#while dimitri is still trying to come to grips with the idea

[iturbide]

Actually, could you clarify what happens in the scene where Dimitri learns Edelgard is the Flame Emperor? Like, what does “might have murdered her if not for Claude” mean? Like, did he actually make an attempt on her life or did he just consider it? It sounds like a very intense but complicated scene, I do not want to make assumptions about it.

You know what? I actually have the better part of that written out so I'll just give you the scene itself (starting with Dimitri's PoV and transitioning to Claude's at the * break near the end)

“Hey, you never know,” the archer winked. “Maybe we’ll have some miraculous fix -- like that tea for headaches.”

“I...do thank you, Claude, for your generosity, but I don’t imagine this will do more than dull the edge from it.”

“You could at least give it time to take effect before dismissing it,” the princess chided.

“Nothing else has worked in the past, why should this be different?”

That was rather more than he’d meant to say. The pain had a way of making his judgment lax.

“...does it usually go away on its own, then?” the Leicester heir ventured.

“...it does not go away,” Dimitri sighed. “It only sharpens or dulls.”

“For how long?” Edelgard frowned.

“...since Duscur.”

Silver or not, he doubted his teacup would survive much more abuse, and set it aside before folding his hands tight. Claude reached out to touch his shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze that the prince barely felt. “It must have been hard, losing your dad, and then all the turmoil after…”

“I was there.”

The whispered words left a deafening silence in their wake. “I was the only survivor. My father, my step-mother, my friends...most everyone I knew and cared for died in the attack, by the blades of our attackers or by the flames that consumed our caravan. I can still remember...the faces, the screams, the tortured last moments of every soul lost that day…”

He could hear them now, ringing in his ears, nearly enough to drown out the sound of his own voice. Bowing his head, he pressed his hands tight against his brow, drawing in a slow, unsteady breath. “Ever since, the ache has been there. Sometimes it grows worse, but even at its best it never truly fades. Food and drink have no taste whatsoever. All that remains is the pain, and the memory of those beasts that slaughtered my family.”

“...the people of Duscur, you mean,” the princess ventured.

“No,” he growled. “The people of Duscur did not commit that vile act. I saw the true culprits that day: pale as death with blades of black steel, and mages in beaked masks raining fire down upon us all. The people of Duscur bore the blame for a crime they did not commit, but no one would listen to me -- they told me I was in shock, confused, mistaken, but I know what I saw. And so I know that the Flame Emperor bears the blame.

“Impossible,” Edelgard scoffed.

“The same masked mages I saw that day have been present each time he appeared,” Dimitri snapped. “He commands them -- leads them -- what other explanation is there?”

“Our professor told me that they spoke with the Flame Emperor, who insisted he was not involved in the incident at Remire Village,” she pressed. “You cannot say with certainty that he was involved in Duscur.”

“You would believe that monster!?” the prince scoffed.

“We have no reason to disbelieve him--”

“He kidnapped a child!”

“Or even if he didn’t, he orchestrated the escape of someone involved,” Claude pointed out.

“Yet if your theory is true, and Flayn is in fact a dragon…”

“What, you think that gives them the right to kidnap and torture her?” the archer asked.

“She’s not human--”

“She’s still a living being. She feels fear and pain, just like you do.”

“I’m sorry, Flayn is a what now?” Dimitri interrupted.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I didn’t have a chance to fill you in. It’s, uh...well, it’s my conspiring that I can’t put on hold, y’know. We’re thinking Flayn is Saint Cethleann and also a dragon.”

Dimitri was quite glad to be sitting, because he feared he would have fallen otherwise. As it stood, the archer’s words left his head spinning so violently that he rather felt like laying down. “Look, it’s complicated, I can explain later if you want but right now just operate under the assumption that Flayn is actually a dragon in disguise.”

“...quite a convincing disguise,” the prince mumbled.

“Right? It’s easy to take her for the sheltered daughter of an old noble family, with the way she talks.”

“I think we’re veering far from the topic at hand,” the princess warned.

“Are we?” Claude replied. “Because I think it says a lot that Flayn can sit in a classroom with a bunch of human students and pass for one of them without anyone batting an eye. You’re gonna say that just because she’s different, she doesn’t deserve to be treated with the same respect you’d show anyone else here in the monastery?”

“You mean scraping and bowing as Rhea demands?”

“Did I say ‘the same respect you’d show the archbishop’?” the Leicester heir shot back. “No, I said anyone else here. The respect you’d show Petra, or Bernadetta, or Dorothea, or Lysithea.”

“But she is--”

“What. Not like us? Are you really gonna say ‘it’s okay for her to be snatched away from her loving family in the dead of night, kept in a dungeon, and bled for who even knows what purpose because she’s not human’?”

“I’m only saying that it puts her abduction in a new context worthy of consideration,” Edelgard replied carefully.

“Not really,” Claude scoffed. “All it does is explain why she was targeted. It doesn’t change the act itself.”

She sighed, touching a hand to her brow. “Regardless. Assuming we can take the Flame Emperor at his word--”

“Which I doubt,” Dimitri muttered.

“...then perhaps Duscur was another case where Solon acted of his own accord. The Flame Emperor did say that more violence would surely follow if they were left to their own devices -- perhaps Duscur was simply an earlier case, and Remire the most recent.”

“That sure is a lot of ‘if’s,” Claude mused. “So, tell me, Princess: is there a reason you’re advocating so hard on the Flame Emperor’s behalf?”

She met his gaze without expression. “I think it merits consideration.”

“He is involved with kidnappers, murderers, and monsters who hold no regard for human life,” the prince growled. “That speaks plain of his character.”

“Perhaps he has no alternative but to associate with them.”

“Wow, you’re starting to sound like me with this wild speculation,” the Leicester heir remarked. “Where’s it all coming from?”

“As I said, I believe all possibilities merit equal consideration--”

“And yet you can’t imagine that Flayn is anything but a monster?”

“We cannot condemn without evidence of a crime, and association alone is not criminal,” she pointed out.

“Are you the Flame Emperor?”

Everything went still and cold and deathly silent. Dimitri found himself unable to breathe while Claude sipped his tea, watching the Adrestian princess over the rim of his cup. “What possible reason could you have to ask that?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ve got lots of reasons,” he smiled, setting his drink aside. “You’re never around when the Flame Emperor shows up, for instance: the first time, in the dungeon where Flayn was being held, you helped Hanneman get Manuela to the infirmary, but he claims you left immediately once she was in the monks’ care. The Knights of Seiros didn’t even know what was going on until Teach carried Flayn out, so you obviously weren’t calling in the cavalry. Which, y’know, I thought was weird, but I was willing to call it a coincidence: maybe it took longer to get Manuela to the infirmary, and the fighting was done before you could get the word out.

“But then in Remire, you’d gone looking for survivors, and the Flame Emperor vanished when Hubert showed up in an absolute frenzy because you’d disappeared. Hubert is practically glued to your side at all times unless you specifically order him not to be. Petra said he’d gone with you when you went searching, too. I figured it was possible that you split up and he was alarmed when he couldn’t find you on finishing his rounds -- but then, why couldn’t he find you? The man’s as methodical as they come, he would have searched everywhere before panicking. Possibly twice. With magic, even, who knows. So where exactly did you go?”

“I…”

“And now here you are, advocating that the Flame Emperor -- the man who, up to this point, we’ve viewed as the one in charge of the forces that kidnapped Flayn and caused that disaster in Remire -- isn’t in control at all. That in spite of his big talk, he’s being used as a front for the real villains, just like the people of Duscur were. So what if -- and, of course, this is all just speculation -- what if Hubert faked that panic to give the Flame Emperor an opening to escape in Remire when things looked like they might get ugly? After all, Teach said they wanted to pull a sword on him. Hubert doesn’t fake for just anyone -- he can’t even figure out how to smile without scaring Bernadetta into a dead faint. Pretty sure the only person he’d convincingly do that for...is you, Princess.”

She sat with her back straight as a lance and her shoulders perfectly squared, her stare sharp enough to cow a lesser man. But Claude did not so much as bat an eye, instead leaning toward her with that knife-sharp grin curving across his face. “Teach knows, don’t they? It’s why they’ve been giving you that look every time we have tea. They told you to tell us, and you hadn’t yet.”

“And you claim that I’m the one guilty of wild speculation?” she mused.

“Hey, I admitted up front that I was just throwing darts at the board,” he shrugged. “But I’ve got more hard evidence than you do to back your Flame Emperor notions...unless, that is, you know first-hand that what you’re saying is fact. Because you and the Flame Emperor are the same person.”

“Edelgard?”

They both looked toward him. But Dimitri had attention to spare for Edelgard alone, meeting her icy gaze without blinking for fear that he might miss her reaction. But she said nothing, and the silence filled with the howls of the dying and the crackling of flames and he needed something else, anything else, to drown it out. “Do you know who the Flame Emperor is?” he breathed. She inclined her head, very slightly, and the din mounted, the ring of steel crashing in time with the pounding in his skull. “Who?”

“...I am the Flame Emperor.”

The whispers swirling around him built into a deafening howl.

And from the place deep in his core that he’d tried so hard to lock away, the darkness rose to claim him.

***

Claude had all of three seconds to grab Dimitri before he could wrap his hands around Edelgard’s neck.

Ultimately, tackling the prince didn’t do much (he’d severely underestimated how strong the man was), but it did give the princess enough time to lunge out of the way before Dimitri could latch onto her. “MONSTER!!”

“You don’t understand!” Edelgard insisted while the archer futilely tried to restrain the snarling prince. “Had I known what they were doing in Remire I would have found some way to stop it, and I only learned what happened in Duscur long after the fact--”

“SILENCE!!”

Dimitri’s hand fisted in Claude’s shirt, and suddenly he was lying on the floor, stars winking through his field of view as he stared up at the ceiling. Struggling back to his feet, he blinked a few times in a desperate attempt to make his head stop swimming; it didn’t do much good, and he still ended up lurching into the desk, using it to prop himself up while he struggled to get his bearings. The princess was doing an admirable job of keeping out of reach, but in such a small space, it was really only a matter of time…

Well, only one thing for it, then.

He threw the door open and blew a short, sharp whistle. She ducked aside from another lunge, looked toward him -- and nodded, throwing herself out into the hall. “Get Teach,” he said. And before she could reply, he slammed the door closed again, pressing his back to it and bracing himself for the worst.

Dimitri skidded to a stop in front of him, chest heaving like a winded animal, trembling with rage but managing, if only for a moment, to restrain it. “Get out of the way, Claude.”

“Can’t do that, Your Princeliness,” he grinned.

“Move. Now.”

“Take a breath, Dimitri.” He lifted his hands in a placating gesture, drawing in a slow, deep breath and letting it out in an easy sigh. The prince made no move to imitate him, though, eyes narrowing as he took a heavy step closer. “Let’s talk about this--”

“She is a monster!!”

His roar shook dust from the chandelier. “Why would you defend her!? You know full well what she’s done--”

“I’m not defending her,” Claude snapped. “Look, I’m not happy about this, either. But we can’t kill her.”

“We cannot let her go free,” Dimitri growled, planting his hands on the door just over the archer’s shoulders (and suddenly his great idea seemed somewhat ill-conceived, since the hinges were screaming in protest).

“She’s not gonna get away,” he promised, meeting the prince’s gaze steadily and wondering if Dimitri could even see him, as lost as he was in his anger. “But there’s something a lot bigger than her out there, and she’s the only person who has any concept of just how dangerous it is. We need her alive. So I can’t let you go after her.”

He watched the young man’s hands clench and unclench, his wild eyes fixating on the archer still standing in his way, and for one worrisome moment Claude thought that the prince might settle for taking his anger out on the closest moving target. But that moment passed, and Dimitri turned away, stalking to the far side of the room and staring out through the windows. “Get out.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

[misselko]

Got this idea from Dimitri’s conversation with Byleth before Fort Merceus battle with the Death Knight. Put some angst, fluff, and a pinch of smut spices into the dish and let it simmer down! At least, that’s what I want! But it turned out... different ;) Sorry not sorry

This one took me some days to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please feel free to give me some advice and ideas for my next fic! Your warm comments will be cherished very much 💕 Thankies!!

 

RECKLESS

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, violence, smut

Words: 3316

 

POST TIMESKIP

Empire will be the only remaining enemy and to move on to the Imperial Capital, Enbarr, capturing Fort Merceus is a must. Praised as the strongest defense with its fortified military installation  in the Empire, seizing it won’t be an easy feat.

Liberating Arianrhod, calming down Holy Kingdom of Faerghus political issues, winning over the Leicester Alliance and gained their support. Getting a lead on Lady Rhea’s location. Although things were a rough go, but thinking back on it now, Blue Lions sure has really come a long way. Things have been wonderful in these past moons that it almost feels like dream too good to be true.

You don’t know why but you can’t shake your uneasy feelings and dread. War is raging and everyone knows there is a big battle on the horizon.

“We must not falter in our assault. The Death Knight is the enemy commander in Fort Merceus. He’s an unpredictable opponent. A dangerous one. Please proceed with caution, (Y/N).”

“I will, Dimitri. No need to worry.”

“I have not come this far just to lose you here. I’m serious. Do not be reckless out there.”

“Will you save me if I’m in trouble?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You were the heart of the Blue Lions, and the same holds true for the Kingdom Army.”

You smiled at his concern and hold his hands gently.

“I will do my best as well to support you, my Dimitri.” His cheeks turned into rosy blush at your words.

 

“Whoaa!! You’re getting pretty chummy, aren’t you, Your Highness? Go get a room!” Sylvain winks and got punched HARD, dragged away by Ingrid. You make mental notes on giving her a delicious roasted meat from that famous new shop in the town later as your gratitude. Serves him right!! ...But you wouldn’t trade them for anything in this world. Everything will be alright with them. Blue Lions are your precious family. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.

---

Capturing Fort Merceus is a daunting task. Endless enemies are approaching and relentless. Felix and Sylvain are working together cut through the snipers and mages. Ingrid and Ashe are doing their best to handle the pegasi knights. Dedue, Annette, Mercedes, and Flayn makes great combo on cutting through enemy reinforcements while providing healing to everyone. Slowly but sure, you and Dimitri managed to push Death Knight on the corner. But it doesn’t make things less difficult for both of you.

 

“You dare stand between me and my pleasure?”

The beginning of it was barely a bellow that grew steadily to a deafening roar, piercing the air and shaking the ground. Areadbhar crack in deafening clash against Death Knight’s Scythe of Sariel. They raised their weapons, waving them overhead.

 

“Yes. I dare stand against you, Death Knight!!”

 

Dimitri decides to face Death Knight head on as you tried your best to keep his back safe from the Imperial soldiers assaults. Keeping a close eye on him... just in case, following from a few meters back, cover his blind spots that way, look out for any potential danger. You could see them coming around, carefully and quietly trying to find their way to Dimitri.

 

Landing sharp blows, you bring the blade down on the head of another mage. Slashing your way through numerous enemies, you start to feel fatigued. Countless enemies lying dead behind. You looked around, among the sea of red and black, a swordmaster is sneaking his way behind Dimitri, ready to ambush him.

 

But you wouldn’t let it happen!

 

You were fully offensive, rapidly swinging your sword down on the swordmaster. You were able to deflect, parry, and block most of his attacks until his foot swept across your ankles, knocking you hard to the floor. The swordmaster stood above you, ready to press his sword into your chest to end your life. Fatigue made it harder for you to evade his deadly stab completely. Sound of a weapon piercing through flesh filled your ears, followed by an intense pain in your side. He pulled it back out with a triumphant smirk on his face. Despite the searing pain, you made it in time to grab your own weapon and thrust it up to his neck, your arms shaking as you tried to counter the weight of his attack. Grimace crossing your face as he fell, blood painting the earth a sick shade of red.

 

You sat up, wincing at the searing, burning hot pain on your side. The stab wound was way too deep. Your hands trembled, desperately attempting to put pressure on the wound as heavy flow of your blood is trickling through your fingers, colors your skin and clothes. The world had turned blurry, and your body felt weak. Ignoring the excruciating pain, you rush forward to help Dimitri. He has won against the Death Knight. But in his brief reverie, the Tempest King failed to notice two opposing snipers are approaching him, expression intent to kill, aiming their arrows at his back.

 

You acted on instinct, rushing forward, sprinting to intervene. To protect him.

‘We have been through so much together and he’d been through hell and back... I want to ease his pain. Knowing he’s safe... I can be at peace.’

You thought to yourself, launching forward. You barely has energy to stand up, but you tried to muster your last remaining strength to dove in before Dimitri. The arrows managed to easily make it’s way through your armor, landing in your chest and abdomen. ‘I have no regret when it came to protecting Dimitri.’

 

Your body slammed hard on the ground, careening across the battlefield. A sharp cry pained noise escaped you; that was all it took. Dimitri stiffened at the sound. It pulled him from the high of the battlefield down to reality in an instant.

 

“(Y/N)!!!”

 

He turned; filled with horror and rage. The fires blazing around him didn’t give off any heat. The battlefield around him turned black and white. His ears were ringing as if he’d been caught in an explosion. Dimitri went after the snipers and thrust them both at their hearts. After a quick glance to make sure no more surprise attacks happen, he kneels and pulling you into his chest. You looked so small, felt so limp that it sickened him. Broken and battered with littered scars and large wound on your side. Arrows jutting out of your chest, much too close to the heart, and another one lodged deep in your abdomen.

 

Dimitri watched as the blood pooled around you. Blood... there is so much blood. Your blood.

“Goddess... what were you- MERCEDES! FLAYN!! SOMEONE...HELP!!”

 

He pulled himself up, beside you, staring at your face. You were so pale. Oh, Goddess, you were dying. Were you already dead?

“I’m sorry.” There isn’t a reason to apologize, you aren’t sorry, but it still came out like the blood that is on Dimitri’s hands now.

 

“Don’t you dare apologize to me right now,” his voice choked off in his throat feels raw with emotions, barely able to hold back the sob which demands to escape, “not when you are like this. What were you thinking, (Y/N)? You have promised me to not be reckless.” He phrased it in a question, but both know why.

 

“Y-You... haven’t seen the... swordmaster... and those snipers. Y-You...were going to die...if they attack you. I want to protect you.... and I don’t regret my decision.“

 

You opened your mouth to speak but immediately coughed, feeling globs of blood on the corners of your lips. Dimitri gripped your hand, his hold so tight that it hurt, but you wouldn’t waste your breath on telling him. You could barely see Mercedes scurried over to your side as quickly as she could, Flayn follows behind her, leaving the Death Knight behind with tears running down her cheeks.

 

“Please stay awake for me a little longer, please.”

He choked out, pulling you closer if possible as it would keep you from leaving.

 

The chaos around you went mute as your eyes grow heavy. Maybe a quick nap would suffice.

 

“No...no, no, (Y/N)!! You can’t do this to me, you can’t-! Please, (Y/N), I can’t lose you too.....”

 

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. You fell asleep.

---

Every second was filled with anxiety; you’d lost so much blood. The wounds were too deep to heal completely. There was little to no possibility of survival. Not after what you’d been through.

The days turned to one week, then two...then three. The physical wounds had healed, mostly repaired and faded to scars. There was potential for things to return to normal, and you may wake up sooner rather than later.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, your upper body covered in bandages. The first thing you’re aware of is a dull throb radiating throughout your entire body. You were confused, and moved your head, unintentionally shifting your body and sending a wave of pain through your chest and stomach as you tried to get up. You closed your eyes tightly in response to the return of extreme pain, much worse than you had ever felt before. With much struggle, you sat on the edge of the bed shakily trying to stand up. The door creaked open and you looked up to find Dimitri peering inside.

 

”You’re awake,” he said, a look of surprise on his face. You tried to stand up and walk to him but failed, Dimitri ran in and caught you before you fell over. “I thought I was going to lose you, (Y/N),” he said, lifting you up effortlessly, settling you gently onto the bed and pulled up a chair. 

 

As cautiously as you could, you managed to sit yourself up. You kept a careful eye on the young king, noting how dark the circles under his eyes have become and how hollow his cheeks have turned. The fact that rest had eluded him for however long you were unconscious was as plain as day.

 

“You nearly died because of me. I have no right to be... you of all people shouldn’t-!” He managed to say, his voice shaking as his fingers trembled.

His head shot up to look at you, cerulean blue eyes dampened by tears that pooled in them. Your eyes were open, though weakly, looking at him and his disturbed state. You sensed his worry, but also his relief as he hovers next to your bed, engulfing you in his embrace and squeezing you against his chest for all he was worth. He was mindful of your wound, but that wasn’t enough to keep him away. No, he needed you. He needed to be beside you, to feel you, to know you were there.

 

“I’m okay, Dimitri...” You whispered, resting a hand on his chest where his heart thundered. You closed your eyes against him, relishing the feel of his tender warmth.

 

You felt how hard and rapid his heart was beating, almost deafening. Your arms wrapped around his heaving back weakly, rubbing it soothingly. He pulled you closer in response—closer, closer, closer, until every inch of you was smothered by him. Hesitant, trembling fingers graced your tightly wound bandages and you felt something warm and wet splatter onto your exposed shoulder.

 

"I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, holding your hands so tight that it hurts.

“But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

 

His voice was as quiet as it could be and it made you frown your eyebrows in worry. You were happy to see him alive, that was your goal when you decided to protect him from the approaching enemies. However, seeing him so distraught and afraid twisted your insides uncomfortably. The way he held your hand so desperately, afraid to let go.

 

“Dimitri.” You call him quietly, which makes him look at you with those gorgeous eyes of him.

 

You move your hand to his cheeks, caressing his soft skin, trying to bring him even the tiniest amount of comfort. Leaning to give him a soft chaste kiss on his lips. He reciprocated by open-mouthed kiss you with such fervor. There’s an undercurrent of desperation in the way Dimitri kisses you, as if this is the last moment he’ll ever feel it. It’s almost as if it pains him to be this close to you. You were alive, yet he couldn’t help but doubt it. Perhaps it was once again due to the vicious noises he still heard, though faintly. However, he was glad that they allowed him this moment of happiness.

 

“I won’t leave you, Dimitri.” You promised between ragged breath, your chest heaving.

 

“We are so close to ending this. Please, promise me you’ll stay safe. Rest, for now, my beloved.” Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, holding your hand to his chest. “I promise, I will never let you be hurt for my sake again.” Covering you with a  blanket  and tucking you into bed to retire for the evening.

---

After your awakening, the Blue Lions and Professor began incorporating regular infirmary visits into their schedule. They showered you with kind, encouraging words and occasionally bore small gifts (flowers and snacks), always encourage you to get better soon. But your most frequent visitor of all was your beloved gentle king.

It was two weeks since you have gotten better. Mercedes promised to take care after your bandages this evening.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)?”

You met Mercedes’ warm gaze with your own. With a firm nod, you replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mercedes.”

 

The healer moved closer to you, her skilled hands undoing the set of bandages for the last time. Dimitri averted his frantic eyes to the wall when the dressing loosened just enough for your breasts to peak through. A cold, unforgiving breeze whipped the newly exposed skin, jolting a shiver down your spine. Mercedes sighed, slowly traced the scars your chest and stomach.

“I’m sorry but we will never be able to remove the scars. The wounds all healed, but... the scars will never go away completely. I’m sorry (Y/N).”

 

Your eyes immediately flashed over to Dimitri’s stiffening frame.

“It’s okay. I will never regret such a thing.” You smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Do you need anything else, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m all good, Mercedes! Thank you for your help.”

“All right, then. Annette said that she needs my help with her baking this evening. We have to finish it before midnight! Should you need anything, please feel free to call me.” Mercedes gave you last smile before excusing herself politely from your quarter.

 

“Dimitri.”

His jaw clenched tautly; his eyes crunched into a pain-stricken wince. Refusing to look at your scar, a harsh reminder of his failure.

“Look at me.”

He stilled and won’t budge to look at you.

 

“I will never regret nor blame you for this. It was my decision and if it means saving you, I’ll gladly do it again in a heartbeat. Or... perhaps.... I can understand if you find that my... scars are disgusting, appalling, even....” you whisper softly, almost inaudible. Your surroundings whizzed right past you before you were unceremoniously slammed into your bed.

“DON’T SAY SUCH THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF!!” He growled “I will not allow you to throw your life away for me. If.. If something ever happen to you.. I’ll live a life worse than death itself, (Y/N).”

 

Not a moment later did you feel something warm and soft press against your lips. His mouth moved awkwardly yet full of affection. Hands planted  on either side of your body, ridding any hope of escape from his ravishing kisses. Dimitri pressed his lips further into yours, swallowing your moans. His lips left yours to trail down around your neck, breasts, and stomach lovingly. “This wounds... I cannot lose you again, my beloved.” His body quivered.  The King kissing the scars on your cleavage and abdomen, worshiping them reverently with tender touches, almost like touching a porcelain doll. Afraid to break you with his almost inhuman power. Biting and sucking wherever his heart desired until you were covered in nothing but love bites, leaving you a panting mess.

 

Dimitri held you in his arms, stroking your hair and mumbling whispers of ‘I’m sorry’. Bittersweet smile formed on his lips. He gazed at you, eyes lidded with desires and need, mixed with guilt and love. “(Y/N)... My beloved...” You pulled away slightly to look up at him and smiled.

“Dimitri...” You cupped his cheek in your hand, in which he immediately melted into.

“I love you, Dimitri.”

 

He blushed at your words, then it dawned on his realization. Suddenly becoming very aware of the... intimate position you were in. “Um, w-well...” As he came to his full senses he released his hands from you, as though from fire and stuttered, quickly pulling away from your panting form. He wasn’t making eye contact anymore, and you followed his gaze downwards on your body. Oh. Without the dreamlike stupor a d hazy feeling to distract you, you realized just how naked you are. Nightgown pooled beneath your waist. Feeling an onset of bashfulness, you also brought an arm up to cover as much of your chest as you could; despite what you had just done with him, the reality of the situation was catching up to you.

 

He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ah—Urghh!!! I’m sorry, (Y/N)!! I don’t know what came over me but.. but... P-Perhaps we should... stop... before it escalates any further...” The King unclasped his furred cloak hurriedly and put it over your naked body unceremoniously, hiding his flushed crimson face in his hands again, absolutely brutalized with shame. 

 

“Er.. Be certain to rest for now. We may have undone some of your healing.” Then he said hurriedly, almost inaudibly. “When your strength returns to its fullest, we can pick up where we left off. I promise.”

 

“Fine...” You giggled, finding his attempt at being serious too adorable. The heat and passion was still very visible in his eyes, and it was obvious that anymore teasing on your end would send him over the edge.

“Thank you for this lovely evening, Dimitri.”

You pulled his hand to your lips and give each of his fingers soft kisses, gazing at him lovingly. Dimitri’s jaw and pants tightened, the poor king desperately clinging onto the last thread of sanity and reason which threatened to snap at any moment.

 

“Good night, my beloved (Y/N).” Casting one last glance at you and bashfully looking down when he caught your eye, the Blue Lions Leader left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow,  somehow  managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, locking his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his burning red face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

 

The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of (Y/N). All he could think about was your pure unadultered love, beautiful (E/C) that is gazing at him affectionately. Goddess, he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on you. All over you. Repeatedly. Savoring the taste of your lips as you moan into his mouth. Feeling your warmth and love. Unclothed. His mind is running wild. This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. It will be another sleepless night for the poor king. And it’s all because of you.

[hurricaneonanesthesia]

Love Like You (Dimileth Song Fic)

I’m back baby and much better than ever. I finally got some time to think and work on mending my mental health. So as my gift to all of you lovely people here’s a lyric fic with Dimitri featuring the song “Love Like You” from Steven Universe. I’ve had this idea for a little while because I was initially planning to storyboard it out and create an animatic but I am in no shape or form talented at drawing humans lol, animals tend to be more of my specialty. I still wanted to try and get this out cause I can still imagine it in my head and I don’t quite want to let it go. Reader is Byleth in this cause I didn’t want to mess around too much with the canonical cut-scenes lmao. Just a warning there are spoilers for Azure Moon so if you haven’t played that yet, you have been warned.

~Admin Hurricane

 If I could begin to be

You watched as Dimitri turned away from you, hunched over. Your hand was still extended out, despite him slapping it away. A wounded expression on your face, you gazed down at the floor sadness overcoming you. Felix only grimaced, gently placing a hand on your shoulder, shaking his head. Your eyes lingered on Dimitri for a moment longer before turning away, trying to hold back the tears welling up in your eyes.

Half of what you think of me

Dimitri could hear your footsteps drawing away, his heart aching. He pushed away all the happy memories with you, all the times he had spent with you. No, he wasn’t that person anymore. He was a bloodstained monster who didn’t deserve to walk with you. 

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

Was he even allowed to love anymore? He was barely a shell of his former self. All he heard were the voices of the dead urging him forward, he’ll be damned if he didn’t bring them her head.

When I see the way you act

Wondering when I'm coming back

There you were, your feet bringing you back to the cathedral. You looked towards the pile of rubble and as always Dimitri stood there alone, stoic and silent. As cheerfully as you tried to strike up a conversation with him, you were always met with silence or a “go away”. The other Blue Lions would sometimes go with you to try and pry him out of his trance but to no avail.

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you

Did he even deserve you? Compared to everything around him you were like a breath of fresh air. He’s a wretch and deserved no sympathy from anyone. Yet, why did you still approach him like nothing had happened, with a soft smile on your face?

------

 Rodrigue’s death fresh in his mind, Dimitri cried out, “I always thought I might be bad, Now I'm sure that it's true,” his voice cracking from the strain of not being used, crumpling to the ground, “ 'Cause I think you're so good, And I'm nothing like you.” You watched on silently in shock as his words tumbled out. 

Dimitri continued on, “Look at you go, I just adore you. I wish that I knew. What makes you think I'm so special.” You paused, not knowing what to say, your eyes widened. “Dimitri…” you started at first, unsure of how to continue before pulling him into a hug. He visibly stiffened for a moment before leaning into your touch shutting his good eye. 

“Please free yourself from the burden that you’ve placed on yourself,” you smiled sadly cupping his cheek with a hand.

  ------  

If I could begin to do

He tentatively walked up to the balcony, his eyes narrowed against the bright lights, the cheering crowd reaching up to him.

Something that does right by you

He tentatively walked up to the balcony, his eyes narrowed against the bright lights, the cheering crowd reaching up to him.

I would do about anything

I would even learn how to love

He turned back to look at you, his gaze unsure. You gave him a thumbs up, a bright smile on your face. Reassured by you, he turned back to address the audience below him.

  ------

 When I see the way you look

Your chest heaving up and down with exhaustion, you stumbled as you narrowly dodged an attack from Hedgemon Edelgard. You adjusted your grip on your weapon, your hands breaking out into cold sweat.

Shaken by how long it took

A hand reached out to you. Looking up you found Dimitri gazing earnestly back at you. You took his hand smiling softly, as you got back up. The two of you then charged into the throne room with renewed vigor. 

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you

Edelgard was kneeling on the ground. Dimitri approached her, a gentle smile on his face. “El…” was all he could muster out, reaching a hand out. A flash of silver and then red, you watched in horror as Dimitri pulled the knife lodged in his shoulder. You raced over to him, worry written all over your face. But he just smiled and pulled it out, grunting a little from pain. You examined the wound, your brow creased with worry. He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently, trying to reassure you that he was alright. As the two of you approached the exit to the throne room, he turned for a moment looking back at Edelgard’s fallen form. You grabbed his hand shaking your head. Dimitri hesitated for a moment before turning back around, walking towards the light and away from the darkness that had plagued him for so many years.

Love like you

Love me like you

Want more of my writing? Be sure to check out my masterlist :)

If you wanna request something, don’t be afraid to send something my way! Thanks for reading and have a lovely day!

Anesthesia and I have an official Discord server now! Please be sure to join! There you’ll receive notifications for fics when they’re published right away and be able to interact with us outside of the blog. You’ll also be able to rp and interact with characters from each different fandom that I have written for. Hope to see you there, don’t keep us waiting! https://discord.gg/fEPSkXa3fT 

[johnnydoe69]

Beware the Evil Eye

In the peaceful twilight on the island of Euboea, a bright yellow Hummer sped down the road leading to a grand villa, Eurotrash music blasting over the speakers. 

Kosmas watched this from the front windows and sighed. The clouds of dust kicked up by the Hummer were dirtying the grapes that grew on both sides of the road. 

When the Hummer loomed from only a few miles away, Kosmas rang the service bell. At once, four other servants crowded into the foyer. 

A nervous electricity rippled between them as everyone got into position.

“You better not fuck this up,” Giorgos hissed from behind. 

Kosmas flipped Girogos a warm and comforting smile, “Oh, don’t be pessimistic. It’s always been harder to keep that boy in his clothes, rather than out. I’ll have that nazar in the palm of my hand within the hour.”

Behind his confident grin and laidback tone, however, Kosmas had his doubts. In all his years working for his grandmother, Kosmas had never seen Paul take off his nazar. It was a protective amulet meant to ward off the evil eye- spiteful magic aimed to target sources of envy and disgust- and it directly prohibited Kosmas from using his magic on him. 

If Kosmas couldn’t convince Paul to take it off from around his neck, or at least sneak it off without him noticing, there was little chance he could take it by force. The man was built like a dump truck and would break him in half if he was seen as a possible threat. With little other choice, but to go forward, Kosmas took a deep breath and opened the foyer doors. The five of them quickly trotted out the front door and down the marble staircase leading into the driveway. 

    By the time they reached the last few steps, Paul’s truck had come to a complete stop, a few feet away from the steps.

    For a few seconds no one moved. Even from inside the massive vehicle, Kosmas could see the dark blue energy radiating from underneath Paul’s tank top. 

Kosmas immediately began to sweat and had to dab himself with a handkerchief before Giorgos nudged him from behind. Paul was glaring at them from the Hummer.

    Remembering himself, Kosmas quickly ran to the driver’s side door and opened it. Paul came out with a thud, his massive feet stomping into the dirt. 

Walking back around the car he came before the servants,     a scowl prominently on his face, but before Paul could yell at them Kosmas interjected.

    “Paul, it’s so good to see you,” Kosmas exclaimed, a smile plastered on his face.

    “It’s good to see you too,” Paul said, lazily, striding past him.

    Paul turned his attention to Girgos and threw his car keys at the massive man’s chest.    

“Put this in the garage after the others get my bags. Kosmas, follow,” he ordered, walking past them and ascending the stairs.

Kosmas looked to the others for one last bit of assurance, but they had already moved on to taking care of Paul’s possessions, their backs turned to him.  

    Seeing that Paul had already made his way up several steps, Kosmas sprinted after him.     “How was New York?” Kosmas asked, panting.

    “Miserable. I was trapped on the Upper East side for six months with nothing to do but work from home and exercise in my private gym,” Paul said, glumbly. 

    “Have you tried reaching out to Dimitri and Lysandros?” Kosmas asked, trying not to trip as he shared Paul’s massive strides up the steps. “I remember you telling me about how you always had the best workouts together.”

    Paul grunted approvingly, “We did, but everyone’s too afraid to go anywhere. Lysandros promised he’d swing by Greece after his visit to the Caribbean, but that’s in two weeks. Now, look at these biceps, do you think my body can wait another two weeks?”

    Paul paused on the staircase and flexed inches from Kosmas’s face. Thick blue veins popped out from underneath his pale skin and stretched over his cannonball bicep. 

“This arm used to be at least three inches larger. I was practically wasting away back there,” Paul said.

In the past, Kosmas would have been weak at the sight of Paul’s raw muscle in his face, but he couldn’t let himself get distracted.

“What about the private gym you said you had at home?” Kosmas asked, trying not to let his annoyance show.

“Pft, I barely had any weights. I only had a treadmill and bowflex to keep me together.” Paul said, as they resumed their climb.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t have any problem maintaining a pump here. Your grandmother had the whole basement refurbished into a private gym for your arrival,” Kosmas said, sweating profusely through his white linen shirt. 

They reached the top of the stairs shortly after, Kosmas having to lean over and take a quick breath, while Paul beamed down at him without a drop of sweat on his body. 

“Some things never change, right, Kosmas?” Paul asked, slapping Kosmas hard on the back.

“Yes, of course,” Kosmas wheezed, balling his hands into tight fists. 

Paul left him there as he journeyed inside, while Kosmas once he collected himself and un-balled his fists followed behind. 

“So where is Evita anyway?”  Paul asked when Kosmas entered the foyer, taking off his baseball cap to scan the balcony above them. 

    “She had some business to attend to in Athens, but she told me to offer you the warmest greeting in her absence. She should be home by morning,” Kosmas said, still panting a little.

    Paul nodded and without another word strode into the lounge. Kosmas rushed ahead of him and quickly started getting together a bottle of bourbon and shot glasses.

    “What’s this, Kosmas? If this is from Evita’s private stash she’ll have Giorgos beat you like last time,” Paul said, taking a shot when it was offered to him, and plopping himself down on the couch.

    “Don’t worry, Paul. I haven’t forgotten about last time.” Kosmas said, with a polite smile. It was only until recently that he recovered feeling in his toes and it still hurt to curl them.

“I bought this bourbon in advance for your return home.”

    The liquor in this case had been drugged, weakening both the protective power of the nazar and increasing Paul’s sex drive. Kosmas made sure not to drink any of it himself, he couldn’t allow himself to get twisted up by Paul’s influence. It was always hard to say no to the man as it was.

He poured Paul another glass and placed it in his pitcher’s mitt sized palm. 

Paul looked around, curiously, “shouldn’t there be more servants milling around? I’d hate to think that I would have to fetch my own meals.”

“Oh, it won’t come to that, the few servants who are left are more than capable of picking up the slack after your grandmother fired most of the staff,” Kosmas said, cheerily, dying a little inside as he sat down besides Paul.

    “Wow, covid really hitting everyone hard,” Paul said, stretching out his thick arms and legs, before resting against the back of the couch.

    “Most of my friends in New York had to lay off their serving staff too. Too much risk of infection and with the stock market the way it is, it doesn’t hurt to remove extra liabilities.” 

    Paul kicked up his legs on the coffee table, forcing Kosmas to work around him as he poured him another glass.

    “Did she fire your father, too?” Paul asked, glancing down at Kosmas’s bowed head.

    “Yes, she did,” Kosmas said, gritting his teeth, handing Paul the finished shot glass.

    “Wow, harsh,” Paul said, snatching the drink out of Kosmas’s hand and gulping it down.

    “And knowing Evita, I bet she’s not giving that old fuck his severance pay,” Paul said with a chuckle.

    The dark blue aura around Paul’s neck was fading and Kosmas could feel his own powers surging as Paul’s slowly declined. He was so close to taking Paul’s body he could taste the sweat dripping off him. Kosmas slowly inched over to Paul, leaning his arm behind the big man’s neck. He was going to enjoy this.

Just before he could grab it, Paul turned to him and with a serious look in his eyes asked, “And that good for nothing fisherman hasn’t been coming around, has he?” 

Kosmas shrank away from Paul. The idea of touching him, even to steal his body suddenly repulsed him. To keep his sanity, Kosmas had banished all thought of what had happened to Andros from his mind, and Paul had once promised him that the man would never come up again.

“No,” Kosmas said, weakly. “He died in prison. Covid.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Paul said, sliding his large vascular hand on Kosmas’s thigh. Kosmas felt his dick harden and he saw that even through his jeans Paul was full mast as well. 

“I know you think I’m cruel for what happened and I’m sorry you feel that way. But I did it because I love you Kosmas. I couldn’t stand anyone coming between us,” Paul said, kissing Kosmas lightly on the cheek.

“Don’t give me that. You have fucked every gay man from here to Istanbul. You just couldn’t handle me paying attention to someone that wasn’t you,” Kosmas said, bitterly. He poured himself a glass and choked it down. Fuck the plan, whatever was going to happen wasn’t going to happen with him sober. 

Paul frowned, and grabbed Kosmas by his chin, pulling him in close. His grip was strong and Kosmas was terrified the man might accidentally break his jaw. His hot breath was blowing in Kosmas’s face and he could smell the faint tinge of spearmint gum on his breath. 

“I can handle competition. What I couldn’t accept was that you would choose someone so beneath me as a rival for your affection. You easily could have picked any of my friends, any of the wealthy bachelors on the island and you picked filth scraped off the bottom of a boat?”

Kosmas glanced over at the nazar, its energy had nearly faded from around Paul’s neck. He reached for it as Paul shot him a carnivorous smile. 

“But it’s okay now, because we both know I’m the only man for you,” Paul whispered, grabbing Kosmas’s hand and placing it on the back of his neck. He leaned in and began kissing his neck, sending sharp electric pulses all up and down Kosmas’s body.

Kosmas, feeling his chance slipping away, but unwilling or unable to act, gave himself over to the pleasure of the enchanted booze and Paul’s embrace. 

Paul moved his hand off Kosmas’s chin and foisted the smaller man onto his lap. He ripped at Kosmas’s work shirt, buttons tearing off and bouncing to the floor. 

His dick shot through the fabric of his jeans, massaging Kosmas’s ass as he moaned. It had been years, since he was fucked by another man and as much as he hated him, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Wait. I don’t want the other servants to see,” Paul said, pulling away. 

“Then, let’s take it upstairs to your room,” Kosmas said, pulling playfully at the small strands of hair on Paul’s head.

Paul shoved Kosmas off him, nearly knocking him off the coffee table, before snatching him by the wrist and pulling him out of the lounge and up the stairs. 

They threw themselves into Paul’s bedroom and on his bed, kissing furiously and grabbing at each other. Paul briefly pulled away and threw off his tank top, his charm necklace now prominently displayed on his chest. But instead, of the menacing power it once had, the amulet was now powerless, all its energy being soaked into the enchanted booze that seeped out through Paul’s sweat. 

Feeling his power return to him came with a sense of lucidity as Kosmas tested out the control he had over Paul.

When Paul leaned in to rip the underwear off Kosmas’s legs he found that he could no longer move. Every muscle strained against him as his blood vessels contracted, leaving him terrified and utterly helpless. 

Kosmas overcome with his sense of success laughed at the display of the larger man hanging over him. He slid out from underneath him and traced a finger along Paul’s back feeling the many hills and ridges of his massive muscular frame.

Small, confused grunts escaped Paul’s lips as he tried to make sense of what was happening, so Kosmas decided to let the man speak. 

His body partially freed from Kosmas’s control, Paul panted and took a deep shuddering breath.

“What are you doing to me?” Paul asked, quietly, his breathing labored. 

    “Remember, when you told me that I was to be yours forever?” Kosmas asked, kicking his underwear to the floor.    

“In a way, I am going to be yours forever, just not in the way you thought,” Kosmas said. He got in the bed behind Paul, using his control over Paul’s body to make him shrug off his jeans, while he faced the headboard, unable to look back. 

    “For you see, in all our years together a resentment has been building. An intense hatred. You treated me as a plaything, because your family controlled my father’s paycheck. You hurt me whenever you wanted, fucked me whenever you wanted, and killed anyone that came in danger of severing your control of me.”

    After Paul pushed off his jeans, Kosmas decided to do the extra work of pulling Paul’s tight red jock strap off his ass. The soft fabric curled in his fingers as he pulled downwards, Paul whimpering slightly. 

    “I didn’t know he would die in there. It was a mistake,” Paul stammered, cowed probably for the only time in his life. 

    “That’s the fun bit about the magic of the evil eye, Paul. It doesn’t give a shit about accidents or circumstances,” Kosmas said, sliding the jockstrap out of Paul’s dick and ass before sliding it down his thighs. 

    “It only cares about outcomes. The outcome in this case being, the only man I’ve ever loved is dead because of you.” Kosmas said, calmly, throwing the underwear behind him.

    “So, to repay your earlier favor I’m taking your life because you stole mine,” Kosmas whispered into Paul’s ear as he rubbed his back.

    “Please, my grandmother will give you anything. Just don’t kill me,” Paul begged, tears sliding down his cheeks.

    “Oh don’t worry, you won’t die, not really. I’ll just be taking your body and your identity as my own. And don’t worry about Evita either, the other servants and I have big plans for her,” Kosmas said, plucking a baseball cap off the nightstand and placing it on Paul’s head.

Kosmas grinned. 

“There’s my favorite sports star,” he whispered, kissing Paul’s ear.   

    Paul said nothing as Kosmas gathered himself into trance, using the entirety of his magic to make his body into a superfluous membrane. 

    Within a few minutes, his body had become a clear viscous like substance. Still in trance, he pushed against Paul’s back, feeling him gasp with pain as Kosmas entered his body. 

    He slid inside the man in seconds, but he was left in pitch darkness. His form had to grow and stretch against the confines of Paul’s body, his legs inflating, his back adding several inches of spine.

    Paul bucked against this of course, frothing with rage as he engaged in a losing battle against his own body, but within a few moments it was done.

    His essence was constrained and then enveloped by Kosmas’s, sucking in his emotions and memories, before crushing what remained of his free will and sense of self. By the time he was done with him, all that was left of Paul was a library of thoughts that Kosmas would have full access to.

    Finally in full control, Kosmas allowed himself to concentrate on his body’s physical sensations.

    He felt his massive chest breathing in and out. Around his neck the nazar still hung off his neck, once again glowing with a blue intensity, but instead of the sharp pain or weakness Kosmas feared there was nothing. The nazar recognized this body as his own.

He cracked his neck and pulled his arms over his head, surprised at their weight. He pulled his arms down and opened his eyes. Crawling off the bed, Kosmas took a few unsteady steps forward and curled his toes. No pain.

He grinned.

As the years passed, Kosmas or Paul as he was known publicly, whittled away at Evita’s title and fortune using lawsuits, bribes, and blackmail until he could finally run her off the estate. 

With Evita removed from power, the fired workers were able to return and together with several nearby villages were able to operate an agricultural co-opt that guaranteed housing and jobs to the people. 

Kosmas thrived as an administrator of the co-opt, keeping things running smoothly with his eye for finances, while his well-muscled body helped out in the fields. 

He still felt conflicted about wearing the body of someone he hated, but he found ways to alter his appearance without drastic measures, growing out a beard and letting thick brown hair grow all over his chest. He was in control of things for the first time in his life and Kosmas couldn’t be happier. 

[miss-1ng]

Hello! For the Fire Emblem:Three Houses prompts, can I request number 36 for Sylvix??

Of course you can! But be warned, this is a sad one, thank you for requesting!

--

Felix doesn’t like her.

He doesn’t like her face, her smile, her laugh – it all seems fake. And Felix does not like fake people.

Sylvain gets his first girlfriend when he is 12. It’s one of those times of years where the whole group has met up at Felix’s house. Sylvain and Glenn had gone off to the market by their parents’ instruction, while Felix stayed behind with Dimitri and Ingrid, sparring with their wooden swords.

When they come back, Sylvain has a girl holding his hand, wearing a boastful smile as they walk into the garden.

At first, Felix is oblivious to his best friend’s companion, and runs up yelling his name, wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s waist. “Sylvain! Come and train with us!” He pulls at his friend’s wrist, but Sylvain stays rooted in the spot, wearing a nervous smile when his eyes flick from the girl to Felix. Then they go back to the girl..

Then someone coughs, and he meets the sharp blue eyes of a girl. “Syl.” She tugs at his hand, eyes flicking up. “Can you take me to that special place you were talking about?” She flutters her eyelashes. Felix pouts and directs his best glare to the girl.

“Sorry, Fe, can training wait? I’m busy now.”

“But-“

But Sylvain is already gone, the girl with him.

Glenn takes his shoulder gently, directing his younger brother to the rest of their friends. “C’mon Fe. You’d rather train with Sylvain over me?”

“YES!” Felix cries, stomping his foot on the ground. “You’re just gonna want to train with Ingrid anyway.”

Glenn suddenly looks embarrassed. “Well, Ingrid, I did get you something,” he says. Ingrid lights up. “I found a brooch. Thought it reminded me of you.” He hands it to her. She thanks him with a wide grin. “But I do want to train with you, Fe.”

“I want to train with Sylvain though…”

“Well Sylvain’s busy. C’mon.”

--

The years pass and Felix becomes more acquainted to Sylvain’s behaviour.

Three years go by. Glenn dies in the Tragedy of Duscur. Felix shuts himself from the world, from his friends, from his father.

“Fe!” Sylvain exclaims outside his shut door. “Can you please let me in?”

He stays silent, head buried in his pillow while his body shakes with silent tears. Sylvain wraps his knuckles against the door again. “Felix, please! I need to- I need to know if you’re-you’re okay, please.”

“SHUT UP!” he suddenly screams, then regrets it as his voice, hoarse from crying, screams in protest. He feels tears blur his vision wipes them off with the sleeve of his shirt. Sylvain knocks again, and Felix has suddenly had the last straw, screaming at the top of his lungs, “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

There’s silence from outside, and for a horrible second Felix feels as if he’s hurt the older boy’s feelings. Then the door suddenly opens, and Sylvain runs in, concern evident in his eyes as he pulls the younger boy close in his arms.

“You’re not getting rid of me so soon,” he whispers lightly, though the tease falls flat as Felix throws feeble punches against his chest. He screams again, trying to get out of Sylvain’s hold.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” he hisses through his teeth, the threat staying effectless to Sylvain who just holds on tighter. “LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO!” His shoulders slump down. His head falls on Sylvain’s chest. “Please, Sylvain, please.”

“Not in a million years, Fe.”

And through the tears, and the pain, Felix doesn’t think he’s ever been so infatuated before.

--

Things do cool down between them, over time that is. It takes a while, but suddenly Felix is over (he is, 100% is) Glenn’s death, and is intent to go on his life ignoring his father, the boar, and all of his friends.

If only they’d be so intent on ignoring him.

Especially Sylvain. He has been especially clingy since they arrived at the academy, even through the one night stands he picks through, girl after girl.

And Felix still hasn’t told him. Not that there’s anything to tell. Either way, Sylvain wouldn’t care. He’s got too much on his plate – that being girl’s he doesn’t even know the first thing about, not even their names.

“Come on, Fe,” Sylvain whines, his childhood nickname dripping off his tongue like they’re close like that now. They may be best friends, but it’s safe to say they’ve grown apart over the years. “We’ll just drop by the town, pick up some girls, and have some drinks? How does that sound?”

Felix lets his sword drop onto the floor. “It sounds awful,” he spits bitterly, pointedly ignoring the flutter his heart gives. “Why do you even want me to go? I’m sure you’d have much more fun making out with some girl.”

Sylvain looks at a loss for a second. Then he plasters his smile back on and throws an arm around Felix’s shoulder he shoves off. “Felix, think of it this way. I need fun, you need fun. And the girls need fun.” He winks. “Isn’t that a great idea?”

“No.”

Then he frowns. “You know what I’ve noticed, Fe?” Felix scowls as he looks up, meeting the taller man’s eyes. “You hate it when I bring up girls. Why?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Felix stares for a second before staggering back as his eyes bug out of his head. “Shut up,” he repeats.

“I never wanted them.” Sylvain takes a step forward, eyes longing as they stray on Felix’s form. He can barely hold in the way he inhales sharply when Sylvain continues. “I only ever wanted you.”

He finds himself shaking his head. “No. You don’t. You don’t want me. You’re lying. Shut up.” Sylvain takes another step towards him, gently cupping his chin in his warm hands. Felix slaps them away. “Sylvain, you don’t fucking get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“We can never be together, Syl.” He finds Sylvain’s childhood nickname falling from his tongue like water. Sylvain leans forward, his lips slotting against Felix’s like they were made to be, as sappy as it sounded. And yet, despite his words, he leans into Sylvain’s kiss, relishing in the moment before he pulls away again, dropping his gaze to the floor. “It’s time you get that.”

And Felix pulls himself out of Sylvain’s longing grip, ignoring the way he calls for him as he leaves the training grounds.

They couldn’t do this. But why didn’t Sylvain get that?

--

Requests are open! Please request a prompt, I'd love to write one :D

[fe-husband-heaven]

Dimitri x Wife!Reader - Commission (N/SFW)

ohoho

oHOHOHO

@queenofthespacesquids has graciously commissioned Dimitri smut from me :') and has been an absolute angel during this whole mess of a pandemic!

This reader is a general female reader and the commissioner wanted to share the Dimi love so they've allowed posting here!💖💕💖

Thank you once again for commissioning me! I hope everyone else enjoys it too!

______________

The twelfth sigh that day fell from Dimitri's lips. Drooping shoulders accompanied the heaving huffs he gave as his horse trotted along the roads of Fhirdiad.

"We'll be arriving soon, boar. Contain yourself."

Felix travelled afoot alongside Dimitri's white steed. A frown on his face, he shot Dimitri a judgemental look.

Dimitri paid him no heed.

"Awww, c'mon Felix. Give the guy a break. He's a man separated from his lady, doesn't it break your heart?"

Sylvain rode up to the two on his own horse, sticking to Felix's left.

"The only thing it breaks is my patience. I'd understand if this was his first time away, but he does this every time."

Sylvain laughed, his swordsman friend only deepened his scowl.

"Well...They've only been married for a little while..can't imagine they've had too much time alone considering he's the freaking King."

Felix scoffed,

"Y/N's with him all the time, they're attached at the hip, it's a miracle they haven't fused together yet."

Both of them turned to face the blonde man when he gave another longing sigh at the mention of your name.

Sylvain trotted his horse closer to Dimitri, which forced Felix to move to his left. Felix gave him a "Tch." in response.

Sylvain patted Dimitri's shoulder,

"Think of it this way, I'm sure your lady was very lonely. When you get back, she'll probably want lots of-"

Felix stomped on the ground near Sylvain's horse, spooking it and causing it to rear up before it sprung forward, Sylvain, fumbling to stay on and regain control.

"That absolute fool…Don't listen to his inane..."

He trailed off when he looked back to Dimitri, who looked extremely troubled.

"..Lonely..?..My wife is..lone...ly..?"

Dimitri's expression quickly went from yearning, to worry. Felix slapped a hand to his forehead in defeat.

"Ugh, you two are absolutely impossible…"

_______________

The gates of Fhirdiad were in sight not long after that. The soldiers standing guard alerted their fellow knights about the return of the king.

Many thought that Dimitri should remain on the throne and not step foot out into danger, it was  a great risk to have the king out and about after what happened to the previous one.

But Dimitri firmly believed in being involved with the people, and seeing for himself what his people needed. The Kingdom was still recovering from the war, constant patrols were necessary.

Unfortunately, this meant that he was often forced apart from you. He would take you with him but it was not the most intelligent of ideas to have both the King and Queen away at the same time. 

He wondered...were you really lonely? He knew Dedue had stayed behind as your guard but did you miss him the same way he missed you?

He sighed again, he wanted his wife.

"We're here, boar. Quit moping."

Dimitri looked up, they were in fact in front of the gates. But he honed in on something much more important.

"Dimitri!" 

His wife.

She was waving. Smiling and waving at him from just a little bit inside the gate. He could see a couple of advisors begging her to come back inside where it was safe. 

Felix and Sylvain essentially watched a man be reborn right in front of them. Dimitri perked up and a bright glimmer found its way into his blue eye, he kept his gaze on her. He knew he was to remain cordial and in line with the rest of his troops but...his wife.

The moment he was able to, Dimitri clambered off his steed and headed straight to you. You stood, adorned in blues and whites, the colors of Fhaergus. Laughing lightly as you held your arms open for him. He did not hesitate to jump right into them and return the hug you gave him.

He squeezed tightly, and pulled back far enough to pepper a couple kisses on your face.

He remained completely unaware of the dozens of eyes watching the two of you. Many of them simply civilians who had come to witness the return of their king. They smiled at the scene, Fhirdiad was well aware of the King's love for the Queen.

This was not the first time he had arrived absolutely starved for his wife's company. The people found it soothing, King Dimitri did not seem so far out of their reach when they saw how very much like them he was. Many were quite fond of the two of you and those of older generations would have a couple "Ahh to be young again.."s when the two of you were spotted together.

Once again, a royal advisor came along to try to usher the local King and Queen back into the palace.

"Please, your majesties-" Cut off by the firm grip of a hand on their shoulder, the man who was about to plead the resident King and Queen to please for the love of the goddess head back inside, turned towards the source of the sudden looming shadow.

He came face to face with a less than pleased Dedue.

"Do not interrupt their Majesties…"

Dedue had not meant for the man to apologize and run away but...he could not help the pleased feeling that ran through him at having protected the precious time their Majesties had together. The Queen doted on him and The King never failed to remind him that he was family. He was extremely grateful, he thought it to be the least he could do.

He quite enjoyed seeing them happy.

Briefly pausing his barrage of affection, Dimitri's lips pulled down into a frown accompanied by what can only be described as puppy dog eyes.

"Were you… lonely..?"

You...weren't sure how to respond. Of course you wanted him home but were you lonely? Dedue and the others had kept you company and they made it difficult to be lonely.

Your attention was caught by a redhead casanova standing a few feet away from the two of you. He was nodding, giving you a thumbs up, and mouthing "Say yes". You then watched as Felix jabbed his elbow into his side before dragging him off by the collar, probably off to go train.

Turning back to your giant lion of a husband, he was still awaiting an answer. You don't know what possessed you to trust Sylvain but between not knowing how to respond and his look of confidence, you threw caution to the wind.

"Of course..!.Isn't it natural to miss my husband?" 

For a moment he looked even more saddened, like it was somehow his fault that you had been lonely. You smiled softly at him and laid a gentle hand on the side of his face, cupping his cheek.

"Hmm, didn't you miss me too?"

Leaning into your touch, Dimitri's frown dissipated, and a serene expression was left behind in its departure. Your hand was tenderly covered by his own as the other arm wrapped around your waist tightened just a little.

"Dearly."

Smiling at each other, it seemed as though no one else existed around you. Just a husband and wife who were reunited.

"Your majesties."

Dedue stepped forward.

Dimitri turned to look at him, keeping you in his arms as you did the same.

"Please Dedue, call me "Dimitri". You know you're family to us, Y/N and I would love nothing more than to drop formalities."

Dedue smiled tenderly, his heart warmed.

"Yes, your majesty."

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you at the way Dimitri was rendered speechless. You doubted that Dedue would ever move past the habit, Dimitri would have to settle for having his name used in private!

Giving your husband a comforting pat, you turned your attention back to Dedue when he continued speaking.

"Your majesties, there are no matters that require your assistance urgently. Please, take this time to rest...both of you." he added.

You smiled and thanked Dedue, who with a bow, went off to the kitchens. His cuisine had grown quite popular among the people and he was often requested for cooking duty in spite of his status as Dimitri's right hand man.

Shooting Dimitri a bright grin, you wrapped your  arms around his as his hold on you loosened.

"Shall we go?"

His smile softened further, your lips parted to tease him about being handsome but before you could, a surprised yelp escaped your lips as you were suddenly pulled off of your feet and into strong toned arms.

You heard a couple whistles from onlookers as you collected yourself, Dimitri had already begun moving and walking off towards your room as if he wasn't carrying an entire human being in his arms.

You stabilized yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck, marvelling up at him briefly before laughing.

"Hmm, this is familiar!"you chirped.

Dimitri's strides slowed just a little as he focused on you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, not noticing the respectful bows of passing attendants.

He laughed lightly,

"Ahhh,yes, our wedding night, you nearly tripped on your own dress when I set you down."

You made an offended sound but felt your heart warm. Dimitri used to be nothing but proper to you, now he was comfortable teasing you.

"Yeah well, you cried when you saw me in it."

Dimitri sputtered,

"T-that is not..!..I-.."

He stopped walking, locking eyes with you as red burned on his cheeks and tips of his ears.

"That is unfair Y/N...you were beautiful.."

You smiled contently at him, sighing softly. Somehow, you had netted yourself the sweetest man on the planet. Tooth-rottingly sweet. You wondered if he knew how charming he was.

"How did I get such a precious husband again..?"

You leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. Not satisfied with a peck, Dimitri careened his neck to return the kiss. A wave of warmth ran through you as the sound of lips melding together slipped into your ear.

You pulled back just enough to murmur against his lips,

"Hurry…"

At probably the fastest speed you'd ever seen him move, Dimitri barreled through the castle halls at breakneck speed. You couldn't help but laugh at his eagerness as he neared your room. Barely getting the door open and crossing through, he was back at engulfing your lips, shifting you in his arms so you pressed against him.

Pulling away reluctantly, you patted his shoulder.

"Set me down here."

He seemed unwilling to let you go but the ever obedient husband he was, he voiced no complaints. Though he did look like he was itching to snake his arms around you again.

Locking the door, you watched with amused eyes as Dimitri's face went crimson the moment you got on your knees in front of him.

"M-my love…!.you don't have to..!.please let me-"

Dimitri moved to help you up but you simply grabbed a hold of his hands and brought them to your cheeks.

"Dimitri…" you locked eyes with him, taking in the flustered expression he wore, "You're always spoiling me...let me take care of you too…!"

There were a lot of things in life Dimitri could handle. Being king, fighting in arduous battles, even the most extraneous of labors. But seeing his wife kneeled in front of him, eager to please him in such a lewd manner was not one of them.

"Y/N...if it is what you wish…"

You frowned, you wanted him to enjoy it too…

Looking back in front of you, you were surprised by the bulge protruding from his pants. You couldn't help the cat-like grin that enveloped your lips.

Reaching out to tug at his belt, you purposefully brushed against the swell, not missing the soft intake of breath from him. You looked up and smiled cheekily at him,

"What I wish,huh…" teasing evident in your voice.

Maybe it was a little mean, but the way he buried his face in his hands as his blush travelled down his neck was well worth it. He was so cute it was almost unfair. This was most definitely not your first time doing anything intimate so to see him flustered even after all the other nights he seemingly couldn't be satiated…well, it was adorable!

You decided to give his heart a bit of a break and turned your gaze away. Working his belt and tugging his pants and undergarments just low enough for his length to slip out, you swallowed thickly as you were reminded about how well endowed your husband was…

Placing a hand on his thigh to stabilize yourself, you curled your fingers around his member and gingerly began pumping its length. Dimitri's hips lightly followed your hand as you rubbed and teased the tip. You thought you wouldn't tease him more but the slow pace you took was probably his greatest enemy right now.

"Y/N..please, this is torture.."

You laughed but indulged him. Tongue wet and warm, you gave a long drawn out lick before taking his cock in your mouth. Head beginning to bob up and down the thick throbbing length of your King, you didn't fail to notice the way Dimitri's hands clenched as he leaned against the door for support.

Struggling to maintain himself, Dimitri watched as he disappeared in and out of his beloved wife's mouth, the lips that kissed him so sweetly, wrapped around him and sucking with such rhythm and heat that he had to fight his own wanton need to buck into your mouth.

It seemed that despite how fervently he had pounded you into the mattress so often after your wedding, he would still be a blushing mess when at your mercy. But he couldn't help it. His wife, his precious wife...full of nothing but love for him..there were times where he was unsure of whether he deserved such devotion.

He knew he shouldn't doubt your decisions but he couldn't help but wonder why him. You told him often about everything you loved about him but the question lingered. What exactly had he done to be blessed with you? Perhaps it was pointless to mull it over, he couldn't let you go either way.

Still...his wife..his wife...Y/N Blaiddyd…

His length twitched in your mouth, and your pace stopped as gentle hands reached down to brush hair out of your face, tenderly caressing your cheeks. You looked up to meet loving blue eyes, Dimitri's expression was soft, and you weren't sure what insighted it. 

But it didn't matter, letting your eyelids flutter shut, you nuzzled a little into his touch before continuing. His body responded to your affection with a slow roll of his hips, and a soft breathless moan of your name.

Encouraging him to keep moving, you pulled him a little closer. His breathing was growing rapid and the wary slides into your mouth were building into broken thrusts, desperate to keep feeling the inviting heat of your tongue.

Your jaw was getting sore but the face Dimitri made as he got closer and closer to release was too great of a reward to stop. Burning the image of your King panting and losing himself to pleasure into your mind, you couldn't help but feel a little pleased with yourself. 

"..!..Y/N..!!..I'm going to-..!"

Expecting you to let him go, Dimitri was helpless against your increasing speed. Bucking into your mouth while his fingers dug into your hair, he shut his eyes tight as the ache and throbbing of his cock was finally rewarded with the white pleasure of release.

Driving him in as deep as you could, you enjoyed watching him as the rush of warm cum spurted down your throat. Making a show of swallowing, you let his member slip from your lips.

But before you could make a comment that would net you a cute blush and a stammer from the golden haired man, you were pulled up carefully and wrapped into a tight hug.

After a split second moment of surprise, you returned the hug, one hand reaching up to stroke and play with Dimitri's tousled hair. Burying his face in the curve of your neck, Dimitri murmured a soft but bashful Thank you. You would have laughed if it wasn't so sweet. 

He was still so polite…thanking you for sucking him off...heh.

"Hmm, don't thank me yet. I'm not quite done with you!" You sing-songed.

Dimitri pulled back just enough so you were facing each other, you admired the color on his cheeks. He kissed your forehead softly, 

"May I..?"

Now it was your turn to be putty in his hands, it was hard not to be when he was asking with such decorum to undress you. Your face matched his as you turned around, giving him access to the lacings and buttons on your dress.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of your neck as he worked on freeing you from your clothes. 

You busied yourself with a mantra reminding you not to pounce on him, but that internal chant was disrupted by the sudden sound of fabric tearing, followed by something dropping on the floor, rolling to a stop in front of you. Looking down, you saw a button.

Silence filled the room and nobody moved a muscle as you stood, feeling a little colder than when you had first walked into the room.

"Dimitri."

"Y-yes..?"

"Did you rip my dress?"

He didn't respond immediately.

"...I..will acquire a new one for you…"

He knew you wouldn't chide him, but he still felt guilty. Expecting you to laugh it off, he was caught by surprise at the sudden barrage of peppered kisses on his face accompanied by you latching onto him through arms snaked around his neck.

He hugged your waist reflexively and though he was extremely happy to be at the receiving end of so much affection, he wanted to know what he had done to deserve it.

"Y/N?"

You cuddled into him, full of glee, having the dam holding you back from smothering him in as much love as you could muster, broken. 

"Dimi, you're so cute! Hnnng, why is my husband so cute??"

Dimitri was unsure of what to say but he was happy he was being complimented,

"Two seconds ago, while I was doing something sinful to you, you were absolutely gentle and careful with me but now that you try to be the same to my dress, you go and tear it!"

It was amusing, but also so endearing that you couldn't help the swell of blatant affection that had welled up in your chest. Dimitri was much too kind, handsome, adorable, strong, and intelligent all in one. You were often teased about how much your husband fawned over you, but you were very much the same.

He made you very happy and it's all you wanted for him as well.

Leaning forward, Dimitri captured your lips in a drawn out loving kiss before resting his forehead against yours.

"..Of course...I could never hurt you.."

That netted him a return kiss from you. 

Dimitri…

Being even just a little rough during sex constituted as hurting you to him. He knew you weren't helpless, and you could very much handle yourself, but he couldn't help but treat you like you were fragile. He always believed you had to protect the things you love. 

Boy, he really took the priest's "to love and cherish till death do you part" seriously…

"My apologies for tearing your dress..I'll replace it, I promise."

And the sweet man was still concerned over something so trivial...You reaaaaaally loved your husband.

You pecked his lips before leaning forward to purr in his ear,

"It's okay. I like it when you tear my clothes off."

It was not but a split second after that you were carried off to your bed, the sound of fabric being torn off your body, music to your ears as an impish grin rested on your lips. With his immense strength, it was an easy task.

The chill from the sudden lack of coverage was ignored as you relished in your riled husband fumbling to take off his armor. When the plates of steel had hit the floor, Dimitri was quick to sink the bed with his weight and hover over you.

"W-would you like me to do the same..?"

Even when he was eager, he was polite.

As sure as you were that he was skilled with his tongue, you had no more patience left to spare.

Shaking your head, you pulled him down so you could let your lips meet, murmuring against them,

"No...I don't want to wait anymore...I just want you, Dimitri."

Making a sound that was strangled by the way he smothered your mouth with his, you felt the hardened tip of his cock align with your entrance, ready to slip into you.

"I-it's wet..." Dimitri noted against your lips.

For as much teasing as you had given him earlier, you were certainly getting your dues at how torturously slow he was sliding into you.

You knew you couldn't rush it but feeling every inch of Dimitri's length filling your core and being unable to have him just pound you into the mattress..it was unfair.

Feeling Dimitri's hips meet yours, you were relieved that you didn't have to wait much longer. The kisses that Dimitri was making to your neck were growing to be too much when coupled with the feverish groping of your chest.

Filled with him, your hips moved on their own and rolled up onto his cock, wanting for him to move. 

The slippery inviting heat of his wife's insides mixed with his wife's needy hips spurred Dimitri into slow drawn out thrusts. Thrusts much too leisurely for you.

"Dimitri..faster..please.."

Maybe it was the way you breathed it out next to his ear or the fact that he was always quite obedient in bed but Dimitri did as he was asked.

Building up to a strong steady pace of deep rams of his cock into you, Dimitri wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you close and in place as he slammed himself in and out of you.

Finally being given what you wanted, your legs wrapped around him as little cries of his name escaped your lips. It had been much too long since the last time you'd done this.

"I-..missed you..!"

You panted out, digging your fingers into his hair as your stomach burned from the pleasure.

Dimitri hugged you tighter against him, almost in comfort and agreeance. It was all he could do, he couldn't trust his mouth to form any words at the moment.

He had missed you so dearly, he did every time he had to leave you behind or when you left his side. He loved you more than anything else in the world and it pained him to think you might've felt lonely all on your own. 

He was always elated upon his return to find you smiling and welcoming him back, he found comfort in having a home to return to and being able to do the same for you whenever you travelled to neighboring territories to maintain peaceful relations.

Every time you parted, he felt a piece of him was missing. The nights he spent away from you, wondering what you were doing and whether you were faring well, were torturous. Quiet nights, missing you and your company would lead to the shameful pumps of his cock into his own hand, imagining it to be his wife's heat he was plunging into.

He missed you, this, everything.

Maybe it was unbecoming of him, the King of Fhaergus, to love sex with his wife so much but the mutual wanton need to be together and be one was much too enticing to him. Being as close as he could be to the person he vowed to share his life with..it was precious to him, and he was sure you were the same.

"I..!.love you, Y/N-"

Garbled words in between frenzied thrusts somehow still clutched at your heart. You're not sure why, maybe it was just hitting you how much you truly missed him but your eyesight blurred with sudden tears.

Maybe it was just Dimitri. So full of love and so willing to offer it to you despite him sometimes wondering whether he deserved yours. You just wanted to seal away all those worries.

"Dimitri-..!..Dimitri..!!..I love you-..!.I love you, I love-"

Your cries of his name and declarations of love were muffled by desperate lips melding with yours, tongues slipping against each other as the bed creaked with each jut of his hips. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet squelch of you clenching around him burned into your ears.

Hips bucking up wildly, the building white heat that pooled in your stomach finally spilled over the edge as you shook and trembled against him, vision blurring momentarily. All at the same time as your husband's erratic thrusts grew jerky before you felt the hot spill of his seed inside you.

Panting and settling against each other, you ran shaky fingers through Dimitri's hair, smoothing away any strands plastered to his forehead.

Ignoring the wet feeling of cum slipping down the curve of your ass.

You sighed contently as your breathing evened out, a feeling of serenity taking its place. Your husband peacefully rested against your chest, eyelids fluttered shut as he let you caress his face and play with his hair.

The two of you stayed quiet for a long time, just basking in the afterglow of your affection. Dimitri silently relished in his wife's gentle tender hand, enjoying the coolness of your wedding ring when it touched his skin.

He listened to the calming beating of your heart, the same heart that was so open and devoted to him. The same heart that loved him back with as much fervor as his own. The heart that his beloved wife promised belonged to him, just as he had promised his to her.

"..Dimitri..?"

He moved slightly, indicating he was listening. 

"..Welcome back."

Shifting, he faced you, joining your mouths in a soft sweet kiss.

"I'm home."

[dimitribelikov]

The Belikov Chronicles: The Tasha Conundrum Pt.2

✶ This one got pretty long. I even ended it quicker than planned, so hopefully it’s not too overwhelming. Admittedly, this installment deals less with Tasha, and more about Dimitri’s feelings towards Adrian. **There will be a Pt.3 and probably a Pt.4. ✶ notes : All dialogue is straight from Frostbite, chapter 15. The rest is mine, based on characters written by Richelle Mead. ✶ warnings : some language ✶ ships : romitri ✶ Part 1 can be found here  |  more one-shots featuring my version of Dimitri can be found here

       My argument with Rose the day before had left me in such a darkened state, that I had completely forgotten about my original mission to check in with the guardians and find out more news on the Strigoi attacks. It was just as well, though. I knew there wasn’t going to be any big revelations unless someone where to come get me. I ended up spending the evening in Tasha’s company. Over dinner, she went on and on about her radical ideas for reforming the Moroi’s views on defense. Usually I ate her passion up with fascination, but I couldn’t help but find myself distracted. I mean, Adrian? Really?

Yet as soon as the vampiric morning came, I had only one thought on my mind as I left my room: to find Janine Hathaway to go over the tragedy that had happened and the ensuing arguments that had unfolded in the Moroi meeting. Janine was someone that I had always looked up to, and she seemed a bit more forthcoming with information than others. Surely with her, I could get a better grip on what was going on in our world. I knew that I could also provide some insight for the guardians into the Moroi side of things via Tasha’s conversation at dinner.

I was a one tracked mind, striding through the hotel’s hallways with no other worry in my head, let alone the fight with Rose. Until I heard her very voice from an open door. Damnit. Even in the wake of such important matters, her voice was able to bring me to a screeching halt, curiosity replacing my earlier determination.

I paused, wondering what she was doing in this wing of the resort. Almost immediately I realized that the open door belonged to none other than Adrian. Again?! Thoughts of her staying the night danced through my mind, but I pushed them out right away. 

“I just want to know what’s going on here,” she demanded of her audience.

Sure enough, when I stood just behind her and was able to take in the scene of Adrian’s room, it looked as though Rose had just arrived. Further puzzling was the appearance of Lissa there. Surely Adrian couldn’t be that much of a scoundrel, I thought. Then again, with the stories I’d heard, I wouldn’t put it past him. “Me too,” I said, announcing myself. I could hear the short tone in my voice, but was careful to keep my expression neutral as I studied every detail of the room.

Rose had turned to regard me with a surprised look, and though I loved the victory of catching her guard, I couldn’t help but notice the cloud fo perfume that surrounded her. Had she actually gotten dolled up for the Ivashkov loser?

My annoyance deepened at the thought and I invited myself in, clinging to the one weapon I had: my authority. “Male and female students aren’t supposed to be in each other’s room.” I’m pretty sure a younger me just rolled his eyes and made a gagging sound at the lame “adult speech”.

“How do you keep doing this?” Rose demanded of Adrian, ignoring my recitation of the rules.

“Do what?” he replied. Ugh, that fucking grin. I wanted nothing more than to smack it off his face!

“Keep making us look bad!”

“You guys are the ones who came here.”

Adrian’s reply snapped me back into the argument. The two, innocent, young girls were visiting his room unescorted? I was beginning to sound like my old headmaster, but I didn’t care. “You shouldn’t have let them in. I’m sure you know the rules at St. Vladimir’s.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to follow any school’s stupid rules,” Adrian replied. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to actually argue this. In that moment, the girls might have well not even existed. All I cared about what putting the rich brat in his place. Somewhere in my head, a logical voice was reminding me that the Moroi were above me. They come first. I shouldn’t be so harsh in my judgement of him, but I just couldn’t help it.

“Perhaps not. But I would have thought you’d still respect those rules.” Gross. Now I definitely sounded like my old headmaster. Before I could worry about that too much, though, Adrian fired back. And he hit below the belt.

“I’m kind of surprised to find you lecturing about underage girls,” he said cooly.

I froze, feeling anger grow at the audacity with which the Moroi spoke back to me. Under that anger, though, there was fear. What had he’d heard? Clearly that had to be a dig about me and Rose, but I’d been so careful. Surely no one else knew a thing. Right?

“Besides, nothing sordid was going on,” he continued. “We were just hanging out.”

Yeah. Hanging out. Alone in his room. Nothing sordid about that, I thought sarcastically. “If you want to ‘hang out’ with young girls,” I replied, taking another small step towards him. “Do it at one of the public areas.”

My anger was unexpectedly side tracked when Adrian laughed. There was something about that laugh that didn’t sit right with me. My suspicions were confirmed when he went off, rambling about the oddest things. It wasn’t a normal way to win an argument, that was for sure. My head tilted as I studied him, wondering if he was actually as unhinged as he sounded. Just how dangerous is this guy?

Finally he wrapped up the odd soliloquy by actually agreeing me. Though hearing Adrian admit that he was a bad influence didn’t earn much sympathy from me, I was grateful that the discussion was over. It had taken a turn into dangerous territory with a near accusation about me and rose–– and then whatever that was.

Lissa, Rose, and I took our exit into the hallway, starting the walk back into the lobby. “One’s marked with life, and one’s marked with death,” he had said. It was lunacy and I shouldn’t put too much thought into it, but I couldn’t help but feel a strange sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“That was . . . strange,” Rose had said.

I couldn’t even be mad anymore. The odd turn in Adrian’s demeanor had cast a sobering spell over us all. “Very,” was all I could manage.

Stepping out into the hustle and bustle of the lobby woke me up from my tumultuous thoughts. I knew I couldn’t let Rose simply leave without trying to warn her. Whether I was jealous or not (and I adamantly promised myself that I wasn’t), I was her mentor. It was my job to steer her clear of danger and this situation was no different. “Rose. Can I talk to you?”

I saw her exchange a look with Lissa, but mercifully, the princess left us to our privacy. We moved to the side of a room, avoiding the groups of Moroi who were hurriedly checking out in the wake of the new attacks. Alone with Rose, I could feel my emotions begin to spike again. The jealousy of seeing her with Adrian, the protectiveness of needing to be a good mentor for her–– and now the scent of whatever perfume she’d gotten her hands on. She’d never worn any in the time I knew her, but the crisp, sweet fragrance toyed with my imagination.

Quickly pushing such thoughts away, I tried to figure out how best to tell her what was on my mind. I was still mad about her accusations the previous day, but this wasn’t about me. This was about her. “That was Adrian Ivashkov,” I said, trying and failing to keep the disapproval from my voice.

“Yeah, I know,” she replied quickly. I wonder just how much she knew about him. 

“This is the second time I’ve seen you with him.”

I was sure I could detect annoyance in her eyes, and knew I was losing her attention. “Yeah. We hang out sometimes.”

My stomach dropped as my eyebrow arched. That was the second time I heard that phrase used. I wasn’t oblivious to Rose’s reputation at the Academy, but I also felt that I knew her better than that. Sure, I’d caught her in a very compromising position with the Zeklos kid once, but she’d seemed to have learned from that. Or at least taken the lesson to heart in a mature way. Yet I wasn’t sure that there existed a world in which “hanging out with Adrian Ivashkov” could be anything innocent. “You hang out in his room a lot?” I asked, sounding more accusing than anything else.

I knew Rose too well, though. She wasn’t one to simply take a lecture and peacefully leave. If she felt backed into a corner, she fought. While that was usually something I admired in her, in this moment, I was worried about what rebuttal would come. 

Apparently, even my worst guesses weren’t nearly as bad as what she actually came up with. “What happens between him and me is none of your business.” It wasn’t lost  on me that she did a near perfect impersonation of myself the previous day. Shit, she’s good. Logically I knew that she was just trying to get back at me for the Tasha thing, but I couldn’t help the sudden assault of mental images of Rose and Adrian that bombarded my mind. Thanks to my guardian training, I was able to keep it all hidden from my expression.

“Actually,” I retorted, not missing a beat in my scramble to gain the upper hand. “As long as you’re at the Academy, what you do is my business.” Checkmate!

Rather than ending the argument there, however, it only ramped up, each of us firing back in quick succession. We were a good match for each other in the ring, and clearly that sparring spilled out into other areas of our life.

“Not my personal life. You don’t have any say in that.”

“You’re not an adult yet.”

“I’m close enough. Besides, it’s not like I’ll magically become an adult on my eighteenth birthday.”

“Clearly.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Was she actually blushing at that? “I meant––”

“I know what you meant,” I cut her off, not wanting to travel down that road right now. Adrian’s borderline accusations still bothered me. “And the technicalities don’t matter right now. You’re an Academy student. I’m your instructor. It’s my job to help you and to keep you safe.” I idly wondered who I was trying to convince more, her or me. “Being in the bedroom of someone like him . . . well, that’s not safe.” 

I hoped she understood what I was trying to convey. I didn’t want to fight. Our argument the previous day killed me, but I wasn’t going to let her self-sabotage herself, either. Rose had the potential to be great. Perhaps even one of the best. I wasn’t going to let a spoiled, rich, royal ruin that for her.

“I can handle Adrian Ivashkov,” she muttered. The sudden mental image of those two in a sparring ring did much to lighten my mood, but not enough to derail me from on the topic at hand. “He’s weird–– really weird, apparently–– but harmless.”

Well that was hardly true. Adrian might not be a killer or anything, but he certainly one of the least harmless guys I knew. What happened to Mason? Why wasn’t she with him? I actually like that guy.

A thought occurred to me just then. This whole time I’d justified myself not being jealous because I was okay with her being with Mason. Yet Mason was absolutely harmless. He was safe. It was obvious to anyone in the same room as those two that he was completely head over heels for Rose, but I never saw the same passion for him in her eyes. Her being with him never seemed like a threat–– ignoring the fact that I had nothing to be threatened with since I’m not even in the equation. I can’t be. It wouldn’t be right. But throw someone like Adrian in? Hell yeah I was suddenly threatened. Rose deserved better than him, but I knew how easy it was for him to get his way with that cocky grin.

Fuck. I really am jealous.

“Speaking of personal lives,” Rose said, mercifully cutting off my traitorous train of thought. At least, I thought it was a mercy until I heard what she was getting at. “I suppose you were off visiting Tasha, huh?”

My own personal revelation weighed too heavily to allow me a quippy, or even scathing, retort. “Actually, I was visiting your mother.”

“You going to hook up with her, too?” At least one of us was on their argumentative A-game.

My mind was too much of a mess to truly react to it, though I had to admit, it was a pretty good line. “No, we were looking over some new data in the Drozdov attack.” After that, any signs of jealousy or mentions of Tasha and Adrian were forgotten as we spoke about the Strigoi problem. Though the heaviness of the situation pressed in on us, I was glad that Rose could set aside our pettiness and take the real problems to heart. I kept calling her a young girl to Adrian, but she truly is mature beyond her years. That didn’t counter the fact that she’s underaged and shouldn’t be anywhere near that jackhole, but it reminded me that she’s more than just a student. One day soon, we’d be working side by side, and I looked forward to that. I may be assigned as her mentor for now, but as we spoke about the Strigoi threat and Moroi politics, I knew that Rose is more than that. She’s my equal. It felt right to divulge the guardian’s knowledge of the Strigoi’s whereabouts to her.

“Why’d you tell me this, anyway?” she asked eventually. “This is guardian stuff. Not the kind of thing you let novices in on.”

I paused, turning over the words in my head. Our heated emotions were gone, and in the wake that followed, I thought back to the way I had been treating her lately. I thought of her as my equal, but I didn’t treat her that way. I wanted to change that. “I’ve said some things . . .  the other day and today . . . that I shouldn’t have. Things that insulted your age. You’re seventeen . . . but you’re capable of handling and processing the same things those much older than you do.”

“Really?” she asked. The look of hope that kindled in her eyes melted my heart then and there. This was how I liked her best, full optimism and void of the anger that always seem to follow her.

I nodded, feeling the hint of a smile on my lips. “You’re still really young in a lot of ways–– and act young–– but the only way to really change that is to treat you like an adult. I need to do that more. I know you’ll take this information and understand how important it is and keep it to yourself.” I was man enough to admit when I was wrong, and my recent treatment of her had been just that. Surely it wasn’t too late to set things right–– and hopefully steer her away from certain disaster.

A moment passed between us. Looking into Rose’s eyes, I could swear that I could hear her thoughts. She wanted to be the kind of person that I wanted to treat her as. I think on some level, we both understood the burden that our futures carried as the last Dragomir princess’s guardians, but we were also both looking forward to carrying it out together.

That moment of peace was short lived, however, when a familiar voice greeted me. “Dimka!” With those two syllables spoken by Tasha Ozera, I felt the mood instantly shift between me and Rose.

to be continued . . .

[dusky-dancing]

What Grows in Winter

Rating: T

Length: ~4500 words

Pairing: Felix Hugo Fraldarius / Byleth Eisner

Tags: Mistletoe, Hand Warming, Kissing, Holiday Tropes, Fluff, Pining.

Summary: Fodlan’s coldest winter and a gruesome war greet Byleth upon waking from her five-year slumber, and while an improvised winter celebration is in the works, she’s more drawn to a familiar stability. Surely, whatever grows in the harshest seasons can survive anything.

This is my Felileth Secret Santa gift for Rex a.k.a Smoke n’ Milk! Check out their art twitter if you’re craving some Felileth. I hope you all enjoy, and have a very Merry Christmas!

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Snow made sparring more challenging. Byleth already knew this, but to do so with Felix only a month after she’d awoken from her five-year slumber was much harder than she’d imagined. 

It didn’t help that the weather had been relentless that year, and missing Red Wolf Moon meant missing wolf-hunting season, which would’ve supplied their soldiers and allies with the pelts and meat they needed to survive the cold. The guilt tugged at her mind at all times. So many from both the church and the Kingdom had quickly joined the cause with her name, yet she had nothing to show for it besides barely fending off an Empire assault. 

Perhaps sparring Felix grew difficult because he’d grown stronger, or that Byleth had just grown weaker. No matter the excuse, her chill-stiffened muscles struggled to stay mobile against her opponent’s relentless strength. 

“You’re slow.” He lunged swiftly, barely giving her time to parry his sword to the side and force an opening. His body pivoted with the movement, however, and their swords clashed before she could move forward on the offensive. 

“It’s called a warm-up, Felix,” she panted.

“Maybe you’ll finally buy a coat, or make actual use of the one you already have,” he smirked and sliced at her sleeves that dangled unused from her shoulders. “Or admit that I’ve finally surpassed you.”

“Nah,” she said. “Match isn’t over, Fraldarius, and I doubt you’d accept victory that easily.”

“You’re right,” he chuckled before assuming a ready stance and waiting for her to move first.

Byleth almost accepted his bait out of spite until she felt something tickle her hair. Old habits kicked in, and she spun towards their intruder, which in turn startled Felix. Her sword swung for whatever had snuck up on them, but met only empty air, then a small fishing line. The culprit, a small tuft of twigs, leaves, and red berries, fell to her feet.

“Woah, woah! Easy!” Sylvain yelled from above. The paladin had somehow managed to climb to the roof with a fishing pole without alerting either Felix or Byleth to his presence. Maybe Byleth really had lost her touch.

“Sylvain, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Felix shouted. 

With that, Sylvain leapt from the roof, dusted himself off, and held his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you! You two must’ve been really distracted.” He eyed the severed end of his fishing line. “How did you cut this with a wooden sword?”

“What do you want?” Felix asked. “We’re busy, if you haven’t noticed.”

Byleth’s eyes drifted to the small green shrub lying in the snow. “And what is that?” she added.

“Oh, this?” Sylvain smirked and picked it up, twirling it in his fingers. “Glad you asked. Annette and Merci tasked me with getting everyone into a more... festive ...spirit.”

Right, the mages’ mission to lift everyone’s spirits with an improvised winter celebration. The Lions had reunited, as had many of their allies, but Dimitri was far from a kingly state, their supplies ran short, and the monastery’s defenses were unprepared for another Empire incursion. The millenium-old walls had been worse for wear after five years of war and neglect, but their fortress, like their resolve to carry on, held together.

Mercedes and Annette had immediately called for a celebration of Byleth’s return, though she argued they had many more reasons to celebrate. The Millenium Festival marked their reunion, but the decorations, the music, the feasts, and the bright firelight that contrasted with the white snow had been absent. The two women were making up for that now, and most of the Lions had agreed to help. 

“Sylvain, you know you’re supposed to hang up decorations, not flail them around on a fishing rod, right?”

“Ah, but this isn’t a decoration, my good friend.” He tied the bundle to the freshly-cut end of the fishing line and wiggled it between Felix and Byleth. “This, here, is a mistletoe.”

Byleth didn’t know what any of that meant, but if Felix’s reaction was any indication, it wasn’t any good. His annoyed narrow eyes flew open, and his cheeks that surely must have been freezing in the falling snow flushed red. 

“See? Felix knows! I knew you’d-”

“Get lost, Sylvain.” Felix ducked away from the plant as if it was a deadly poison.

“Not until you two follow the tradition.” Sylvain’s unyielding grin told Byleth that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Few were immune to Felix’s sudden outbursts, and Sylvain was likely the most seasoned in navigating the swordsman’s temper. 

Despite the dread hanging in the air, Byleth was curious. “What tradition?”

Felix spun around and pointed his glove in Sylvain’s face. “Don’t tell her!” He didn’t address Byleth directly, but nodded to her. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing our stupid traditions.”

“Great idea, Felix, why don’t you tell her!” Sylvain nudged his friend as his voice nearly sang. Their moods couldn’t be more opposite, but Byleth knew whose taste aligned more with her own. 

Felix grunted. “Let’s just get back to training.”

In their brief repose, Byleth’s muscles had only stiffened by remaining stagnant. And she couldn’t deny her curiosity. “I’m not participating in any weird Faerghus traditions, but I should still know what they are.”

Sylvain’s smile grew all the way to his eyes while Felix scoffed with a look of betrayal. Maybe he wished that she’d push Sylvain to drop it. After a few tense moments, however, he yielded and turned back toward her. Even so, he kept his face turned away from her.

“When two people are caught under a mistletoe, the dumb tradition says they have to...kiss.”

“Oh,” was all Byleth could say in response. If Sylvain was watching her for a strong reaction, he wouldn’t get one. But that was only because her insides were imploding.

Sylvain wanted him to kiss her? Had he chosen them on purpose, or had it just been coincidence?

Did she... want to kiss Felix?

The man didn’t give her time to ponder the sensation any further. “But like I said, it’s dumb, it’s cold, and we’re busy. So get lost, Sylvain.”

“Oh, you’re busy . I see how it is.” He reeled in the mistletoe and swung it over his shoulder. “You two are the first to refuse, you know. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a sign. A mistletoe is an omen of peace and protection from death. They grow even in the harshest winter. The fact that some began sprouting on the shrubs throughout the monastery is good, no?”

Felix’s face flared red, either with seething anger or pure embarrassment. “Then go find more willing participants and tell Edelgard the war’s over because of some weeds. Leave us.”

Sylvain threw his hands up in defeat. “All right, all right, I surrender. Consent is important, anyways.” Before he pushed the training ground doors open, however, he turned and gave them one last of his dazzling smiles. “You never refused, though. All I heard were excuses.” And with that, he shrugged and moved through the doors.

“Don’t waste that fishing line, Sylvain, I’ll need it later!” Byleth shouted before the doors slammed shut. An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Byleth was sure her fingers had fused to her sword hilt. “My hands are freezing,” she said in an attempt to break the tension and turn the conversation elsewhere.

When his eyes met hers, however, he almost looked apologetic. He’d never apologized for his outbursts in the past, so why did he look so regretful now?

Oh. 

Oh.

Her attempt to pull his attention away from the awkward situation appeared to work as he strode over to her and removed a glove. Atleast, it worked until his bare hand touched hers, and her cheeks flared with heat. Maybe it was just because his hand was exceptionally warm compared to hers, or maybe it was the sudden close proximity. Regardless, their brief reprieve from recent events was short-lived.

Felix pulled his hand away quickly. “Well, damn, of course they are. You’re gripping a wooden sword in the freezing snow, bare-handed. Will you buy some gloves already?”

“I suppose I’m not used to the cold.” She leaned her sword against a nearby pillar. Relieved that it hadn’t frozen stuck to her palm, she rubbed her now-free hands together for warmth. “It’s worse this year than I remember. Gloves are hard enough to come by, and I can’t...” she paused, recalling how many at the monastery were even less equipped for the cold. “I can’t let myself get comfortable yet.”

Felix sighed, still keeping arm’s distance from her. A moment later, he offered her both of his gloves. She was in the middle of exhaling warm breath against her hands and froze at his sudden gesture. 

“Here, you’ll get warmer faster, then we can get back to work.”

He’d never demanded that she borrow anything of his before - not his coat, his gloves, and certainly not his sword. But she knew better than to leave him hanging for too long.

“Thank you,” she said before taking them. Her hands already felt warmer just holding the thick hide fabric. His gloves outsized her hands noticeably, and she didn’t miss the chuckle that came from him when the tips of the fingers flopped over. 

But they were extremely warm. Instinctively, she clasped her hands together and brought them close to her face, and she inhaled the scent of pine and sword oil.

Was this how he always smelled?

“Felix?” she asked. He was doing everything in his power to not watch her, but his head turned toward her curiously. “You were right. Traditions are stupid,” she smirked. 

His shoulders relaxed, and a half-smile to match her own replaced the scowl that had been present since Sylvain’s provocation. “I get why people have them, but there’s no point to just follow them blindly.”

“Even if they’re just for fun?” she asked.

“Sylvain should know better than to ask me to do something for fun .”

She smirked, “Yes, but he doesn’t know better than to push your buttons. There, I’d say he succeeded.”

Felix scoffed and turned away. As Byleth’s hands warmed, she realized she’d never really taken the time to notice how much her former students had grown. The one before her certainly had. He was taller and stronger, sure. She knew that enough from training with him, but he’d grown in his own mind as well. He’d hardened himself, likely from the war, yet at the same time his gaze had softened towards her and the other Blue Lions, save for Dimitri.

Maybe his vindication, knowing he’d been right all along about the prince, had brought with it a tragic sense of peace. 

Back when the prince’s demons had begun to show themselves, Felix had been the only one she could approach about it without getting excuses or looks of pity. That was five years ago, though it still lived freshly in Byleth’s memory.

Five years. She’d seen the growth of her former students, but how had their view of her changed during her absence? How had Felix’s? If he’d thought her to be dead, perhaps he’d simply tucked away memories of her next to Glenn and sought out another rival to overcome. If he’d thought she lived, maybe he’d searched for her and had become more concerned and angry as time went on. Felix hadn’t volunteered which side he’d leaned toward yet, and truth be told, it didn’t matter to Byleth whether he’d believed her to be alive or dead. The fact that he was sparring with her now was enough of an answer.

She learned one more crucial piece of information - that the thought of kissing her made Felix absolutely flustered, not annoyed or irritated.

Despite how everything had changed, Felix remained a source of stability for her. Training with him brought her down to her humanity again, away from the realm of the goddess, nobles, and crests. A second thing she learned - the thought of kissing Felix made her flustered as well. 

Amidst the realization, her hands had regained feeling. The growing impatience of her opponent made itself known in the way he paced with folded arms and tapped his bare fingers. Or maybe similar thoughts refused to leave his mind as well. 

There was one way to find out.

When Byleth returned to Felix his gloves, she raised herself onto her toes, leaned in, and pecked her lips onto his cheek. He immediately pulled away like she’d just stabbed him, with an eyes-wide look of shock. His cheeks flushed red, and his sword fell from his grasp.

Byleth had seen Felix do many things when caught off guard, but she’d never seen him drop his weapon.

“Wh-what the hell was that for?!”

She retreated a step, doing her best to maintain her calm exterior. “As a thanks, and a way to fulfill that stupid tradition.”

He didn’t respond again, which made her second guess her own judgment. He’d looked like he’d wanted to kiss her, right? She hadn’t imagined the way he let her borrow his gloves, the way he watched her when they sparred.

“I-I’m sorry. I just thought that...you know what? Nevermind. I should go eat. The cold’s obviously getting to me.” She began to back away, but his bare hand caught her wrist. When she looked back in shock, his gaze was still fixated on the ground.

“It-it’s fine,” he croaked and cleared his throat before finally meeting her gaze. “But that’s not how the tradition goes.”

Byleth paused. Why did Felix suddenly care about the rules? 

Unless…

“It doesn’t work with...just that.” He stepped closer, keeping a hold on her arm. “You have to…”

Oh.

Did he actually want to kiss her? The way his eyes held her screamed yes , with a taste of caution and a lingering question floating within them. So she answered with the smallest nod she could muster, afraid that moving too quickly would break whatever trance they’d found themselves in. 

He didn’t move to touch her anywhere else, but heat flooded her every fiber as he leaned closer and tilted his head to the side. Her eyes closed themselves, overwhelmed at the sight, and then a warmth brushed across her lips. It was brief, if a little ticklish, and she responded in kind before the sensation quickly retreated.

Her eyes remained shut for too long, afraid of the image that would greet her. Would he look happy? Angry? She feared that he may have already turned his back and walked away before his calloused grip on her arm reminded her that he was still within reach. 

Finally, her eyelids gained the strength to open, and indeed the sight would’ve made her heart race if it hadn’t been permanently unbeating. Felix watched her intently, searching her for emotions. Her self-expression was still muted, but he’d become one of the few people who could read her subtle changes, and she hoped that his intuition had remained with him after all those years.

What his eyes communicated, on the other hand, was as clear as day to her. Though he watched her, his gaze was soft with his eyelids hanging lightly. She cursed the snow that fell between the few inches of space between them, interrupting her view. She’d never denied that he was handsome in the same way she’d never deny his skills with a sword, yet now he looked to her almost as a lover would. Not quite open and comfortable enough to freely steal hazy glances, but enough to ask another question.

Is this really what you want?

A question that went unasked, as the words that came from him brought her thoughts to a halt. “Now it counts,” he spoke plainly, as if he were commenting on her sword technique. 

They avoided one another's gaze once again, with his eyes darting down and hers upwards. She scanned the roof, suddenly paranoid that their prior company hadn’t completely left, and swore she saw a second, fresher disturbance in the snow that blanketed the roof. Whether the redhead would earn himself a few more weeks of stable duty wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, however, compared to the man retreating from her.

“I thought you hated traditions.” She turned her wrist in his grasp so she could return his hold, telling him he could stay if he liked. 

Or possibly ask for more.

The thought of kissing him again, fully aware and able to better-prepare herself, erupted butterflies in her chest. She wondered if this was the closest she’d feel to a racing heartbeat.

“I do.” He kept his tone, but his expression held the same question as before. His voice dropped when he spoke again. “But I don’t...hate you.”

She tried to stop the snort that escaped from her nose to no avail, so her free hand came up to cover her face. Now Felix just looked offended, but the way his face continued to redden as he turned away told her that he wished he’d chosen his words better.

But she didn’t. Felix wasn’t the type of man to overthink his words. It was one of his traits that allowed him to be honest and insightful, even if his words stung. Regardless, she knew that I don’t hate you from Felix meant more than the words themselves. 

Her grip on his wrist held firm, and she ran her thumb along the fabric of his sleeve. “I don’t hate you either, Felix.”

He seemed to just notice her touch, for his attention turned to their interlocked arms. Facing her again, he made her the flustered one when he slid his fingers down to take her hand instead. It surprised her how quickly he could turn the tables against her.

“Byleth…”

Familiarity hit her as he stepped closer again, only now his other hand caressed her shoulder, his warm gloves discarded somewhere in the snow. The gaze in his eyes, however, had shifted drastically. Where previously he approached her like a stray cat, now his eyes resembled a wolf - hungry and knowing exactly what he wanted. Her breath hitched, and she managed to rest her free hand against his waist. He was warm as always, but she swore he was shivering. No, trembling.

“Felix…”

Whatever words tried to spill from her were stopped, but not with the crashing of his lips against hers like she’d imagined. Instead, the doors to the training grounds burst open. 

The wolf-like expression before her switched from hunger to anger. He pushed her away sharply, but she took no offense as she’d probably have done the same. Her attention turned to the entryway, where she expected to see Sylvain. She was partially correct, but the paladin wasn’t alone. 

Ashe ran to the front and nearly collapsed into the snow, out of breath. “You aren’t going to believe this, Professor! I was scouting and-”

“Slow down, Ashe, you’re hyperventilating!” Mercedes patted his back and offered him water. Indeed, his face was beet red, and his breathing short. He panted as if he’d just run several miles up the mountain, which would be true if he’d been scouting.

“Let me finish.” He took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Professor, we won’t have to worry about blankets and pelts this winter, because a herd is approaching! A herd of...llamas!”

The surprise threw Byleth in many different mental directions. She suddenly became aware of her and Felix’s state. They’d tried to appear as if they’d just been sparring like any other day, yet their bare hands, long-abandoned swords, and fresh shoeprints in the snow gave away their close proximity only moments ago. She quickly scanned the crowd to see if anyone had picked up on those details. Ashe, though a skilled scout, was too winded and had let his senses drop within the safety of the monastery. Mercedes and Annette hadn’t noticed. So that just left-

Sylvain didn’t even try to hide the grin plastered on his face. He stood unnoticed in the back of the group, just so only Felix and Byleth would catch his gaze. Byleth felt heat rise to her face, but retained her well-practiced stoic facade. Felix, however, failed to hide his flustered annoyance, and his face grew brighter with every second. Luckily for him, the other students were only looking for their former professor’s reaction.

“We’ve never hunted those before,” Byleth said.

“You don’t hunt them!” Annette jumped to gain everyone’s attention. “You shepherd them and use their fleece to make blankets! They can even protect themselves and other livestock from wolves!”

“I don’t recall llamas being around when I was teaching.”

“They’re native to south Fodlan, where the climate is a little more friendly to them.” Sylvain finally broke his painfully teasing silence. “I guess the combination of the war in Alliance and Empire territory with the thinning human population around here drove them this far north.”

“That’s great news.” Byleth managed a small smile. One of her burdens - helping her friends and comrades survive the brutal winter - had been lifted. 

“Yes!” Annette beamed. “No one will be cold this year!”

“Does this mean we’ll have to cancel our winter festival?” Mercedes asked.

For whatever reason, they looked to Byleth for an answer. She found the gesture sweet, that they still looked to her for guidance or permission for things she was barely involved in. 

She already knew her answer, yet still scanned their faces. Annette and Mercedes begged with their eyes, and she resisted chuckling at their collective adorable nature. Ashe was beginning to regain his strength, seeming to just notice the other people present. It wouldn’t be long before he’d realize the awkwardness of the situation he’d just barged in on. 

Sylvain looked to her curiously. She and Felix had practically cursed holiday traditions earlier, though Byleth had nothing against holidays or celebrations themselves. He was scanning her to see if she’d prioritize fun or practicality.

Well, why not both?

Finally, she turned to the man beside her. Felix waited for her reaction as well, though he’d probably only taken in half of the conversation. The flush of his cheeks had begun to subside, and he shot her a half-smile with folded arms. He knew the answer she was about to give, and was savoring the wait as much as she was.

“Of course not.” She could practically feel the collective sigh and smiled before facing the rest of her audience. “There are plenty of hands looking for busy work. I don’t see why we can’t handle both. Marianne is good with animals, so I’ll appoint her to lead.”

“We should clear a pasture for them, so they’ll know where a safe place is,” Annette added.

Ashe just laughed, seemingly still in disbelief of the day’s events. He definitely wasn’t the only one.

“Oh this is wonderful!” Mercedes clasped her hands together. “I hope they’ll come back next year, and the year after that! Imagine if it were safe enough to let children see them!”

“If they do, we’ll make it a-” the last word caught in Byleth’s throat, and her attention was immediately drawn to Sylvain’s smirk, somehow even larger than earlier. She swallowed and cleared her throat, looked to Felix, then back to Sylvain, and finished her thought, “-a tradition.”

Sylvain snickered, which confused everyone but the swordsmen. Felix’s flush quickly returned. It really wasn’t that hard to get a rise out of him, was it?

“Changed your mind on traditions, Professor?” Sylvain asked with his hands on his hips. “Could it be because some of them might work-”

“We got damn lucky,” Felix interrupted, letting loose his thoughts for the first time in this conversation. “You said it yourself: the war, the low population - that drove them here. Not your stupid mistletoe.”

“Oh, you took out the mistletoe!” Mercedes exclaimed. “You’re the best, Sylvain!” 

“Just doing my duty.”

“Wait.” Annette tapped her chin. “Did Felix actually kiss someone!”

Byleth had done her work to keep the attention off of Felix thus far, but now he’d thrown himself to the wolves. Even Ashe’s eyes lit up. Byleth couldn’t help her amusement.

“No!” Felix shouted and stomped off to gather his sword. No one stopped him.

Sylvain, despite the endless dancing on Felix’s thin ice, came to his friend’s aid. “Alas, even I cannot get Felix to kiss anyone.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

“What about you, Professor?” Mercedes asked. “Did you kiss anyone?”

“I’m not kissing anyone who still calls me ‘Professor.’” Also not a lie, since Felix hadn’t addressed her by that title since their reunion.

“Good point,” Mercedes giggled. “I just can’t bring myself to call you by your first name yet.”

“Yeah,” Annette said. “You’ll always be our professor, first and foremost.”

“Well, someone’s kiss brought survivability to the monastery, that’s all I’m saying.” Sylvain shrugged his shoulders and shot both Felix and Byleth winks from the back. 

Byleth could practically feel the heat radiating off of Felix, compared to the chilled falling snow around them. Luckily for them, Sylvain pushed it no further. Unluckily for them, the rest caught on.

“Felix, are you okay?” Mercedes asked. “You look like you’re catching a cold.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Just want to get back to training. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a war.”

“I suppose we should go count the herd’s numbers,” Ashe said, “and start learning how to use their fleece.”

“Oh! I’ll come!” Annette skipped after him. 

Mercedes eyed Felix suspiciously, not in the way Sylvain had, but like a concerned mother. She looked to Byleth, almost to communicate, make sure he takes care of himself , and Byleth affirmed her with a nod. Sylvain was the last to leave, simply offering the pair one last wink and a salute before closing the doors to the training grounds.

Being alone with Felix once more, they couldn’t ignore what had happened. Her exposed skin suddenly forgot all about the cold, and the supposedly fearless Ashen Demon couldn’t bring herself to look in the eyes of the man who’d kissed her.

“I should go, too,” she said. “I need to ask Marianne to take on her role and...other things.”

Felix was silent as she retrieved her training sword and hung it on the weapon rack where it would be protected by the roof’s overhang. 

Perhaps he was still as flustered as she was, or he’d lost his courage to act. Or perhaps...he’d regretted it all.

Before she reached the large double doors, however, a firm hold pulled at her wrists and spun her around. Amber eyes met hers again, with a familiar hungry expression. 

“Before you go,” he hummed, only audible by their proximity, “just know that I…”

He took a moment to search for the right words, his darting pupils betraying his thoughts. In the end, he gave up on talking and simply kissed her. Damn him for catching her off-guard again, but she wouldn’t hesitate a second time. She pulled her wrists free in favor for grasping his fur collar. Soon she felt his hands at her waist, and knew he wouldn’t retreat.

So warm. He was so warm, and suddenly surviving the harsh war-torn winter didn’t feel so improbable.

[beyondthetower]

Haunted: A Dimilith One-Shot

Sometimes I write fan fiction when I have writers block and share it old-school style on Fanfiction.net. But then figured, why not share it here? Maybe someone would be interested maybe not who knows.

Ship: Dimitri x Byleth

Warning: Spoilers for Azure Moon Part 2

Post-Timeskip

SFW

Inspired by the last picture in this post

“Are you crazy? People who go anywhere near that monastery get slaughtered, every last one.” 

Byleth ascended the stone steps carefully, her heels echoing through the ghosts of the bodies piled on the floor. Unclaimed helmets and weapons littered the stairwell. The ghosts of a soldier’s last battle etched across their face. She wondered what they had been fighting for. Had they been Either way, they hadn’t made it. That much was clear. Whoever this army was protecting the monastery, whoever the villager had been talking about, was vicious.

Was she crazy? If this had been the aftermath of the attack five years ago, it had been perfectly preserved. No, this was recent. Of that she was certain. 

She took note of the emblems on the fallen soldiers. The Empire. Had Edelgard’s coup succeeded? Had she held power that whole time? Was she still sending battalions to try to take the monastery? It offered a weird kind of comfort: that her friends could still be alive, still be here, protecting their home and waiting for her to come back to them.

  Stone can lose all warmth so easily with the dying of the light. In the doorway, a heavy, iron fixture sat unused. The lack of glow from a torch meant that the sunlight had to creep its way as far as possible, leaving a cold, blue, light painted on the walls. 

Byleth turned the corner of the winding stairs. She tuned her ears to listen for any signs of life but found none. She had made it to the Goddess Tower without so much as a glimmer of light. She almost didn’t recognize it. The vines of ivy that once crawled up the walls were now dead and browned, their thornes clinging to the stone for dear life. 

In an alcove, shrouded by the late-day shadows, a beam of sunlight found its way to the tip of a blade. Byleth squinted at the glare, then trained her eyes on the darkness until an outline formed around the lance that had been leaning upright. A body slumped over it, whatever was left of a fallen soldier still clinging to his weapon as if that would save him now.

Only this one was different. This one moved. 

A leather boot scraped against the stone floor as he shifted. The lance caught the light again, and when Byleth’s sight returned to her she could see the outline. Without thinking, she moved closer. Had this been the person the villager was referring to? The monster lurking in the halls of the monastery, haunting anyone who dared enter the sacred space? Taking out whole armies alone? She stood at a safe distance, studying the figure and praying it was no ghost--that somebody, any of her friends had survived the battle all those years ago. 

Finally, the sun broke through the clouds, casting its rays on the bloody and mangled face of a man she could barely recognize; his hair falling into his face as if it was trying to hide him from the light. Carefully, Byleth stepped into the sun, and when she did he groaned and squinted up at her, blinking. Feeling a familiar sense of warmth, knelt down before him. 

“I should have known,” he said. “That one day you would be haunting me as well.” His voice was strained, hardened by time, but it was Dimitri’s voice all the same. That much she knew for certain. 

“You,” he breathed. “What must I do to be rid of you?” 

Byleth opened her mouth to speak, but he continued on. 

“I will kill her, I promise.” His voice cracked in what seemed more like desperation than vengeance. “Don’t look upon me with such scorn in your eyes! Not you…”

“Hey,” Byleth finally managed. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” 

Dimitri looked up at her. He wore an eye patch now, but his one good eye swam with confusion and fear. A lack of sleep pooled under his lashes in deep purple.

  “My love,” she said softly, cupping his cheeks in her hand and studying the scars that now peppered his face, permanent reminders of battles she hadn’t been with him for.  “What happened to you?”

  Dimitri stared at her, both in fear and something else. Hope?

Byleth ran her thumb along the stubble of his jawline, tracing along to the strap of his eyepatch. “Time has not been kind to you,” she added. 

As if only just realizing she was real, Dimitri fell into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and burying his face into her neck. She gripped the back of his head tightly as he cried. The eerie silence of his solitude that had enveloped the monastery had been broken by his near-silent cries and gasps for air.

  “You-you’re alive?” He gripped her harder again. “How can that be?” 

“Shhh,” she cooed. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.” The last part had been directed to herself more than to him. 

Dimitri pulled back, and when he looked up at her his good eye bloodshot and glassy, his eyebrows furrowed. “Am I?” 

Guilt rattled its way through her ribs. She should have been there for him. She should have been there for all of them, sure, but Dimitri was different. He held a special piece of her heart, the one piece that she had a deep need to protect at all costs. Seeing the tears roll down his cheeks, she felt her own eyes burn with tears. It wasn’t a sensation she was used to. Her father always noted that she never cried, even as a baby, and only managed to do so while she held him, dying, in her arms. 

The idea of it happening again, of not being able to protect the one other person she truly cared for, was crippling. Byleth let her forehead fall against his own, hoping it would hide her own tears. “I’m so sorry, Dimitri,” she whispered. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

If you made it this far and feel like checking out my stuff, feel free to take a look at my other stories here!

[fortuitous-juxtapositions]

Art of Deception Part 2 (Orlo x Reader)

Summary: An Orlo x Reader slow burn. You and your uncle have just arrived in Peter III's court from the Colonies. You uncle has warned you of the debauchery of the court and devises a plan to keep you safe, but the Emperor has other ideas. You find yourself thrown to the wolves and you must keep your secret while while fighting the growing feelings you have for the one person in court you who you would tell the secrets of the universe to if he would only ask.

Note: Anything in Italics indicates the characters are speaking English as opposed to Russian

Also available to read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566277/chapters/62224174

“Dimitri, you old bastard!” A man dressed in military finery boomed as he slapped your uncle roughly on the shoulder. “Where the fuck have you been hiding?”

“Velementov, who are you calling old you ancient fuck?” Your uncle laughed good naturedly and the man shrugged.

“Takes one to know one.”

“How goes the war with Sweden?”

Velementov’s shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was laid upon them and, in his eyes, a faraway look as if his mind lay somewhere else entirely. He finally shrugged and tossed his glass of vodka back in one go, his body swaying in a way that told you he had started drinking long before you arrived.

“Ah, that well my friend?” You uncle looked on sympathetically. The other man made a ‘what can you do’ gesture and gave a humorless laugh.

“Russia’s sends her boys to war so that they may die men.” The tone in Velementov’s voice was one that made you believe he was convincing himself more than anything. He exhaled and his eyes flittered over to you. “But enough about war, we are in the presence of a lady, and they do not wish to hear of such things!”

His hand came out in greeting and you curtsied as you took it.

“General Velementov, commander of the Russian army. And you are?” He raised your hand to his lips and placed a chased kiss on your knuckles.

“My niece, (y/n).” Your uncle broke in. “She does not speak Russian, I am afraid.”

Velementov balked.

“Does not speak Russian? What are you teaching her over there in that wild new world?”

“It is just not practical. Near to no one speaks our mother tongue over there. They all speak either English or French. Though there are quite a few different tribal languages of the natives who live there. Fascinating people whom her father often traded with.”

“God rest his soul,” Velementov lamented as he grabbed another glass of vodka and downed it like water. He smiled at you kindly before his attention was drawn away from you and towards the doors that had just been flung open. In stepped the Emperor dressed in the finest golden silks, accompanying him was a woman who was slender in statue and dressed in clothes that rivaled all other women in attendance.

“The Empress,” Velementov’s voice was reverent as he gazed at her through glassy, drunk eyes. The Emperor and his bride made their way to the head of the tables as all in attendance bowed and curtsied to them. When they reached their table, they turned to look at you and your uncle, both standing in the center as is customary when joining the court, waiting for the Emperor to welcome you.

“Velementov, you fat cunt, fuck off back to your seat!” The Emperor yelled and you noticed for the first time that the General was still stood next to your uncle. His mouth stumbled over an apology that had the Emperor rolling his eyes before stepping around your uncle. You watched the man go in concern for his wellbeing as he drunkenly tripped over his own feet. He fell forward slamming his hip into the corner of the table and you hissed in sympathy. The Emperor roared with laughter and continued to belittle him while the rest of the court joined in.

Your uncle growled and reached for you when you dropped your death grip on him and made you way over to the man who stood doubled over in pain. You grabbed his arm and help him straighten himself up.

Before you could maneuver him around the table another pair of hands gripped his opposite shoulder. You looked up to find the man from earlier, Orlo, looking at you before quickly shooting his eyes over to the General.

“For fuck sake, Orlo. Get him to his seat before I rip his and your cock off with my fucking fork.” The Emperor yelled, silencing all in the hall.

“I’ve got him,” Orlo whispered to you, gesturing with his head for you to return to your uncle whose hand gently wrapped around your bicep.

“Let him go,” he hissed into your ear and you obeyed as your uncle pulled you back to the center of the room. You watched Orlo quickly and efficiently guide Velementov to his chair without further incident and you knew that it was not the first time such a thing had occurred.

When you looked back to the head of the table you noticed four blue eyes regarding you curiously and the grip your uncle had on you tightened.

“Right, I’m fucking starving. Let’s get this over with,” the Emperor gestured to you and your uncle. “Count (L/N) has returned for the Colonies with his niece…” He looked around at all members of the court who were in attendance. “Well, fuck me that was fast. Sit down and lets eat this fucking pig.”

Your uncle escorted you to your seat before taking his own. As soon as the Emperor tore into the suckling pig the court followed suite. You sat back, horror struck as you watched them feast like starved wolves on the array of food, enough to feed a small army. You wrinkled your nose as you half expected to start hearing snorts and grunts coming from the men and women around you. A quick glance over to your uncle saw a similar expression on his own face. You picked at the potatoes that sat cooling on your plate, all traces of hunger gone and a heavy feeling of exhaust settled of you.

“You’re a pretty little thing,” you raised your head up to see a woman with large hair and a wildness about her standing in front of you. “You have such pretty, soft hair.”

She tugged a strand free and gently twisted it around her finger. She sent you a kindly smile, but there was something vicious that lurked just beyond.

“Lady Elizabeth,” your uncle greeted. “You look more and more radiant each time I see you.”

“This is your niece, is it?” she grinned again. “Not very talkative.”

“No, she does not speak Russian, so it is difficult for her to communicate.” He patted your shoulder in affection, but you could feel the warning coming from his touch.

“No? Pity. She is very pretty. I am sure that she will have many of the man in court tripping over themselves to get to her…” her grin turned sly. “And many of the women as well.”

“Yes, well” your uncle cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We do not intend on staying here more than a few days. Business at the estate and all.”

“Yes, I heard about the death of your cousin. A shame… he was quite a glorious lover.”

You were glad you had not yet brought the glass of water in your hand to your lips, for certain you would have choked on it and revealed your secret. Instead you cast your eyes around the room in hope that the strange woman would soon leave you and find someone else who could entertain her. You raised the glass to your lips and took a sip, the cold water doing little to chase away the drowsiness as the day’s traveling and events started to catch up with you.

Your eyes wondered to Valementov, seeing him sway in his chair as if he were aboard a ship. He loudly exclaimed something before slamming his fist into the table. The sound made the man to his left jump and your sight narrowed in on him. Orlo leaned into the general, his lips moved quickly as if he were scolding the man and you fought to contain a smile. Orlo finished his oration and his eyes immediately glanced up and locked with your own. You did smile at the man but he quickly jerked his head to the left, his eyes fixed on something of interest on the ceiling. You frowned and raised an eyebrow but turned back to the conversation between your uncle and the strange woman. Her eyes locked with you and in contrast to Orlo, she held your gaze with confidence.

“Elizabeth is Peter’s aunt.” You uncle clarified for you.

“Ah,” you smiled at the woman “it is a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth.”

Your uncle started to translate what you said but Elizabeth cut him off and exclaimed loudly,

“What a lovely language!” You could feel the eyes of the court turn towards you as a hush fell over the room. “I do love the way my name sounds on your tongue.”

Guffaws were heard from many a table and you looked to your uncle, a silent plea for comfort in your eyes as your face conveyed confusion to the court.

“I say, Aunt Elizabeth!” Peter exclaimed from his table, standing up so that all eyes turned to him. “What is this about her lovely tongue?”

You fought a blush and instead took another drink of the cold water to help calm the raising heat while clutching your uncle’s hand under the table.

“The way it caresses my name, nephew!” She exclaimed, her eyes finally turning from your face to speak directly to her nephew.

The Emperor stood up and grabbed his glass of vodka before making his way over to you. You gulped nervously and looked around the room once more. This time all eyes were on you, glittering with humor, desire and jealousy. As you cast your eyes about the room, they once more locked with Orlo. He did not look away this time, enraptured by the sight before him. But unlike the rest of court, his eyes darkened as a nervous energy seemed to pulse from them.

Peter stepped in front of you, blocking your gaze from Orlo and everyone else in the dinning hall. You looked up as his tall frame towered over you.

“Say my name.” He commanded. You scrunched your face into a mask of confusion. “I SAID, SAY MY NAME!” He slammed his hand on the table and you jumped.

“S-sir, please,” A voice pleaded to his left at the same time your uncle started to apologize.

Orlo stood next to the Emperor, his body twisting such as to try and bring the Emperor’s focus to him, but his icy blue eyes remained trained on you.

“She does not speak Russian” Orlo reminded as your uncle clutched your hand tighter. The Emperor sniffed in angered amusement and turned to your uncle.

“Tell her to say my name,” he commanded.

“It’s okay, dearest. Just do as he says.” The was a slight quiver in your uncle’s voice. You nodded and your eyes focused on the table.

“Emperor Peter” you said quietly.

A hand gripped your chin painfully and brutally jerked your head upward. You met the cruel eyes of the Emperor as silence filled the room. No one dared to speak let alone breathe in fear his wrath my be directed towards them.

“Say. It. Again.” He commanded. Your uncle translated in English.

“Emperor Peter.”

“Again!”

“Emperor Peter.” His grip on your chin tightened and you knew it would be bruised come the morning.

“Tell her to say it louder.” He growled. Your uncle translated.

“Emperor Peter.”

“Louder!” he shook your head.

“Emperor Peter!”

“LOUDER!” He brought his face closer to yours and yelled.

“EMPEROR PETER!” You near sobbed as you yelled it at him. He grinned maliciously, finally satisfied with your obedience.

“You’re right, Aunt. Her lovely tongue does caress my name.” He shoved your face away and you could not help the small squeal of pain that escaped from you throat. His grin grew more satisfied at the noise and he straightened himself to his full height. “But her inability to speak Russian will not do.”

He thought for a moment, fingers caressing his chin. You could physically see the change when the idea came to his head, his eyebrows raising in delight.

“Orlo, you virgin cuck, where are you!” He yelled and twisted to look over his shoulder to where the man usually sat.

“R-right here, Emperor,” Orlo instead answered from his left where he had remained.

“Jesus fuck, do I need to put a fucking bell on you?” He glared down at the man.

“I’m so-“

“Never fucking mind,” he cut Orlo off. “I have a job for you.”

“Sir?” Orlo gulped.

“You’re going to teach this bitch how to speak Russian.” Out of the corner of your eye you could see your uncle’s jaw clench, his eyes alight with fire yet he remained still and quiet.

“I-” Orlo started to protest but it was cut off as the Emperor grabbed a knife from the table and brandished it towards the man. He held up his hands in surrender and eyed the weapon. “I-I would be ha-happy to.”

“Good,” the Emperor stabbed the knife down into the table in front of you and you jumped. He smirked triumphantly and downed his vodka before turning to the rest of the hall.

“Huzzah!” He threw the glass against the wall behind you and you flinched as you felt shards hitting your head and the back of your neck. The rest of the hall followed suit, drinking their Vodka and throwing the glass to the floor before echoing the Emperor.

“HUZZAH!”

The Emperor smirked at you once more before making his way back to his seat, smiling at the Empress ashe did so. You took a deep, shakey breath and looked up to find Orlo still standing in the same spot, dark eyes staring down at you. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came.

“Orlo, you fucking virgin! Do not try and guilt her into letting you stick your limp cock inside her!” The hall erupted in laughter and Orlo’s cheeks turned a bright crimson. Without a word, he turned on his heel and quickly scurried back to his chair. You could feel his eyes on you after he sat down, but you were too numb to do anything about it.

Elizabeth walked back over and stood in front of you. Your eyes remained fixed and staring, not really seeing anything but inwardly focusing on your breathing.

“He has a temper, my nephew.” She said as she gently touched one of the bright red marks on your chin. You flinched away and finally focused on her face. She smiled at you as if the past few minutes had never happened.

“Just think about how great life here will be once you learn Russian.” Her eyes were wide. “And I think Peter has taken a liking to you,” her smile faltered at her own words.

She gently brushed away the glass from your hair and forced another smile to her face. Her fingers traced the piece of hair she had freed earlier and then brushed down your cheek before she turned and glided over to the Empress.

You stayed silent and still as the band was brought into the hall. After a quick warm up they started to play, and the court yelled in rapture. Multitudes of colors swam in your vison as men and women jumped from the seats and took to dancing around the hall.

You finally brought yourself back to the present and felt the soft brush of your uncle’s thumb across your joined hands. You slowly released his hand, your joints stiff and aching from the pressure of holding so tightly to him.

“Sorry” you mumbled as you saw the how pale his hand had gone from constricted blood flow and the small crescents where your nails had dug into his skin.

“No need for apologies, my dearest.” He kissed the crown of your head. “I will not ask you if you are alright, I know you are not.”

You fought back a sob and it got stuck in your throat.

“I think I will retire for the night,” you croaked and took a drink of water.

“Yes, I think that is a good idea.” He looked up to where the Emperor had a woman who was not the Empress on his lap. “I unfortunately must stay... Will you be okay to find your way back?”

The worry was evident on his face and you knew he wanted nothing more escort you back to the apartments, but he could not yet leave the event as he was required to speak with the Emperor.

“I know the way back; I will be alright.” You looked up to the Emperor, “the scariest thing in this palace is otherwise occupied at the moment.”

“There are other monsters that lurk in the dark crevasses of this place,”

“I will be alright; I will go directly from here to the apartments. I promise.” He looked troubled but agreed. You kissed him on the cheek and quietly stood from you chair, no one seemed to notice as you weaved your way through the crowd.

You stepped out of the hall and immediately felt the chill air fill your lungs. The room had been suffocatingly warm and smelled strongly of the combination of food and they scented oils the members of court wore. Now out in the hall you felt like you could properly breath for the first time all night. You nodded to the silent guards who stood watch outside the doors and made your way down the corridor.

The music and shouting started to fade as you made your towards the apartments. Soon it was ghostly quiet and all you could hear was the clacking of your shoes and the sound of you heart beating in your ears. It took everything in your power not to take off your shoes and sprint as fast as you could to the relative safety of your room.

You were so focused on telling your body not to bolt that you did not hear the sound of rushing footsteps until it was too late to run.

Taglist: @startrekingaroundasgard

[oops-i-wrote-it]

Eagles and Robins ch3 Splintered memories

“Let’s review.” Bel is pacing the Black Eagles classroom, Robin is sat at the lecturer’s desk, rubbing his temples, Byleth has a list of names and events of everything Robin is able to recall on the chalkboard. The house leaders protested so loudly, and so quickly when asked not to come, Robin had simply waved a hand and said ‘let them, they might help’ seeing as it was Dimitri and Dedue who had prompted the return of his memories of Chrom after all. Edelgard watched with concern and calculation fighting a battle behind her eyes, Dimitri was too restless to sit and found himself watching Bel pace, Claude seemed to be here to… well, Robin wasn’t quite sure what Claude wanted to get out of it just yet.

“Chrom is the Prince, Reflet is my twin sister, the two are married. Chrom has a younger sister called Lissa, who I feel a deep connection to but can’t understand, and both of them have a knight named Frederick who was absurdly protective. I feel a connection to him too, but I’m still unsure…” Robin’s headache had gone down, but the room was still spinning. The presence of the retainers did nothing more to jog his memory, but Robin felt his heart lift when he spoke of how noble and kind Frederick was, and Dedue gave the slightest smile. Hilda offered her ideas, and they were good ones, but Robin almost felt guilty for being glad she wasn’t in his class. Like Linhardt, she lacked motivation unless her heart was completely set on it, and Robin already had his hands full trying to keep Linhardt’s eyes open. Hubert’s eyes however… Robin hated how they searched his every move.

“And you’re certain that myself and Dedue remind you of Chrom and Frederick?” Dimitri looked as though he would begin pacing himself were Bel not practically pacing circles around him.

“It’s more like… the dynamic you share. A prince insisting his knight does too much for him, and longs for a more personal relationship with him, while the knight is wholly dedicated.” Robin pinched the bridge of his nose. There should be more, why isn’t there more?

“How could you know that… never mind.” Dimitri met his eyes for a moment, then looked away, turning a light shade of pink.

“Your highness,” Dedue spoke, the picture of diligence.

“The two of you are a lot more obvious than you realise, I could see it from a mile away.” Robin deadpanned. Byleth and Bel both looked to an empty spot at a desk, then looked away perfectly in sync. Robin had to wonder if he had acted as odd with Reflet… No, Lette would spend her days chastising him, asking him what he could possibly be thinking…

He didn’t realise how much he missed her scolding. She would excel here, she would run an extremely tight ship, no single student would step a toe out of line. Robin thought himself a strict teacher, but Lette had a lofty presence of authority she carried on her shoulders wherever she went. Robin was quite happy to be underestimated, and would uppercut the enemy while they were so focused on cutting Lette down. A grin creeped to Robin’s face.

“It’s not an important detail, but… My sister hated it when I called her Lette in front of new people.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that all our teachers are twins? Like, not even a little bit?” Hilda piped up, Byleth wrote ‘Twins?’ on the chalkboard.

“Lette would have loved it here…” Robin groaned into his hands “Chrom too, he loves talking about swordsmanship.”

“I thought your technique looked different, Felix mentioned as much to me too. Was it Chrom who taught you?” Bel looked to Robin as his face crumpled as he strained to think.

“No… well, yes and no. I already had a good grip of the sword when I met him, but I sparred with him a lot, and he guided me on my weak points. He made a good teacher…” Robin felt the air leave him, then return after a shaky gasp. “He taught his daughter too… Lucina. She came close to outmatching him many times.” Byleth hurriedly marked down the new information on the chalkboard.

“How old was Lucina?” Bel prompted, Robin found himself in more confusion. He remembered his sister’s pregnancy, her labour, and holding his niece in his arms for the first time… but when he thought of Lucina, he saw a blue-haired teenager, fighting back tears when she spoke to Chrom. He saw a deft swordfighter, who mimicked her father’s every move, down to how he would brandish his sword at his opponents. There was no child, no stages in between that he could remember. Robin shook his head, wordlessly answering Bel.

“You’ve mentioned that this Chrom was a prince, over what kingdom was he bound to rule?” Edelgard stood up from the desk she had perched herself on, arms crossed, Hubert's eyes on her closely.

“He did rule at some point, I think… but it wasn’t a kingdom, he wasn’t a king…” Robin’s eyes closed for a moment. “The Halidom of Ylisse. He was the exalt, a family chosen by the goddess.” Robin felt satisfied as he heard Byleth writing more on the board, only for it to be crushed instantly.

“The Halidom of Ylisse? Can’t say I’ve heard of it.” Claude’s brow furrowed as he leaned into the conversation. “Where is it?”

Read the rest on ao3

[misselko]

Got this idea from Dimitri’s conversation with Byleth before Fort Merceus battle with the Death Knight. Put some angst, fluff, and a pinch of smut spices into the dish and let it simmer down! At least, that’s what I want! But it turned out... different ;) Sorry not sorry

Please kindly leave some of your comments or ideas for my next fic! Your warm and loving words gives me energy to write more!!

RECKLESS

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, violence, a little smut

Words: 3316

 

POST TIMESKIP

Empire will be the only remaining enemy and to move on to the Imperial Capital, Enbarr, capturing Fort Merceus is a must. Praised as the strongest defense with its fortified military installation  in the Empire, seizing it won’t be an easy feat.

Liberating Arianrhod, calming down Holy Kingdom of Faerghus political issues, winning over the Leicester Alliance and gained their support. Getting a lead on Lady Rhea’s location. Although things were a rough go, but thinking back on it now, Blue Lions sure has really come a long way. Things have been wonderful in these past moons that it almost feels like dream too good to be true.

You don’t know why but you can’t shake your uneasy feelings and dread. War is raging and everyone knows there is a big battle on the horizon.

“We must not falter in our assault. The Death Knight is the enemy commander in Fort Merceus. He’s an unpredictable opponent. A dangerous one. Please proceed with caution, (Y/N).”

“I will, Dimitri. No need to worry.”

“I have not come this far just to lose you here. I’m serious. Do not be reckless out there.”

“Will you save me if I’m in trouble?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You were the heart of the Blue Lions, and the same holds true for the Kingdom Army.”

You smiled at his concern and hold his hands gently.

“I will do my best as well to support you, my Dimitri.” His cheeks turned into rosy blush at your words.

 

“Whoaa!! You’re getting pretty chummy, aren’t you, Your Highness? Go get a room!” Sylvain winks and got punched HARD, dragged away by Ingrid. You make mental notes on giving her a delicious roasted meat from that famous new shop in the town later as your gratitude. Serves him right!! ...But you wouldn’t trade them for anything in this world. Everything will be alright with them. Blue Lions are your precious family. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.

---

Capturing Fort Merceus is a daunting task. Endless enemies are approaching and relentless. Felix and Sylvain are working together cut through the snipers and mages. Ingrid and Ashe are doing their best to handle the pegasi knights. Dedue, Annette, Mercedes, and Flayn makes great combo on cutting through enemy reinforcements while providing healing to everyone. Slowly but sure, you and Dimitri managed to push Death Knight on the corner. But it doesn’t make things less difficult for both of you.

 

“You dare stand between me and my pleasure?”

The beginning of it was barely a bellow that grew steadily to a deafening roar, piercing the air and shaking the ground. Areadbhar crack in deafening clash against Death Knight’s Scythe of Sariel. They raised their weapons, waving them overhead.

 

“Yes. I dare stand against you, Death Knight!!”

 

Dimitri decides to face Death Knight head on as you tried your best to keep his back safe from the Imperial soldiers assaults. Keeping a close eye on him... just in case, following from a few meters back, cover his blind spots that way, look out for any potential danger. You could see them coming around, carefully and quietly trying to find their way to Dimitri.

 

Landing sharp blows, you bring the blade down on the head of another mage. Slashing your way through numerous enemies, you start to feel fatigued. Countless enemies lying dead behind. You looked around, among the sea of red and black, a swordmaster is sneaking his way behind Dimitri, ready to ambush him.

 

But you wouldn’t let it happen!

 

You were fully offensive, rapidly swinging your sword down on the swordmaster. You were able to deflect, parry, and block most of his attacks until his foot swept across your ankles, knocking you hard to the floor. The swordmaster stood above you, ready to press his sword into your chest to end your life. Fatigue made it harder for you to evade his deadly stab completely. Sound of a weapon piercing through flesh filled your ears, followed by an intense pain in your side. He pulled it back out with a triumphant smirk on his face. Despite the searing pain, you made it in time to grab your own weapon and thrust it up to his neck, your arms shaking as you tried to counter the weight of his attack. Grimace crossing your face as he fell, blood painting the earth a sick shade of red.

 

You sat up, wincing at the searing, burning hot pain on your side. The stab wound was way too deep. Your hands trembled, desperately attempting to put pressure on the wound as heavy flow of your blood is trickling through your fingers, colors your skin and clothes. The world had turned blurry, and your body felt weak. Ignoring the excruciating pain, you rush forward to help Dimitri. He has won against the Death Knight. But in his brief reverie, the Tempest King failed to notice two opposing snipers are approaching him, expression intent to kill, aiming their arrows at his back.

 

You acted on instinct, rushing forward, sprinting to intervene. To protect him.

‘We have been through so much together and he’d been through hell and back... I want to ease his pain. Knowing he’s safe... I can be at peace.’

You thought to yourself, launching forward. You barely has energy to stand up, but you tried to muster your last remaining strength to dove in before Dimitri. The arrows managed to easily make it’s way through your armor, landing in your chest and abdomen. ‘I have no regret when it came to protecting Dimitri.’

 

Your body slammed hard on the ground, careening across the battlefield. A sharp cry pained noise escaped you; that was all it took. Dimitri stiffened at the sound. It pulled him from the high of the battlefield down to reality in an instant.

 

“(Y/N)!!!”

 

He turned; filled with horror and rage. The fires blazing around him didn’t give off any heat. The battlefield around him turned black and white. His ears were ringing as if he’d been caught in an explosion. Dimitri went after the snipers and thrust them both at their hearts. After a quick glance to make sure no more surprise attacks happen, he kneels and pulling you into his chest. You looked so small, felt so limp that it sickened him. Broken and battered with littered scars and large wound on your side. Arrows jutting out of your chest, much too close to the heart, and another one lodged deep in your abdomen.

 

Dimitri watched as the blood pooled around you. Blood... there is so much blood. Your blood.

“Goddess... what were you- MERCEDES! FLAYN!! SOMEONE...HELP!!”

 

He pulled himself up, beside you, staring at your face. You were so pale. Oh, Goddess, you were dying. Were you already dead?

 

“I’m sorry.” There isn’t a reason to apologize, you aren’t sorry, but it still came out like the blood that is on Dimitri’s hands now.

 

“Don’t you dare apologize to me right now,” his voice choked off in his throat feels raw with emotions, barely able to hold back the sob which demands to escape, “not when you are like this. What were you thinking, (Y/N)? You have promised me to not be reckless.” He phrased it in a question, but both know why.

 

“Y-You... haven’t seen the... swordmaster... and those snipers. Y-You...were going to die...if they attack you. I want to protect you.... and I don’t regret my decision.“

 

You opened your mouth to speak but immediately coughed, feeling globs of blood on the corners of your lips. Dimitri gripped your hand, his hold so tight that it hurt, but you wouldn’t waste your breath on telling him. You could barely see Mercedes scurried over to your side as quickly as she could, Flayn follows behind her, leaving the Death Knight behind with tears running down her cheeks.

 

“Please stay awake for me a little longer, please.”

He choked out, pulling you closer if possible as it would keep you from leaving.

 

The chaos around you went mute as your eyes grow heavy. Maybe a quick nap would suffice.

 

“No...no, no, (Y/N)!! You can’t do this to me, you can’t-! Please, (Y/N), I can’t lose you too.....”

 

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. You fell asleep.

---

Every second was filled with anxiety; you’d lost so much blood. The wounds were too deep to heal completely. There was little to no possibility of survival. Not after what you’d been through.

The days turned to one week, then two...then three. The physical wounds had healed, mostly repaired and faded to scars. There was potential for things to return to normal, and you may wake up sooner rather than later.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, your upper body covered in bandages. The first thing you’re aware of is a dull throb radiating throughout your entire body. You were confused, and moved your head, unintentionally shifting your body and sending a wave of pain through your chest and stomach as you tried to get up. You closed your eyes tightly in response to the return of extreme pain, much worse than you had ever felt before. With much struggle, you sat on the edge of the bed shakily trying to stand up. The door creaked open and you looked up to find Dimitri peering inside.

 

”You’re awake,” he said, a look of surprise on his face. You tried to stand up and walk to him but failed, Dimitri ran in and caught you before you fell over. “I thought I was going to lose you, (Y/N),” he said, lifting you up effortlessly, settling you gently onto the bed and pulled up a chair. 

 

As cautiously as you could, you managed to sit yourself up. You kept a careful eye on the young king, noting how dark the circles under his eyes have become and how hollow his cheeks have turned. The fact that rest had eluded him for however long you were unconscious was as plain as day.

 

“You nearly died because of me. I have no right to be... you of all people shouldn’t-!” He managed to say, his voice shaking as his fingers trembled.

His head shot up to look at you, cerulean blue eyes dampened by tears that pooled in them. Your eyes were open, though weakly, looking at him and his disturbed state. You sensed his worry, but also his relief as he hovers next to your bed, engulfing you in his embrace and squeezing you against his chest for all he was worth. He was mindful of your wound, but that wasn’t enough to keep him away. No, he needed you. He needed to be beside you, to feel you, to know you were there.

 

“I’m okay, Dimitri...” You whispered, resting a hand on his chest where his heart thundered. You closed your eyes against him, relishing the feel of his tender warmth.

 

You felt how hard and rapid his heart was beating, almost deafening. Your arms wrapped around his heaving back weakly, rubbing it soothingly. He pulled you closer in response—closer, closer, closer, until every inch of you was smothered by him. Hesitant, trembling fingers graced your tightly wound bandages and you felt something warm and wet splatter onto your exposed shoulder.

 

"I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, holding your hands so tight that it hurts.

“But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

 

His voice was as quiet as it could be and it made you frown your eyebrows in worry. You were happy to see him alive, that was your goal when you decided to protect him from the approaching enemies. However, seeing him so distraught and afraid twisted your insides uncomfortably. The way he held your hand so desperately, afraid to let go.

 

“Dimitri.” You call him quietly, which makes him look at you with those gorgeous eyes of him.

 

You move your hand to his cheeks, caressing his soft skin, trying to bring him even the tiniest amount of comfort. Leaning to give him a soft chaste kiss on his lips. He reciprocated by open-mouthed kiss you with such fervor. There’s an undercurrent of desperation in the way Dimitri kisses you, as if this is the last moment he’ll ever feel it. It’s almost as if it pains him to be this close to you. You were alive, yet he couldn’t help but doubt it. Perhaps it was once again due to the vicious noises he still heard, though faintly. However, he was glad that they allowed him this moment of happiness.

 

“I won’t leave you, Dimitri.” You promised between ragged breath, your chest heaving.

 

“We are so close to ending this. Please, promise me you’ll stay safe. Rest, for now, my beloved.” Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, holding your hand to his chest. “I promise, I will never let you be hurt for my sake again.” Covering you with a  blanket  and tucking you into bed to retire for the evening.

 ---

After your awakening, the Blue Lions and Professor began incorporating regular infirmary visits into their schedule. They showered you with kind, encouraging words and occasionally bore small gifts (flowers and snacks), always encourage you to get better soon. But your most frequent visitor of all was your beloved gentle king.

It was two weeks since you have gotten better. Mercedes promised to take care after your bandages this evening.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)?”

You met Mercedes’ warm gaze with your own. With a firm nod, you replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mercedes.”

 

The healer moved closer to you, her skilled hands undoing the set of bandages for the last time. Dimitri averted his frantic eyes to the wall when the dressing loosened just enough for your breasts to peak through. A cold, unforgiving breeze whipped the newly exposed skin, jolting a shiver down your spine. Mercedes sighed, slowly traced the scars your chest and stomach.

“I’m sorry but we will never be able to remove the scars. The wounds all healed, but... the scars will never go away completely. I’m sorry (Y/N).”

 

Your eyes immediately flashed over to Dimitri’s stiffening frame.

“It’s okay. I will never regret such a thing.” You smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Do you need anything else, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m all good, Mercedes! Thank you for your help.”

“All right, then. Annette said that she needs my help with her baking this evening. We have to finish it before midnight! Should you need anything, please feel free to call me.” Mercedes gave you last smile before excusing herself politely from your quarter.

 

“Dimitri.”

His jaw clenched tautly; his eyes crunched into a pain-stricken wince. Refusing to look at your scar, a harsh reminder of his failure.

“Look at me.”

He stilled and won’t budge to look at you.

 

“I will never regret nor blame you for this. It was my decision and if it means saving you, I’ll gladly do it again in a heartbeat. Or... perhaps.... I can understand if you find that my... scars are disgusting, appalling, even....” you whisper softly, almost inaudible. Your surroundings whizzed right past you before you were unceremoniously slammed into your bed.

“DON’T SAY SUCH THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF!!” He growled “I will not allow you to throw your life away for me. If.. If something ever happen to you.. I’ll live a life worse than death itself, (Y/N).”

 

Not a moment later did you feel something warm and soft press against your lips. His mouth moved awkwardly yet full of affection. Hands planted  on either side of your body, ridding any hope of escape from his ravishing kisses. Dimitri pressed his lips further into yours, swallowing your moans. His lips left yours to trail down around your neck, breasts, and stomach lovingly. “This wounds... I cannot lose you again, my beloved.” His body quivered.  The King kissing the scars on your cleavage and abdomen, worshiping them reverently with tender touches, almost like touching a porcelain doll. Afraid to break you with his almost inhuman power. Biting and sucking wherever his heart desired until you were covered in nothing but love bites, leaving you a panting mess.

 

Dimitri held you in his arms, stroking your hair and mumbling whispers of ‘I’m sorry’. Bittersweet smile formed on his lips. He gazed at you, eyes lidded with desires and need, mixed with guilt and love. “(Y/N)... My beloved...” You pulled away slightly to look up at him and smiled.

“Dimitri...” You cupped his cheek in your hand, in which he immediately melted into.

“I love you, Dimitri.”

 

He blushed at your words, then it dawned on his realization. Suddenly becoming very aware of the... intimate position you were in. “Um, w-well...” As he came to his full senses he released his hands from you, as though from fire and stuttered, quickly pulling away from your panting form. He wasn’t making eye contact anymore, and you followed his gaze downwards on your body. Oh. Without the dreamlike stupor a d hazy feeling to distract you, you realized just how naked you are. Nightgown pooled beneath your waist. Feeling an onset of bashfulness, you also brought an arm up to cover as much of your chest as you could; despite what you had just done with him, the reality of the situation was catching up to you.

 

He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ah—Urghh!!! I’m sorry, (Y/N)!! I don’t know what came over me but.. but... P-Perhaps we should... stop... before it escalates any further...” The King unclasped his furred cloak hurriedly and put it over your naked body unceremoniously, hiding his flushed crimson face in his hands again, absolutely brutalized with shame. 

 

“Er.. Be certain to rest for now. We may have undone some of your healing.” Then he said hurriedly, almost inaudibly. “When your strength returns to its fullest, we can pick up where we left off. I promise.”

 

“Fine...” You giggled, finding his attempt at being serious too adorable. The heat and passion was still very visible in his eyes, and it was obvious that anymore teasing on your end would send him over the edge.

“Thank you for this lovely evening, Dimitri.”

You pulled his hand to your lips and give each of his fingers soft kisses, gazing at him lovingly. Dimitri’s jaw and pants tightened, the poor King desperately clinging onto the last thread of sanity and reason which threatened to snap at any moment.

 

“Good night, my beloved (Y/N).” Casting one last glance at you and bashfully looking down when he caught your eye, the Blue Lions Leader left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow,  somehow  managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, locking his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his burning red face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

 

The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of (Y/N). All he could think about was your pure unadultered love, beautiful (E/C) that is gazing at him affectionately. Goddess, he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on you. All over you. Repeatedly. Savoring the taste of your lips as  you moan into his mouth. Feeling your warmth and love. Unclothed. His mind is running wild. This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. It will be another sleepless night for the poor king. And it’s all because of you.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Ferdinand left the Empire after what happened to his family and when he found out about Hubert's off-the-book executions and assassinations. Even still, Dimitri doesn't trust him, so he keeps a close eye on him. But instead, he notices Ferd gradually getting fatter. One day, he sees Ferd pop a button after eating and it's just too much. Dimitri decides to bring Ferd to his room, forcefeed him until he's ready to burst, then claim that plump Empire butt all for himself (NSFW Drabble)

Sooo, I had a lot of fun with this one ajdnshsms. It may have been just being able to write some simple chub stuff or also just finally getting to write on my laptop but here ya go!

I'm really proud of how this one came out so I hope you enjoy it!!

And the cheesecake portion was a bit based on how I felt eating half a cheesecake sjdkskns

All smut will be tagged #risque

_________________

Strands of golden hair mar Dimitri’s face as his reflection stares back at him. His soft light blue irises of his reflection peer away from Dimitri, the edge of his eyes crinkling as he splashes some more cold water on his face. Nearly deigning the thought of waterboarding himself, the thought tumbles out of his disoriented brain as another crazed and ridiculous scene takes hold of his imagination.

Long rich orange lock cascading down, the seamlessly flawless hair swishes behind its owner as they delicately step forward. Cape forgone, the once well-tailored coat now seems far too tight. The hint of a curvaceous ass bounces under the tight oppression of the mid-knee length coat, each movement and ripple only tempting Dimitri. A dark blue belt embroidered with gold, the obvious intent upon the outfit’s inception had been to elongate and slim its wearer. Now, it only does the opposite, their bulging midsection forced into two, the soft warm pudge from his upper abdomen and lower abdomen squishing to conceal most of the belt altogether. The puff of his enlarged chest makes the opening of his coat seem larger, bulging out further to give it depth. His red cravat rests on top of his chest, as if puffing his chest out. The outline of his adipose filled body rests under it, his arms making the sleeves bulge as well. New folds and wrinkles on his clothes where there once was none, the extra weight the clear culprit, its owner seems unbothered, no upsize or let out seams done to it. Armor unneeded, their blue pants constrict and hold back his squished, compressed legs, overhanging folds of flab visible. The figure turns to Dimitri, Ferdinand smiling and waving at him. Their filled out face only adds to their idiotic charm, their bright eyes and smile illuminating the cold darkness further. A sea of blue washes them away quickly enough.

Grunting, Dimitri’s soaking face heaves. Gripping the edge of the sink, his knuckles turn white, the delicate porcelain emitting a dangerous sharp crack before he lets go. Coughing, Dimitri yanks the nearest towel. Roughly blotting his drenched face, the low sting of the fabric scratching at his face is unnoticeable, the rise and fall of his chest more important. Rising to his full height, Dimitri shifts his efforts on drying his hair. Thin strands eventually fall back into place as they dry, Dimitri tossing the towel away. Taking a deep breath, he exhales, his broad shoulders sagging.

His stomach grumbling, Dimitri heads to the dining room. No sense of taste or smell really left, grabbing something to munch on then leave, sounds ideal.

Finding Ferdinand seated, the idea suddenly feels far less than ideal. The notion of slinking away unnoticed poofs away as Ferdinand spots.

“Ah, Prince Dimitri. A pleasure to see you!” Ferdinand jovially calls from his seat before rising.

Dimitri hopes imagining the cool splash of water helps calm down the heat rushing to his face, Ferdinand’s plump figure just as ripe as his vivid imaginations. In fact, the realization of his own thoughts underselling Ferdinand's figure only makes the rising heat worse.

“Prince Dimitri, are you perhaps unwell?” A delicate yet chubby hand rests against Dimitri’s forehead.

“I’m not your prince, you needn’t worry about me,” Dimitri gently extricates Ferdinand’s hand from his forehead.

“Nonsense, I swore my absolute fealty to one deserving of it,” Ferdinand doesn’t catch the hint, wrapping his arm around Dimitri. “While I must admit, my father may have tarnished our name, I, Ferdinand Von Aegir swear that the name till holds some decency to it,” Pressing an open palm to his soft moobs, Ferdinand bows, his long flowing hair suffering the effects of gravity, the same as his stomach.

To most others, Ferdinand’s words of bravado would sound none other than those of a pathetic socialite wishing to worm their way into whichever upper echelon of society. But to everyone else, Ferdinand’s manner of bearing his entire heart on his sleeve is his charm, the overly enthusiastic noble meaning well.

Originally a part of the Black Eagles house, Ferdinand had quickly become a fixture of the Blue Lions after a few months of Byleth’s cajoling. Upon Edelgard’s declaration of war, he had left for Adestria upon Byleth’s disappearance only to quickly come back upon hearing news of their return. The reunion with his former classmates had been moderately well received, Mercedes and Ashe no strangers to kindness, until Dimitri’s sighting of Ferdinand had nearly left the former Adrestian noble with a spear in his abdomen. With Byleth’s insistence, Dimitri had tsked but ultimately skulked away, his dreadful lumbering footsteps etching their way into everyone’s mind.

Dimitri still partially not all quite there, he had thankfully resigned ignoring Ferdinand just the same as everyone else, a tense uneasy partnership occurring between Dimitri and everyone else. It hadn’t been until much later that Dimitri snapped out of it, slowly easing himself back into the human emotions that he had casted away. And upon gaining focus on his fellow members, Dimitri’s eyes found that removing focus from Ferdinand was proving to be rather challenging.

And while a part of it had to do with his infectious cheerful nature, the other part of his clearly had to do with Ferdinand’s body. Lithe muscle nowhere to be found, the initial realization of enjoying the view of Ferdinand’s heft had led to some confusion before that strayed to wondering how it must feel, so warm and soft.

Which made it increasingly harder for Dimitri to speak to Ferdinand.

“Thank you,” Dimitri clears his suddenly parched throat. “Ferdinand,” Even speaking his name brings a trickle of warmth in his chest, the thought of whispering it to him, the two huddled together, clothes strewn about as-

“Of course. Well, I’m sure you must be famished after our sparring session earlier, you nearly rushed out after we finished,” Hand encapsulating Dimitri’s Ferdinand leads him back to his table, half his plate left uneaten.

The servers immediately bringing, a plate to Dimitri, the serving of chicken with vegetables is barely a spoonful more than Ferdinand’s remnants. Only a couple of bites into the meal, Dimitri’s fork hangs still, midway to his mouth, upon the sound of a dull ping hitting the floor. Reflexively looking around, Dimitri spots the culprit. Careful to not keep his mouth agape, a button on Ferdinand’s coat had popped off, his vest showing.

Ferdinand’s eyes wide, his hands scramble to cover the mishap.

Unable to process anything else, Dimitri stands up and grabs Ferdinand’s hand. Leading him away, Ferdinand’s puffs of complaints and questions draw some attention from the few people littered around the monastery at this semi-late hour. Upon reaching his room, the two step in, Ferdinand highly confused as he stutters out half-baked apologies, too focused on trying to hide the noticeable gap in his coat from his popped button.

Dimitri absorbing the situation, he balks at himself for being so rash. To drag Ferdinand to his room, all for what? For the unlikely chance of something more. And the far more likely chance of making things impossibly awkward between the two. Yet glancing back at the other man, Dimitri finds his worries washing away, Ferdinand staring at him with a sudden shyness.

“I…” Dimitri clamps his mouth, the trapdoor of awkwardness closing and opening. “I think you’re handsome,” His eye shut tight, the ensuing silence drives him mad, the silence unable to be stabbed like most other things.

“You truly believe so?” Ferdinand’s eyes already misting at the edge, his amber eyes remain in tentative shock. He reaches a shaky hand downward. “Despite all this?” Grabbing his stomach, the pile of supple fat only seems larger so up close.

“Because of all this,” Gently laying a hand on Ferdinand’s love handle, Dimtri brings him closer. One arm wrapped around him, the tight embrace allows him to feel nearly every inch of Ferdinand, everything so soft. Leaning down, Dimitri holds up Ferdinand’s chin, his thumb gently rubbing the edge of his lips. With bated breath, his lips crash into Ferdinand’s. The excessive force makes him stumble, Dimitri’s rough hand on his lower back keeping him steady. Huffing, Dimitri pulls back. His face a red shade, the tint is nothing but a red ant to the sun in comparison to Ferdinand’s blazing face.

“I have something I need to prepare. Don’t leave,” Turning around, Dimitri stumbles back at the awkward exit. Professing his love only to leave. Turning back around, he grabs Ferdinand’s hand with his own once more. “Please,” Gently squeezing it, Ferdinand nods, his face not losing a single tint to his radiant red hue.

Slowly making his way back into the hall, the instant Dimitri feels he’s out of ears reach, he rushes. Taking long strides, he scares the poor merchants in the marketplace with his sudden appearance. Knowing the time, the leftover selection from the bakery’s goods for the day are surprisingly still abundant. Nearly reaching for enough money to buy the entire selection, he calms his overactive brain. Setting on a somewhat more reasonable selection, he instead purchases an entire cheesecake.

The cake in hand, it takes all his nerves of dropping the cake to not rush back. Not even having been gone for what can possibly be more than a few minutes, the fear of Ferdinand leaving keeps his pace quick, Dimitri finding himself back in front of his door in no time.

The door nearly slamming open, Ferdinand jumps up. His stomach sloshing about, he gingerly places a hand on it. His eyes avert themselves from the cake in Dimitri’s hands, Ferdinand’s face flushed.

Wordlessly, Dimitri cuts a slice, the huge chunk a quarter of the entire cake. Ferdinand ready to accept, an insistent hand from Dimitri stops him. Grabbing a bit with a fork, Dimitri expectantly brings it to Ferdinand’s mouth, his good eye agape.

“Oh,” Letting out a chuckle, Ferdinand takes a gulp before taking a bite of the cake. His face alighting from the taste, Ferdinand happily accepts the second bite. And then the third. And then each ensuing bite until the slice is finished. Enough leverage allowed from one button already destroyed, the rest remain snugly but securely on his bulging stomach. Dimitri immediately cuts another slice. Ferdinand’s eyes widen, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “I didn’t know you were into…” Ferdinand pauses, considering his words. “Such things,”

Dimitri nearly nods, bringing another bite to Ferdinand.

“If you insist,” Shakily taking another bite, the sweet cool creamy texture of the cake lulls him back to his enjoyment of the delicacy. Unfastening his belt, Ferdinand lets out a sigh before he sits upright, Dimitri’s free hand rubbing it. Another bite offered, Ferdinand keeps at, only slowing down near the end of the slice, both his hands on his own engorged stomach along with Dimitris. “Dimitri,” Ferdinand groans, huffing as he lies down. “I can’t anymore,” Pawing at his own belly, the mass of fat and food rises into the air with each strained breath.

A hand caressing his cheek, Ferdinand lets out an ‘oof’ as Dimitri helps him sit. His gut resting on his plump thighs, Ferdinand merely groans. A hand on his coat, he yelps as Dimitri tears it, the buttons flying across the room. A hand on his waistline, his suddenly unbuttoned pants give him some breathing room. His vest grabbed, Ferdinand obligingly lifts up his arms, the sense of freedom for his aching gut relieving. His undershirt goes next, both tossed into a heap on the floor. A hand tugging at his pants, Ferdinand pauses, resting his hand on top of Dimitri’s. Dimitri’s calm face staring at his, Ferdinand lets him continue, Ferdinand left in nothing but the tight fabric of his boxers.

Resting his back against the wall. Ferdinand continues to groan. Some more shuffling fabric, he keeps his eyes closed until more cake is pressed against his lips. He does, however, ignore the noticeable erection in Dimitri’s pants, Ferdinand somehow redder than before.

Dimitri shirtless, he holds the last half of the cheesecake.Ferdinand huffs. “You love cheesecake,” Dimitri whispers.

“Sometimes there are limits,” Dimitri’s hands not moving, Ferdinand scoffs. “You beast,” But that doesn’t stop Ferdinand smiling as he accepts the heaping bite of cake.

Wishing to get on it, patience not one of Dimitri’s stongsuits, he spears the cake with his fork, heaping portions offered each time Ferdinand almost finishes one bite. His chewing slows down, his swallowing slows down, the smack of his squirrel cheeks slow down, Ferdinand reaching dangerous levels of full.

Bits of cream on his lips, remnants from his dozes of prior bits still remain in his mouth, willing himself to eat more. Swallowing, the bits feel like lead slowly dropping down only to punch his gut on the way there. “Dimitri. I don’t think I can,” Groaning, he smears the frosting with his arm, the pale flesh on his arm jiggling. “Truly,”

“You can,” Dimitri rubs slow circles on Ferdinand’s gut. “Just a few more bites, I know you can do it,” Bringing the second to last bite, Dimitri forcefully shoves it in, Ferdinand struggling to chew it. His heavy breathing coming from his nose now, before he can swallow the last bits, Dimitri shoves the last heaping forkful in his mouth, Ferdinand painfully smacking his tired lips in an attempt to finish it all.

Wasting no time, Dimitri helps Ferdinad rest his back against his bed. Ferdinand’s labored chewing and groans egging him, he quickly disrobes, his slim yet built body glistening in anticipation. Gripping Ferdinand’s boxers, he tugs them off to reveal his own chubbed up dick, the thick shaft of it slowly engorging. Climbing onto the bed, Dimitri rests his knees right in front of Ferdinand’s dick.

Ferdinand finally finishes the cake, his mouth so dry and tired. “I…. ugghhh,” Clinging the bedsheets, his hands go to his bulging midsection as Dimitri lifts up his legs. His moobs squishing into his double chin, his overtaxed stomach rests heavily as the overfilled lump falls down.

Dimitri placing his arms under Ferdinand’s legs, he slowly aligns himself. His dick slick with precum, he slowly enters. Dimitri groans as the warmth of Ferdinand’s hole envelops his dick. Ferdinand right underneath him, his breath turns labored as Ferdinand squirms, rubbing his stomach.

“I’ll take care of that in a bit,” Leaning forward, Dimitri kisses Ferdinand, a trail of saliva sticking as they part. Ferdinand grimaces as his legs bend a bit more than they’re used to at this weight, nodding his head instead.

Unable to wait much longer, Dimitri thrusts into Ferdinand, Ferdinand’s hands now reaching for Dimitri’s back. Ferdinand’s noises sounding under him, the always chipper, bright man simply huffs under Dimitri, biting his lips as he tries to hold back his moans.

Wishing to get closer, Dimitri wraps his arms under Ferdinand, embracing him as he humps him. Digging his head into the crevice of Ferdinand’s neck, Dimitri huffs.

“D-dimitri,” Ferdinand gutturally moans, right into his ear. Cum sticking against his warm body, Dimitri nearly chuckles as Ferdinand cums so early. His body reprimanding him, his knees buckle as he feels himself so dangerously close, his throbbing dick begging for a release. Giving in, Dimitri crushes Ferdinand in his embrace, his soft supple body digging into his muscles.

"Tired,” Dimitri's arms shake. Huffing, he ignores his own seed slowly spilling out of Ferdinand's ass, as he pulls out. Ferdinand exhausted, his belly rises with each tired labored breath he takes. No important task required of him tomorrow, Dimitri reserves the task of cleaning themselves up tomorrow with a warm shared shower. Crawling beside Ferdinand, Ferdinand leans back into Dimitri as his body is cradled in Dimitri's built arms. Spooning Ferdinand, he breathes in his scent, his dreams knowing peace as he dreams of fattening Ferdinand further.

[patricia-von-arundel]

Mother’s Day

Summary: A new marriage, a new life, even a new name - and a new stepson. Deprived of Edelgard, Anselma - now Patricia - tries to come to terms with the new child dropped into her life: Dimitri.

Rating: G

Set in the same 'verse as A World on Its Side.

I started this story *for* Mother's Day, and then got distracted writing other things. Better late than never, right?

As always, for @lysissisyl, who knows why. 

Also on AO3

-

Edelgard was the only child she'd ever really known - and how to judge, from only one, and only so briefly, any sort of notion of what children in general were like, or should be like? It was no true frame of reference, even if it had been possible to consider Edelgard without any bias at all. Which it was not. And never would be. 

Fierce - that was the word for Edelgard. Tiny and tenacious and hopelessly stubborn, even before she had words, only the most flailing attempts at control, determined to make her presence and her specific desires clear, through whatever nascent means her own development had, thus far, seen fit to bestow upon her. And while Anselma could claim no prior knowledge, she, then, cradled within herself the blooms of pride from Ionius' doting. And he had been doting.

Once.

Doting, but if he'd had even a few drops of the ferocity that was in Edelgard...

Well - he had not. And he did not. But he had possessed far greater stores of knowledge of the path of early childhood - a thought now tinged with aching bitterness - than Anselma had, or would likely ever have. If he found precocity in Edelgard's determined attempts to make herself understood, then there must be more to it than merely blind pride? 

Irrelevant, now. As irrelevant as the promises he had made; as irrelevant as her own blinders, even as she had pretended to have endemic talent: some natural, inherent gift for playing a game in which she had never accepted the rules. Ionius was not the only foolish one - just a fool with more unearned clout. 

He was gone now. Likely for good. And she knew nothing of the wives, of the children. 

Of Edelgard. 

She told herself not to think about it. Even before leaving the Empire, she had known it was best to try to forget. 

But what was best, and what was possible, might be two very different things. 

Especially with the little prince darting in and out of daily life like some frightened scrap of a kitten. 

Whether he was a normal child, she could not say.

But he was nothing like Edelgard. 

he was introduced to her formally, with the same coldness that seemed to have seeped from the air of Faerghus and into the souls of its people. The man she had married was a stranger to her, and she to him, so perhaps a certain frost was not unexpected between them. But the way he spoke to his son - of his son - seemed also to carry almost no warmth at all. 

"Boy," he said - and the little one, a spitting image in miniature, stepped obediently forward. His eyes found hers only briefly, before he ducked his head to a bow, and remained there. "My son, the Crown Prince Dimitri. Dimitri, your new stepmother."

And that was all. Non words exchanged between them. Another land, and still more walls, and Anselma knew no way to scale them. Instead, she knew now all that could be lost if she attempted again, and still failed. 

More than a month had passed, since the hurried formalities of a wedding, and a single, passionless night of necessary consummation. She had seen Cornelia more often than her new husband, and still had no promised answers to other question she had asked before agreeing to leave Enbarr - to leave Edelgard. She told herself to practice patience. She nurtured that anger that seemed to have always smoldered within her - feeding it slowly, carefully. Stoking it. 

Fire could be a dangerous weapon. 

And none seemed inclined to pay hers any mind.

Not yet. Not yet...

If they would not tell her the rules, what could prevent her from breaking them?

"Say nothing of Edelgard." Whispered words, but with an almost frightened, harsh ferocity she had rarely, if ever, heard from her brother's oft-simpering lips. She would not deny that something was badly amiss within the Empire, and his sudden fear only confirmed as much. "She would never be safe, even under Lambert's protection. I will see to her safety - I swear it by the Goddess, and Seiros, and all the Saints above."

She had done as told. But the Goddess? Seiros, the Saints? What would they do, to protect one girl?

Nothing  - as they always did. Nothing at all.

If anyone in the Empire harmed Edelgard, it would not be the Goddess they would need to concern themselves with. 

But until then - she had said nothing, and she would say nothing. She was not even certain Lambert was aware of her relationship to one of the small herd of Imperial children; there had never been official union between Hresvelg and Arundel, and though he knew she had spent a lifetime as "Anselma," she had never heard him call her anything but "Patricia." And she had no idea what tales might have been woven concerning her own provenance by Volkhard and those in the Kingdom seeking his continued favor. Once again, as always, she was a pawn to their minds. 

And best forgotten when the game required no sacrifice. 

She kept herself to herself, now in cold, unfamiliar, unforgiving Fhirdiad. It was not hard, when she hardly saw or spoke to anyone but the taciturn castle staff, who were all but silent even amongst themselves as they delivered meals, laid out fresh clothing, or turned down blankets and tamped the fires to warm embers each night. Even the Arundel lands were lively when to compared to dour Fhirdiad. 

But sometimes she wondered... 

She had champed and strained against her own childhood reins. So what of growing up somewhere even more stiff, and quiet, and cold?

Boy.

The motherless little crown prince. The skittish kitten of a creature. She caught glimpses of him, but he spoke no more than formal, necessary greetings, always with that extended bow she was beginning to believe spoke as much of a shy nature as a polite one. He was almost of an age with Edelgard. She resisted, though, the inclination to compare them. 

But not as successfully as she might have claimed, had anyone asked. (Which, of course, no one did.)

He had no ferocity to him - none at all. He seemed, if anything, so docile that it seemed some colossal jape to name him heir to a household, much less an entire kingdom. His build was study enough, but there was still about him an air of fragility, and the same seemed to reflect in his eyes, as wide and cloudless and blue as the sky on the first perfect day of summer. There was assuredly sweetness to him - but sweetness such as his was dangerous. Dangerous to himself - and dangerous to his future rule. 

In that, she had another comparison: not Edelgard.

Ionius.

Perhaps that, more than thoughts of Edelgard, led her to distance herself from him. Sweetness, weakness: his own life was not her concern. The Kingdom was not her concern. Her concern was herself, and her daughter, and if for the moment she had no power to guarantee protection for either of them, she would at least do nothing that risked jeopardizing them further. This soft, sweet, sad boy was nothing to her, and should King Lambert drop dead tomorrow, she would be nothing to this boy. It was safer for both of them. 

But she could not pretend she did not notice his presence - particularly when it was often the only one besides her own. Or maybe it was simply a consequence of all the time she had spent alone, these last few years. Time when there should have been a child... though she could not imagine Edelgard ever skulking so. 

She could feel him watching; hear the soft scuffling of his boots against the stone flooring, or an occasional sniffle or sigh. But she kept her gaze pointedly on whatever task lay before her - she saw no reason to draw more of his attention, and what purpose would it serve to let him know she was aware of his presence? It would only embarrass him. He was spooked too easily already, poor thing. 

Beyond that first month - how long did this strange little act continue? Time seemed to grow increasingly nebulous, the longer she spent in Faerghus. The seasons never seemed to change, one cold, blustery, white-skied day bleeding endlessly into another. She kept track of when it was, as she did every year, but not how long it had been; there was already sufficient past to be mourned. The day it was: that was to light a candle for Edelgard's birthday. 

She would be ten, soon.

The Garland Moon in Enbarr was a beautiful month, warm and sunny without yet the wet, oppressive heat of late summer. In Fhirdiad, she suspected things would not change much between this moon and the next. Maybe that was why the boy was about so much of the time; Lambert had said he was often out with friends, but maybe that was on a rare warmer day. Or maybe his father paid as little mind to his son as he did to his new wife. 

The thought occurred to her on one of those endless, bleed-along days - then gripped, refused to let go. She had assumed the boy was merely bored and curious about this new addition to his life, but what if...

What if he was lonely?

It brought her back to how little she knew about the ways of children. She could not imagine Edelgard quietly putting up with being bored or lonely; she would make entertainment, or demand it be made for her. But was that some prerequisite of very small children - would Edelgard be the same way now?

Because it also took Anselma back to her own memories of childhood. Her own loneliness. And her own isolation. 

She had always thought Edelgard much like her - far more like her than like Ionius. But in considering Dimitri's loneliness, she felt, for the first time, a blossom of kinship. When she felt his eyes, she now looked very pointedly elsewhere, and made broader movements: sewing or reading was hardly still likely anything interesting to watch, but there was no harm in trying to make it so. 

She considered speaking to him - she wanted, more and more, to speak to him - but after so long, she wasn't sure how, nor even, truly, if such a thing would be acceptable. She could recognize the absurdity of it - a woman almost 30 years old, and unsure of whether she could talk to her own stepson! - but the concern was nonetheless there. If such a thing was allowed, why had Dimitri still said so little to her? Too many bedtime stories of wicked stepmothers? 

(That made her smile, to think of - and she could not remember the last time she had done so. It was nice to know a smile might still come unbidden.)

Perhaps she was no longer as impetuous as the girl she had once been. perhaps Dimitri was bolder and braver than she had given him credit for. Or perhaps it was some combination of both - but whatever it was, in the end, the strange wall that had grown between them was brought down not by her, but by Dimitri. 

Dimitri, and the first time he reminded her of Edelgard. 

Her liing quarters in the castle were a set of three small rooms on the third floor - the newer part of the hulking, ancient monolith squatting over Fhirdiad like some immense, ugly, judgmental toad. The inside was hardly much better; she missed the privacy and simplicity of the cottage in Enbarr, and even the familiar confines of the Arundel manor house, with its fug of peat fires and faint aroma, always, of damp thatch and wool and leather. Still, she appreciated the semblance of privacy, especially of the bedroom; she was not so naive as to believe it truly her own, but also aware of hos much less it might be, and how little recourse she would have if it was.

Just outside her bedroom was the small parlor where she took her meals, and next to it the study where she spent much of her time; it had a large, modern window, and she had dragged one of the more comfortable parlor chairs in there, to take advantage of what natural light there was by which to read or sew. The castle staff left breakfast in the parlor each morning, but never went into the study except when she was awake and elsewhere, so that they might dust or tidy. It was otherwise left alone - or so she had always believed.

Which meant it came as a surprise, one bitter early morning of the Harpstring Moon, to find muddy footprints leading across the parlor, and into the study. Small prints - but she could not imagine one of the servants, even a very young one, not only going into the study instead of quietly placing tea and cakes down and leaving, but also ignoring the trail of wet muck left in their wake. Anselma ignored the tray of breakfast - she followed the prints. 

There was a cup on the windowsill. Nothing unusual about it - it was just like the one she had passed not a minute earlier, left for her tea. But there was more dirty and tiny clods of mud around it, and the toes of the footprints before the sill were deep and well-defined, as if the person who stood there had had to raise themselves on tiptoe to do their curious job. 

The cup held flowers. 

Or rather - unopened blossoms. Roses, by the smell of them - and by the smooth-silk coolness of the curled petals, when she reached to touch them. They'd been left in a meager splash of mud-darkened water; the stems were hacked off in jagged, uneven strands of green. Pink and yellow blossoms - they were the brightest thing she had seen in a very, very long time. 

But why were they here?

Edelgard...?

The overgrown back garden of their home in Enbarr, before Edelgard was taken for good: she had loved that meager patch of land. The grass, the uneven hedges, the insects and the tiny frogs that came each summer, out of the stream that separated their house from the rolling fields beyond. 

She picked the wildflowers - tiny things, like Edelgard herself, but just as determined to find a place to call their own, to take root and push their way up, through the soil, around stocky blades of grass or into narrow cracks in the paving stones. A deadly-serious job, as Edelgard took it, to gather up those flowers. She made piles on the stones, separating them by color: a red pile; a blue one; yellow and white. Carefully easing them more tightly together. She spent whole mornings at her slow, methodical work. It was a marked difference from her usual behavior, when she ran hither and yon, outside or in, nothing able to capture her attention for more than a fleeting few minutes at a time. 

They had pressed the flowers - some of them. Anselma showed her how, and Edelgard took this, too, very seriously: biting her lip and squinting at the pages before her, trying to decide the best place for each little bloom. They used a book of hagiographies, a gift from Volkhard, the largest book Anselma had in her possession - and she felt a little spark of an adolescent-esque rebellious pleasure, wondering what he would say of this use of a religious text. 

It wasn't as if Edelgard could read it. 

Flowers...

And small footprints on the floor.

Don't be absurd.

A sudden, surprised little noise behind her - followed almost immediately by a sloshing crash. 

When she turned, blue eyes met hers with no sign of bowing away - just wide, frightened shock. Dimitri's cheeks were red, his hair in its usual long muss, his buttons uneven, and his boots - his very small, mud-caked boots - now splashed and shiny with the contents of the bowl of water he had dropped. In his left hand, he held a cloth. 

He blinked at her, as if for a moment he had lost track of who she was, or perhaps where he was. Then - it seemed almost inevitable - came the bow, though it was hurried and sloppy, with none of his usual careful politeness. "I... I ask your apology, Stepmother. I did not realize you were awake, or... I would not have come in. Without knocking. Though I... I already did. I ask your apology for that, as well. I'm sorry. I will see it all cleaned up. Myself."

Dimitri had created such chaos? Dimitri had... left flowers for her? 

For a long moment, she could find no words, and no thoughts but those. Dimitri had straightened once more - his eyes still afraid, but his face and demeanor patient, waiting. Whether such was normal in a child of his age, she could not say, but just then, she was certainly appreciative of the time allowed to attempt to gather herself. 

"May I help you?" she finally asked. 

Now, it seemed his turn to merely stare. "But... I was the one who made the mess. Why would you... wish to help me?" It was the most emotion she had ever heard from him: his tone still measured and polite, but not tinged, as much his expression was, with what seemed honest befuddlement. 

Was it truly so alien to him, to have someone offer him help?

"Because I'd like to," she said.

Again, Dimitri stared. Then - another bow. But not quickly enough: she had already seen how he started to smile. 

"I'll get more water," he said, "And... I thank you, Stepmother."

As soon as he was gone from sight, she could hear the slap of his boots, as he started to run.

She waited for a moment, still and silent, then went to prepare the tea. She should she might like to offer it to him. 

[val-kay-rie]

how the cards fall [quentin beck x reader]

summary: two different people on opposing sides with the same objective; make the other fall in love with them. 

word count: 2281

warnings: far from home spoilers!! and slight cursing bc of nick fury smh

a/n: ah, here we are again. it is confirmed that quentin beck owns my ass now, and honestly i’m not even surprised. i would also apologize in advance because i suck at updating, but for now.. enjoy! 

GIF not mine!

“Sir, we’ve been thinking..” William started on behalf of the team.

“What?” Quentin quickly asked in return.

The short-statured man glanced at his teammates and, with a nod from Guterman, continued, “We were thinking on how to humanize you more.”

“Humanize me?” was the response William received, “Our poor hero has already lost his family, what else are you suggesting? We’re days away from our first Elemental attack.”

“We were thinking you could expand on that,” Guterman stated, “You lost your spouse, but what if you re-met them on this Earth?”

This sparked the interest of the man in the motion-capture suit, and he urged them to go on, “I’m listening.”

“It’d be an easy addition - to feign affections for someone,” William elaborated, “And if it were to be someone in SHIELD--”

“I’d have someone on the inside if things go south,” Quentin completed, William nodding in agreement. A wicked grin grew upon Quentin’s face as he said, “Well this is brilliant, boys.”

William and Guterman let out a sigh of relief and smiled at one another in excitement as Quentin began to brainstorm, “We have to be careful with this, it can’t just be the next agent I meet. We’ll have to research someone, study them.”

“Who’s Fury likely to call to Europe?” Guterman thought aloud.

William suggested, “Maria Hill?”

“Too risky, she’d never let her walls down,” Quentin shot down, “We need someone that’ll open up emotionally.”

“Agent Johnson?”

“Fury wouldn’t call her out overseas.”

“Agent L/N?”

“L/N, Stark’s friend right?” Quentin inquired. 

“Yes sir, even attended the funeral,” William confirmed.

“That creates the perfect emotional vulnerability we need,” Quentin told the others, “And if they’re calling the kid in to give him EDITH, L/N would be a good incentive for him to stick around. They’ve known each other a while, Stark’s death only brought them closer.”

William and Guterman exchanged a look before William carefully asked, “We found the one, didn’t we?”

“We found the one,” Quentin confirmed with a smirk, “Find out everything there is to know about Y/N L/N.”

---

“I’ve seen better,” you told Fury after you stepped out of the car, Dimitri getting out of the driver’s seat behind you. You hadn’t seen the man in front of you since attending Tony and Natasha’s funerals, yet your first reaction was to lighten the air.

Fury gazed around at the makeshift base that they had created and with a small, quiet laugh said, “We’re making do.”

You let out a laugh and said, “It’s good to see you, Nick.”

“It’s good to see you too, agent,” Fury genuinely replied.  

Fury led you through the tunnels and to the pop-up SHIELD base that they established in Venice for the time being. You walked and talked, “What are we dealing with this time?”

“More creatures from another world, can you believe it?” 

You scoffed and remarked, “Just another day at the office.”

Fury gave you a knowing look as you arrived at the center of the base. You spotted Maria Hill and nodded at each other as a greeting as Fury led you over to someone new. Their back was currently turned to you, so all you saw was the long, draping cape as Fury said, “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to. Meet Quentin Beck, Beck this is--”

“Y/N?” Quentin whispered, almost inaudibly. His eyes, that were full of shock, looked you over up and down, taking in each and every inch of you. His wide blue eyes met yours and, while his were filled with disbelief, yours were filled with nothing but confusion. He took a breath and composed himself, “My apologies. Agent L/N, it’s a pleasure.”

Quentin held out a hand for you to shake and you cautiously took it, still completely baffled as to why he reacted the way that he did upon seeing you. You couldn’t understand the longing look in his eyes, and were relieved when Fury cleared his throat and carried, “Beck is here to help deal with Earth’s new friends.”

“New friends?” you asked both Fury and the man in front of you for clarification.

“We called them Elementals,” Quentin informed you, and it was in that moment that he realized he still had a grip on your hand. He glanced at your hands for a brief moment, then reluctantly let go and told you, “Sorry again.”

Quentin then began to explain everything to you, and you half paid attention as your mind began to slowly drift. Why did this man act so peculiar towards you? 

Your complete attention was regained when Quentin spoke of the catastrophe the Elementals had brought to his world. The stakes were incredibly high and you couldn’t deny the fact that it made you nervous.

“The Elementals cost me everything. It’s because of them I’ve lost my whole world, my friends,” Quentin’s eyes found yours again as he softly said, “my family.”

You quickly broke the eye contact and gazed at the holographic display in front of you. When you dared to steal a glance at Quentin, you could see him mindlessly fiddling with a ring on his finger. A ring that you could only assume was a wedding band.

This, combined with the odd introduction, was a bit unsettling to you. Your mind couldn’t help but leap to all kinds of different assumptions, you were nearly convinced that you and Quentin had known each other on his world. And knew each other well, at that. 

“The next attack is happening here in Venice in two days,” Hill informed you.

“So what’s the game plan?” you asked, looking towards her and Fury as you deliberately tried to avoid any more eye contact with Quentin.

“I’ve dealt with these things before,” Quentin said, “so I should be able to deal with them again.”

Fury added, “Still, we’re trying to get Beck whatever backup we can, yet somehow everyone we know is other-wise occupied. Everyone, but Parker.”

“Peter?” you asked for verification. When receiving a nod, you went on, “Come on Fury, he’s just a kid.”

“A kid with remarkable powers that the world needs right now,” Fury responded. You gazed at the other two people currently in the little meeting, hoping that someone would see things from your point of view, but to no avail. 

Hill had seemed to have her mind made on the matter, and naturally she saw eye to eye with Fury and took his stance. You couldn’t really say you were all that surprised, but you were still hoping she’d understand.

Quentin looked at you with nothing but sympathy, and you were really hoping that the new and spectacular hero would realize this wasn’t the most ethical of ideas. He remained silent, and you couldn’t say you were surprised here either considering he didn’t even know Peter.

Fury could sense your uneasiness about the situation, nodded his head towards the direction of more tunnels in this dark underground base, and said, “Walk with me, L/N.”

You let out a sigh and did as you were told, starting off towards the direction Fury had pointed out. Quentin’s eyes never left yours as you exited the area, something that both you and Fury couldn’t help but notice. 

As soon as you were out of earshot to Hill and Quentin you said, “I get that Peter’s powers as Spider-Man are amazing, but at the end of the day he’s just 16-year-old high schooler in need of a break.”

“And I understand that,” Fury said as you realized he was walking you the out the way you came in, “I also understand that this is a global threat and we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

An audible exhale left your lips before you admitted, “I just don’t want to see anything happen to him.” 

“Which is exactly why I called you out here. Help Parker, watch his back, make him feel more comfortable,” Fury instructed. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re trying to get Peter here when Beck seems to have everything under control,” you told him.

“Because I don’t completely trust Beck,” Fury confessed.

You two made it back outside and underneath the night sky as you asked, “Why not?”

“Everything about this situation and about him almost seems too perfect, too good to be true.”

You joked, “Why? Because he listens to you?”

“Because nothing seems to falter him,” Fury said, “or, at least nothing did.”

“What do you mean?” you asked for clarification, though you were a bit nervous to hear his response.

“The man had no weakness, could take down these damn creatures in a matter of minutes,” Fury replied, “Then you show up and literally take his breath away.”

“What are you saying here, Fury?”

“It’s evident that you and Beck knew each other on his world, and we can use that to our advantage,” he explained. 

You were a bit confused as you recited, “Our advantage?”

Fury said, “If the man doesn’t have a weakness, we’ll give him one.”

You hesitated before you stated, “I’m not sure I’m entirely following you, sir.”

“You need to let Beck in. Make him trust you, confide in you, make him believe you’ll always be there in the end,” you were told.

“You want me to make him love me, the way he loved me on his world,” you realized, softly saying this statement aloud as your mind wrapped around what the man in front of you was asking. 

“If that’s what it takes, so be it. We need a contingency plan, and that contingency is you.”

Several thoughts raced inside your mind, all pertaining to the same general ideas: There is no way you could pull this off. There has to be someone better qualified. There has to be a more effective contingency that doesn’t involve messing with his emotions.

“With all due respect sir, are we sure this is the best route? I can’t make someone fall in love with me,” you expressed your worries, “I’m no Natasha.”

“Which is a considerable advantage in your case,” Fury reminded you. “We’re out of options here, agent.”

You looked away from Fury and gazed up at the stars for a brief moment, letting out a deep sigh of realization. The truth was, you didn’t have a choice in the matter and had to follow orders. 

When you glanced back at Fury, the smug look on his face made it evident his thoughts mirrored yours. You caved, “Alright, where am I staying?”

---

Dimitri dropped you off at a rather nice hotel, much to your delight. You went to the room that Fury instructed and pulled out the key card he had handed you out of your pocket, before holding it up the doorknob and being met with a satisfying beep that was accompanied by a small green light. 

You stepped into your temporary living space, shutting the door behind you as you dropped your bag on the ground. Careful feet walked across the room as it was late, but the view outside of the window was calling your name. After gently pushing the sheer curtains out of the way, the beautiful city of Venice came into your sight. 

A small smile of content reached your face because, though you didn’t exactly like the circumstances that got you here, you were more than happy to see Italy. An idea popped into your head as you realized this may very well be the only moment of peace you’ll get in the country, so you decided you’d take advantage of that. 

Stepping away from the window, you made sure you had your phone and your keycard before heading towards the door, eager to get outside and explore the city while you had the chance. When you opened your door, you were met with an unexpected guest in the hall. 

Quentin had gotten out of his whole superhero costume and stood there in a maroon sweater and dark jeans with a keycard in his hand. His back was initially facing you before he heard your door open and turned around, making it evident to you he was staying in the room across the hall from you. Of course.

“Oh, um, hi,” you so poetically spoke. 

“Hey,” he said back with a smile, “Where are you headed?”

You put your hands in your pocket as you replied, “I was just gonna go walk around the city. Take it all in before things get crazy, ya know?”

“Oh yeah, I understand,” Quentin said, fidgeting with his keycard as he debating his next words, “You’re heading out there alone?”

“Yeah, well, this line of work starts to normalize solitude,” you spoke, suddenly growing nervous inside. 

“Let me come with you,” the man before you suggested. Before you were even able to protest, he continued, “Come on, it’s late at a night and you’re in a foreign city. I’m sure you can handle yourself but at the very least, it’d put my heart at ease if I accompanied you.”

Your eyes met his as you thought of ways to get out of your current situation, but then Fury’s words and your new objective came forward in your mind. You internally panicked because you knew a late-night stroll with the newly deemed hero would undoubtedly progress you in your mission, whether you actually wanted his company or not.

You held back a reluctant sigh and opted for a slight smile instead before telling Quentin, “That sounds great.”

“Wonderful,” he grinned back at you, before slipping his keycard back in his pocket. He gestured out to towards the elevator at the end of the hall and said, “After you.”

---

thanks for reading | masterlist | part two coming... eventually 

[callmewishful]

Power and Grace

“Well, I…I have to go.”

---------------------------------------------------

“Oh, thank the Goddess.” Sylvain muttered to Ashe as they walked into class.

Ashe looked confused at his walking partner. The classroom appeared normal; most people having arrived already. He turned to look out the door they’d came in. The sun was shining brightly in the morning sky, “I mean…it is a nice day….”

“Not that.” Sylvain shook his head, “That.” He gestured to Felix and Evyanna deep in conversation at their desks. Evy was drawing out something on a piece of paper and explaining it to Felix, who seemed rather impressed by whatever she was saying.

“Oh,” Ashe nodded in understanding, “Yeah, they really hadn’t talked for a while there, hadn’t they?”

“What can I say, Ashe? Felix is a stubborn man.”

“So, I think we start with the Black Eagles, because then we can take out the ballista-“

“How do you know the Eagles will have the ballista?” Felix interrupted her. “How do you know Claude or Ignatz won’t take it?”

Evy snorted, “Over Edelgard? Please. Edelgard will break Claude’s nose for the ballista.”

“Touché.”

“So anyway, we want Ashe on the ballista, so I think you or I should take out the Eagles archer…who is…shoot.”

“Bernadetta.” Felix supplied, taking the quill from Evy’s hand and writing the girls name on the paper where the Ballista was. Despite his dedication to sword training over book training, he had fairly nice handwriting. “She’s meek and shy and squeals in fear just by looking at me. She’ll be easy to take down.”

Evy giggled, “That scary are you?”

“I think it’s the eyes.”

Evy could concede to that. He did have unusual eyes. She didn’t find them scary though, more intriguing than anything. “Okay, so we take out Bernadetta first to have control of the ballista. If you rush ahead to take her out, I can have Ashe stay behind me to get him to the spot. The Eagles and the Deer will be close together so if we want that prize we’ll have to be fast in taking them out before they cut each other down.”

“The Eagles have a lot of magic users if I remember right. Ashe can focus on them once they’re in range. Maybe we should go for them first to get them out of the way?”

“What do the Eagles focus on?”

“Bernie’s the archer, Edelgard uses an axe, I think Hubert is a magic user, dark magic if I remember right, because he’s a sketchy ass man. Petra uses the sword, Dorothea is a magic user, Caspar uses an axe I think, don’t quote me on that. Linhardt is a magic user, Ferdinand uses a lance?”

“So, we have three magic users for the Eagles and four weapon users? What about the Deer again?”

“Claude is a bow, Ignatz is a bow, Leonie is a bow but sometimes a sword user. Lysithea and Marianne are magic users. Maybe Lorenz too? Hilda uses a lance and I think Raphael uses an axe or his fists.”

“The Deer have fewer magic users then. Maybe we should go for them first? Let the Eagle’s magic users come to the center of the field and be picked off by Ashe?” Evy drew arrows from her, Felix, and Ashe to the center of the map. Then she drew arrows showing Dimitri, Dedue, and Sylvain going up close and personal for the Deer. “If we want, Ingrid could fly ahead and get personal with the Eagle weapon users. Once Ashe is secure on the ballista you and I can go for the Eagles too so she’s not alone. You’re a good dodger.”

“I wouldn’t mind going for Hubert, actually. I’ve wanted to test my skill against his anyway.”

“He’ll be parked up Edelgard’s ass though. So, if you go for him you’ll have to fight her off too.”

“Come with me, then. You can take her.”

“I can go with you guys too. Help ward off some of the magic users.” Annette piped up. Felix and Evyanna looked up from their work to see the entire class surrounding their desks viewing Evy’s drawing as well. Evy’s face turned a light pink and she immediately cast her eyes back down to the paper.

Felix took the quill and drew an arrow from Annette to the Black Eagles side, seemingly unbothered by the class listening in. “That’ll make us more even too.”

“I think it’s a good strategy.” The Professor praised, “does anyone have anything they’d like to add or change?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I yield! I yield!” Bernadetta squealed, cowering in fear.

“I didn’t even touch you.” Felix muttered, but lowered his training sword. “Ashe, get up there.”

Ashe rushed past Evy and took Bernadetta’s spot on the ballista making quick work of loading it with the training arrows. Evy watched Dimitri and Sylvain engaging with Lorenz and Hilda in the distance. She smiled proudly while her boys fought. So far, their plan was working quite nicely.

“Annette, let’s go.” Felix instructed, taking no time to admire the fight before them. Over to the east, Ingrid swooped in and began engaging Ferdinand. The three took off towards the Eagles to help their flier, Evy being pulled from her observance. She rushed in to stop Linhardt from using magic against Ingrid, forcing him to yield. Felix and Annette were tackling Dorothea together. Evy was often impressed by Dorothea. So confident and talented, both musically and magically.

“ARGH!” Evy barely dodged Petra’s swinging blade after beating Lorenz, stumbling backwards and nearly losing her footing. Petra noticed how off-balance she was and came in ferociously swinging with speed Evy could barely match with how caught off guard she’d been.

Petra was about to go in for the final blow, Evy barely holding on, “You will yield!”

“No,” Felix interrupted her with his training sword in her back, “You will yield.”

Petra slowly lowered her blade, turning to look at Felix, “I must yield?”

“I don’t see a training sword in my back.”

She nodded in agreement and sighed, “I must yield. I worked hard. You are lucky to have your sword man boyfriend to save you, Zelshire Princess.”

Evy fixed her grip on her sword and sputtered, “Oh, I-I mean…we-”

Felix’s face was bright red, not from the exertion of battle, and he quickly turned away to go back to the fight. Evy could feel her face was just as hot as Felix’s looked and she stopped trying to explain seeing as she couldn’t get words out of her mouth.

“You have the oddest of relationships with the sword man boyfriend, Zelshire Princess.” Petra looked between the two before exiting the battlefield.

Evyanna didn’t even try. She was so flustered between the conversation and Petra’s relentless attacks that she gave up. After a quick deep breath, she had to get back into the battle. Annette and Felix were coming up on Hubert and Edelgard and they’d need help.

She rushed back into the action, trying to clear her head as much as she could. One thing kept sticking out to her though: Felix didn’t deny it.

Of course, they weren’t dating, but he didn’t deny Petra’s assumption of a romantic relationship. Maybe he thought he didn’t have time for such nonsense, seeing as he’d left Annette to save Evy. Maybe he thought he had to go back to save Annette. Maybe he saw Evy was already making an attempt to clear up the confusion and didn’t see the point in him doing so also. Or…maybe he didn’t deny it because he wanted a romantic relationship.

Evyanna nearly laughed out loud at herself. Felix? Dating? She really could be quite funny.

So funny, that she mentioned the story to Ingrid on their victory walk back. Ingrid thought it was funny too that Petra would say that. Anyone who knew Felix knew he was basically emotionally empty. As far as Evy knew, the only emotion Felix had was anger.

Still, she couldn’t help the hopeful feeling in her chest when she thought about him. She knew better, really. Mother always told her to never expect a man to change. ‘If you don’t like him now, you won’t like him ever.’ Though it wasn’t that she didn’t like Felix…she just wished he wanted the same thing.

It was stupid really. Felix was clearly not interested in a relationship. He told her that his only focus was getting stronger and working on his skills with the blade. If she wanted a relationship she should focus on someone else. Dimitri perhaps….

After the mock battle, all the students had a feast together in the dining hall at Claude’s insistence, celebrating the enjoyment of the fight and the Blue Lions win. The night was a lot of fun.

Claude dropped two bags of marshmallows on the table after dinner with a smirk on his face. Evy gasped, “Are we playing Chubby Bunny?!”

“What’s that?” Claude asked, even though he brought the marshmallows.

“It’s a contest to see how many marshmallows you can fit in your mouth.” She explained, opening up one of the bags.

“That sounds ridiculous.” Felix muttered from his spot next to her.

Sylvain rolled his eyes, “You’re just mad that you’re a little man with a small mouth and can’t fit that many marshmallows in.”

“Give me one of those damn bags.” Felix snapped, reaching for the bag of the sticky confection in Evy’s hands.

“Now, now, now! Wait! We gotta go at the same time to keep track. Who’s in? Me, Felix, anyone else?” Claude gestured marshmallows to people.

All in all, Claude, Felix, Evy, Dimitri, Edelgard (after much chiding from Claude about being the only house lead who wasn’t playing), Sylvain, Ferdinand, Annette, Petra, Caspar, Leonie, and Raphael joined the contest. It was easy until around 6-7 marshmallows. Then people’s cheeks looked puffy and people started giggling. If you giggled, you were basically done for.

Annette was out first at 9 marshmallows, followed by Petra and Edelgard at 11. Evy and Leonie only got 12, while Ferdinand, to Evy’s surprise, fit 14. Evy was really only surprised because he didn’t seem like one to try during these games. He was Ferdinand von Aegir…so she heard.

Dimitri and Caspar were out next with 15 marshmallows – Dimitri awkwardly laughing about his puffy cheeks the entire time. Raphael was out at 16 because he was trying to cheat by eating them.

“Wahh Wou.” Felix tried to talk to Sylvain with 17 marshmallows in his mouth.

“Ah?” Sylvain, naturally, had zero idea what the hell Felix was saying.

“Wuak Wou.”

“Wah?”

Felix rolled his eyes and flipped Sylvain off, “Wak Wou.” Evy snickered.

Claude was trying his very best not to laugh so none of his marshmallows fell out and was failing. He was out at 17.

“Alright! Who has 18? Is it Sylvain or Felix?” Ingrid had easily taken on the role of announcer for the contest.

Felix put the marshmallow at the entrance of his mouth and used the palm of his fist to mash it in. Sylvain was trying to pry one side of his mouth open to make his marshmallow fit.

“It’s gotta be more than 50% in!” Ingrid chided Sylvain when he tried to claim victory by barely holding onto the marshmallow with the edge of his mouth.

“He’s got it! He’s got it!” Evy shouted, pointing at Felix, who had the marshmallow wedged in along with the other 17.

“Felix has it Sylvain!” Annette teased. Sylvain’s inability was not for lack of trying, he was pushing the marshmallow and prying his mouth, but it was not working. He looked hopefully at Ingrid.

“What do we think guys? Does he have it?” She asked the rest of the classes.

Evy shook her head, along with most. People erupted in their opinions. The little marshmallow was barely hanging on.

“Waa wou.” Felix grabbed one more for good measure and tried shoving it in his mouth. The class laughed hysterically as Sylvain mock-groaned with a chuckle of his own.

“You can’t laugh! Laughing is the bane of Chubby Bunny.” Evy giggled at him, handing him another marshmallow. Sylvain waved the marshmallow off. He barely made 18, there was no way he was making 19.

“Are you tapping out?” Claude asked in disbelief, “Get that marshmallow in there, son!” Claude took the marshmallow from Evy, trying to help Sylvain get it in his mouth. They both were laughing too hard to accomplish the feat. Felix barely had his 19th in but was determined to go for 20 when he saw Sylvain going for 19.

Before Sylvain could get 19 he laugh/coughed most of his marshmallows out. Felix slammed both of his hands on the table and flipped Sylvain off with both middle fingers. He spit out his marshmallows onto a plate, “Fuck off! Who’s little now?!”

“Damn! What the hell, Felix?” Sylvain chuckled rubbing his sore cheeks. Apparently one could never underestimate Felix when he was trying to prove someone wrong.

The table erupted into excited chatter about how Felix was able to beat everyone, despite thinking the game was ridiculous AND not even liking sweets (which Mercedes and Lysithea found an absolute crime).

The rest of the night was spent laughing, joking, and drinking, thanks to Claude and Sylvain. Turned out that Sylvain was a master drink mixer, raiding the Monastery cupboards and his own room stash for booze. They started the party in the dining hall, Dimitri reluctantly joining in on the drinking, though “not too much as it wouldn’t be very becoming for a King.” Once the party in the dining hall ended, the Blue Lions took their party back to the dorm rooms. Well, Sylvain’s dorm room so as not to disturb Claude, who had already been exclaiming he would be having a massive headache the next day.

The Blue Lion house shoved themselves into the boy’s room: crowding on the bed, his desk, and any spare chairs they could fit in the room. They drank, except for Dimitri, Dedue, and Mercedes, who mother-henned the group instead – forcing water on them and food as the night went on. Evy had never felt so apart of the group, wedged between Ingrid and Felix and laughing along with the rest of class. It was quite humorous to see the intoxicated side of some of their classmates.

“Evy! Remember when Lea broke his ankle, and I broke my arm that summer?” Sylvain shouted. Evy was not far enough away for him to need to shout, but he thought it was appropriate.

“How did you break your arm that summer? You refused to tell us the story.” Dimitri was sitting properly in Sylvain’s desk chair. He’d refused to sit on the desk itself like Sylvain was, because ‘that was not how desks were meant to be used.’ He did however, let Annette sit in front of his legs and use them as her back rest.

Sylvain broke out in more laughter. He jumped off his desk to dig around his dresser. Dimitri cringed, “Please tell me this story is appropriate.”

“Shh. I’m getting the demonstration ready.” Sylvain chided, pulling out an extra blanket.

“I’ll break your arm for you.” Felix volunteered, earning a jab in the ribs from Evy. Felix looked to her with a frown, “What? I would.”

Sylvain waved Felix off and grabbed all four corners of the blanket. “So, you know how when you fall, you feel all the wind blowing from the ground up at you? Well, we were like, dude, what if when you jump, you had something to catch the wind and then you could use the wind to make you fly instead of falling?! So, we got blankets like this, and grabbed all the corners and then we went up on top of the training hall and jumped off to see if it works!” Sylvain frowned at the memory, finally getting to the ending, “Turns out, you lose your grip and fall down anyway. Or if you don’t lose your grip, like Lea, you still don’t fly. Was really a bummer actually. I think I made out better though because I only broke my arm. Lea couldn’t walk for weeks.”

Dimitri sighed, rubbing his face, “Oh dear Goddess. If I’d known you were going to be so much trouble I wouldn’t have left you alone.”

Sylvain scoffed, “Please. We were conducting science. That’s hardly trouble.”

“You broke the Prince’s ankle.”

“I didn’t do it. Air did…well technically the ground when he landed.” Sylvain shrugged, tossing the blanket down to Annette who had been reaching for it.

Mercedes giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, “How did you spend that summer Your Highness? If not with Sylvain and this Lea.”

Dimitri smiled, fondly recalling the memories of that summer. He looked at his summer-mate as he answered, “I spent it with Evyanna, actually. While Sylvain and her younger brother, Lea got into massive amounts of mischief, we spent the summer exploring.”

“Exploring…” Sylvain winked, giving Dimitri a suggestive look.

The Prince’s face turned bright red, “N-not like that!” That was a slight lie. “There’s lots of beautiful sights in Zelshire.”

“Oh, I know it.” Sylvain continued to give Dimitri a shit-eating grin. While the rest of the class laughed at Dimitri’s expense, except Felix. Felix narrowed his eyes at the Prince.

Dimitri became increasingly flustered under Sylvain’s gaze and the Lion’s laughter, “I-I didn’t mean…I mean, not that the Princess isn’t…I-that’s not-“ Dimitri took a breath, “we just explored the nature trails and-“

“A happy trail, eh?”

“Sylvain!” Dimitri scolded, “We were far too young for such things.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I’m not even sure you got a good beard coming in now.”

Evy couldn’t help the round of giggles that came through, leaning on Felix’s shoulder to help stifle them. It wasn’t really working.

“Okay, okay. You guys it is getting late!” Dimitri chided. This had to stop before things got worse. “This has been a fantastic night, but we should all be getting to be bed.”

“Fuck off, Boar Prince.” Felix, who’d lost what little filter he had during the night especially after the prior conversation, rolled his eyes at him.

Evy put a finger to Felix’s surprisingly soft lips, “Shhh, Fe. Be polite.”

“Oh, fucking kiss already.” Sylvain muttered to himself and Ashe, who he’d leaned into. He chugged the last of his drink quickly.

“Dimitri is right, Felix.” Mercedes stepped in, hoping that Felix would be nicer if she was the one to dictate, “It’s getting late and you need your rest so you can train tomorrow.”

The promise of training caught Felix’s attention and he stopped arguing. Reluctantly, and with some more mothering from Dimitri and Mercedes, they all started packing up. Mercedes took Annette and Ingrid down to the girls’ side of the dorms while Dimitri walked Ashe back down to the first floor. Evy lingered around Felix and Sylvain. Sylvain’s bed was too comfy to get up quite yet.

“Come on, we gotta train tomorrow.” Felix held out his hands to help her up. She groaned slightly but took them. Being an adult sucked sometimes.

“I just wanna take a nap.” She whined, leaning against his chest for a brief moment. Her legs lumbered her out the door and down the familiar hall. She’d give almost anything to be able to close her eyes and sleep with how tired she felt. Now that the high of victory and the buzz of her friends had worn off she was beat.

She heard Felix tell Sylvain to shut up behind her and she giggled. He was quite the character. Unlike any noble she’d ever met. He’d be an interesting heir. Part of her was really bummed that she wouldn’t get to see much of him once she left the monastery.

“Hey, Leighton.” His slightly slurred voice sounded behind her, along with slightly rushing footsteps.

Her bright leafy green eyes looked back at him, “Felix, you passed your ro-” Evy was cut off by his body crashing into hers, his hungry lips devouring her. She eagerly returned his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him closer to her. Felix picked her up under her legs and pressed her back against the wall, deepening their impromptu make-out session.

Dimitri skipped back up the steps from ensuring Ashe made it to his room safely but stopped dead when he saw the amorous display in the hallway. He let out a small gasp as his eyes widened, but the sound did nothing to deter the apparent lovers. Sylvain was behind the pair, standing in his own doorway, giving Dimitri a thumbs up and a big grin. Dimitri wondered if Sylvain had decided to challenge Felix again and now this was the result.

The prince awkwardly walked by the couple, politely avoiding them with his eyes.

“Liquid courage strikes again.” Sylvain chuckled when Dimitri was in earshot.

“I didn’t realize Felix had feelings for Evyanna that way.” Dimitri admitted, his own heart conflicted at the sight of them together. But perhaps that was just their previous betrothment talking.

Sylvain scoffed, “Please, that’s why he avoided her for two months. He was trying to get over his little crush. I finally convinced him to man up tonight.” Sylvain grinned at the couple, proud of his handywork.

Dimitri reluctantly looked back at them. They’d stopped kissing, though Felix still had Evy pressed against the wall. Their foreheads were connected as they shared a smile between each other. Both of them looked rather happy. If his friends were happy, then he could be happy for them.

“You aren’t going to watch them all night, are you?” Dimitri was just as reluctant to ask Sylvain the question, more because he feared the answer.

“Nah. I just wanted to make sure he’d actually kiss her.”

Dimitri exhaled in relief, “Well, it appears you got your wish.” And with that, he went to try and sleep.

Evyanna and Felix did quite the opposite – kissing, grinding, and teasing until they were both left tired and panting. It was too soon for sex; they were buzzed and had only just expressed romantic interest in one another. Sex could wait. Besides, Evyanna found herself dizzy just from Felix’s lips. Well, alcohol might have offered some help too.

Felix was a bit surprised to find Evyanna curled up against his chest in the morning until the memories of the night before came flooding back…Sylvain telling him that Dimitri was going to confess feelings for Evy…him being…well, pissed at the thought…stopping her in the hallway…shoving her against the wall…attacking each other with hot kisses…her breath against his skin…shit.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. Fucking alcohol, making him act on his feelings.

Evyanna shifted on top of him, hugging him tighter. The two of them on the bed was a bit of a tight squeeze. Felix supposed it could’ve been worse – at least he got to be with her, and she didn’t reject him.

“Good morning.” She whispered rubbing her face against his tunic, nuzzling against him.

“Morning.” He rubbed her arm with another sigh. Part of him wanted himself to stop ruining this moment, but the other part was irritated at himself for letting it happen. What happened to trying to forget his feelings for her?

Evy peered up at him with shy eyes, as if she could tell exactly what he was thinking. This possibility made Felix even more uncomfortable, “Are you upset?”

That was a loaded question. Of course, he was upset – he acted on emotions he had been trying for months to get rid of . But, in reality…he did like it…fuck. “No.” He muttered, trying to avoid her eyes. How pathetic would it be to bother her with his internal conflict the first night they spent together? What was he, the Boar?

“You don’t sound sure.” Evy was having none of his avoidance and propped herself up on her arm so she could look him in the face. She was so beautiful, her bright green eyes so sweet and gentle, just like her soft features, in the morning. Her hair was a mess, but Felix was 100% certain that was partially his fault as well. Even still, she was everything Felix was not: gentle, loving, open…how the hell did such a soft person have feelings for a rough-around-the-edges swordsman? Perhaps he should take her feelings while she had them; before she wisened up and ditched him.

“I-I am.” He decided. “It’s just…different.” That part wasn’t a lie. Felix had never been interested in the relationship aspect of people before. Not until she skipped her way into his life.

She smiled softly at him, rubbing his cheek with her thumb in a gentle way that made him blush. “It is different, but I think it’s a good different.”

“Good different.” Felix agreed quietly. Anything more and he’d start stumbling over his words due to her touch. She kissed his other cheek and gave him one more quick cuddle before they had to get ready. He felt cold as she left the bed and mentally he hated himself. No way he could start this lovey shit…fuck.

“Good morning, Evy, Felix. How did- oh Goddess.” Dimitri’s face burned at breakfast as he realized that he didn’t want to know the answer to the question he almost asked.

Next to him, Sylvain snickered, but the new couple couldn’t figure out why.

“How did what?” Evy asked, encouraging him to keep going while not understanding why he paused in the first place. Dimitri seemed embarrassed about something. Perhaps the fact that he’d been drinking with them the night before? Evy didn’t remember him doing anything embarrassing. He only had one mixed drink before he cut himself off. Sylvain, Felix, and Annette had been much heavier drinkers.

“Um, how did…I mean, how was…good morning.” Dimitri’s face was positively red with embarrassment. He really didn’t want to ask the question but could figure out no good way out of it.

Felix narrowed his eyes at the boy, “What’s wrong with you? You’re even more incompetent than normal.”

“Well, I…I have to go.” Dimitri blurted out, getting up and rushing out of the dining hall. Evy and Felix shared a confused look. Sylvain burst out laughing, his face red for an entirely different reason than Dimitri’s had been.

“What’s his problem?” Felix demanded, “Why are you laughing?”

“He-...” Sylvain let out another bout of hysteria, “He saw you!”

“What?” Evy prayed to the Goddess that Sylvain did not mean what she thought he meant. She could feel her own cheeks starting to tinge with heat.

“In…the…hall.” Sylvain spit out between gasps of air.

Oh, dear Goddess.

Felix jumped up from his seat and sprinted out of the dining hall before Sylvain could get out another word. He ran up the retreating blonde and shoved him against the nearest pillar, “You tell ANYONE what you saw and I-I’ll-“

“No! No! I-I would never!” Dimitri stammered out, holding his hands up in surrender. Felix’s actions were starting to draw a crowd and Dimitri was getting even redder.

“Good! Because if you do, I’ll commit treason right here in front of everyone!” Felix threatened. He released the man after another good glare and pushed his raven hair out of his face.

“Right, yes. Understood.” Dimitri straightened himself out as well, looking anywhere but at Felix. “So,” he questioned after a few moments, “does this mean you guys aren’t-“ “No, we are.” Felix muttered, also not meeting Dimitri’s eyes. Fuck, did he just admit to Dimitri that he had a girlfriend?

“Oh. Okay…?”

“Just because we are doesn’t mean you get to talk about my love life.”

Dimitri nodded in understanding, “Right, of course not.”

“Good.”

From that point on Felix and Evy considered themselves “dating” but nothing much changed about their relationship from what anyone could tell. Most people in the monastery didn’t even know they were dating aside from Sylvain and Dimitri (and Ingrid because Sylvain could hardly keep a secret until Ingrid threatened him about telling anyone else). Felix and Evy still trained daily, talked during meals and class, and hung out at night. Nothing about their daily routine had changed. No displays of affection were shared. Not since the drunken night in her dorm room.

The only noticeable difference was that Evy appeared to tell Felix anytime she went anywhere. It was never a long conversation, instead going something simple like:

“Hey, you, I’m going to get dinner with the girls.”

“Ok.”

Or:

“Hi Felix, I’m going to the market with Ashe.”

“Ok.”

The first few times were moot. Felix was indifferent about the new development in their relationship. But it became constant, Evy seemingly interrupting his training at all hours just to tell him a stupid, trivial fact. He had hoped his evident irritation would ward her off, but she seemed oblivious to his frustrations as the days went on. It was hard to train when someone was constantly yammering at him.

“Hey, Felix. I’m going-“

“I don’t care!” He finally snapped, dropping his sword and turning to face her, “I don’t care where you go. Just go and get out of my face!”

Evy’s cheerful face fell, hurt by his sudden anger towards her. She didn’t understand what she’d done to upset him so much, “Oh. I-I’m sorry.”

“Look, this really isn’t working out.” He continued fuming at her, well past the point of no return.

“Wh-what?” Evy was completely thrown off guard. She thought things had been going really well. Slow, but well.

“You keep interrupting my training and you’re getting in my way, just like I thought a relationship would. If I want to keep getting better I can’t have you bugging me every 10 seconds with stupid information. I was right all along, okay: relationships aren’t for me. This was just a stupid mistake.”

Evy felt like the wind was completely knocked out of her chest. She struggled to get the words out at a volume he could hear, “Oh…ok.”

Trying to save a shred of her dignity, she turned and walked out. She’d had plans to have dinner with Sylvain and Dimitri, but her brain could barely function let alone sit through a dinner. She walked back to her dorm room on autopilot, still trying to register what the hell happened. She thought things were going very decently. A little slow on the emotional end, but she was trying to be patient with him since this was presumably his first relationship.

Dimitri was concerned when Evy didn’t show up for dinner. Even more concerned when she hadn’t just been caught up training with Felix. Even more concerned when she was completely silent and barely functional during class the next week. He was not the most observant creature, but between her sadness, Ingrid’s glares, and Felix’s rolling waves of frustration, Dimitri pieced it together: They’d been fighting.

He was not one to pry so he tried to be supportive from a casual distance, asking her to dinner and training more than normal. In the beginning she occasionally accepted his offers, but as time went on she was more and more willing to spend time with him again. He was glad that her and Felix were slowly working things out. He knew Felix could be quite stubborn.

He thought things were much better, so he was surprised to find her crying on his doorstep in the middle of the night with a few bags packed.

“Ah...Evyanna! What’s the matter?”

“I-I have to go!” She sobbed, shoving a letter in his hands with her shaky ones.

“You’re leaving the monastery?” Dimitri panicked. How bad had things with Felix gotten if she was leaving in the middle of the night?

Evy nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks, “I-I have to go home. Just read the letter. Tell the Professor I-I’m sorry I couldn’t tell her in person.”

Dimitri caught her arm as she turned to leave, pulling her into a quick hug, “Please be safe, Evyanna. And please reconsider when you have had some time. I’m sure Felix will come around.”

“What?”

Dimitri paused, “Y-you’re leaving because Felix…”

“No, Goddess, Dimitri, Felix and I broke up almost two weeks ago? I-I dunno. J-just read the letter. I really have to g-go!” She hiccupped through her tears and waved before rushing down the hall. Her and Felix had broken up that long ago? What? Here he thought things were better. Yet here he was just as clueless as he usually was.

He opened up the tear-stained letter and read, his jaw dropping as he did.

The heir to the throne: Quentin Augustus Leighton...was dead….