#tomestobetold

[of-invisible-ties]

@tomestobetold II @ Lissa!

It had been weeks since that fateful day when Chrom had been slain at the Dragon’s Table. Word of his death, however, was whispered only as a rumor. No one was sure what had transpired that day, but most believed he was dead.

Frederick was among them. The knight had mourned quietly, and had been there to support Lissa through her grief. 

As the weeks passed, Risen activity increased. There were more and more of them, and the Shepherds were called to deal with their swell in numbers.

Chrom should’ve known Lissa was among them. His sister, ever selfless, would fight for the people to the bitter end.

He hated that she had to see him like this. His revived corpse smelled of death, and, as time wore on, his memories of his life would dissipate, one by one. But he still remembered Lissa. 

So, he orders the Risen that surrounded her to retreat. His voice sounds hoarse, coming from a mouth that should not move. Grima’s power, which moved his body, tried to rebuff his command. Grima wanted death and blood.

He wouldn’t let them take Lissa. 

“I said retreat,” he orders the Risen. His red eyes gleamed with fury, and the Risen obeyed. He turns to Lissa, and his grief and sadness are written plainly on his face.

“Run, sister. I can’t hold them for long.”

[sweptawxy]

Gimme that second born Mercidue kid.

Name: Barette

Gender: Male

General Appearance: He takes a lot of his appearance from his father, though his eyes are a pale blue like his mom (unlike the faceclaim gfdgdfg)

Personality: He's a little outspoken and brash, very emotional, he doesn't like hearing people talk badly about the ones he loves, but he also has a big heart.

Special Talents: He was never tested for a crest like his older sister, but he is pretty good at weilding an axe. (for chopping ofc)

Who they like better: He's a mama's boy

Who they take after more: Dedue

Personal Head canon: He's terrible at cooking and a clutz

[fckedawxy]

Dedue spots her from the corner of his eye, standing up so he can look at her better from where he was squatting. His shirt is tight, and he has lost no muscle definition since settling down with her. “Mercedes, are you okay?”

[nobilismare]

@tomestobetold​ ; starter because I said so

Nailah had brought Rafiel to a place close to the castle with enough shade to not overheat the already sensitive heron. She had instructed Volug to give the two of them some privacy and not let anyone interrupt them. They were here for an important moment. One the Queen wasn’t so sure of whether it was necessary, accepting the man in front of her the way he was, with and without his flaws but it obviously meant a lot to him. 

“You don’t have to push yourself, Rafiel.“ She started but she commended him for wanting to try. It had been a few years since they first met and she knew how far he had come from the dark place that he was in, weak and hurt beyond belief. Any seemingly small victory was a great one and she admired his strength to stand where he was today.

“I won’t think any less of you if it doesn’t work out.“ Herons have never been in Hatari, no one even knew they still existed, but she had to admit that she was curious to see what he looked like. His large, white wings were already a sight to behold. To think she might be the first to witness his transformation... It was a special moment indeed and she didn’t want to take that away from him.

“If you still wish to do it, I’ll be right here.“

[armatization-a]

( @tomestobetold )

❝ Please don’t freak out…but I’m pregnant. I SAID DON’T FREAK OUT. ❞ -Lissa to Chrom

[ everything baby ; accepting ]

"What? What in the world do you mean, you’re pregnant?!” Of course she’d said ‘don’t freak out’ - twice. But this was a rarely seen mode for Chrom - protective older brother. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, and didn’t take care of her, but he wasn’t exactly wrapping her up and keeping her safe from the world.

Maybe if he had, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Gods,” he sighed, hand in his hair. “Whose is it? No, I don’t want to know. Wait, I take it back - I do. Whose is it?” It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Who in the world would think taking Lissa to bed was a good idea? Vaike? Stahl? Oh gods, she’d finally given in on her crush on Frederick, hadn’t she?

He didn’t know what he would do if he found out. Shake them down, probably, and make sure they take responsibility. Did they both want a child? Was this an accident? Chrom couldn’t tell what was worse: an accident or planned. His head was screaming with a thousand thoughts, but he couldn’t articulate any of them. Come on Chrom, Lissa needs you. 

“What are you going to do?” he asked. What could she do? She was going to be a mother. Those few words kept swirling in his head. “What do you want to do?” There were options to explore, though none of them good. If the child had the Brand, then they would be too obvious to simply hide away in an orphanage.

What had Lissa done?

[mementofloreo-archived]

"Baby's awake..." Lissa & Robin, for @tomestobetold !

"I'll get him," robin is already murmuring, "You go back to sleep, love."

He presses a kiss against the side of Lissa's neck before he pulls away and rises to tend to their son.

Owain's fussing is halfhearted and sleepy even as he squirms in his little crib. A few crocodile tears have rolled down his tiny face, and he reaches out with stubby little arms the moment he sees Robin bending down.

The fussing dies down almost immediately, once Robin has Owain held snugly against his chest. Tiny, teary Owain curls, cuddles close against his father. A few moments of bouncing and exactly two hiccups later, the baby is fast asleep again.

Robin is unsurprised. Sometimes Owain awakes in the night and fusses simply because he wants to be held to sleep. Robin's taken to checking on him first as a result. Because at times like this it's a simple matter to put him in a cloth sling and return to bed, sleeping propped up a bit more. Lissa doesn't have to feed him, they don't have to change him. One minute for Papa to get them settled and the entire family is able to return to rest.

Lissa has also gotten used to this. By the time he shuffles back to their bed, Robin's wife has already sleepily arranged their pillows against the headboard so that they both can sleep propped against them. He slides back under the blankets with Owain soothed by his heartbeat. Lissa ducks under his free arm to cuddle against his other side and he relaxes, idly playing with her hair.

There are times when Owain wails, when they're up for ages trying to get him settled down. Parenthood is every bit as chaotic and unpredictable as it is rewarding, and there's no doubt that once Morgan comes along it will double. But there are also tranquil, quiet moments like this. And Robin wouldn't trade any moment, hectic or otherwise, for the world. (How could he? Even the most exhausting days are filled to the brim with a blissful feeling. Basking in the reality of having a family, of loving and being loved. All the soft, gentle, human things that his upbringing tried to gut from him, now thriving and embraced. He would never give that up.)

[masked-paladin]

[ HAND ] ❤️-Rinea

At this point, it was more of a formality than anything, to take her hand and kiss the back after requesting a dance. Free as the Zofian Court was, even here, there were still a few rules. Sweeping Rinea out onto the dancefloor was done carefully, with gentle assurance. They could lose themselves in the quiet between them once there, the couple unlikely to part or even so much as cease dancing until the night at last drew to a close. After all, it was -- when politics allowed -- the one way the husband and wife could bear festivities. The smooth repetition and closeness to his wife soothed Conrad's discomfort and anxiety, while he hoped his presence could do the same for her own. A step or two slower than the rest, the pair only had eyes for each other, wholly lost in their own world where only they two existed.

There, in that moment, nothing else mattered.

@tomestobetold

[winter-sword]

After Felix, Ingrid should have been the first person Gwenn approached after arriving at the monastery. Instead, the Goddess had thrown Felix, Dimitri, and Sylvain at her first, leaving the woman who may or may not have still been her betrothed for the last out of those closest to the swordswoman. As expected, Gwenn found Ingrid in the stables, and discovered herself more worried than she had about anything else since realizing she was alive after the nightmare that was Duscur. Somehow she kept her expression neutral, resisting the urge to tug at the end of her own braid anxiously, gloved hands clasped behind her back out of habit. Her voice was steadier than she felt when she spoke, and was only slightly pitched up, not wanting to discomfit the blonde more than she likely already did.

“Ingrid, might I... have a moment of your time?”

@tomestobetold​

[xblazingblade]

@tomestobetold​ // Cont. from here.

The sharp retort was not entirely unexpected; he’d seen her, had seen the fire that burned in her eyes, knew how sharp she could be. He had known not the details of her hardships however, only that she’d suffered, and to hear it so plainly put brought to mind not pity but instead, admiration for how she managed to carry on.

“Apologies. I hadn’t meant anything by it,” he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. He’d really only been seeking something that they might be able to discuss. He’d found a means to connect with Olberic’s other companions and yet, Primrose had kept her distance from him thus far; he felt no closer to bridging the gap now.

“All the more impressive then, that we’re both still standing,” he offered instead. “And fortunate, to find ourselves in good company now.”

[soulcluster-moved]

continued from x / @tomestobetold

When Frederick had the idea to try out this new tea (his lord would appreciate a change every now and then in his refreshments), he thought first of Sumia. Surely, as a lady of her caliber, she would have insight into the blend that he would not. Subconsciously, it was a nice way to spend time with her. 

“I did not know you baked. I have heard this tea pairs well with chocolate. Perhaps something of that nature?” Even though she offered, however, he worried. “I’m sure whatever you make will be pleasant. I have no small amount of baking skill myself, should you wish an extra pair of hands.”

[of-invisible-ties]

@tomestobetold​ II continued from here

His father had left him with quite the mess of a kingdom. Xander had found dozens of unjust punishments meted out to those who didn’t deserve it. Not to mention the survivors of Garon’s wrath -- they were so many provinces who threatened rebellion now that he was gone, and Xander had to get them back in line. That had been a grueling task, but he’d survived and Nohr was better for it.

Eventually, the king stumbled upon old documents from Garon’s time. Leo helped him handle those and kept record of everything, and one particular document had caught the king’s eye that day. It was written in a cipher neither he nor his advisors knew to decode. The decoding efforts were underway, of course, and they had finally yielded a location. 

Xander took his knights to investigate. Something told him that this matter demanded a king’s presence. His knights surrounded the old manor as he ventured inside. A force of this sort would startle anyone, and that was why he assured the woman he faced that he meant her no harm. 

She didn’t need his assurance. He could tell she didn’t fear him at all. Then she poses her question, and he furrows a brow, not following her implication. 

She was too old for her son to realize who she was. He’d always remember the mother he’d lost, but he knew her only by her youthful face. 

“Apologies, my lady, but I do not.”

“Have we met? And, for that matter, how do you know me?”

[sweptawxy]

“Not liking someone is perfectly fine. There are those who I am not fond of myself.” If he could point a stare at Henry, he would. And everyone was very familiar with how he did not like Robin at the start either. “However, spreading baseless rumors, misinformation, and saying things just for the fun of being horrible is not okay, and it should not be happening.” Though he stood down- slightly. He wasn’t happy about it but he did not want to upset Lissa either. 

[macuilsung]

@tomestobetold​ liked for a starter! (open)

“ECHO!!”

ECHO! Echo! Echo... echo...... echo.........

Call it complete and utter boredom from living in a pit for a good few weeks, or grim acceptance that yes, this is what his life amounts to now. Whatever the case, at least it beat listlessness. Forwin woke up from bed this morning (or... afternoon? dead of night? it’s impossible to tell) with a burst of energy, a craving to do something, and by the Goddess, he’ll do exactly that!

Hey, exploring beyond central Abyss was something!

It got him moving into the depths to test out the acoustics—a musician has to know what they’re working with here, you know—and shouting out to hear just how far is voice reverberated within the bowels of Garreg Mach actually brought laughter to bubble from his chest. Sure, it might be childish, but it definitely brought him some joy.

...wait...

...how far did he go exactly?

How long has he been walking for, again...?

All these corridors are starting to look the same-

“...oh Seiros no.”

[nobilismare]

@tomestobetold​​ ; ask answered

Kagero: “Orochi, please don’t make this situation worse for His Highness. Please.”

"You know I was joking, Kagero. What’s a little fun between us? Had I known it involved Princess Camilla, I might not have pushed him to indulge her on this matter... But the stars are watching over Lord Ryoma so he’ll be fine!”

[armatization-a]

With a heavy sigh, Zelkov next approaches Lapis. He hates this and looks to be developing an anxious twitch under his left eye. "I will simply try to be as blunt as possible. Lapis, will you... be my date for the Day of Devotion?"

"I- WHAT?!"

No. Noooooo. No!!! There isn't anything wrong with Zelkov, if you ignore, uh, the ever-present darkness. And the way of speaking that sounds like he's always implying something. It freaks her out. A little. Can she say that? No, she can't. She's got to let him down gently. Kindly. Easily. She's never rejected anyone before.

"Oh, I would, but that day, I'm..." Well, the reality is she's planning on asking someone else as her date. He can't know that. She hardly even wants to tell her potential future date!

"I'm so busy that day, and-" She looks around, pantomiming hearing something. "What's that, Prince Alcryst? An emergency? Sure!" And she runs.

[mementofloreo-archived]

@tomestobetold || parenting prompts || not currently accepting this is OLDDDD

The overwhelming wave of emotion he feels hearing Ophilia say those words leaves Ewan with tears poking at his eyes and his throat tightening almost painfully.

Because it's his wife saying that. Because when Ophilia says it, her voice is soft, weighed down into quiet by her love. As a mother, and as a wife. And Ewan is reminded that this is his family. (She chose him, she chose him, she chose him)

Derek is already ten months old. Ewan feels like he's growing leaps and bounds every day. Like he was born only yesterday- and other times, he can't imagine his life before fatherhood at all.

He's just arrived home after a few days away in the Woodlands near S'warkii, helping H'aanit with some preparations for the approach of winter(Zaanta is healthy, but he is older now, and not always able to do some of the things he once could).

He had hardly kicked the snow off of his boots just inside the front door of the parsonage and his wife had appeared, shuffling quickly down the stairs with their baby held snug against her shoulder, already saying she'd seen him from the nursery window.

Now Ewan is holding Derek- the moment he had seen Ewan, his tiny hands had left the fabric of Ophilia's sweater and reached for his father, grasping frantically, babbling urgently.

That was rather heartwarming all on its own. Derek is already quiet and content again, one hand curled tightly against the index of Ewan's free hand. He's a very quiet baby, really, even when upset or fussy. He makes plenty of noise then, but even from the start he hasn't been loud in the way most would expect an infant to be.

His hair has come in more now, and what was initially just a bit of fuzz is now little wisps of a pinkish orange, contrasting the rich blue eyes he's inherited from his father.

Ophilia stands on her toes at his side, tugs his face down and presses a long, firm kiss on his jaw, following by nosing against the prickly stubble there.

“I missed you terribly,” she murmurs. Ewan frees his finger from Derek's grasp without much effort and turns so he can gather his wife close to his chest.

“I wasn't even gone a week,” He replies, though he understands. He always misses her when they have to spend time apart. Trying to sleep at night without her in his arms feels uncanny and wrong now. She's as much a part of him as an arm or leg.

“And it was still too long.” Ophilia's voice is muffled by the way she buries her face against his shoulder. She inhales deeply, probably taking in his scent(lumber and leather, faint hints of aftershave and coffee).

“But,” she adds, “Derek's eyes are just like yours now...they made it easier. Sort of like a reassurance, I suppose. Part of you is here with me always now, in him.”

“You,” he says, and leans down to kiss her firmly on the mouth, “Mrs. Hiller, are incurably sentimental.”

“Remind me again who it was that cried when we were at the altar?” She retorts lightly. And he retaliates by bending down and hoisting her up to carry her at his hip. Derek burbles at the movement.

“I believe it was both of us in tears by the end, madam,” He says, “Now then, I can smell the stew simmering, and we can't let it sit too long, can we?”

Ophilia hums in assent. Ewan places her on the floor again to straighten his boots on the doormat and remove his coat and scarf(switching between arms to manage Derek).

The mid-autumn evening is getting dark, sunset nearly passed. Flamesgrace's street lamps are blinking to life, and the taverns are probably in the midst of welcoming evening diners and pub regulars. His mother is probably lightly scolding over his niece and nephew tramping snow across the front room's floor as they scamper into the townhouse she, their mother and the children share. (He hadn't yet stopped by to see them, but they would expect him to make a beeline for Ophilia by now anyway.)

Palaces and etiquette lessons are a far off dream now. And fire and ware and pain and loss still leave an aching scar on him, and on his wife. But they have built between them a warm hearth, the comfort of fingers entwined and breaths matched, pulses pattering around each other in a silent little song, one they can hear like the chime of little bells when they look at each other.

One that rises like the swell of a tide when they look at their son.

Ewan doesn't know where his life would have taken him, had Hornburg never fallen. If the war had never happened.

There are all manner of things that could have gone differently in his life at so many junctures, and it can be melancholy, thinking about the 'could-bes' of the past, but when he looks at the present, he knows he's exactly where he wants to be. Where he feels he belongs.

He prays often, silent little pleas. To Aelfric, and to his own patron deity Balogar, to all the gods, really.

Let me find her, he begs them, No matter the world. Let me always find her somehow, let me be blessed enough to be loved by her. In every life.