bugger off, Malfoy.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.” Draco’s eyes narrow. Clearly, he’s as displeased with the situation as you are. “What are we doing today, then? Can’t wait to knock you down a few notches. Star of the class, my—”

“Patronuses!” Professor Lupin announces from across the room, and your heart soars—Patronuses, you could do that. Harry, months earlier, had taught you how to perfect a corporeal form in exchange for tips on his Astronomy essay. He isn’t here today—maybe you could be the only one in the class to do it.

Lupin continues, “Yes, the Patronus—an essential in the world of Defense magic. We’ll be starting with just the simple basics of it. A strong flick of the wand, and the words ‘Expecto Patronum!’. Say it with me, everyone.”

You chorus the words obediently along with the class, Malfoy’s snort of derision not going unnoticed.

“Good. Good, good, now—the key to the Patronus is to think of a happy memory. It has to be strong. Remember, Dementors feed on misery—it’s the only way to keep them away. Now, go practice. I’ll be walking around to see if there’s any problems.”

“Expecto Patronom,” Malfoy repeats in a mocking voice once the classroom starts filling with the chants of fellow students. “Doesn’t Potter know how to do that one? Heard he can do a deer. Pretty weak animal if you ask me—”

“A stag,” you correct. “And it’s Patronum, not Patronom.”

He glares at you again. “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Certainly smarter than you are.” You glance at him. “Though that’s not saying much, is it?”

You give Fred Weasley, who’d circled around to hear the conversation, a not-discreet fist-bump.

“Alright then.” Malfoy spits out your last name, trying to provoke you. “Let’s see you do it.”

“You try,” you suggest, hiding your smirk. “Unless you’re too scared.”

Draco grits his teeth. Unwilling to back down from a challenge, he brandishes his wand. “Expecto Patronum!”

A thin, wispy light appears at the end of his wand—weak, but clearly visible. Classmates around you murmur as they notice it, and Professor Lupin beams as he sees Draco’s doing. “Very good, Draco! A fantastic start.”

Draco flicks his wand smugly and the Patronus charm dissipates. He smirks, shooting you an expectant look.

You take out your wand, feeling its familiar grip, and you close your eyes. You recall the memory of a weekend in Hogsmeade with your friends, drinking Butterbeer as you stroll through the snowy village, pointing out the shops and people. Unconsciously, you smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Light blazes so bright you can see it under closed eyes, and you open them to find a glowing golden retriever prancing out the end of your wand. It bounds around in the air joyfully, leaving a trail of light where it leaps, and circles the classroom, eventually coming back to you and wagging its tail.

Professor Lupin is grinning, utterly delighted as he takes in your Patronus. Calling your name, he exclaims, “That is phenomenal—you’ve learned fast. Very impressive job!”

You smile back, and your Patronus glows lighter in response. You quickly call it off, the light being a bit too much, and the rest of the class passes by in a haze of awed murmurs and classmates asking your advice on their spellwork. You become so preoccupied, you don’t even notice Draco’s unrelenting stare on your back.

The class ends fast, the bell tolling to signify the start of what would be a study period for you. As students trail out of the classroom, chattering happily, Professor Lupin calls you over.

“Listen, I want you to know that what you did today was truly impressive,” he says, seriously. “I assume Harry laid out the groundwork, yes?”

You nod. He smiles. “You and Harry both are very accomplished students, then. But truly—I doubt many Aurors could’ve managed what you did today.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Your words are sincere.

“My pleasure.” Professor Lupin shoots you an apologetic look. “Now, I’m terribly sorry, but I have off-grounds business to attend to—would you mind setting the classroom to rights? I’m afraid I had to push the desks and chairs back for our class, but I don’t have time to put them back. I’ll write you a note, if you—”

“Oh, no, Professor, don’t worry, it’s a study period. I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you,” he says, relieved, already heading out the door. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll bring chocolate to compensate!”

“Goodbye, Professor!” you call, and he echoes it, and then he’s gone. You look around the classroom, seeing all the desks in the back, and you crack your knuckles. Time to get to work.

“Well. Quite the teacher’s pet, aren’t we?”

Merlin’s fucking beard.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy,” you mutter, turning around to find him leaning against the classroom doorframe. His blond hair glints silver in the sunlight, and his entire outline—his uniform, his stance, his dark gaze—is just… honestly, unfairly attractive.

So maybe your first impression of Draco Malfoy, years ago, wasn’t that he was a self-entitled git. Maybe, just maybe, you’d thought he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

And maybe that feeling never went away.

Not that you’d let him know that.

“What are you doing here?”

“Study period.” He starts walking towards you, shutting the door behind him. “Couldn’t help but be curious as to what Lupin wanted with you.”

“What’s it to you?” you snap. Malfoy doesn’t reply.

“Why do you insist on being so difficult?” he asks instead, and you blink.

“Me?” you splutter. “Difficult? Fat lot of sense that makes, with you fucking insulting me at every move I make—”

“As I recall, our first interaction was you hexing me in third-year.” Malfoy sounds amused.

“You pushed Harry into the lake,” you snap at him. “You bloody well deserved it.”

Draco laughs. “Good times.”

“Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve got quite a mouth.”

“My mouth is also capable of jinxing you three ways to Friday, so I suggest you leave me alone, yeah?” Your fingers twitch towards your wand in preparation, and he only looks on with derision.

“I’m just frightened,” Malfoy sneers. You barely notice him slipping off his rings, pocketing them. “Potter taught you that Patronus charm, didn’t he?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’. Just wondering what else he taught you.” A vengeful mood seems to have taken Draco. “You seem to hang out with him an awful lot.”

“It’s called having friends,” you snap right back. He looks as though he’s about to retort, but you push on. “Unfamiliar with the concept? Wouldn’t be surprised. Crabbe and Goyle don’t seem like the best conversationalists, are they? Just a couple of goons. Wonder why you don’t have better friends. Friends you can actually talk to who operate with more than one braincell.”

“Shut—”

“Maybe it’s because no one wants to be near you,” you continue, years of pent up frustration spilling out in a vitriolic spiel. “Because you’re a miserable bastard who doesn’t know how to be happy, aren’t you? You drive everyone away and then you go after more because you’re lonely and sad and fucking pathetic—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy repeats with a vehemence.

“—and it’s too fucking late to repair the damage you’ve done—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy snarls, and you stare into his narrowed eyes.

“Fucking make me,” you snap back, and he lunges.

You’re pinned against the wall of the classroom, Malfoy’s wand to your throat and a hand fisting your robes to render you immobile. Draco flicks his wand, ever-so-slightly, and you hear the classroom door lock with a wordless spell.

“Malfoy,” you whisper, but he cuts you off.

“Shut the fuck up or I swear you’ll bloody regret it,” he hisses.

“Draco,” you begin, and he curses.

“Fuck it.”

Gripping your robes, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s rough and demanding and you think he’s trying to hurt you, with how much his teeth scrape against your bottom lip and bite down gently, but you’re not pulling away, he’s not pulling away, and you find yourself leaning into the kiss, arching up to meet him—

He breaks away and looks at you, smirking.

“If I’d known that’s what it would take for you to shut your bloody mouth, I’d have done it years ago.”

“Let me go, Malfoy,” you say shakily, but even as he loosens his grip slightly, you show no sign of moving.

“If you’d wanted to leave you’d have Stunned me long ago,” he states, truthfully. Your wand is fully in reach. You know how to do wordless spells. And yet you let him kiss you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, still not moving.

“I think, perhaps,” Draco murmurs, glancing down at your body, “you’re enjoying this.”

“No,” you argue, and his wand digs into your neck—not enough to hurt but enough to register.

“Shh,” Draco hushes, almost condescendingly. “Be quiet, now. That’s a good girl.”

Involuntarily, you shudder at his words. They made your legs weak, and you fight off the urge to audibly whimper—what the hell’s gotten into you?

Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he hasn’t noticed.

Of fucking course he notices.

“Oh?” The shit-eating smirk on his face is enough to make you glare absolute daggers at him. “Don’t give me that. You shivered. You liked it.”

“Shut up,” you say again, with no real strength.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl, sweetheart?” he teases cruelly, and you have to close your eyes to fight off the blush. It doesn’t work, and your face grows hot with embarrassment and arousal.

“Dear me,” Draco says mockingly. “What happened to the spitfire from minutes ago, hm? Still feeling like saying those words to me? Still feeling like being bad?”

Inadvertently, you shake your head.

“Who’s pathetic now?” he mocks, grinning, letting his wand trail a cold path down your neck, over your collarbone, until it rests on the top button of your uniform. “May I?”

The question sounds mocking, but he meets your gaze and you know he’s honestly asking for permission. And you give it to him, nodding, even as your blush deepens. Draco undoes your buttons, one by one, with tiny flicks of his wand, until your shirt is fully unbuttoned and you’re exposed to his gaze.

Draco shoves his wand into his belt and pushes your bra out of the way with an almost laughable urgency, getting a full, appreciative look at your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he murmurs. “Shame they belong to such a fucking headache, hm?”

You grumble some sort of an insult, and Draco pinches a nipple, which shuts you up effectively. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands trail down to your skirt, and instead of undoing the button he leans down and scoops the fabric up. “Here, be good and useful and hold this for me.”

The indifferent praise and the degradation combined has you obeying immediately, hoisting your skirt up and baring yourself to him, which only adds to an eddying swirl of shame and arousal pooling in your gut. Draco looks at you, stares, really, and it’s with a predatory grin that he reaches over to caress you through your panties.

“Soaked,” he observes, sounding both amused and satisfied. “You always get off this much to being treated like a right slut, then?”

“Draco,” you whine, bucking your hips up into his almost phantom touch. “Come on.”

“Is that how we ask nicely?” Oh, this bloody git. You’ll never be able to look at him again—he’s going to be so fucking smug around you.

When you don’t answer, he withdraws his touch completely, and you make a sound of protest. “No, no, please.”

“Go on.”

“Please touch me,” you try, but it’s hard to focus when you’re so goddamn wet you’re soaking through your panties.

“Not quite,” Draco muses. He’s palming himself through his trousers, and the sight turns you on impossibly more. “Come on, then—convince me.”

“Draco, please touch me,” you beg. One of your hands drift down to your panties but he slaps it away immediately, shooting you a warning look. “Please!”

“Touch you where?” He wants you to say it.

“Touch my cunt, please, Draco, fuck, I’m so wet it hurts,” you beg, and it’s true—you’re aching with arousal, and if he doesn’t touch you within the next few seconds you think you really just might combust. “Please, please touch me, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want, just touch me.”

“If only the school could see you now,” he sneers, but even he seems to break his self-control and he tugs your panties down harshly, all but ripping them off. “Baring yourself to me and begging to be touched like a whore.”

“I’m not—oh,” you gasp, his fingers pressing into your cunt immediately and his thumb working on your clit, sending waves of pleasure so potent you almost double over. His fingers are long and thin, which is why he can press two in without preamble, and the stretch is barely noticeable.

“You’re not what? A whore?” Draco laughs. “Please. Look at yourself.”

“’m not,” you insist, but you clench around his fingers at his words and he raises an eyebrow.

“I think you’re lying.” He presses a third finger in and you whine, little sounds of pleasure escaping your lips as he works you open. “Quieter, now, or I’ll have to gag you.”

You bite your lip, and Draco thumbs your clit as a reward and incentive. “Now, tell me what you are. Be truthful, or I won’t fuck you. I’ll leave, leave you here with your shirt hanging open and your skirt up, the doors wide open. Maybe the next bloke who stumbles in might help you.”

Your eyes widen—he wouldn’t. But his gaze is dead serious. “Say it.”

“I’m a whore,” you breathe, and he thrusts his fingers into you, hitting that right spot. “Draco!”

“Say it louder,” he orders, angling his fingers and curling them.

“I’m a whore,” you moan out, bucking your hips upwards—you’re close, you’re so close. “Draco, I—”

He stops moving, and his other hand pinches your clit harshly. “No.”

You let out a gasp of shock and hurt, reeling from the denial and pleasure. “But—”

“You’re not fucking coming until I say so,” Draco hisses, undoing his belt and pushing his trousers down. “And I’m not saying so until I properly fuck you into a bloody wreck.”

His cock is already hard, and he positions himself right at your entrance. You can feel him, his tip pressed against your wetness, but not pushing in. “Draco—”

“I think,” he muses, and you want to scream, “one day I’ll drag you into a broom closet. Fuck your throat so hard you won’t be able to talk for the day. You’ll look pretty, don’t you think?”

“Please—”

“Or I’ll bring you back to my dorm, so I can fuck you until you’re screaming yourself hoarse,” Draco says thoughtfully. “Your dorm works. So long as I can ruin you.”

“Malfoy—”

“Because it’s just so—” and he pushes into you in one swift movement, fucking into you immediately with a fast and rough rhythm, “—fucking nice to see you being a slut for me.”

“Fuck!” You grind your hips along with his rhythm, feeling the tightness of your cunt around his cock, and you clench as he hits your sweet spot with the right angle, almost shaking with the pleasure that it gives you.

Draco groans your name, fucking you brutally as he chases his own release, already pent-up from the teasing and the sight of your wrecked state. “’m gonna come on your tits, would you like that? Get it all fucking messy, maybe get some into your mouth, get you fucking ruined?”

“Please, please, fuck, please let me come,” you plead him, feeling your impending orgasm barrel towards you—you couldn’t last, you can’t fucking last—

“Fucking hold it,” Draco snaps. “Hold it like a good fucking girl, you understand?”

You let out a mournful sound, but you nod—yes, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please—

“Salazar, I’m fucking close,” Malfoy breathes into your ear, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good, love, so bloody tight.”

“Please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re pleading for at this point. Draco exhales shakily and curses, pulling out and pushing you to your knees with such a force that you drop down, your skirt being the only padding.

“Wh—?” you try to ask, but Draco is already pumping his cock and then he’s coming all over your face, some of it dripping down to paint your breasts as he’d promised. Draco leans down to gather some release on a finger and pushes it into your mouth, eyes darkening as you suck and swallow around it.

“Good girl,” he praises, and you almost come right there.

“Draco, please,” you beg, still on your knees and still absolutely fucking desperate for release that he’s been denying you for the past half hour. “Please let me—”

“Alright, spread your legs, c’mon,” Draco guides, and you obey and then he’s there, thumb rubbing steady circles around your clit and two fingers pushing inside you once more. You whine and grind into his fingers, his touch, hips following his movement as he pushes you closer—closer—

“Fuck!” you sob as he senses your impending orgasm and stills his hand. “No—no, why?”

You sound like a petulant child and Draco laughs at you, and it’s an unfair move and a mean sound but it somehow turns you on even more. “I’m just messing, sweetheart.”

Fuck you, you badly want to say, but somehow you feel like that won’t get you what you want.

Draco starts moving again, his fingers gaining speed, and the sound of them pumping in and out of your soaked cunt sounds delightfully dirty. You’re quickly pushed to the edge again, and amidst your pleasure you eye Draco distrustfully.

“Please,” you whisper, and he smirks at you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And he thumbs your clit and you’re coming, gasping with the pleasure and shaking as he eases you through it. His fingers don’t stop moving, even after your orgasm has faded, and you squirm in discomfort as he overstimulates you.

“Stop—please—”

“Promise me you won’t be a bloody pain again,” Draco levels at you, and you want to glare back but his fingers curl inside of you and you yelp with pleasure and pain. “Promise me, or I’ll keep going.”

“I—I won’t be a pain,” you mumble, trying to squeeze your thighs together to get rid of his touch, but he perseveres, flicking your clit mercilessly.

“Say you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good,” you manage, so close to sobbing from the frustration. “Please, Draco, I’ll be good, be good for you, please stop.”

He relents and you feel him draw his hand back. You close your eyes and you hear him tug his trousers back on, buckling his belt. You feel strangely empty without him—without his fingers, his cock, his touch.

Draco produces a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the sweat, drool, and cum off your face, helping you button your shirt back up as well. “You alright?”

“Never better,” you reply, opening your eyes to see him staring at you in concern, all traces of the cruel tease earlier gone. Outside, the sun is setting, casting orange hues into the classroom, and you suddenly remember. “I—oh, bloody hell, I have to arrange the desks for Lupin—”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Draco stands up and takes out his wand, flicking it twice in quick succession. A wordless spell. As you watch, the desks and chairs slide back to where they used to be, neatly arranging themselves in rows.

You’re impressed as he comes back. “What spell is—hey!”

He’s flicked his wand once more and torn your panties clean off your legs.

“Draco—what in Merlin—”

“A souvenir.” Malfoy smirks, stuffing your soaked panties into the pocket of his trousers. “And payment for the desks.”

“You’re a bloody prick,” you say, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Careful now, love. Remember what you promised.” Draco’s tone is playful, but warning. “I’m a man of my word, so you should choose yours carefully. Next time I won’t be as gentle.”

Caught off-guard, you can only nod obediently, which seems to please him. But you can’t promise you won’t slip back into old habits the very next day. Whatever the case, one thing was clear—there would almost certainly be a next time.

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Requests & asks are open! Here is the guide on requests, if you'd like to check that out first. Hope you enjoyed!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter #golden era #hp #draco imagine #draco smut #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco x you #draco oneshot

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sara-scribbles · 2 years ago

Text

From Almyra

Claude/F!Byleth Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses Word Count: 2,716 Note: Just something I've been working on for awhile. I like the idea that Claude wrote letters to Byleth. Warning(s): None

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“So you’re really leaving?” she asks.

Claude sighs. “I have some things I need to take care of first.” His gaze softens as he gazes at her face. “I promise I’ll be back. Plus you’ll have your hands full, your highness.”

She gently holds his hand in her own. “Be safe.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” He gives her a playful wink. “I actually have something for you.” Rummaging through one of his packs, he pulls out a tightly bounded stack of letters.

The weight of them surprises her as he hands them over. “Light reading material before bed?”

“During the five years you were gone, I wrote letters.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It was something I did so when you came back, you’d be able to catch up on everything you missed.” She glances at the stack trying to count how many there were. “Seteth has the rest,” he adds.

“Rest?” Just how many are there she wonders.

Claude mounts his wyvern. “Read them when you miss me, Byleth.” Giving her a salute and a grin, he flies off.

She chuckles as she watches him vanish into the distance. Returning to her room, she places the stack of letters on her night table. Breathing deeply, she goes into the meeting where a pile of work greets her. Her new advisors are already gathered with requests on their lips.

“First call to order…”

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It’s a few days before Byleth finally gets around to reading Claude’s letters. Sitting in bed, she carefully unties the bundles. Each envelope is dated on the front. Breaking the seal off the first letter, she starts to read.

Imperial Year 1181 25th of the Ethereal Moon

Hey Teach, it’s been exactly a year since you disappeared. When do you plan on coming back? Maybe tomorrow? Well, when you do decide to come back, let me know. Send me a signal so I can pick you up! Things have changed a lot here.

Can you believe I’m now the official leader of the Leicester Alliance? My old man...well he’s gone now. Probably for the best with this war going on. Though Lorenz doesn’t think I’m fit to be leader; but he's always thought that.

Speaking of Lorenz, he’s gone back home to help his father. All the Golden Deers have gone home. The war has forced everyone to separate so they can help their families. Well maybe except Hilda. She’s probably living it up at home with no work to do. Though I wonder how much time she can get off with her brother around…

Anyways, when you decide to come back, I’ll be waiting.

Imperial Year 1181 18th of the Guardian Moon

Who knew running the Alliance would be so much work. The nobles are always calling meeting after meeting. It gets tiring that I just want to nap.

I’m starting to sound like Linhardt…

These meetings are supposed to help with strategizing but all they do is argue. Count Gloucester is one of the most vocal during these meetings.

I’m pretty sure he’d betray the Alliance if he could. Lorenz isn’t his father, but he follows his orders... Hopefully the Count will stay placated until my plans come to fruition. It’s a waiting game, this war. The princess, or I guess I should call her the emperor, is taking over land after land. I don’t know what happened to Dimitri, but from the news we’ve heard, the kingdom is in turmoil.

Here I am talking about war to you. This must be really boring to read. How’s the weather where you are, Teach? Are you resting well?

Imperial Year 1181 1st of the Pegasus Moon

Apparently the turmoil in the Holy Kingdom has reached its boiling point. The royal family has been overthrown. Faerghus is now supporting the Empire. Sounds like a lot of scheming went on. I’m not sure who she is, but a woman named Cornelia seems to be behind all this. I wonder what happened to his highness…

I’m doing the best I can for the Alliance, but the nobles don’t really see what I’m trying to do. This war, it’s not good. And right now I don’t want to bring us into it. It may be selfish, but it’s the best course of action. What would you do, Teach? You’ve always been a woman of action. Yet you always acted with careful thought.

Your guidance would be a wonderful thing right now. But don’t worry, my mind has already come up with a number of strategies. Hopefully these will last until this war ends.

Imperial Year 1181 6th of the Lone Moon

There are times I think back to our academy days. I remember our first meeting like it was yesterday. I’ll admit, I didn’t think much of you except that you might be of use to my plans. Who would have thought how much things would change in such a short time. You led the Golden Deers without hesitation or looking back.

I admire that about you. Always looking ahead. I’ve told myself to look forward. To look forward to the future I imagine. That’s what's fueled me for so long. The future I imagine seemed possible with you leading us. Though you’re gone at the moment, I still believe that my ambitions can come true. And you’ll be back to see it all.

Lorenz has already started to believe you won’t return. But I can’t. You’re a fighter, Teach. And one small drop won’t keep you down forever. I can feel it. You’re out there somewhere waiting to come back.

When you do, we should have tea together. I can catch you up on everything going on.

Imperial Year 1182 31st of the Great Tree Moon

There’s one person you have to meet. Make it two. But one of them is Judith, the Hero of Daphnel. She doesn’t care about status or wealth. She cares about the people. That’s more than I can say for some of the Alliance nobles.

Still she’s always calling me ‘boy’ even though I’m not a kid anymore. Yeesh, can’t she just call me by my name like everyone else? Well she calls Lorenz ‘Gloucester boy’ so I guess it’s not so bad.

Imperial Year 1182 13th of the Harpstring Moon

War talks can get rather long and tedious. Some of the nobles want to go to war while others are more hesitant. There are those who don’t fear the power of the Empire. And those who do but see it as a way to pick the winning side if all else fails. What to do?

I don’t plan on losing. I’m sure Edelgard knows that since she’s been careful around our territory. Unlike before, these aren’t mock battles that we can turn around and laugh about later.

Imperial Year 1182 11th of the Garland Moon

Is it strange I don’t have faith in the gods? It’s not that I hate them or anything like that. It’s more that I rather have faith in myself. Having faith in my own abilities means I have control over what happens. If something goes wrong I only have myself to blame. And if something goes right, well, it was by my own hands.

You’re probably wondering why I’m bringing this up all of a sudden, right? I happened to see Marianne in prayer a few days ago. Her father was here for a meeting and she came along. Seeing her so deep in her prayers made me wonder.

Imperial Year 1182 21st of the Blue Sea Moon

Did you ever want to just run away from a situation? Just go somewhere far away where no one knows you? But would that actually solve your problems? What if in the new place you face the same problems? What if there’s no escape no matter how far you run?

What would you do then?

Imperial Year 1182 16th of the Verdant Rain Moon

Was my last letter strange? Sorry about that. Sometimes I find myself too deep in my own thoughts. But you understand this, Teach, right? You don’t have to answer any of those questions right away. But I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Imperial Year 118 20th Horsebow Moon

Happy birthday, Teach! Too bad we can’t celebrate it with a big party. You wouldn’t let us do it last time either, but I had a whole plan for your next. Don’t worry, I promise to throw you a party for every year you’re not here. Who knows, maybe we’ll be partying all year?

I sincerely wish you the best, Teach. You deserve it.

Imperial Year 1182 10th of the Wyvern Moon

It’s getting cooler now. The light doesn’t last as long. The meetings continue to drag on and on. Most of the nobles just like to hear themselves talk.

Imperial Year 1182 18th of the Red Wolf Moon

With winter coming, it seems that the Empire has stopped its movement. At least this will give us sometime to discuss a better plan. We argue about the same things every day. Perhaps I could join the war, but the timing isn’t right. You know me, Teach. If the timing isn’t right, I can’t put my plans in motion.

Imperial Year 1182 25th of the Ethereal Moon

It’s strange. Today is the founding of Garreg Mach, and yet that isn’t the reason I remember it. I’m reminded of your lessons and tea times. The numerous times you kicked everyone’s butt in training.

Another year is ending and a new one will start soon. Hope you’re doing well wherever you are, Teach. Here’s to another year.

Imperial Year 1183 3rd of the Pegasus Moon

Today is Hilda’s birthday, which she decided to remind me of since I forgot last year. She’s not going to have a party, though I don’t think she minds. Even with all the free time she has, she spends a lot of it avoiding her brother since he wants her to work. She at least likes the gift I got her.

I sometimes wish I could have a day to myself. But it doesn’t seem like that will be happening any time soon.

Imperial Year 1183 9th of the Harpstring Moon

It’s been a busy couple of months since I last wrote. As the war drags on, we have to consider those who are impacted the most. The people can only hold out for so long. Transport of supplies has been slow due to the conflict. The Empire has renewed their attacks and inch closer to the edges of the Alliance every day.

But of course we can’t seem to come to an agreement on most things. At least they have decided to send aid to the people who are being affected the most. It’s a start.

Imperial Year 1183 28th of the Blue Sea Moon

With all the work, I forgot about my birthday until now. It’s a little late, but there are more pressing issues. I still have the gift you gave me for my birthday. Nothing too exciting happened. I’m sure you would've thrown me a great tea party.

Maybe next time?

Imperial Year 1183 31st of the Wyvern Moon

It’s fall already… Sometimes looking up at the stars, I can forget everything. My dreams, worries, and problems seem small compared to the vastness of the sky. Regardless of where we are, the stars will always be the same. Bright, twinkling balls of energy.

Imperial Year 1184 1st of the Guardian Moon

Nothing to report! Hah, did I get you?

I sometimes find myself thinking about the academy days. They were simple times where our biggest worries were passing. Seems like forever ago doesn’t it, Teach?

Imperial Year 1184 15th of the Lone Moon

What am I going to do with Count Gloucester? It’s only speculation on my part, but he’s changed his tune. It was an offhand comment on how this war might be better for us.

Those who benefit from war are always the nobles. Those who are well off already tend to remain unscathed. It’s not unheard of for nobles to switch sides if they think it will benefit them. I’m not saying Lorenz’s father would do such a thing, but one has to wonder…

Imperial Year 1184 22nd of the Garland Moon

It’s been raining most of the month. I guess they don’t call it the rainy season for nothing. I’m going on a trip in a few days. Can’t tell you where I’m going yet, but hopefully it’ll help with the war.

Knowing you, you’d be worried about me going off on my own. I’ll be fine. I promise I’ll tell you all about it when I can.

Imperial Year 1184 8th of the Horsebow Moon

Did you miss me, Teach? My trip was somewhat successful. Though some of it didn’t go as planned. Have you ever met someone so stubborn in your life? He might be old, but he is still pigheaded…

Anyways, I’ll tell you more about it later.

Imperial Year 1184 27th of the Ethereal Moon

Not much going on. With winter, the Empire slows their movements. I wonder how their people are doing with this war? Based on my intel, the Holy Kingdom’s people are not doing so well. I guess it’s to be expected with power hungry people ruling. Still no sign of the prince, though I doubt he’s dead. Dimitri is made of stronger stuff.

It’s almost been five years since we last saw each other, Teach. I’m not sure if you’d recognize me now. I’ve grown a lot. But I still think I’m the same Claude as before, just with a shinier title.

When we meet up, you have to tell me where you went and what you did. I look forward to our reunion.

Imperial Year 1185 13th of Garland Moon

It’s Lorenz’s birthday as he was so kind to remind me. I didn’t have time to plan a special gift for him, so I gave him a regular gift. The way he opened my present so carefully, you would’ve thought I put a stink bomb in there or something. He seemed pleased enough with the gift, and I even avoided a long winded lecture.

Oh, it’s raining again.

Imperial Year 1185 22nd of the Verdant Rain Moon

Sometimes I forget how beautiful the world can be. And then nature decides to remind me. I saw a double rainbow while flying. Some say it’s a sign of luck from the gods. You know how I feel about gods, Teach.

Still it was a sight to behold. And for a second I felt happy. It was fleeting, but it reminded me of what I’m fighting for. I want everyone to be able to enjoy the wonders of nature together free from prejudices and worry.

Sounds really sappy now that I read it aloud. But it doesn’t change how I feel. My dream remains the same.

Imperial Year 1185 25th of the Red Wolf Moon

In a month, we’ll be having our reunion. I’m sure you’ll be there, Teach. You’re never one to disappoint. And when we finally get together, there’s a lot I need to tell you.

There’s a lot I can’t say in these letters because I need to see your face. I promised myself that I would tell you the truth. No more hiding behind schemes. Though I guess I never could hide from your sharp eyes.

Imperial Year 1185 26th of the Ethereal Moon

It’s only been a few minutes since the new day. Yet, I can’t sleep. Not after finally seeing you again.

I started writing these because it meant you would read them someday. It became a habit to write to you when something came to mind. Even when I didn’t have time, I would compose letters in my head. But now that you’re here, I guess I don’t have to write these any more.

I’m not sure when I’ll give these to you since it seems like things are moving quickly. But I’m glad you’re here. Once we have a moment of rest, I want to tell you something. Until then, we’ll focus on the battles ahead.

Together we can carve out the future.

#fe3h imagines #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #claude von reigen #fe3h claude #claude x byleth #scenario

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