#and also byleth is there. barely visible but

[indigodisc]

[tygertyger413]

Sorry but I can't get over this

I know plenty of people have joked about this already, but Sylvain just...looks almost nothing like his dad???

(Using Sylvain's Hopes portrait to account for any changes in artists/art style)

Like, just by comparing these two pictures I can list so many differences:

Sylvain has a slight widow's peak (more obvious with his Houses post-TS portraits) and Matthias doesn't

Sylvain has a more heart-shaped face & pointier chin compared to Matthias's square head & jaw

Matthias's nose is taller and rounder (with visible nostrils) compared to Sylvain's anime nose

Sylvain's hair is a more vibrant orange-red compared to Matthias's darker red

Matthias's tall cheekbones

Sylvain having slightly thinner eyebrows (unless he just thins them out with tweezers/scissors)

Matthias having a pronounced brow ridge and a worry line between his eyebrows deeper than the chasm Byleth falls into right before the Houses timeskip

Sylvain's ears are less...veiny (?) compared to his dad's? Unless that's just like, an art style thing.

Maybe some of it could be explained by Matthias being 20+ years older than Sylvain, but not all of it. Especially when you compare Matthias to his other son, Miklan:

Same head shape, same jawline, same brow ridge, near-identical ears... Probably similar noses too, though it's a bit hard to tell with the different angles (Miklan's face is turned slightly more to the side compared to his dad's frontal view). Like it's obvious that Miklan inherited more of Matthias's physical traits.

But you know what physical traits all three Gautiers share?

Hair curliness

All three of them share red hair that curls upwards at the ends, with a few notable cowlicks in the middle of their heads that stand almost perfectly straight up. They also have bangs on both sides of their faces that curl inward. (It's harder to see with Matthias since the hair on the side of his head is cut super short, but still visible on the top of his head where his hair is longer.

2. They have the same fucking eyes.

Like, look at this:

Not only do they have the same eye color (or nearly the same color, in Matthias's case), they also have the same droopy eye shape.

AKA Sylvain's infamous sad doe eyes? He inherited them from Matthias.

Like can you imagine Matthias (or Miklan, for that matter) giving you this look?

So now that I've cursed you all with that mental image, I just want to say one last thing:

Since Sylvain barely resembles his dad, logically we would assume that he inherited most of his facial features from his mom. Knowing this, we can use Sylvain's features to approximate his mother's: a heart-shaped face, widow's peak, small pointed nose, and probably light-haired (so the red color Sylvain inherited from his dad would more prominent than it would be in darker hair). Might be useful info for anyone who wants to create fan designs for Mama Gautier.

Also Sylvain's mom must be super hot in order to balance out his dad's ugliness, lol.

[kyogre-blue]

OK, up to the coronation (aka route split), but I couldn't include the coronation notes without hitting char limit.

I don't actually have too much to say here, since it's just the Kronya stuff, which... doesn't really reveal much. I'll just note that Kronya's sword has her as "Disciple Kronya" which I guess is interesting.

Since there's nothing else, I guess there's the point regarding what people know about each other going into the big part one finale:

Solon referred to Byleth as "Fell Star" already when casting Zahras, so the Agarthans had cottoned on about Byleth's situation at least in part, likely due to the Sword of the Creator.

As mentioned before, Edelgard and Hubert know that Demonic Beasts can be created artificially, and I would even say that some artificial ones already exist.

It is mentioned by several characters that Byleth's minty green color is "familiar" or "like someone else" and Flayn even directly says they match now. This is a super easy connection to make.

Seteth seems to not know that Agarthans can shapeshift, which works with Thales not wanting Kronya's body to be taken so that the specifics of their shapeshifting aren't discovered. iirc Seteth does obliquely refer to the Agarthans as being the likely culprits.

The Flame Emperor and the Death Knight being antagonists is at least known to Dimitri even though he theoretically wasn't around for the missions when we see them. Monica being an imposter is common knowledge after the fact. You doing a ceremony to receive a revelation from the goddess is common knowledge.

Anyway, the most interesting part starts after this.

Live blogging notes:

The Blue Sea star is not visible in winter. I kind of headcanon it as a planet in the same solar system, not an actual star in a different star system, but it being visible Jul to Dec and then invisible the rest of the year matches more with actual stars.

Alois doesn't like it when you blush at him lol

Alois has a wife and daughter???

Linhardt: I hate blood and killing :( (is friends with Hubert somehow)

Manuela: you need 13 charm to win; Sylvain: has 21 (albeit after the +5)

Full names: Alois Rangeld, Manuela Casagranda, Shamir Nevrand

The contestants are Sylvain (from me, because I think he's cute), Dimitri (who forced him into this?? he's so desperate NOT to get picked and yet??), and Raphael (Claude apparently showing his sense of humor).

I do not understand why the "dance competition" is doing waltz movements... alone. Especially when the dancer outfit is like that...? That's not a waltz outfit. And why are they dancing alone?! Listen, I've only seen AMVs of dancing animes but, it was definitely way cooler.

Shamir votes for Dimitri lol

You know, when GD made the promise to meet in 5 years, it was kind of cute. Not terribly meaningful, since their relationships were quite casual on the whole, but cute. Having Edelgard suggest it, knowing what she's planning barely months from now, is...... it's pretty messed up. It doesn't help that the Eagles don't really have a sense of camaraderie either.

Same cinematic for the ball. It was kind of one thing when Claude takes you by the hand and pulls you onto the dance floor (?) in GD, though the focus on Edelgard and Dimitri was pretty pointless, but here, it's just weird.

It's vaguely annoying that you can't choose who you meet at the Goddess Tower. I got Marianne on GD, and I got Ashe here... presumably because I recruited him by getting his B rank.

The chapel is within the monastery's walls.

OK, poking at the Demonic Beasts in the chapel, they are "Experimental Demonic Beasts" with "A shard from a shattered Crest Stone" embedded in their foreheads. They are a "more resilient variation." Although this won't be unique to them, they're also labelled as both "monsters" (unnatural beings wielding magic) and "dragons" (born or descended from the goddess herself).

There are 4 beasts and 3 students in trouble.

Jeralt suggests that the students being turned into beasts has "something to do with Remire," but I have come to doubt that Remire was a test run or directly related to the same research. The timeline is just too tight, and the Sothis paralogue won't make sense.

Bye, Jeralt (again).

Thales tells Kronya she must survive because there's a role he needs her to fulfil, but then Solon will kill her in like a month. In a scene later, he says that his only aim was actually to keep the mystery of their bodies from being revealed, which would happen if Kronya died (her body could be taken by the Church, I guess).

Worth noting that Seteth is very confused about Tomas and clearly does not know that Agarthans can shapeshift.

The explanation for why Byleth accepts Jeralt's death is still so weak. "It's fate," says Sothis. OK, but like, why. Because Thales said so??

Guardian Moon (January) is named after Seiros, who first appeared during this month.

The scene with Edelgard after Jeralt's death is a bit... She starts with a very tough love "have you lost the will to act" approach and discusses how no one can understand your sadness. Others can only offer the tears of an outsider. So she won't cry for you or stand still with you, she can only promise to offer her hand when the time comes for HER to move forward. Which is such a weird direction to take? What does this promise have to do with Byleth grieving?

Thales describes the Flame Emperor as their greatest creation, powerful enough to "burn even the gods." So it seems like they experimented on Edelgard specifically to create a powerful soldier who could face Rhea.

Based on this, it does seem like Edelgard targeting the church is a combination of needing to keep the Agarthans cooperating with her by going along with their aims and getting rid of the Knights in case their interfere (since the Knights supported Loog's separation from the empire). Very impersonal, despite how she sometimes frames it.

Edelgard directly tells Thales that there will be no salvation for their kind and blames them for Duscur (and the shit they caused in Enbarr, presumably the Insurrection of the Seven?).

Sylvain says that most noble children are tested at birth to see if they have a crest. Of course, he also says you can't be the heir without one, but like... Ingrid's family wants to marry her out and she's specifically the only one with the crest, so...

The dancer animation is killing me. It's so stupid.

Hubert suggests that the real aim behind Jeralt's murder was to provoke the Knights into spreading themselves thin hunting his killer.

Manuela says the dagger that killed Jeralt wasn't made of iron or steel and the wound it caused wasn't ordinary.

A lot of the named Church people are out of the monastery this month. Which means you can't train with them, which is annoying...

Dorothea casually drops how she had to survive kidnappings, attempted murders, and who knows what while at the opera. Girl, what??

Linhardt mentions, as we're entering the Sealed Forest, that we have no official mission this month. I guess things were too chaotic to assign us anything.

Kronya is using a sword called Athame, which is described as being crafted with archaic methods. Kronya herself is referred to as "Disciple Kronya." She also has a passive called "Agarthan technology" which makes adjacent foes deal 3 less damage. Is this the weird tentacles she has behind her?

Regarding the Sealed Forest itself, there's some ruins, the platform Kronya waits on (where Solon casts Zahras, which uses the pillars on the edges), a glowing red stone embedded in a sigil on a ruin wall, and the remains of mechanical weapon (I think the kind Rhea keeps in the Tomb in her paralogue?).

It snows on the Locket, I guess because the Throat is a mountain range.

The Holy Mausoleum vs Holy Tomb thing is SO confusing that Rhea has a dialogue line that uses the wrong one lmao

Everyone at the monastery knows we're going to receive a revelation, but Manuela mentions that this is the first time she's heard of the Holy Tomb.

One of the Knights at the monastery mentions that he noticed more people in town than usual. Edelgard's hidden troops are on the move...

Dimitri mentions "this month's mission," so it seems Blue Lions have one, which should NOT be going down into the Tomb with Byleth... I would say this, but Felix's dialogue expects you to do something about Dimitri and like... he's not in my class, dude...

[reflectionsofacreator]

Steadily working my way through Blue Lions (I'm on chapter 7? Battle of Eagle and Lion) and got Felix and Sylvain's B support. At this rate I'm just convinced that they're dating each other even if they're involved with someone else. Packaged deal. Unfortunately Inseparable. JD and Chris from Scrubs typa situation.

I think the thing that makes it ring true for me though is that is not just bickering -- sure they do, a lot, but they're also genuine with each other and worry about their friendship (sometimes). Normally I don't really care for the "bicker like an old married couple" trope because a lot of the time there's barely any care underneath the bickering, but they ... actually do? It's rather refreshing.

That being said, Sylvain is. An interesting specimen. I keep thinking I like him and then he opens his fucking mouth and goes skirt chasing. And yet even that doesn't annoy me as much as it should because he's actually really honest and earnest about it? If he was just a sleezeball it'd be one thing, but he genuinely gets to know the hobbies and likes of the girls he chases after. His and Lysithea's C support was actually really cute, and I also was charmed by his C support with Annette.

But then his C support with Dedue has him go out of his way to show that he wants to be friends, despite the heavy scrutiny and discouragement that it would bring. I think it was also surprising to me because of House Gautier's position as a border protection house -- if any of the nobles were to have reservations about a "foreign element" it would make sense to have it be him, he was raised with the idea of protecting the kingdom. This redhaired idiot continually surprises me tbh.

Ashe is precious, and I want him to get all the kisses he deserves (especially after I forced him to land the killing blow on his father). On god he will be an assassin and I will make him a killing machine.

Mercedes is a character I was not expecting to like as much as I do, admittedly. Heavily religious characters are generally not written in ways that I find compelling, yet she continually surprises me. I think it's largely because she's very much following the actual morals of the Goddess rather than ... whatever the fuck Rhea is doing ... and sticking true to her beliefs. There's also the scant bits of her backstory so far, of being disowned from her house and forced to flee to live in a church, how her life was uprooted for the simple fact that her blood painted a target on her back. It's fascinating.

I poached Lysithea from Golden Deer and I love her to bits tbh. She's cute, and her desperation to be treated as a capable peer really resonates with me. I also appreciate that she's still visibly younger than the rest of them, in the way she acts and her stature, despite how hard she tries to appear mature. It's a careful balance that is hard to pull off, but I think she does it well so far. (Now if I only knew why she has two friggin crests I'd be satisfied. I'm not gonna like the answer I just know it.)

Dimitri... sighs. It's fascinating to go through White Clouds with the meta knowledge that he's going to go off the deep end, it lends a certain sense of tragedy and doom to him that I find really compelling. That being said, he's so naive, in a way that's almost artificial? He watched his father and entire court be killed when he was ~14, and yet he's desperate to stop the fighting and keep peace rather than gain revenge. He's painfully earnest in his questions to Byleth about why things can't just be solved with talking, why war and slaughter has to exist. And like, the thing is, he isn't wrong for asking those questions -- it's never wrong to wonder why the world cannot be a better place, and earnestness and a desire to do better is never misplaced.

Yet the narrative of Three Houses does not have room for an uncritical view of such things, it does not laud him for asking these questions, yet nor does it punish him for groping blindly about in the dark. If anything, his naivety is called into question by the other people who inhabit his world, making him beholden to their reactions and judgement for daring to be that way. It's fascinating how in a different type of narrative he would actually be almost a paragon of morals, yet 3H manages to walk a fine line of letting him ask these hard questions without fully condemning him -- it's just that the other people in this narrative do, and Dimitri does not exist in isolation. Sooner or later he'll have to answer for his views, and well. That won't go well.

... anyways Three Houses good. I'm enjoying it immensely.

[gascon-en-exil]

Anon says as if FEH isn't using the few Male OCS to sell muscle. Bruno literaly became a meme and then there is the deer men of book VIII

Those are not remotely equivalent. Bruno hasn't been consistently relevant for years, and despite having been in the game since 2017 has all of two alts - neither of which are particularly sexy. The new deer guy is currently just background art; the internet only started thirsting after him so hard because we've been so starved of male OCs, especially after Book VII.

Further, the attempt to deflect from how female characters are objectified in FEH and similar properties by pointing out overly muscled male designs has always been a deeply flawed one. One exists for straight male titillation; the other exists as a straight male power fantasy. There is absolutely a point to be made about how hypermuscular bodies in media promote unhealthy ideas about what men should look like, but that's an entirely separate conversation from the one that frames characters as sex objects. Gay/bi men are best in a position to appreciate the issue from both sides, and the solution we most often pose when discussing such things is to show a wider variety of male bodies in states of (potentially eroticized) undress - a solution that I imagine would not go over well with the sorts of straight men who like to bring up muscular male characters as a gotcha.

The shirtless muscular guys of most media are never framed or positioned in the same way that even more modestly-dressed female characters often are when they're being marketed based on some kind of sex appeal. Gay porn games are the only type of animated media I've seen that treats male characters at all in the same way as female characters are handled on most of FEH's seasonal banners. As an example, let me revisit a point I made about a week ago, in reference to the new winter banner.

Here is Claude, wearing a reindeer-themed holiday outfit.

Now here is another character wearing a reindeer-themed holiday outfit, this time from the gay dating sim Camp Buddy: Scoutmaster Season.

A bit excessive? Yes, but I've got a point to make here. Let's talk about the differences. We've got

a crotch bulge, as well as a small treasure trail. Contrast summer Lorenz and his speedo with Ken doll anatomy.

extensive muscle definition, including pronounced tits pecs. Contrast summer Ephraim, summer Dimitri, and others.

visible nipples, something the internet also went crazy over when they randomly appeared on Fargus back in November. This isn't merely about being anatomically correct; nipples are an erogenous zone for some men, and to include them in a bare-chested design indicates that this character is not just a slab of muscle (as the power fantasy angle would prefer) but has potential erotic vulnerabilities.

a harness that greatly resembles bondage gear, and is in fact used in that way later on.

most obviously, about as much skin on display as the average female unit on summer banners

and while not apparent here, a willingness to commit to the inherent silliness of the bit in the subsequent sex scenes, which employ a flurry of intentionally bad holiday-themed puns and have the characters act out a reindeer-flavored variety of pony play.

But that's far too horny for a winter banner, you say? Don't tell that to Edelgard's thigh-highs and upskirt. Isn't that specific combination a fetish in its own right?

Or Yunaka with her cleavage and camel toe and strategically-placed bits of bare skin.

Or just look at the Byleths side-by-side. Only the female version is baring her shoulders and midriff in a form-fitting top...surely that's for entirely innocent reasons.

And again, check out any given summer banner and see just how far FEH will push its rating with its female cast.

Of course this is all from a gay male perspective; I can't speak to what women find attractive in animated male characters. Anecdotally the most popular options are characters who are already prominent and popular (so...not Bruno or the unnamed deer guy). Also, there are times when women in the fandom pick up on stuff about these guys' bodies that I wouldn't have even thought to eroticize at first, like Dimitri's proportionally small waist. Others can feel free to add onto this if they like.

TL;DR, if FEH truly wants to sell itself on sleaze (which of course it does, and already is), it seriously needs to step up its game with its male cast.

[raxistaicho]

The Javelins of Light really aren’t as powerful as people think

One of the most common criticisms of the Agarthans is that they could have easily won the war just by firing Javelins of Light at wherever their enemies were at a given moment.

Now first, they try that... it results in Shambhala being found and destroyed in Verdant Wind and Silver Snow, and firing them at Arianhrod probably plays a large role in Shambhala being destroyed in Crimson Flower as well. Now notably, in Azure Moon, the one route where the Agarthans never fire a Javelin, Shambhala is left unscathed in the end!

It’s almost like Thales shouldn’t have fired them for petty and vengeful reasons...

So, nuclear weapons are the most common point of comparison for the Javelins. They... don’t remotely live up to those heights.

The first time we see them, at Merceus, Byleth and their army were on the fortress’s outer walls when the Javelins hit. They haven’t even begun to flee til after the first falls. You could argue that they survived because the Death Knight lured them toward the outer walls in the first place, but that’s still a very poor showing for a superweapon. You can’t just evacuate an entire army from a fortress in under a minute, and yet there’s no word after the event in either SS or VW about the army being ruined (the desperate situation in SS is more due to the loss of Merceus itself).

Then there’s the fact that the javelins only create craters, and the range of their destructive power doesn’t extend far beyond the actual blast radius. The buildings aren’t on fire, for instance, and the blast shockwaves doesn’t seem to have done as much damage as you might think.

This is consistent with their performance against Arianhrod in CF as well:

The Agarthans shot multiple (note the plural) Javelins at Arianrhod and only destroyed the northern wall and the fortress main hall. They also killed only a third of the Imperial garrison, rather than all of them as you might expect if the Javelins lived up to their real-world hype. As you can tell from looking at the map while in battle, Arianrhod is massive.

But if you thought their performance at Arianrhod and Merceus didn’t live up to the hype... hoo boy, wait ‘til Shambhala.

Edelgard’s detractors would have you believe the Black Eagles could never take Shambhala without Rhea’s aid, since Thales would certainly just fire all the Javelins he has at Shambhala, as he does in SS and VW.

So how do they do in those routes?

Well the first one is spent cracking open Shambhala’s roof.

A second follows it shortly after:

(That barely-visible twinkle is the second javelin lol)

As Rhea flies off to intercept the second one, we see the result of the first:

It struck a forest without starting a fire. Additionally, the damage circumference barely extends a single tree-width past the actual impact site. This is the weapon that some people would have you believe would grant Thales a world record LTC clear of Three Houses: a missile that can’t even take down a forest with a direct shot.

Rhea shoots down one javelin, and misses a third:

Now notice that the first impact isn’t even on-camera. So on top of not being very destructive, their accuracy is pretty damn bad.

Rhea hits a fourth, but the explosion of the fourth one catches the fifth, detonating that one as well, both of which blow up right in Rhea’s face.

She survives  two point-blank explosions from these missiles. If they were so destructive as to completely devastate the environment, as some would claim, and yet she survived the impact of two of them, she shouldn’t be falling to people waving swords at her.

And by the way, two more get past while she’s reeling from the explosion:

The liberation army hasn’t even begun to retreat before Rhea falls (again):

Byleth’s army are 2/2 on surviving Javelin strikes by doing absolutely nothing.

And again, in the final panning shot, there’s no sign of the environment being devastated as a result of this fire:

Like yeah, Thales killed a lot of trees and opened holes in the ground, but there’s no reason to suspect this area won’t be fine now that the danger is over.

So that’s 7 Javelins total, 3 of which Rhea stops, 1 of which needed to actually expose Shambhala, and at least 1 of which just deadass misses entirely. Because Thales was continuing to summon them even after the first landed:

It can safely be assumed that he fired all or at least the majority of however many he had (because there’s absolutely no reason to hold back at this point, he’s just trying to take Byleth down with him now).

So, best case scenario, he had 8 or 9 available at this point, on top of the 2 or so he fired at Merceus. Now Thales can certainly do some damage with that many, but I sincerely doubt he has the capacity to make any more, so he’s gotta make his shots count, so to speak, especially since firing one runs the risk of exposing Shambhala.

I’ve seen it argued that the Agarthans don’t fire any Javelins in AM because Thales is the only one who had the “firing codes”, but there’s no evidence of this. It’s equally possible that whoever his successor was on their hierarchy simply viewed the Javelins as not worth the risk. They’re weapons of last resort, after all: The Agarthans want to take over the surface, not destroy it. This is why their usual style is infiltration and subterfuge.

Now, what about Ailell you might ask? That happened in ancient times but the  land is still a volcanic hellscape!

Well, for starters, it seems that Ailell wasn’t hit by the javelins all that long ago:

They fell within this old dude’s living memory!

Secondly, the effects of the Javelins hitting Ailell seems wildly different from the other regions struck, so why is Ailell different? Well, Fates, of all games, suggests a possible answer:

Yes. It is a strange phenomenon, but I can explain how it came to be. There is a massive reservoir of oil nearby that has mixed with the water. At some point, hundreds of years ago, the river was set aflame. It may have been a lightning strike, or an accident, but regardless... It has burned ever since. 

Of course, totally different games and scenarios, but it a hypothetical reason for the Javelins behaving so wildly different in one spot from two others.

This brings us to a final point: the devastation of Fodlan in the distant backstory. One clear first-hand account of Fodlan’s destruction comes from Rhea herself:

This seems pretty clear-cut, and it’s been generally held as evident that the ancient Agarthans fired off volleys of their Javelins and destroyed the surface. However, as I’ve already demonstrated, the Javelins don’t appear to have that sort of power.

Interestingly, in Hopes, Epimenides blames Sothis for this:

Of course, it’s very possible that he’s lying, but he’s actually pretty direct and forthright with the party - aside from sending illusions of their loved ones after them, anyways.

Who’s telling the truth here? Who can say. It’s totally possible that both him and Rhea are telling half-truths at best, but it’s not terribly important either way.

The important part is that the Javelins of Light just aren’t the end-all be-all weapons some treat them as. They’re incredibly dangerous, of course, but that’s as much because of what an absurd outside context problem they are for the cast of a Fire Emblem game. They’re dangerous, but they’re also risky to use, and not something to be used carelessly. Thales does use them carelessly because he’s a petty and vindictive man, as he demonstrates multiple times in both games.

[allbrainrot]

Hi! First, i love your writing🥺 Now to the point. How about felix, sylvain and dimitri pinning after the female reader? We are basically yeeting ingrid and placing a fem reader instead😂 Like, they are childhood friends and the three of them have had a lovestruck for her since they were kids? And now they just end up fighting for her love or smth? Either hdcns or an scenario is fine! You can pick whichever you wish! However if you dont want to write this req please dont feel forced to! Love u🥺

Thank you so much!! 🖤 And yes, you got it! Bye Ingrid LMAO 😎😎 I write pre timeskip wayyy better so I’m gonna just say that reader is 18 (i don’t write NSFW or anything but age is still a thing lol) so that they’re in between the ages of Dimi + Felix & Sylvain and it works out, hope you don’t mind! I love you too anon 🥺

- Dimi is probably the first one to catch feels when they’re kids! Felix does too but he’s kinda just like wtf is this??? until someone teases him about it. Sylvain is quite ✨special✨ with romance but I think he’d be inclined to trust you a lot more because you’ve known him since you were teeny tiny before you even knew wtf a crest was! So he probably also catches feels when you’re kids but then he goes through his whole girl phase SIGH

- None of them realize their predicament until they all see you again at the officer’s academy together. I wouldn’t say they’re super obvious about it, but they’re teenagers (well Syl isn’t but shhhhh) who all like the same person so they’re going to pick up on each other’s crushes while reader remains ignorant. It’s not an issue that needs to be addressed immediately, but they’re all watching each other cautiously.

- Syl would have a massive head start on flirting with you, but he’s faced with the big issue that you don’t believe he’s being genuine and brush him off. Felix is constantly challenging you to duels to get close to you and also have alone time with you, although the other 2 will occasionally ruin his plans and insist on joining. Ah man bby Dimitri would probably come across as a little overbearing because he’s very protective of you and is constantly offering to do things for you. He’s just a mother hen that’s whipped for you and doesn’t know any other way to express it!

- When it comes to the 4 of you sitting together at lunch or in class, Sylvain is the worst. He’s very aware that his competition is far less bold than him, and so he’s making sure he’s always closest to you. Will squish as close to you as humanly possible HE WOULD DEADASS PUT YOU IN HIS LAP IF HE COULD 😭 If he puts a hand on your thigh or an arm around you it’s a wholeass declaration of war.

- Felix will likely become much more protective which may cause a lot of yelling at you for being careless or weak, but really he’s just so worried! To ease his mind, he’ll help you correct your mistakes himself (which has the added bonus of getting really close to you and occasionally lowkey holding hands when he adjusts your grip). Around other people, especially Dimitri and Sylvain he’ll be evidently sweeter to you to get the message across. A blended mix of jealousy and concern will make him very protective of you around the other two. Dimitri is not getting within 5 feet of you while guard dog Felix is around.

- In the Blue Lions the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife everyone is thoroughly confused but frankly just sick of it lol. Felix glaring at Dimitri? That’s totally normal but Dimitri is doing it back AND Sylvain is added to the weird stare off- wtf happened?? Byleth would have to talk to them after class and be like guys what in the goddess’s name happened 😭 They’ll all give a vague answer that doesn’t give away that it’s about you and each one of them has a jab at the others to shift the blame..please find your chill lads !

- At this point everything gets a little bit needier because they’ve all had this pent up yearning but have been blocked by the others. (If you’re ok with it) Sylvain will just randomly peck you on the cheek or your forehead when he sees you and you’re just like LOL ok ✨typical Sylvain✨ But when you sit next to him at lunch or in class he’s started very tenderly holding your hand under the table and you’re like huh ok that’s a little odd. If Dimitri is on the other side of you he will carefully take your other hand in retaliation. Felix will probably give in and do the same but he’ll snatch your hand a lot more aggressively and look away from you with a scowl and a blush.

- Dimi and Felix are both touch starved AF and would very much appreciate cuddles or any physical contact. If you’ve reacted positively to everything thus far, Dimitri will slowly start to bite the bullet and initiate affection because he wants it so bad. Any time you touch Dimitri, he gets sappy and lovey af and will express his adoration in hopes that you’ll keep giving him affection. Felix would never upfront ask for affection but he just kinda sits really close to you and glares at you with a little pout and you will have to realize that this is Felix language for ‘it is a crime that you aren’t cuddling me rn’.

- Obviously Sylvain gets lots of physical contact with women but I don’t ever see it as holding affection yknow?? Like yeah he spends a night or two with chicks after them crest babies™️ (i cannot take myself seriously this sentence is so funny-), but I don’t really think that they’ve done actual cuddling or casual displays of affection like petting someone’s hair because they likely don’t care too much for Sylvain and will just do the bare minimum. So in a way, Sylvain is also starved of affectionate touches and he would very much appreciate the little things that no one else has done for him. It’s new and scary for him to actually seek romantic attention, but he’s still pretty bold, just not very tactful when it comes to you lol. If you’re sitting by yourself on a bench he will not hesitate to sprawl himself out on top of you with his head in your lap and stare up at you with an innocent grin. Is also lowkey not embarrassed to whine or pester you?? His reputation is pretty hopeless at this point so what does he have to lose by sitting behind you in class and poking you while dramatically whining about you not paying attention to him?

- Attention is a huge deal to Sylvain. It’s one of the main things he’s looking for when he randomly flirts with people at the monastery. He can’t handle being ignored and that leads him to often seek many girls at once so that he always has attention when one is busy. But when it comes to you he finds himself in deep shit because once he’s gotten a little bit from you, everyone else seems minuscule and with others he only receives a mere fraction of the satisfaction he gets from being with you. So he’s gradually allotting more and more time to you until he hardly talks to any other girl. But Sylvain is used to being the one that everyone wants more of, so when he finds himself in the shoes of the smitten women that piss him off, he’s plagued by the worry that you’ll think he’s overly needy. So he comes to seek validation from you too. If he can just get you to comb your fingers through his hair or give him a kiss on the cheek then he can renew his confidence in trying to court you.

- Dimi is somewhat similar but for different reasons and in different ways. Dimitri has practically no experience with romance so he’s extremely smitten and has an overwhelming desire for the affection you give him that he’s never had. But he’s painfully aware of how extreme his feelings are in comparison to any other couples he may have seen at the monastery, and he’s terrified that he’ll scare you away if he expresses exactly how much he yearns for you. So Dimitri is always very visibly holding back much like he often holds back his strength. Dimi will do anything for you or with you, but you have to initiate it so he can be certain that he’s not smothering you. On days where he’s extremely lovey and never wants to let go of you (which is kind of often lol) he will constantly ask if you’re sure that he’s not bothering you. He is just so horrified at the thought of messing up whatever it is you have.

- Felix will be very easily overwhelmed by you, so it’s much better if you wait to cuddle up to him until you can both go to one of your rooms. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be touched, he does, but his feelings for you make him way too vulnerable for his liking, so he’s not going to want anyone else around. Felix is still Felix and he goes off to take out his feelings in the training grounds every free day, but has started occasionally coming to your room when he’s done for the day and receiving his required cuddle time away from prying eyes. He may have accidentally fallen asleep with you a couple times..

- You’ve probably snuck in to sleep in Dimi’s room on occasions when he’s dangerously sleep deprived. The man, the myth, the legend Dedue would definitely help sneak you in because he knows it does Dimi a lot of good. Dimitri is able to fall asleep with you practically on top of him in his grasp. Feeling your heartbeat close by and your hair beneath his head and hearing you breath peacefully is enough to ground him from his fear of losing you too. He’ll still have nightmares, trauma is a bitch, but when you’re there you can bring him back down and he’ll eventually be able to fall back to sleep (which he typically can’t do alone). It’s not a perfect night’s sleep, but it’s enough to keep Dimi functional and that’s what you’re there for. He’ll thank you a million times and unnecessarily apologize for the inconvenience, please do what you can to reassure him that he’s not a nuisance to you. 

- SIGH Sylvain, this god damn silly little goose, is extremely distressed by his feelings for you and even moreso by his developed neediness. It honestly kinda scares the shit out of him to realize he’s whipped for someone and at a loss for a way to ask you out. He’s used to having that power, to have someone’s feelings in the palm of his hand where he can do anything he wants. Genuinely trying to figure out how he would court someone is a frightening new thing for him and he’s suddenly on a playing field where he doesn’t have his experience or his power to shield himself with. So he reverts to his old ways to try to get a handle on his fear and have his confidence boosted back up. But of course, Syl still wants all the attention he can get from you so you so he spends all of the day with you, then does his other girl bullshit at night! It doesn’t go as smoothly as planned though..Sylvain is used to being yelled at by crying girls, but it hasn’t gone unnoticed that he ignores them all day and drops by whenever he feels like it, and he ends up getting in some pretty nasty arguments that do not help his already vulnerable state. So it’s like 2 AM and Sylvain’s feeling like a sorry sack of potatoes and just wants to be held by someone and talk until falling asleep in their arms. And there’s only one person who Sylvain wouldn’t mind being open with and who could provide him genuine comfort..and you’re the lucky winner of the ‘Sylvain on your doorstep at 2 AM’ lottery!! Unless your sleep schedule is wack you’re gonna be all groggy like hey uhh wtf Syl??? And that is how the occasional nights that Sylvain falls asleep in your room happen!

- If the 3 of these scenarios interfere with each other ummmmmmmmm no they didn’t 😳

Ok! That’s where I’m leaving off because I don’t want to try to write endings with you picking one of them it just makes me kinda sad LMAO. Bro omg it’s the return of the ridiculously long Allister fics she do be goin a little insane though 😳 But for real I’ve been gradually adding to this for like?? a week? And I just kept picking cute relationship milestones or whatever in my walnut brain and writing a point for each of them so that the 3 of them are equally written. So it might not line up perfectly but I hope you like it!!

[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

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[kumeko]

A/N: For Golden Dearest, a Claudeleth Zine! I wanted to do a little Claude pining for my piece.

…

…

…

…

A chilly breeze wafted through the royal library, carrying with it the warm scent of spice and roasted meat. Nose in his book, Claude stared blankly at the page for a long moment as he registered the new smells, the sensation of cold wind blowing through his hair. His nose twitched. Looking up, he was taken aback by how dark it was in the library. Outside, strings of lanterns lit up the street markets, their glow barely visible from the library’s windows. The smells were both familiar and strange; it had been too long since he’d eaten proper Almyran food and the thought of it made him homesick. Even though he was home now, it would take some time for his body to adjust.

 “It’s that late already?” Claude murmured, setting down his book and pinching the top of his nose. On the table in front of him, several books lay open, their contents barely touched. Beside them were several letters from Byleth, the latest one still waiting for a response. When he had come back to Almyra, he had known it would be a long, hard climb to the top.

 What he hadn’t expected was the amount of studying he’d have to do. It felt like he spent more time here learning than he’d ever done at the academy. The politics in the region had changed in the years he’d spent abroad, each alteration transforming other smaller areas. Politics was about dealing with those webs of connections. It was what made it exciting.

 It was also what made it exhausting.

Once more, a cool wind ruffled his hair and despite himself, Claude shivered. The nights in the Almyran main castle were nothing at all like its days, the warmth of the sun long gone once the moon showed its face. His stomach rumbled and he chuckled. “Alright, alright, I get it. Time for a break.”

 No one replied as he got up, his chair scraping on the wooden floor. There were no “Finally! I wonder what’s in the kitchen?” from Raphael, no stony glares from Lysithea as she tried and failed to concentrate, no smug smirks from Lorenz as he got up a second later. No, here there was only silence. Not even the servants wanted to be seen with the outcast from Fódlan.

 Claude had expected as much when he’d made his decision. And yet…stuttering Marianne, more comfortable with horses than people. Ignatz and his secret paintings. Leonie, willing to challenge anyone, anytime. Hilda and her many schemes that miraculously kept her from doing any work.

 Byleth. His throat caught at that last one, at that last memory. The late nights they’d spend in the library, plotting out the course of the war. As skilled as she was at war, she was less proficient with long-term strategies. More often than not, he’d look up from his notes to find her fast asleep on his right, her breathing shallow, ink smudging her cheeks.

 The seat on his right was empty now. The library was empty. They were all in Fódlan, and he was here in Almyra. Seven years ago, he had left behind everything and everyone he’d known for a brand-new world.

 Somehow, the journey back was even harder than he’d planned.

 -x-

 “Khalid.”

 It took Claude five seconds to realize that Nader was talking to him. Chuckling, he released his notched arrow, striking his target slightly off-centre. Done with practice for the day, he slung his bow over his shoulder and turned around. “Ha ha, I have to get used to hearing that, don’t I?”

 Standing behind him, Nadar guffawed. “Don’t let your mother hear that. She picked your name, after all.”

 Despite the hot, afternoon sun, Claude shivered. He’d seen enough destruction left in his mother’s wake to know what that entailed. “I have enough of a challenge without the demon chasing me.”

 “Don’t let her hear that either.” Coming closer now, he ruffled Claude’s hair affectionately. No matter how much he’d grown, Claude felt like a child at that touch. Nader’s hand was always impossibly big and warm. “Are you missing all of your targets now, or just that one?”

 “Can’t get perfect all the time, you never know who’s watching.” Ducking away from Nader’s reach, he patted his disarrayed hair back into place. “It takes a lot of skill to purposely miss. Even more than it takes to reach the center.”

 Nader’s brow rose. “Does it now?”

 “It does.”  Claude rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “I don’t think you came all the way to the training grounds to discuss my archery?”

 Nader chuckled once more. “No, but maybe I should consider it.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a thin letter. “This arrived this morning, for you. I made sure to take it before any of your siblings spotted it.”

 Claude tried not to smile too much as he took it. “Thanks.”

 As expected, the writing on the front was in Byleth’s hand. For a second, he traced out his name on the letter, his finger hovering over the dried ink. It was a good thing they were alone out here. He could feel his expression softening automatically. It had been too long since her last letter. Carefully, reverently, he tucked it into his shirt.

 “You’re not going to read it?” Nader asked, surprised. The older man stroked his ragged beard. “I thought you’d tear it open immediately.”

 “Oh?” Claude smirked suggestively, leaning closer to his former teacher. “Are you that curious about my love life? I didn’t think you were that kind of person, Nader. I mean, I thought it’d be better to read this in private—don’t want anyone to get too hot and bothered by it, but if you want to hear all the sordid details…” He trailed off meaningfully and winked.

 “You certainly have grown.” Nader guffawed once more, his laugh like a bear’s grunt, before wrapping an arm around Claude’s shoulders and squeezing him tight. “I’ll leave you alone. Got enough saucy tales of my own without adding yours to it.”

 -x-

 “What do you want?” Direct as ever, his half-sister reclined regally on her plush seat and regarded him. A perfectly arched brow rose and she crossed her legs. “Well?”

 “What makes you think I want anything?” Claude replied, an easy smile on his face. His hands were clasped behind his erect back, his shoulders relaxed. He wanted to paint a disarming picture. It was always easier when your opponent looked down on you.

 Unfortunately, while he had a lot practice with Lorenz, his sister wasn’t buying it. “Khalid, since when do you approach others unless you need something?” She rested her chin on her hand, her long, painted fingers tapping her cheek. “The only question left is what are you willing to pay for it?”

 Claude chuckled softly, mirth colouring his tone as he played along. “I can’t pull anything over you, can I?”

 There were rules to politics, rules that kept you safe, that let you take advantage of others, that let others take advantage of you. A charming smile kept others at bay. Words had to mean nothing and everything. It was easier to give a fake weakness than to reveal a real one.

 From the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of blue and his words died in his throat. She hadn’t needed any of that, had she? Effortlessly, Byleth had charmed all of Garreg Mach. Even though her smile had been a rarity. Even though her weaknesses were open for all to see. Even though her words were ever honest.

 The new Fódlan she was building…his hand twitched. He wanted to see it. A world where merit trumped lineage. Where borders meant nothing. He wanted to see it. He wanted to see her.

 “Khalid?”

 He forced himself to look in front of him, away from that flash of blue and his scattered thoughts. “Sorry, I was just feeling overwhelmed. It’s not every day I get to trade words with the crown princess, after all.”

 -x-

 It was only by candlelight that Claude allowed himself to read Byleth’s letter. In the privacy of his quarters, alone and away from prying eyes, if only so no one could see the soft curve of his lips as he pulled out her letter once more. He’d kept each and every one, though by now the letters were so well-worn they were barely legible.

 At one point, he imaged her letters must have smelled like her, all rainwater and pine needles. Now, they only carried the scent of dust and horses from the thousands of miles it had travelled to reach him. The flame flickered as he opened the envelope, casting long shadows on him as he unfolded the sheets of paper. Her writing was as concise as ever, each word written compactly to save room. It was the way of the mercenary, the way of her father.

 Hi Claude.

 And now, the way of Byleth. Claude chuckled as he read the first line in the letter. It seemed even time and distance couldn’t improve her skills. “No dear? I’m hurt.”

 As I thought, it is difficult to rebuild a nation. Particularly when we have lost the majority of our leaders.

 “As straight to the point as ever,” he murmured softly, his eyes lowering. How many friends had they lost in this war? His classmates, his peers—each death had weighed heavier than the last. Could he have saved any of them? His smiles only held power in the castle; outside, they were nothing. Dimitri had rejected his hand outright, revenge blinding him and his house to all other possibilities.

 And Edelgard…

 Byleth had trembled after she’d killed the Emperor, her jaw tight as she watched her head roll. He wondered if she replayed that scene in her head. If she dreamed of that sword, of the weight of it.

 He still couldn’t look at the colour red the same.

 His grip tightened, crinkling the paper. “Whoops, can’t have that,” he said glibly, forcing himself out of his thoughts. Claude flattened the paper, smoothening out the wrinkles. “These are going to be family heirlooms, after all.”

 Hubert would have made fun of him for that. A starry-eyed Dorothea would have called it romantic. Slyly, Sylvain might have swapped love stories. In the future, he hoped no one would know this dull ache that throbbed in his chest or the heavy lump in his throat.

 At least his house had made it through, unscathed. Especially Hilda; Byleth’s every other sentence for the next two paragraphs were about her and her exploits: a children’s book with Seteth, charming the pants off every noble she encountered, and starting a fashion line. And Claude had thought he was accomplished. Ignatz was painting and Raphael visited his sister and for all the sorrow the war had caused, there was joy too.

 Claude read Byleth’s letter unhurriedly, savouring each word. News from Fódlan was hard to get here, news of his friends even more so. Yet, no matter how slowly he read, the end came all too soon.

 Progress is slow, but steady. Come back soon,

 Byleth

 Her usual final words. It was never ‘I love you’ or ‘I miss you’, just ‘Come back soon’. He wondered how Byleth looked when she penned them, if she sat alone in her room just as he did his, carefully picking out each word as though he were searching for jewels in the dirt. Claude pressed his fingers against Come back soon, remembering the feel of her rough hands. Her soft lips. She had only recently remembered how to smile.

 He hoped she wouldn’t forget before he came back.

 It was funny. Claude had made it through five years without her, five long years buoyed only by his belief that she’d back. Byleth had shown him miracles and he knew she’d show him one last one, that someone like her wouldn’t just die like that.

 Now, he knew exactly where she was, knew exactly how to reach her, and he could barely make it through a few months without wanting to run back to her arms. He’d lost the ability to do without her. Utterly, completely lost it.

 “When I get back, you’d better be ready,” Claude whispered, reaching into his tunic and pulling out a fine silver chain. Dangling off it, her ring glinted in the candlelight. It glittered full of the promises of tomorrow.

 In the middle of the night, tomorrow felt like a long way off. He could only hope she missed him half as much as he missed her.

[ashenprofessor]

Black Beauty

starter for @atypicalsenerio

The Pegasus Moon gets its name from the herds of wild pegasi that flock to their snowy nesting grounds. Nestled in the tall mountains, Garreg Mach sees plenty of snow-white pegasi come wintertime. This year, however, the school is abuzz with news that a flock of black pegasi have stopped close by, searching for a suitable place to nest. Their feathers are of particular interest to certain students, as they are said to amplify a mage’s power. With final exams just around the corner, many are looking for a little boost to their power. [Grants Reason +1]

Byleth crept quietly through the forest surrounding the Monastery for the second time in recent months. The current situation was eerily similar to the last time when she’d heard rumours of Wyverns nesting close by. This time is was whispers of Pegasi having flown in to a clearing a few days ago. They had Pegasi at the Academy so ordinarily Byleth wouldn’t be interested in making the trip, however there was something rare about these ones. According to those who had seen them, they were pure black in colouring.

Black Pegasi were unusual and said to have a higher magic affinity than their snow white counterparts. As such their feathers were highly sought after items which allegedly boosted one’s magic power. Although she didn’t desire one for herself, she was keen to lay eyes on them anyway. Having recently commenced her own study of magic she had a strong belief that using means to enhance one’s power was dangerous due to the risk of loosing control of over-powered spells compared to growing in magic power level naturally.

The forest floor underfoot had a light dusting of snow covering it despite the relative shelter of the trees. The crunch underfoot hindered her stealth as she approached the clearing, not wanting to spook the creatures and cause them to take off. Approaching cautiously, Byleth took up position behind a bush and glanced through the branches into the clearing.

Roughly ten Pegasi, ranging between 15 - 16.5 hands tall, were lounging in various positions within the protection of the ring of trees. Jet black in colouring they stood out against the snowy background. She let out a breathless sigh of wonderment at the sight. Impressively large wings were folded neatly across their backs, gleaming in the winter sunlight reflecting off the glossy feathers. She dreaded to think of the conflict which would occur to attempt to pluck one from such a magnificent beast. Hopefully people stuck to searching for dropped feathers instead.

Byleth was not so taken with observing the Pegasi that she missed the faint rustling from behind her. She was not alone in the forest then, someone else was following up on the rumours. Her hand hovered above the weapon hidden in her boot, just in case, as she narrowed her eyes and scanned the area. A few feet away she spotted the originator of the noise as a body was barely visible, hidden under cover akin to hers.

Crouching, she made her way over relaxing upon recognition of the person. It was Soren. Silently she raised a hand in greeting to catch his attention before whispering.

“Hello Soren. Are you also interested in the magic-enhancing Pegasi? I take it that is why you are here.”

[mommymooze]

In the Boughs of the Goddess

TW: Battle, blood, injury, collapsed lung

The Golden Deer are fighting for their lives. You are teamed with Ignatz for this fight. You like working with him, he is attentive and great at keeping enemies from sneaking up from behind. Of course, just as you think this you see 3 fighters sneaking up on him! Placing yourself between him and the enemies with lances and swords is your job. You attack with your blade, quickly taking out one, then the other of the enemy. As you engage with the lance fighter, a fourth enemy approaching you from the back screams as Ignatz fires an arrow into their neck. Just a second too late however as his lance goes through your chest and peeks through the top of your chest. You finish the guy in front of you as Ignatz panics a little bit.

“Tell me what to do, I will do whatever you tell me to!” The green haired archer babbles.

“I can’t move with this spear in me. I’m going to lay down face first, put your foot on my back and pull it out!” You order him as you loosen and drop your front of your breast plate, the back stuck to you by the spear.

“Okay. I can do this.” He tries to reassure himself as he watches you lie face down, the lance standing straight up in front of him.

“Foot.” You say waiting for his foot on your back. Finally it is there. “PULL!!”

A sickening sound, ‘Slork’ comes from you as the lance is pulled free. You roll on your back leaving the back panel of your chest plate behind.

“Poison?” You ask him.

“No.” Ignatz says as he studies the tip of the spear. He throws it to the side.

You look around, the battle is still going on. You spy a large evergreen with huge branches hanging out from around its base. “Ignatz, help me get under that evergreen, we won’t be so visible hiding there.”

“Sure thing.” He says, trying to help you stand. The more you move, the harder your heart pumps and the more blood seems to come from your wound. Breathing is very painful, the exertion is making you cough, and you hide the blood you are coughing up from your friend. The large wide evergreen gives you perfect cover.

“See if you can peek through the branches, is anyone near that can help?” You ask.

Ignatz weaves through the branches. He can move a limb here and there and still keep undercover. “I can’t see anyone on our side nearby.” He says after sitting next to you. There are several enemies close. Be quiet.”

You try to breathe quietly, but there is a crackling sound every time you breathe in. You want to cough so badly but you know that it would attract enemies. The pain is barely tolerable. You roll on your side, the injury is towards Ignatz who gasps.

“You’re bleeding pretty bad.” He is on his knees whispering to you.

“You’ve learned a basic heal, right? Byleth made us all learn.”

He looks at you concerned. “It’s been quite a while.” He frowns.

You grab his shirt and pull him closer. You whisper the steps to him, manipulating your fingers as he nods along. He finally sits up straight. You listen to him quietly whisper the incantation of the spell, the warmth of his touch on your back is proof the healing spell is working. Perhaps it will slow the blood enough that you will live until help comes. You reach for a handkerchief in a pocket, waving at him to get it. You tell him to wad it up and shove it in the hole. Anything to help stop the flow of blood.

You ask him to crawl to the front of you and have his bow ready, the sounds of movement through the woods is coming closer. He can use your body as a shield if anyone investigates your hiding place.

Ignatz brushes your hair out of your face. He can hear the crackling every time you breathe. You’re also making wheezing sounds. It sounds so painful he wants to cry for you.

Someone out there is yelling orders and a person runs past the tree. Your right hand grips tighter on the handle of your sword. It is then quiet for a few minutes.

Ignatz relaxes a bit. “I should go look.”

“No! I can’t back you up. Worst thing we can do is get up too early.”

You are gasping for every breath, so hard to breathe, the pain is coming back. Ignatz is up on his elbow, peeking out the tree as best he can from there.

His face is illuminated by the light peeking in through the tree branches, giving him an ethereal glow. “You look like an angel.” You whisper to him, closing your eyes. “Thank you for healing me.” You cough, and it shakes you as you keep coughing and coughing, blood definitely coming out of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

“No, you’re going to make it!” He declares as he stands up inside the tree checking for enemies. He then leaves the cover of the branches and looks skyward for Claude or anyone on a flying beast.

Ignatz spies someone on a wyvern, luckily it’s Claude. He gives their leader the signal for needing help and Claude acknowledges. The young man quickly checks around him, no signs or sounds of fighting nearby, he knows he needs to get you out in the open for rescue.

He helps pull you out from under the tree, lying you on the grass in the late afternoon sun.

You cough again, it crackles very loudly inside and outside of you.

Ignatz kneels over you, “Anything I can do?”

“No.” You begin, interrupted by a cough. “I need to *wheeze* confess something. *cough*. I might’ve snuck into the room that you paint in and *cough hack *saw your work. It’s so beautiful. *coughcoughcough* The way you paint a meadow I can almost smell the flowers and feel the gentle breeze.” You have a huge coughing fit, glad to confess your sin against him.

“I’m, I’m not mad.” He blushes. “J-just embarrassed.”

“When we get out of this I want to pay you *cough* to paint a picture...of me.*hackcoughbleed* I’m not that beautiful, but if you painted me I know I could be. In the m-morning s-sun, *coughbleedhack* in a yellow dress surrounded by trees and flowers. Feeding a fawn. *coughcracklehacklecough* When the war is over it can remind me of being in the Golden Deer, but especially of you. You are so amazing and talented. *cough gurgle*”

The sounds of a horse approaching redirects Ignatz’ attention. Leonie and Marianne arrive. Marianne finds that your punctured lung has collapsed and you have lost a lot of blood. She heals and cleans the wound dressing it quickly before they put you on the back of Dorte, returning you to camp.

You awaken with the dawn, pillows stuffed in front of and behind you, keeping you from lying on the healing wound and helping with breathing. You cough, alerting a healer that is nearby who runs over, rubbing your back until you are done. Taking your hand away you find little blood. That is a good sign.

Marianne soon comes to see how you are doing. She performs additional healing spells and you feel the pressure in your chest lessen. She advises that you are going to be out of it for a while, you need to strengthen your lungs. You can speak, but not much above a whisper, anything louder hurts too much. The bandage on the front of your chest is itching, a good sign that the healing magic is working. Byleth pokes his head around the corner and Marianne nods at him.

The former Professor comes to the side of the bed and sits in the chair. “You made it. We are all very happy.” You see a tiny bit of a smile on his face.

Reaching out you grab his hand and squeeze it. “Ignatz did a great job protecting me and helping me.”

“I will thank him again. Take care, you have several visitors waiting.” He says as he stands to leave. “Nice flowers. Your favorites, as I recall.” He notes as he brushes his finger against a yellow rose on the table next to you as he leaves.

After a pause, Ignatz steps hesitantly into the room. “Hi.” He says as he walks closer to you, as if he is approaching a wounded animal.

You smile widely at his presence. “Oh! Good to see you again.” You whisper.

“You’re looking much better now.” He smiles gently and nods.

You reach out your hand to take his in yours. It is warm. You place his palm on your cheek. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” You hope it sounds as heartfelt as you feel.

“You’re welcome. You would have done the same for me, the same for anyone. We’re all here together and need to help each other.” He smiles, brushing his hand on your cheek, then putting some loose strands of your hair back behind your ear.

“Did you give me the flowers? They’re beautiful.” You smile.

Ignatz blushes. “Maybe.” He says, looking away for a moment. “I should probably let the others come see you. I’ll be back later, okay?” He smiles as he stands.

You smile back. “I would really like it if you have time, please do visit me.”

He awkwardly bows, then nearly sprints from the room.

Claude marches in next. He smiles genuinely as he announces how happy he is now that one of his best swordsmen is on the mend. He asks for your version of the battle that day, filling you in on what you’ve missed as well as giving you information on the last war council meeting. He pats your head and wishes you well as he sends Raphael into the room.

“Hey! You’re looking great!” The boisterous brawler announces as he enters.

“Hey! I’m feeling pretty good.” You whisper back.

Suddenly Raphael’s shoulders drop a bit and he sits down. He whispers as softly as he can (which is not very soft but he’s trying) “I hope they’re treating you good in here. Let me know if I can bring you food or something.” He smiles widely.

“I’ll let you know. It is great to see you. Did you get hurt? I don’t see anyone else in here so I hope everyone is good.” You whisper, starting to feel tired.

“Aww, we’re great. You’ve been out for four days. Ignatz was in here every day until the kicked him out so he would sleep in his own bed. I’ve been keeping him eating regularly, can’t let your body suffer just because you’re worried. But I bet he’s back to himself now that you’re doing good.” The smile on his face is enough to cheer anyone, and it works very well on you.

“I’m glad you’re there to take care of him. I’ll be out and sparring with you as soon as Marianne says I can.” You answer, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

The rest of the Golden Deer filter in throughout the morning, all wanting to make sure they can see you alive and kicking after being out of commission for so many days. You doze between visits. The healers let you have some broth for lunch, then make you take an afternoon nap that you don’t argue about at all. Dinner is light and soft foods.

Once it is dark, Ignatz comes for another visit. You talk together for a while about what is going on, what everyone is doing. Then he finally pulls out his sketchbook. He wants to show you a drawing that came to him.

“It isn’t finished, this is just the raw base of it, but I wanted to know what you thought.” He shyly turns the page then hands the book to you.

There is a figure that resembles his image of the goddess. From the chest up, she is in her glorious, beautiful form. She has a peaceful look on her face. Then the dress flows out from her, becoming the boughs of an evergreen tree, opening up to provide sanctuary, her hands pull the front open like a curtain. There on the ground at her feet are two figures lying face to face huddled closely together.

“Oh. This is beautiful. I understand your thoughts completely about this work. I love the progression and change as she becomes the tree. I wish I had better words to describe it.” You smile back at him as a tear falls from your eye as you sigh.

“Thank you. I felt it really captured the moment.” He says softly as you hand his book back to him.

You talk a little longer then say good night.

After a few days you are finally released from the infirmary. Leonie helps you out for a few days, walking takes your breath away fairly quickly and you have to make frequent stops. She helps carrying things for you or just making sure you’re not overworking yourself. Finally you are strong enough to be on your own.

After dining with the rest of the Deer, Ignatz says he is headed off to do some painting. You ask if you can join him and he says yes.

He asks how you are feeling and your recovery progress. Marianne said that you can work on sword forms, but once you feel winded you have to sit and rest until your body completely calms and your breathing is normal. You’ve promised to follow her instructions to the letter.

Ignatz sets up his easel, getting his paints ready and the both of you become quiet. You bring a book to read with you and you settle yourself on the soft grass of the hill. Occasionally one of you will say something, but mostly just enjoy the time being quiet in each other’s company. Once the sun starts to set, you ask him to sit next to you so you can watch it together. Your shoulders brush up against each other occasionally making one of you blush. You sneak peeks at each other, somehow never quite getting caught by the other.

You can’t take this anymore, so you place your hand on top of his. When he doesn’t take his away, you weave your fingers through his as the last light of the sun flees from the horizon.

You sit there for a few minutes longer, until a bit of a breeze reminds you it’s going to get cold quickly now that the sun’s warmth is no longer there.

“We should get back while we have a little light.” You quietly murmer.

Ignatz packs up his things, you take the easel, which is fairly lightweight, so he can better hold his still wet painting. You walk side by side to the storage room turned painting workshop for him. He places the painting on a stand as you put the tripod on the wall next to another one, you start to turn but then notice it was not secure, so you turn back and rearrange it. You didn’t see Ignatz step up behind you to see if you needed help.

You turn around, bumping into his chest with yours. “Oh” you gasp.

“Oops.” he smiles.

The two of you stand there for a moment chest to chest, then you both lean in towards each other until your lips gently touch. You reach around his shoulders to gently pull him closer, his hands gripping you tightly at your waist.

Your face turns pink as you smile widely and look away.

“You’re so beautiful.” he whispers, his hand reaching under your chin to gently pull your lips back into his.

Pulling back to get a fresh breath of air, you whisper into his lips, “I find you handsome as well, my angel.”

[writtingfiction]

Claude and a fake dating au please

Please enjoy this mondern version of them cast with the fake dating au! School starts in three days, lets see how many stories I can write before then, enjoy!!

pairing: Byleth x Claude

words: 1.7 k

Now when Claude had received the invitation to the corporate annual party he wasn’t expecting much, just the usual black and white suit and talk about how things are going well within the company. Maybe brag a little about how they got the upper hand in sales for the first quarter of the year. Nonetheless, as cunning as he was, he wasn’t expecting to show up at the party with his former boss from back when he was an intern with the Seiros Inc. Not only did he show up with his former boss, but he’s also said to everyone, within his company and rivalling companies that the two of them are together.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when the two enter the room all eyes on them. Byleth has half a mind to pat his arm gently in a way to comfort him. Claude wants to crawl into his own skin the way Edelgard and Dimitri look at him. Never mind how Seteth absolute seethes as he sends daggers towards him ready to rip him apart the second, he’s left alone. He thinks the only person to not be surprised by this was his own assistant. Although, he didn’t have the heart to tell him that this wasn’t exactly real.

When the pair had separated his close friends swarmed him. There were a lot of comments and many, many questions. He needed a drink. Hilda was incessantly poking his side, demanding for answers as Lorenz was lecturing him about something, he’s not paying attention.

“If you keep asking me all at the same time, I can’t answer you.” Claude said annoyed. Just barely making it to the table to grab a drink. The small crowd goes silent before they all speak up again. He shoots them a look before he hears one voice clearly through all the voices.

“Ok, ok, ok, I just need to know how.” It was Lysithea. Claude looks her in eye and then towards the rest of his friends. He’s now very glad that the two of them talked about this beforehand and came up with a story. Claude clears his throat.

“Well,” He starts off, trying to give off a vibe of mysteriousness and he is doing it well. “It started after Byleth got back from her overseas trip— “

“That that was 8 months ago!!” Hilda let out a whispered cry. Claude sends her a glare.

“Yes—As I was saying, after the overseas trip she had. We got back into touch as she was looking for a new job. I told her she could apply at Leicester Alliance and things went on from there.” Claude said, sipping his sweet drink. Rapheal lands a rough hand on his shoulder congratulating him.

“I have half a mind to scold you Claude, getting together with a former colleague like that? Do you even know what this could do to the company?” Lorenz started off with his lecture and Claude tried his hardest not to eye roll.

“Hence why we kept hidden for so long. We also hid it well mind you.” Claude said. Pointing a finger to no one in particular. Lysithea shakes her head.

“You haven’t answered my question.” Lysithea was a very smart girl for her age. Even though he constantly teases her for it, he couldn’t help but curse at how she knew he avoided the question. He had hoped his friends would carry the conversation away when they knew the least amount.

“What was your question, again?”

“How. How did you manage to convince Byleth to get with you?” Claude hums. His way of buffering so he can recall what him and Byleth discussed.

“I charmed her. Impeccable planning if I might say so myself.” Claude says. Grin as wide as possible to show off how cocky he was. He could see the very visible eye roll from Hilda.

“Totally Claude, now will you stop and just tell us?” Hilda whines out.

“Tell you what?” It’s a new voice. Everyone turns to see Byleth standing at the edge of their little circle. She’s dressed in smooth black dress that hugs her figure comfortably. There’s some gold jewelry on her wrists and neck. A matching pendent with Claude with his own necklace. Byleth’s outfit compliments Claude’s nicely, a couple picked straight from a magazine.

“Byleth! They were asking about how I managed to get you under my arm.” Claude said. Approaching her, smoothly wrapping an arm around her waist.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who was caught like a deer in headlights when I had asked you out for dinner.” Byleth said. Voice flat with a hint of teasing to it. The cat-like smirks that appeared on half of his friends faces had almost made him loose his composure. It didn’t help either that what Byleth said was true. When things first started out, Byleth suggested a dinner to chat about things and it honestly caught him off guard.

“Well, now they don’t need to know that.” Claude let out a nervous chuckle. He thought he had everything under control but this woman had him rethinking all his plans in under a second. She was just as or more cunning than him. A rare smile appeared on her face.

“No need to hide what happened. Have you told them about how you almost fell down the stairs earlier?” Byleth teased as Claude went red, choking on his words.

Claude trying to save himself and barely in doing so. Byleth was ready to crumble the reputation he had as cool lover and was trying too. Not with fake information either, he didn’t know if it was worse. However, while trying to keep it together he was catching things. People were relaxing around him for once. His close friends and coworkers were smiling and sharing stories from their lives. His rivals weren’t so tense around him, Seteth stopped glaring at him throughout the night. The old man was more focused on his sister than him tonight.

Byleth was making everyone around him more comfortable by telling them a side that only she would see. Claude shook his head with a small smile on his lips. Perhaps she was more cunning than he was.

The rest of the evening goes on without a hitch and he’s very happy with himself. Byleth noticed the change in demeanor. She wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. However, she’s stopped in her tracks by two familiar faces. Edelgard and Dimitri approach her before they leave for the night.

“Byleth, if I may,” Dimitri speaks up, long blonde hair tied back nicely. There’s a small braid on the side of his hair leading to the bun. “Would it still be too late to offer you a position within the Faerghus Knights?” There’s an eye roll from Edelgard.

“What he means to say, even though you’re with Claude would you be open to a new and better position? Preferably with the Adrestian Corp.” Edelgard said. Byleth can only smile, a small part of her is glad they haven’t given up the friendly rivalry she only hopes it doesn’t end in an ugly way.

“I’m sorry, my loyalty goes to Claude. Not just because he’s my boyfriend.” Byleth felt something twist at her heart. It felt strange to call him that openly. She had spent the last month or two coming to terms with the deal that the two of them made. The two leaders of their respective company's sigh.

“We’ll get you one day, Professor.” Dimitri said a large smile on his face. Byleth only shook her head at the old nickname. Yes, she was their boss and taught them how to do their jobs to the best of their abilities but she didn’t deserve that title. She bids them fair well and goes to rejoin Claude. She knew the man was getting weary with how the others questioned him relentlessly about company issues now that pleasantries were over.

She grabs both of their coats before she reenters the room. A clear sign that they were leaving for the night and no one would stop them for a chat. It was one thing she was grateful for; they knew when people wanted to leave and would let them. It takes Byleth a moment to find him even with everyone who has left. When she does spot him, he’s surround by those greedy slimy men who would do anything to get ahead. Unfortunately, Claude is the only huge target left. Edelgard and Dimitri left, Seteth and Rhea left two hours into the party. First to arrive and first to leave, mused Byleth.

Byleth appears at Claude’s side in a matter of moments. One hand resting on his back, a comforting gesture. There’s a stretched smile on Claude’s face and cruel grins on the faces surrounding him. Byleth is quick in saying hi as she places Claude’s coat in his arms, cementing the fact that they were leaving and no one would be stopping them. Only one or two men tried to keep Claude longer but Byleth was quick to interject. Coats on and pulling him away from the crowd by the hand. When the doors of the building were closed behind them, they let out a breath.

There’s a shared look between the two of them, before they let out a small laugh. Byleth is the first to move from their spot at the door. Hand reaching in to her coat pocket and taking the keys out, waving them in the air.

“Ready to head home?” Byleth said.

“Couldn’t speak sweeter words for my ears to hear.” Claude said.

The drive home was nice, the music was just loud enough to drown out overwhelming thoughts. However, as Claude checks his phone looking at new emails a smirk appears on his lips.

“Good news, we have more shareholders because of our appearance tonight. I have a feeling there’ll be some more cameras following us around more than normal over the next couple weeks.” Claude said. “You ready for this?”

“I’m ready. The company will come out on top for the end of the year, just get ready for the speed bumps along your path.” Byleth replied. Claude let out a chuckle.

“We’ll defeat anything coming our way. I won’t let them win.” Claude said, knowing the year ahead of them will be difficult but he had Byleth by his side. What could go wrong?

[lysissisyl]

6 months

To @patricia-von-arundel, who is the most wonderful woman in this world and the love of my life. Thank you for changing everything. 💜

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Byleth was late. Byleth was never late. It was part of her mercenary training: timing is vital for a mercenary.

Edelgard also knew her schedule and she was always in her study at that time of the day, so why wasn’t she, today of all days? She was sitting at the table, the teapot in the middle, pastries on an elaborated tray. It had taken her 5 attempts to manage to brew tea the way Byleth did; not Bergamot this time, a rare, exotic green tea that Byleth had been looking for for a while. She really hoped she had made it right... At least she knew the pastries were good. She had spent a week practicing, burned a ton (when they actually reached the oven), made a mess balancing the ingredients more times than she could count. She probably fed all the fauna in Enbar, rats included. Damn! She threw away and distributed so many of her disasters to the animals there that one day she had found a rat waiting outside of the kitchens! She couldn’t help a yelp and had Hubert running in, his hands wrapped in dark magic, ready to fight a monster probably. He had almost pulverized the small beast. He would have if she hadn’t stopped him. She hated the damn rats, but she had seen the tiny mice waiting under a bush nearby and realized that bold critter was trying to feed its family. Thinking about family made her soft. Silly. She had taken an half burned cookie from the bag, cut it into pieces and thrown it to the rat. Then she had shut the door as fast as she could, hands shaking. Stupid. But the cookies were perfect today. So was the tea, as far as she could tell. The teapot and teacups were matching and matched the colors of the glaze: a mix of red and blue that reminded her of them. Everything was where it was supposed to be, except for Byleth. She stood up and started pacing; she went back and forth, from the table to the window, three times, then three more, to check the gardens, but also to be able to think. She looked at her own reflection in the glass. She wasn’t wearing her regalia; in its place, a much more simple attire, more practical, something that would have been comfortable enough for basically anything, fishing included. Long, stretchy, black riding pants, a jacket with golden buttons and red trimmings, a white blouse with golden embroideries barely visible under it. The high boots completed the unusual look. Her long, white hair was loose, with only the two familiar ribbons adorning it. It looked a bit different from her Garreg Mach days, a little bit more savage, perhaps, free to move when she did, occasionally forcing her to brush them aside from her eyes; it often leant on her shoulders, caressing her cheeks. She found it unnerving, but Byleth found it cute. Only six month...and she looked so different. It wasn’t just her outfit - that was just for the day - or the absence of the crown. Her posture wasn’t as tense, her eyes were still sharp, but not as angry, and the faint smile that curved her lips when she thought that it was all because of Byleth was natural and sweet. She still had bad days, she still felt overwhelmed by all the responsibilities, by how demanding her routine could be, sometimes she still felt exhausted in the evening. She still had nightmares from time to time. Not everything was perfect as the tea table set behind her, but...Byleth was there on the bad days as she was on the bright ones, reminding her everything was going to be alright. When she felt overwhelmed, she took her hand, made her take a break, let her rest her head on her shoulder and told her stories, beautiful stories and dreams. She told her about how they were making them true. When she woke up shaking from a nightmare, she could hide in her arms, listening to her heart beat until hers stopped screaming and running. The reason her shoulders and back weren’t stiff today was that Byleth had massaged them gently yesterday, washing all the tension from the day away before going to bed. She had taken that habit after seeing her in pain. Edelgard had protested more than once, but they were both stubborn and, in the end, she had realized that Byleth loved feeling her melt under her touch. She sighed at the thought: she could almost feel it... Hearing the door brought her back to reality. She blushed realizing Byleth had chosen that exact moment to come in. She shook her head to chase away that thought that still made her shiver. Even being late, her timing sure was perfect. She let out a very different sigh.

Byleth looked at the table, then at Edelgard, a warm smile making her eyes shine in a way that was getting more and more common. Edelgard had to fight the instinct to run to her and kiss her until the tea got cold. She gestured for her to sit and went back to her chair, pouring some tea for them both before doing the same. Byleth kept observing her every move, a faint smile still on her face. “Thank you, El.” “There is no reason to thank me. At least try the tea first: I don’t have your expertise.” Edelgard stared while she took a sip, almost holding her breath. Byleth  widened her eyes in surprise. “You found it! Oh, El...” Her eyes were so hard to read now, but also so warm... “it’s perfect, just perfect.” Edelgard was suddenly aware of how rigidly she was sitting. She let go. “I want to make today perfect.” “You always want to make things perfect, El.” Byleth teased. “This is different.” She was sulking just a bit, then her voice grew softer. “Today is special.” “Is it?” “Do you remember what happened six months ago?” “We won the war. Is it why we’re celebrating?” Edelgard sighed, playing with her ring with her other hand. Byleth could be so oblivious sometimes! It didn’t hurt her. She knew her well, she knew she loved her. She was just...Byleth. “It’s been six months since the day you gave me this ring, the day I knew you wanted to stay, you were choosing me...” she hesitated “forever.” Byleth tilted her head. “Why do people care about this kind of things? I love you every day, I feel lucky every day I spend by your side. Why should today be different?” Edelgard giggled. That was so very Byleth and so sweet. She didn’t care at all that she forgot about their anniversary: she just wanted to look that beautiful woman in the eyes, tell her what a gift she was and kiss the crumbs off her lips. Speaking of crumbs, Byleth was staring at the other half of a cookie in her hand. “This is peculiar.” “In what sense?” She tried to hide the worried note in her voice. “They’re different from any I’ve found around here. Very rich on cinnamon. Are the cookies exotic too?” Edelgard paled. “Is something wrong with them?” “No, not at all. I actually like them a lot. I want to know where I can find them.” Edelgard’s cheeks turned a delightful red. “I...m-made them.” “That’s great! That sure makes it easy to get more!” She looked like a happy kid. Edelgard’s smile was smug and wide. “You can have them anytime, my love.”

After finishing their tea, it was time for the next step. Edelgard had thought about that day a lot, about what Byleth would have loved, but, in the end, she had realized Byleth was still learning that herself, so the best gift she could offer her was probably a day to just improvise and discover things together. No planning for once. “I cleared my schedule for today.  As I said, I want to make this day perfect for you, so...make a wish, make all the wishes you can think of. We can do anything. Today, I’ll be the one following you.” “No plans, no organizing, no schedules, nothing?”  Byleth raised an eyebrow, teasing again. “Don’t make me regret it!” “I promise you won’t.” The smirk on her face made her wonder which troubles she had just gotten herself into.”

To Edelgard’s surprised, Byleth’s first request was to go to town for some shopping. Even stranger, she came back with an elegant pair of trousers a formal jacket and a blouse, an outfit that looked like a fancier version of what Edelgard was wearing. She sure appreciated seeing it on Byleth. She tried not to stare. And failed. Byleth giggled.

Their second stop was at a flower shop. Byleth went in alone and came out with some roses and a carnation plant in a vase. She offered it to Edelgard with a smile. “I thought you could like a plant for your study or we could keep it in our room. I prefer plants to flowers. Flowers die. This plant is something we can keep and nourish. And I want to give you life.” The look on Edelgard’s face went from confusion, to surprise, to endearment. The way Byleth thought sure was weird, but so was hers and they could understand  each other amazingly well. She had appreciated and cherished all the flowers Byleth had given her in their monastery days, but she knew she would have loved this plant a hundred times more. She loved how Byleth had started questioning things, reading them in a completely different wa now that her emotions were so much stronger. She wondered how hard and exciting everything could be to her. That was part of why she had structured the day like that, after all: she wanted Byleth to express herself.

Byleth’s third request surprised her in a different way. She asked to go by the river, right south from Embar, to the cove where it met the see. She hadn’t been there in years, so many years... Walking there with Byleth felt so nostalgic and so different at the same time… She could feel her hand in hers, holding gently, but firmly. She could feel the warmth of her skin and the marks left by the sword. Familiar. Reassuring. She had run to the cove many times in the past, wild and excited, but it was another time, another life, another El. Walking there like this felt a bit like going back, a bit like going on. She turned toward Byleth. “Have I ever told you about where my love for the opera comes from?” Byleth shook her head. “One of my older sisters was very fond of the opera. I was still too young to be brought to the theater and definitely too young to properly understand it, so were most of my brothers. One day we teased her a little too much about her daydreams and ended up making her cry, so later we wanted to surprise her, to make up for it. We asked our oldest brother; he tried to explain us what an opera play was at his best and we went to the cove and tried to set up a show for her. She was so happy and we had so much fun that we decided to make it a small ritual between us. We did it every time one of us was down or when we wanted to celebrate something. It was a way to tell each other ‘I love you’. I started to grow pretty fond of it myself. One day, my sister took us girls apart and told us our father was concerned about our future, that she could see it, that he had told her; she believed she was going to be engaged soon and that we would have followed. She was a very romantic young girl, always reading some love story or daydreaming about her future husband. She asked us to celebrate the day of her engagement with one of our plays, one inspired by the cheesy stories she liked. I said I wanted an adventurous tale for mine, full of swords and mighty fights. She told us we could all choose one, that that could be another little siblings rituals. When she told the boys, they all made faces, but they all agreed in the end. It was very silly. It was the week before I was taken to Faerghus.” She stopped, staring into the distance for a few seconds, then shook her head again. “Sorry, I rambled.” Byleth smiled. “The story of the heroic imperial princess who fought terrible monsters and saved the innocents, uh?” She glared at her. “Don’t laugh at me!” She didn’t sound truly irritated. “I’m not. Actually...that’s more or less what happened.” Edelgard’s eyes met hers. “Don’t laugh at me.” She sounded sad and bitter. “I am not. You changed everything, El.”

There was a strict passage between high rocks to cross before reaching the shore. It looked smaller now, tighter. Edelgard sure didn’t mind walking pressed against Byleth. Once they crossed it and got to the other side, she froze. There was a stage on the sand, not made of old boards and branches found on the shore, a real one. The curtains were fancy and velvety, not white sheets and colorful blankets stolen from the palace. (How many times had the servants yelled at them?) There was a huge blanket on the sand in front of the stage, with a full dinner for two displayed on it. Hubert was standing at its right. He bowed and gestured them to sit. Byleth nodded. “Thank you, Hubert.” He showed them a small grin in response. “Anything for Lady Edelgard.” Edelgard shifted her focus from one to the other, then gave Byleth a questioning look. “You hadn’t told me about that story, not until today. But...Hubert did, a few weeks ago. He was there too.” She explained. “When I told him I wanted to organize something special for you and that I was thinking about bringing you here and to the opera right after, he told me about the past. He wanted me to be aware and careful. I thought about something else.” “You...” but the curtain opened. To Edelgard’s surprise, it was Dorothea appearing on the scene. She hadn’t properly been back to the company after the war, but she still liked to perform from time to time, as a hobby now. She had convinced the Mittelfrank company to do her a favor that day. Manuela had written the script. For a while, Edelgard wondered why her former classmate wasn’t playing the main part, the emperor's part, then remembered her own words, years ago, when she had said that no story about her would have been complete without a Dorothea. The fact that she wanted to strangle both her and Byleth for making a play about her was soon forgotten, except for when Dorothea sang that song from their Garreg Mach days again. ‘Hail the mighty Edelgard...’ The mighty Edelgard was as red as her regalia. Byleth made a comment about it being a shame that she wasn’t wearing it, that earned her a very cute glare.

At the end of the play, Edelgard was at a loss for words. When Dorothea approached them and Byleth handed her the roses, she wanted to say thanks, but all that came out was “Why?” “Byleth contacted me around a month ago, telling me about her crazy plan for your anniversary, so I pulled some strings. She also helped me setting things up this morning, before Hubert could get here without raising suspicions.” She winked. That’s why she was late... Then another thought crossed Edelgard's mind, making her frown. “Anniversary?” Her eyes moved from Dorothea to Byleth. “You were wondering why people actually cared about it earlier.” Byleth grinned. “I was. And I still believe what I said. I love you every day. I feel lucky to be with you every day. Anniversaries aren’t different. But...why would I miss a chance to make you smile?” She smirked. “You liar!” Edelgard was only half-pretending to sulk. Byleth greened. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” It looked like deceiving could be vital for a mercenary too.

[candlelight27]

Hidden In The Woods

Summary: The Witcher AU - Dimitri is a witcher that roams the world, but sometimes he stops by to visit his old friend Byleth... And not just for a cup of tea.

Warnings: Explicit sex - bath sex, penis in vagina sex, masturbation

Pairings: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Female!Byleth

Word Count: 1236

AO3: Hidden In The Woods

A/N: I’m still working on the Sylvain series, don’t worry. I’m just... it’s a long process. I take way too long with everything. And I was working on this before, so here it is.

The Goddess know how long Dimitri had been travelling before reaching the small hut in the middle of the gloomy forest. The front door was flanked with flamboyant plants that filled everything with their bright colours and aromas. He recognized the darkened wood of the walls and the faded runes of protection. Nothing had changed since his last time there.

He didn’t bother to knock, Byleth would surely know he was there. She could sense all that happened in that bubble she had enchanted.

“I’m here!”, he shouted, more to localize her than to announce his visit, making his way along hundreds of artifacts scattered around the floor. There were also a few books written in the ancient language of Elves.

“You made me wait so much!”, she yelled back. It was muffled, as she was in one of the interior rooms of her home. Inside, the place was bigger, but he wasn’t aware of what spell she had used to achieve it.

“It’s not my fault! Your hiding magic is too powerful”.

Dimitri found out exactly where she was, so he started walking with sure steps. The closer he was, the cleared her voice sounded.

“C’mon, Dimitri. I taught you myself. I know you can do much more than that.”

The witcher entered the stay to find Byleth taking a bath. Candles were lit in every corner and the hot water mixed with expensive oils and soap was overflowing. Her blue hair, turned a darker hue due to the wetness, was settled on her milky shoulders and bosom. Byleth’s legs were hanging out of the border, and her finger drew circles as she played with her magic, making a small of water over the palm of her hand.

“C’mon, undress. Take a bath. Relax,” she lured him, adding a special sweetness on each syllable.

Dimitri diligently started to undress.

“I can’t stay for long. I’m just passing by.”

“That’s a shame,” said Byleth, disappointed. But she knew the drill. Dimitri took off every piece of his gear and tossed it aside. He then took off his clothes methodically until he stood naked before her. There wasn’t any kind of awkwardness, as they were already familiar with each other’s bodies. “But I hope your next visit will come sooner than this one…”

“I’ll do what I can, Byleth.” He sighed. She made space for him in the bathtub when he approached her. He sat down and she comfortably settled on his lap. “The war is getting worse. The monsters are getting out of hand. And since the Empire is focused on expanding their territory… they are no longer pressing the Agarthans and they roam as they will.”

“I wish I could help, but I can’t go out there right now. I need time…”

“I know,” whispered the witcher.

He placed a kiss on the base of her neck, then bit with delicacy. She breathed in, and a flirty smile decorated her lips.

“Already this hard?”, she said as she noticed the bulge under her.

“That’s the effect you have on me,” he replied as he crossed his arms over his torso. She moved her hips to tease him.

“How romantic.”

One of his big hands found her breasts and fondled them. The witch let out the smallest mewl, just for his ears, and let him do as he pleased. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, ravishing the skin on her neck as he did. Byleth rubbed her thighs together.

“Have you missed me, Byleth?”, asked Dimitri. His lover rose her hands to pull at his long hair.

“What do you think?”, she said coyly.

Byleth sank her hand in the perfumed water to touch her core. She put in two fingers, already wet from Dimitri’s attentions.

“You’re always so impatient,” he commented while he left a particular reddish mark on her shoulder.

“Try spending a few weeks alone in this place. You start appreciating some company?” Byleth suddenly turned around. She placed her legs around Dimitri’s hips, straddling him. Her hands run along his sculpted muscles. She traced every scar with her fingertips, what elicited a moan out of his mouth.

“Some company?”, the witcher insisted. Her azure eyes were fixed on his good one, and her hands possessively roamed his chest. They were burning with desire.

“Your company”, she finally clarified.

Small waves overflowed the bath as the manoeuvred to engulf his manhood with her body. Once she did, a rush of satisfaction invaded her. She had missed him so much, worried about his wellbeing, and greedy to have his cock for herself one more night. His erection filled her completely, reaching deep within.

“This is the best place in the world.” He made a strangled laugh, but it was soon stifled by Byleth’s movements.

She rolled her hips against him, slowly but harshly. She wanted to test his patience as a little revenge for not passing by sooner, so she controlled every detail. Raising, going down, angling herself…

“You little minx”, Dimitri spoke at last, “you are doing this on purpose.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t enjoying this?”, she feigned surprise.

“Don’t torture me, beloved,” he continued, “I suffered as much as you.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t get so worked up, I just was having a little bit of fun…”

Dimitri grabbed her bottom. digging his fingers in her flesh. He was being careful, yet still he was going to leave the slightest scratch. Byleth didn’t mind it, in fact, she loved it when he let himself go.

He helped her increase her movements, forwards and backwards, up and down. This time, Byleth could feel a knot forming in her belly. Thrilled, she kept going with enthusiasm. Dimitri, meanwhile, was overwhelmed. Her breasts moving in rhythm right in front of him, her soft butt that barely fitted in his hands, her lovely scent making him drunk.

He decided to take one of her pink nipples in his mouth, sucking softly. Byleth cursed and trembled around him. He decided right then that he’d take over. Immediately, one of his hand flew to her clitoris. He rubbed it with soft touches, enough to stimulate her.

“Dimitri!”, she shouted her name in the most delicious way.

He knew he had her, that she was close. Dimitri started thrusting upwards, aiming for that very special spot he was familiar with. She felt every time he hit it. There were bolts that shook her to the core. All that pleasure was almost becoming too much to bear. She loved being at the mercy of Dimitri, he always knew what buttons to push to make her surrender to her most primal needs.

“Keep going, Dimitri! Make me come,” she ordered.

“As you wish.”

He then increased his pace, and that was what did it for her. Her legs shuddered on each side of him and her warmness squeezed him as she groaned his name time after time. It was such a beautiful sight. Such a shame he couldn’t completely enjoy it, because his own orgasm washed over him.

Still dizzy, Byleth felt him filling her. She’d never admit it to him, at least not yet, but she loved the feeling of his seed inside of her.

“What a mess we’ve made”, he laughed, visibly tired.

“I’ll enchant something to clean this. Let’s go to bed, I’m not finished with you”. She dedicated him a sly smirk.

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

[blue-lions-baby]

Scars That We Can’t Erase (Dimitri x F!Reader)

hi!! this fic was requested by an anon! i’m so sorry i realized too late that once i replied to the original request i can’t like reply to it anymore does that make sense i’ve been studying for six hours pLEASE i absolutely fell in love with the given prompt, and i hope my writing did it justice! here is the original request--

“Hi! Can i get some dimitri × fem reader in which dima literally adores the reader please? One time, the reader takes a grave hit for him in battle and he is a worried mess? He cant stop thinking about her, his training is sloppy because he cant concentrate, he feels awful. He even stays at the infirmary with her all day and night while she's unconscious, manuela has to force him to get some rest. He feels terrible and guilty when seeing the scar that the reader has (oh poor boi-) Thanks! Ilysm♡ “

i should also let you guys know that this fic (imo at least) is a bit more... intense, compared to my other ones. it does get rather lighthearted towards the end, so hopefully it kinda balances out ???

pre-timeskip and no spoilers!!

~*~

No...

No, no, no...

The last thing that Dimitri saw was your quivering, paling lips and your frame crumbling to the blood-soaked ground.

The last thing that Dimitri heard was Byleth’s cries for a healer and the way your name mangled out of his throat in a blood-curdling scream-- along with the sickeningly sweet cries of the bandit who struck you down as he stabbed, stabbed, stabbed the poor bastard’s soul out of his botched body.

The last thing Dimitri felt on his lips was blood. Blood from his tongue-- the pink, throbbing muscle oozing with red liquid-- or from the pulp of that bastard’s corpse, he did not know or care. The hauntingly warm liquid stained the corners of his lips and the core of his very soul as the deep holes and gashes he imprinted on the man’s body left ribbons of flesh hanging from visibly cracked bones, rendering him nearly unrecognizable as a human being.

“Dimitri! That’s enough!” A voice that sounded eerily similar to his professor’s wormed its way into his mind.

“How dare you lay a finger on her, you monster!”

“Your Highness, he’s already dead! Just leave him alone!” Cried a legion of voices, none holding familiarity to him.

“I will punish you for what you did! For what you did to (F/N)!”

It was his fault.

It was all his fault.

If only he saw that bandit rushing towards him.

If only he saw the glistening of the ruffian’s axe as he swung the sharpened slab of metal at him.

If only he heard you call out his name, a foreshadow to his bloody fate.

If only you didn’t jump in to save him.

If only he could have saved you.

Scenes of you falling before his very eyes kept replaying in his head, tearing open the fresh, guilt-induced wounds in his heart in a never-ending cycle. Something solid-- arms, perhaps-- grappled onto his pulsing, aching arms, which he shrugged off with ease. He wasn’t going to stop until that monster of a man suffered the consequences for hurting you. He wasn’t going to stop until that monster of a man paid his dues. He wasn’t going to stop--

Until he felt a gentle hold on his wrist.

Dimitri, snapping out of his blood-lusting reverie, paused instantly. He jerked his face to the small, shaking hand that just barely ghosted the surface of his gauntlet.

Your small, shaking hand.

“Dimitri...” A hand as beautiful as the one steadying his shaking wrist cupped his cheek, erasing the splatters of impurities that marred his smooth skin. “Please, stop...”

The fractured lance in his hand fell to the ground as its owner caught you in his arms, preventing you from suffering the same fate. Dimitri stumbled to his knees, fatigue and overexertion having finally caught up to him. Wheezing and hugging you as tightly as he could, he stroked your matted, sweaty, yet gorgeous locks with the gentleness of a lover. The delicate footsteps of Mercedes caught his attention and he looked up at his peer.

“Your Highness,” her eyes turned to you then back to him, “she’s going to be okay.”

Everything went black.

~*~

The carefree songs of swallows were the first to greet the groggy prince as he re-entered the world of consciousness. Although his hearing slowly came back to the awakened male, he just couldn’t will his eyelids to lift. And so he laid there, his ears the only channel to the bustling world around him.

“How are they?” Asked a monotone voice, stained with concern.

“Thankfully, the prince didn’t suffer any major wounds. A few scratches here and there, as well as some swelling and light bruising, but nothing too serious. Still, we should be careful straining his body any further. As for (F/N)...”

He heard the flirtatious healer heave heavily; his heart crumbled.

“That Mercedes girl did a splendid job patching her up in the moment. If you were to come even a moment later, we would have lost her.”

“So they’ll both live?” Dimitri recognized that worried tone from anywhere-- his loyal retainer.

“His Highness, for sure. (F/N), she... I’ve done everything I could to patch her up, but...”

“So... The best thing we can do is just... wait?”

“That’s the only thing we can do, Professor.”

Dimitri heard footsteps approach his bedside, then shortly congregate to elsewhere. The royal, disheartened and spirit-broken, let out a pitiful gurgle akin to a cry.

“Dimitri!”

“Your Highness!”

Through brute force and sheer will, he wrested his eyes open. The gentle morning light harshly struck his still-delicate pupils, making him wince. A raging headache tore through his temples, threatening to split his skull open.

“(F-F/N)...” He found himself muttering. “Where--? Where is--?”

“She is here, Your Highness.” Dedue motioned to the still figure beside the prince. “She is... not in the best condition.”

“I heard.” Dimitri dismissed the oncoming report, knowing his heart would all but collapse from within if he had to hear your grim fate iterated again. “I heard... everything.”

“Dimitri,” his professor began, “do you need anything?”

“Actually... May you please help me sit up?”

I can’t get a good look at her from this angle...

“No can do, Prince Dimitri.” Manuela retorted. “Even though your wounds are not as severe as (F/N)’s, we really shouldn’t put your body under any more stress.”

“Ms. Manuela, please. I beg of you.” Dimitri paused. “T-Truthfully, this position is rather uncomfortable. I would feel much better if I were to be readjusted.”

Manuela sighed, glanced over the royal’s swollen limbs and cut appendages, and reluctantly nodded.

“All right, fine. Let us know if anything starts to hurt.”

“Of course. You have my thanks. All of you.”

While Dedue busied himself propping and fluffing the pillows to Dimitri’s comfort, Manuela and Byleth worked together to assist the royal. They slowly managed to complete the task, doing their best to inflict as little pain as possible to the wincing and grimacing male.

“T-Thank you.” He breathed out shakily. “I feel... better now.”

“Do you require anything else, Your Highness?” Dedue questioned.

“I am fine, thank you. I just need time to... reflect.”

“I understand. I will wait outside should you need anything.” Dedue arose mechanically, bowed, and went outside to his station.

“Well, I need to run to town to restock on some medical supplies. I will be back as soon as I can. Goodbye.~” Manuela winked, patted Byleth on the shoulder, and sauntered away.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Byleth asked again, double-checking on the fluffed pillows.

“I am fine, Professor. Thank you for your help, as always.” Dimitri smiled slightly.

Byleth nodded, glanced at their other student, and leaned down.

“She’s going to be okay, Dimitri.”

Dimitri said nothing, the words meant to reassure only fueling his anxiety. All he could muster was a feigned smile and a small nod.

“Thank you for the encouragement, Professor.”

And Byleth was off, no doubt hurrying back to the rest of the Lions.

Now Dimitri was alone, save for Dedue who was ready to attend to his lord's every whim and command.

And... you.

Dimitri’s head lolled to face you. You were neatly tucked in the infirmary bed, a thin blanket cascaded over your body. So thin, in fact, that he could see the outline of the thick bandaging about your torso and shoulder.

Memories of the previous battle flooded his mind.

Distinct, biting, and painful memories that he’d do anything to bury in the oblivion-- to tuck away in the dark recesses of his mind, never to see the light of consciousness ever again.

He lifted his arm, forgoing his body’s desire to rest the battered limb, in a futile attempt to reach you-- to hold you.

So close, yet so far.

He remembered how his name was the last thing to spill out of your shaking, colorless lips as the lilting (E/C) hues he fell in love with gave way to a hollow, lifeless sheen.

How you were within his grasp-- within his reach-- yet he could do nothing to save you.

Except needlessly pulverize a dead man’s body into literal shreds.

Oh, Goddess.

His classmates.

His fellow Lions.

He had no direct memory of the faces or expressions he saw in his frenzy, yet he remembered it so distinctly. Although he possessed no recollections to base this on, he could clearly see each and every one of their faces painted with horror and quite possibly revulsion at the murderous monstrosity he managed to commit.

“Deem...”

Dimitri almost choked. He very nearly jumped out of bed if the shooting pain in his legs didn’t remind him of his sorry state.

“(F/N)...?!” Groaning, he turned his whole body to face you. “C-Can you hear me...?!”

“...ma.”

Your eyelids shuddered before stilling once more. He heard a quiet, labored wheeze rise from your chest before you succumbed to another deep sleep. A rush of emotions throbbed through his heart, each one too complex and short-lived for the prince to process.

“(F/N)...” He reached out his hand again, knowing full well that you were beyond his grasp. “I do not know if you can hear me, but please... Live.”

~*~

Within a day Dimitri’s body was healed of most of its external wounds, but his soul was still as ravaged as the battlefield you fell in. While the rest of the Lions greeted their leader with open arms (all except one, spitting out how his display in their previous skirmish proved he was “nothing but a feral boar,”) Dimitri could only return a fraction of their enthusiasm. He still smiled and trained and attended lectures, but the dark bags forming under his blank eyes were a physical manifestation of the raging storm within.

“Ope! Gotcha again, Your Highness!” Sylvain fisted the air triumphantly, hoping his smug arrogance would arouse a competitive flame within the despondent teen.

“Ah... It appears you have.” Dimitri mumbled, more so to himself than to Sylvain, and slipped into a fighting stance. “Let us try again.”

“Actually, Your Highness...” Sylvain leaned on the wooden training lance. “How about we take a short break. We’ve been training all afternoon.”

“Has it been that long?” Dimitri blinked, looking up at the still-blue skies.

“Yeah. C’mon. I’ll take care of the lances, you just sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

Although Dimitri would typically fight and say something along the lines of how he couldn’t possibly allow someone to take care of something he could so easily do himself, Sylvain found the lance slip out of the royal’s fingers with ease. After propping the training weapons on a rack, Sylvain joined Dimitri on a bench.

“So Your Highness,” Sylvain slid to his friend’s side, “we... couldn’t help noticing that...”

“Yes?”

“Well...” Sylvain trailed off again. “Ever since... you know... You haven’t been your usual self. At all.”

“Is that so...” Dimitri mumbled, staring at the ground with great interest.

“Yeah... We’ve all been really worried about you, Your Highness. We just... We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Dimitri stared unblinkingly at nothing, utterly reaction-less to his friend’s voiced concern. He remained unmoving for a long time; Sylvain thought that if he so much as laid a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, he would all but shatter into irreparable shards.

“... I apologize for my rudeness Sylvain, but I must go to the infirmary.”

“Huh--?”

“It is of utmost importance. Please excuse me.”

“Ah--! Hey, wait--!”

The prince managed to just barely slip out of the redhead’s outstretched palm, gracefully bobbing out of reach and the training grounds.

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

“You have to take care of yourself too, you know.” Manuela clicked her tongue disapprovingly, setting down a lit candle on a nearby table.

“Thank you for your concern Ms. Manuela, but I can assure you that I am feeling just fine.” Dimitri replied flatly, his glossy pupils not leaving your frame for a second.

“Sure, but the bags under your eyes say otherwise.”

Dimitri’s fingertips grazed the sensitive stretch of skin on his face, his upper eyelid twitching in response to the gentle touch.

“I do not care much for personal vanity.”

“It’s a sign that you’re not getting enough sleep.” Manuela retorted sharply, smoothing out the crinkles on a nearby bed. “Here. I prepared a bed for you. If you’re going to spend the night here, at least do it on a bed.”

Sunken azure hues rested on the stiff, plank-like cot longingly before snapping back to your ashy complexion.

“Thank you, Ms. Manuela. I will make use of it later.”

“No, Prince Dimitri. Rest. Now.”

Brown, fiery eyes clashed with bleary blues as the healer and prince remained locked in a fierce staring match. Dimitri’s eyes began to water as he stifled a yawn, reluctantly accepting defeat as he slowly stood up and headed for the bed.

“Good. Thank you.” The prince’s yawn seemed to rub off on Manuela as she stretched her arms to the sky. “Go to sleep, all right? Don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes, Ms. Manuela...”

Manuela initiated one last check on your battered body, bade a goodnight to the royal, and slipped out of the infirmary.

Dimitri peered blankly at the barren ceiling, a cacophonous symphony comprised of self-hatred and regret premiering at the forefront of his thoughts. And the soloist singing for eternal damnation to his soul was none other than you-- you, whom he so lovingly adored. You, who helped pull him from the abyss more times than he could count. You, the light that warded off his thickening darkness. And how did he show his profound appreciation towards you?

By sentencing you to eternal sleep for his carelessness.

Dimitri twisted his body to face you, the delicate mask that he had so calculatingly designed crumbling at the near-lifeless shell before him. The shallow, unsteady rise and fall of your chest was the only indicator that your soul hadn’t left your body; he grew terrified at the prospect of it dipping and never rising. He made conscious effort to avert his eyes from that region-- not only out of the high regard he held towards you, but...

The more he lingered on images of your stilling body, the tighter his chest grew.

Just thinking about it threatened how much air his lungs could take in.

He rocked himself to a sitting position and slipped his feet out of bed. He dutifully made his way back to his original post-- on a rickety stool by your bedside. He firmly planted his rear on the round slab of wood and tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead.

Goddess you were so, so beautiful.

He felt almost guilty admiring you while you were in such a state, but the way the singular lit candle contoured every feature, every dip in your face in the most heavenly way possible... He couldn’t help it. His hand found residence in yours, taking painstaking note of the very obvious size difference. His other hand busied itself smoothing your unruly hair, quelling the frazzled strands from a complete uproar.

He’d trade his life for yours in a heartbeat if it meant that he could witness the lively (E/C) hues he fell so desperately in love with shine once again.

A lone finger hooked under your jaw and the rest of his digits caressed your icy cheek.

“(F/N)...” His voice cracked out, “I am so, so sorry...”

Something hot leaked out of his eyes and splattered onto your cheek, in which he alarmingly wiped away. He reached up to halt the steady stream of tears pouring out of him, but the dam had broken. His large frame hunched over into a quivering mass, broken sobs echoing off of the indifferent walls of the dark infirmary. Only half-empty bottles of medicine bore witness to the royal’s breakdown; his sloppy apologies and implorations fell on the earless bushels of medicinal herbs.

The small candle that Manuela had previously set up was nearing its end, the stumpy mass of wax and wick now a mere puddle of its former self. Before the few remaining trickles of light embarked on their last pilgrimage across the room, Dimitri made one last guttural plea.

“Wake up, my Beloved...” He called out, the name he had granted you only in his mind slipping out in his desperate hour. “Please, wake up...”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

The mellow arias of songbirds heralded the beginning of a new day. A biting breeze blew through an open window and sliced your exposed skin, eliciting little goosebumps on the affected areas. With a breathless sigh and a pain-stricken moan, your eyelids managed to wedge themselves open. A bland ceiling was the first to welcome you back to the land of the living-- along with a large, dark mass hovering beside you.

You felt the remnants of a scream scratch out of your sorely unused throat and a sudden barrage of aches and pains besieged your frail body. You opened your mouth to yell, to cry for help, but no sound manifested. You felt something rough but warm adjust its grip on your hand, further sending your mind into a groggy panic.

“Mmph... (F/N)...”

That... That voice...

You stilled yourself (not that you were moving much anyway) and silently studied the steadily breathing shadow beside you. The dim dawn’s light reflected off of a bundle of disheveled gold locks, as well as a bright blue cape that was messily slung over a male’s shoulder.

A maelstrom of memories swirled through your mind.

A ruffian racing towards Dimitri, the edge of a bloodied and rusted axe swinging right for his neck.

Your legs discovering a mind of its own as it placed you right on the receiving end of the strike.

Your head throbbed, each surge of memory more painful than the last.

Darkness, followed by the putrid, metallic smell of blood in the distance and other auditory sensations too disturbing to fully comprehend.

Something warm and comforting pricked the corner of your heart as you recalled a certain sensation akin to embracing before you blacked out. Your thoughts frustratingly hazed into nothing. It felt like a certain memory was locked, forever lost behind an impenetrable brain fog. You wracked and sifted through your fragmented memories, but pieced together nothing. 

The first few rays of light began to peak over the horizon, streaming into the room in gentle waves; you squinted your eyes, still unused to any light source brighter than a candle. As your vision slowly readjusted to the brightening room, your eyes caught sight of something that almost sent you back to sleep.

Your fingers tightly entwined with Dimitri’s.

Your weak heart thundered loudly in your ears-- so loud, in fact, you worried that it would be enough to rouse the slumbering prince. As cautiously as you could, your body writhed itself in a futile attempt to sit yourself up. You kept a careful eye on the prince, 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 shifted your stiff legs a bit; the frame of your bed let out a booming groan.

Dimitri quietly snorted and his neck reeled upwards; alarmed blue eyes met with equally alarmed (E/C). The veins in Dimitri’s neck swam to the surface of his skin, growing more and more defined as every choking second passed. 

“H-...” You began. “Hi...”

“(F/N)!” 

Your surroundings whizzed right past you before you were unceremoniously slammed into something solid but so, so... warm. 

Ah...

You remembered now.

This tenderness.

This contentment.

This warmth.

Dimitri held you in his arms, stroking your hair and mumbling rushed whispers as he did the day you fell.

“(F/N)... Oh, (F/N)...”

You felt how hard and rapid his heart was beating, almost deafening the incoherent whispers he sighed into your hair. Your arms weakly wrapped around his heaving back, rubbing it as soothingly as you could. 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.

“Dimitri...” You pulled away slightly to look up at him and smiled. “It’s okay... I’m okay...”

“(F/N), I--” Clear, shiny beads of remorse pricked the corners of the prince’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. Goddess, I am so sorry, I... I’m so--”

You reached a finger to his lips, your heart splintering into tinier and tinier pieces as you watched the man you love slur apology after apology for a crime he did not commit.

“It’s okay, Dimitri... I'm okay now... I’ll be okay.”

The door quietly clicked open and a slender leg slipped itself into the tiny crack. The rest of Manuela slid in, along with a tray of vials and herbs.

“Oh--!” The healer tripped on her own two feet, dropping the tray and all of its contents onto the ground. She stumbled over the tied wad of herbs and leaking bottles of medicine that she had so desperately haggled from a travelling merchant.

“(F-F/N)?” She stuttered, slowly closing the distance between you two. “H-How are you feeling?”

“Um, w-well...” You peered down sheepishly, suddenly becoming very aware of the... intimate position you were in. “I am a bit achy all over but--”

“Ah!” Dimitri immediately released you from his arms and he shot out of his stool, almost tripping backwards. “P-Please forgive me! I was so caught up with my emotions, I did not even ask for your consent to hold you in such a way, a-and your wounds--!”

“Oh! N-No, Dimitri, it’s all right! I-- Uh--”

A rich chuckle from the older woman padded the shrill squeaks that poured out of you and your house leader.

“Well, Prince Dimitri... I’m afraid you can’t have her just yet. I still have to do a thorough check up on her. But after that... she’s all yours.”

Scarlet seeped into the royal’s cheeks, his sickly pallor bursting into hearty ruddiness. Broken vowels tumbled out of him as he clumsily rested his arse back onto the wooden stool.

“Actually Prince Dimitri,” Manuela began as she checked your vitals, “can you notify the professor that (F/N) has awakened?”

“You can count on me, Ms. Manuela.” Dimitri dutifully stood up and bowed. “I will deliver the news to Professor Byleth.”

Casting one last glance at you and bashfully looking down when he caught your eye, Dimitri hurried out of the infirmary to complete possibly the most important mission ever entrusted to him.

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

After your awakening, your classmates and professor began incorporating regular infirmary visits into their schedule. They showered you with kind, encouraging words and occasionally bore small gifts, constantly reminding you that they were right alongside you on your road to recovery.

But your most frequent visitor of all was your beloved house leader.

Every morning, without fail, he would grace your presence with the pleasant aroma of freshly prepared breakfast.

Every afternoon-- after class and training-- he spent his days with you, informing and personally tutoring you over concepts the class learned that day. Or simply providing his company, ensuring that the sinking and crushing feeling of loneliness never found residence in your heart. 

Every evening, after all of his academic and princely duties have been met, he delivered your dinner trays with a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his lips.

"Is everything all right? Is there anything else you would like to go over from today’s lesson? If not, perhaps I can fetch you a glass of water in case you grow parched during the night.”

“Dimitri,” you laughed as you slowly rested your weary back on freshly-fluffed pillows, “you’re just downright spoiling me! I’m going to miss all this special treatment when I’m finally discharged.”

“W-Well, I would be more than happy to continue doing this long after you have been discharged.” Dimitri coughed. “I love-- er, rather, I find my time with you to be quite enjoyable.”

“Even though you’re constantly running around and fetching me whatever my heart desires?” You giggled.

“Why, of course! Seeing you content and well brings me insurmountable joy.”

“You’re so thoughtful, Dimitri.” You couldn’t help but grin after seeing how flushed his face turned. “Thank you so much for everything. You and all the other Lions have made my time in the infirmary so much more bearable. It’s... nice to feel loved like this.”

“You are loved, (F/N).” Dimitri threw the thin blanket over you. “You are an integral part to our house... and... t-to me.”

“Pardon?” You leaned forward, hoping to catch whatever he stuttered.

“N-Nothing. Please do not worry yourself over it. It is not very important.” He shot you a reassuring smile before your bandages entered his field of vision. Shame streaked across his features; his hold on the edge of the blanket loosened as he unconsciously stepped away from you.

“Dimitri...” You reached out for him, hoping he would take your hand as he always did. The prince kept his distance however, refusing to even look at you.

“(F/N)... (F/N), I’m--”

“Dimitri,” you raised your palm, “stop.”

Pure, unmasked horror bruised his handsome features.

“I-I apologize if I have offended you in some way--”

“It’s not that. It’s...” You sighed, closing your eyes. “Dimitri... What happened that day is not your fault. There is not a single drop of rage or bitterness in my heart. I can’t forgive you, simply because I was never mad at you to begin with. So please... Don’t look so pained when you see my bandages.”

Your stomach knotted painfully as a second alternative was made clear in your mind.

“Unless... Perhaps my wounds disgust you in some way...”

“Goddess, no!” Dimitri interjected immediately. “That cannot possibly be further from the truth. Your beauty has never waned-- not even for a second.”

The royal’s hand flew to cover his mouth while you both peered at each other, sharing the same shocked expression on your faces. Dimitri had never possessed such a strong desire to catapult himself into the sun. He remained frozen in fear, unsure how or if he could even save himself from his slip.

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear and looked down, the corners of your lips slightly turned upward. Dimitri found it unnecessary to fling himself into the sun since his cheeks had practically burst into flames at this point.

“O-Oh... Um... Thank you...” You managed to mumble, fidgeting with your blanket sheepishly.

“Um--!” Dimitri cleared his throat, jumped out of his seat, and bowed deeply. “I-It is getting quite late, is it not? I am afraid I must retire for the evening. Goodnight (F-F/N).”

The upper half of his body snapped downward in another deep bow as the prince hastily retreated from his social blunder. When the door clicked closed, you had all but broken into laughter. You pleasantly recalled Manuela’s previous remark towards the prince, and your heart danced in your chest. 

“Your beauty has never waned-- not even for a second.”

You buried your face in your palms and let out a quiet, airy scream, a delightful rush of emotions coursing through you. You laughed almost maniacally to yourself, and you were certain if someone were to walk in on you right this moment they would think you had gone absolutely mad. Look at you! Acting like an antsy little schoolgirl! How embarrassing!

Then again, there should be no shame in experiencing such highs. Especially when it’s related to Dimitri! You gingerly twisted your body so you that you were face-first into your pillow before letting out a happy, muffled scream.

Meanwhile, Dimitri was marching back to his room, head down and thankful that at least the cover of night was enough to hide the flushed tone of his face. Like you, he replayed that one line-- that little slip of his tongue-- in his head over and over again. Unlike you, he wished to chain his feet to a cinder block and toss himself into the lake. Hopefully the fish would be willing to share the same space with an idiot of his caliber.

Still, even as he flung himself into the comforting embrace of his bed, his thoughts couldn’t help but drift to your response to his idiocy. The way you looked down, smiling gently at his words, the tips of your ears adopting a shade of baby pink... 

You were so... 

So...

Cute...! 

Dimitri subjected his poor pillow to a bone-crushing hug as he buried his face in the mushy thing, imagining the soft, velvety texture of his pillow to be your skin and the warmth of the stuffed fabric to be your body pressed flushed against his.

Racing thoughts and rose-tinted fantasies propelled you both further and further away from Sleep, who desperately sought out her sleepless prince and fidgety (Favorite Class). When Sleep finally took hold of you, she could do little to obstruct the joyous meeting you both shared with each other in the forgotten land of dreams. 

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

“Are you ready, (F/N)?”

You met Manuela’s steady gaze with your own. With a firm nod, you replied,

“Yes.”

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 chest to peak through. A cold, unforgiving breeze whipped the newly exposed skin, jolting a shiver down your spine. Manuela clicked her tongue softly and slowly traced your shoulder.

“The wound’s all healed, but I’m afraid this scar’s here to stay...”

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

“I see...”

“You can apply certain creams on site to reduce its appearance, but it’ll never go away completely... I’m sorry, (F/N).”

“It’s all right, Ms. Manuela.” You flashed her a controlled smile. “Honestly, with all the regular outings to dispel bandits and whatnot... It was only a matter of time before I bore my first battle scar.”

Manuela’s lips curved upward and she patted you on your unmarked shoulder.

“Do you need anything else, (F/N)? Some water, or food?”

You hummed thoughtfully, then shook your head.

“All right. Should you need anything, all you have to do is holler.” Manuela gave you one last smile before excusing herself from the room.

Dimitri stood unmoving and unblinking, countering your hard stare with blatant refusal to look at your scar-- a physical memento of his failure.

“Dimitri.”

The prince visibly recoiled at the sound of his own name.

“Look at me.”

His jaw clenched tautly; his eyes crunched into a pain-stricken wince. 

“Look at me, please.”

He refused.

“I don’t blame you for this.”

. . .

“And I’ll never blame you for it.”

. . .

“If it means saving you, I’ll gladly do it again.”

This struck a chord with the prince, his enraged face suddenly mere inches away from yours.  

“Don’t you dare say such a thing.” He growled lowly. “I will not allow you to throw your life away for me.”

“Dimitri...” You cupped his cheek in your hand, in which he immediately melted into. “I’ll gladly do it again because... Because... I love you.”

Not a moment later did you feel something warm and soft press against your lips. The tips of his bangs lightly dusted the surface of your skin, tickling your nose with the crisp smell of Faerhgus pine. A pair of gloved hands caught either side of your face, thumbs rubbing shallow circles into your cheeks as he pressed his lips further into yours. His mouth moved sloppily but lovingly, awkwardly yet ardently adoringly against yours; a medley of celestial colors you’ve never seen before flashed brilliantly at the forefront of your mind, casting you into a dreamlike stupor.

Dimitri leapt back, panic stewing in his deep briny blues. His fingers brushed his still-tingling lips as he bowed lowly.

“F-Forgive me (F/N), I-.. I have no idea what possessed me to do such a thing! I suppose I was just, um, c-caught in the moment and--?!”

More than tired of hearing his apologies, you grabbed his shirt’s collar and jerked him back to where he was before-- contently and firmly pressed right against your lips. Your fingers bunched themselves into patches of velvety, wispy gold while your lips moved sanguinely against his, happily leading your mouth and his in a spicy dance. A small moan escaped your slightly opened lips and Dimitri, consumed by nothing but base desires, surprised your tongue with a face-to-face meeting. 

The wet muscle wrapped about yours, pulling you into an unyielding fight for dominance. You felt smooth sheets hit your exposed back; you hadn’t even noticed Dimitri progressively lowering the both of you onto your bed. He planted his hands on either side of your body, ridding any hope of escape from his ravaging kisses.

Not that you wanted to anyway. 

Dimitri’s lips left yours to wander around your face and neck, taking particular interest in the latter. He nipped the exposed skin, teething and sucking wherever his heart desired until you were covered in nothing but love bites.

Then he caught sight of your cleavage, simply irresistible and downright begging to be marked with his love.

Then he suddenly remembered that you two were in a very public place and not in the private confines of his bedroom or dreams.

“Ah-- Um--” Dimitri stammered, quickly pulling away from your panting form. “P-Perhaps we should... stop... before it escalates any further...”

You whined, wanting nothing more than to be showered with kisses and bathed in his worshiping love. But your senses, hazy as they may be, pulled through the fog and coldly reminded you of your current whereabouts. 

“Fine...” You pulled his fingers to your sultry lips and pressed a hot kiss on each digit. Dimitri’s jaw and pants tightened, the prince desperately clinging onto the last thread of sanity and reason which threatened to snap at any moment.

“My Beloved,” he purred sweetly, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “rest now. When your strength returns to its fullest, we can pick up where we left off. I swear it.”

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.

You nodded sleepily as he pulled the covers over you. He graced your lips with one more kiss before he stood up.

“Class will be starting shortly. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Mm...” You looked up coyly. “One more kiss, please!”

Dimitri chuckled, happily fulfilling both of your wishes.

“My Beloved is too cute for her own good...” He murmured huskily into your ear. “It should be a crime to be this captivating.”

“Then maybe you should punish me tonight~?”

“T-That’s...” Dimitri’s smug confidence had instantly dissipated. “S-Sleep well, (F/N).”

You had never seen a person’s cheeks go so red so fast. Dimitri zoomed out of the infirmary with a chorale of laughter bubbling out of his beloved.

Not a moment later after the door closed, it opened again just enough for the prince’s head to pop back in.

“Oh, uh, (F/N)?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I...” He cleared his throat loudly and shyly smiled. “I love you too.”

bonus: your discharge from the infirmary prompted a day of celebration in the blue lions house, with byleth cancelling lectures and training for the day to celebrate your miraculous recovery.

the rest of the lions organized a mini ‘welcome back’ party; the desks that previously held books and other study things now harbored all your favorite dishes on one side and a cluster of gifts on the other.

and when the sun dipped below the horizon, well... let’s just say dimitri made good on his promise from that night onward ;)

[notoriousjae]

Love is a Little Box (For Home to Lay Inside) || Edeleth Fanfic (1/?)

Chapter Title: A Heart

Pairing: Byleth Eisner (F)/ Edelgard von Hresvelg

Rating: M

Chapter Description:

She’s read about Happiness: it’s the thing people lose in war; the emotion that sparks up the edges of their lips into a smile, or fills them with contentment when faced with something they’ve done that’s good ; it’s the emotion that everyone fights for and searches for as desperately as love, just as elusive and fickle, or so it seems in books and operas and plays.

Chapter 1 (Current) | AO3 | Below:

It's a peaceful day in Garreg Mach.

The sun catches along the lightly swelling waves of a familiar pond, wrinkles in blue caused by the light winds dancing Sothis’ fingertips along its surface. It’s hard to know whether Sothis was a Goddess but it’s  easy  to imagine that contradictory carefully carefree  smile full of restraint and curiosity as small hands skimmed along the ripples of the pond in the heart of Garreg Mach, feeling moisture beneath palms--learning what water might feel like, again, for the both of them.

You need to experience things, Sothis would say and Byleth would experience them, because she had never known to experience them, before. 

Or maybe Sothis would just...hover behind Byleth’s shoulder as she watched a line bob for an hour before she yawned, disappearing into the cold of a tomb she’s made in a baby’s chest that became the casket nestled in a woman’s.

It’s easy, too, to understand why people think Sothis is  everywhere , because Byleth feels her, still. In the air...and the wind...and the water--

They were both familiar with the pond at Garreg Mach and a sense of... something--easy; warm; familiar?--stirs quietly in Byleth’s chest as she watches the pond and thinks of green eyes and hair and soft fingertips before she hears paper rustle a little behind her.

The feeling transforms a little like that tomb had.

“You know, Edelgard,” Byleth hums, chin dipping over her shoulder to watch her--a rare moment where  both of them happen to actually be in the same place without a need for something sharp and pointy (or a strategic exit). “Fishing is a tactician’s game.” 

Edelgard chuckles quietly to herself but looks up from her book all the same. Edelgard having time to read is probably rarer than them sharing time together, at all, and pulling her from it makes Byleth feel--

Hmm…

Her chin tips up in thought. It makes her... feel …

Edelgard interrupts.

“Is that so?” 

Byleth nods, serious, and watches the way red fabric shifts as Edelgard turns to listen to her--to watch her--with the same rapt attention she had as a student, and still keeps to date in the war council. 

“They say it’s chess, but that’s not the case.”

“They say that because chess is the tactical routing of an opponent. It’s meant to  mimic  a battlefield.” The Emperor practically quotes from the  tactician’s guide and Byleth watches the breeze skirt over the surface of the water and wonders if Sothis would have fondly chuckled, but the only sound she hears is the water and the idle, far-away chatting of a few soldiers.

How would Edelgard feel, knowing a Goddess was so fond of her?

Byleth shakes her head.

“How many battlefields have you been on, El?” 

“Countless.”

“How many battlefields resembled the neatly-drawn lines of a chessboard, where everyone took turns and you could predict your opponent’s attacks with statistics and  math?” 

“...none.” Edelgard looks pained to admit, begrudging, sighing as she tucks her book at her hip. 

“Chess is just…” Byleth’s head tips, “...the memorization of strategies. You’re not creating anything new. When you’re facing someone in chess, you’re...just applying the most appropriate thing you’ve memorized that you can think of for that moment for the situation in front of you and hoping it works.” 

“Alright.” And Edelgard stands, then, setting her book upon the bench, armored boots clicking as she walks along the stone towards the pond with that same studious look, hands settling on hips. Maybe one of these days they’ll both be comfortable enough fishing and reading and relaxing to do it without wearing armor. “Then what is  fishing ?”

“Fun.” At Byleth’s amused look, Edelgard tutts and steps closer, obviously not having appreciated being  baited over to the pier. She likely also wouldn't approve of the pun a little too similar to Alois' (and Petra's, lately) so Byleth keeps it to herself. A little more serious, “Are you sure you want to know? You don’t enjoy fishing. But I'm always okay teaching you.”

“You are currently the most renowned tactician Fódlan has ever seen. It could be argued you are a key point in elevating the war campaign into a rousing victory. If I have a chance to learn  how that wonderful mind of yours ticks, I’d be remiss not to take it for the betterment of the Empire.”

“...you could have just said yes.” Brows knit, head barely tipping to the side--no longer teasing--and Byleth cuts off Edelgard’s undoubtedly annoyed reply. She doesn’t have to divinely intimate it’s coming to see it on parted lips, “Not everything needs such a complicated reason, El. If you’d like to learn, let yourself learn. You don’t have to explain your motivations just because people have questioned them in the past. And you don’t always have to do things to make you  better , it’s fine to just fish. Although," A thoughtful look, "You’ll probably learn something in the process, anyways.”

Maybe Byleth has spent too much time answering the notes in the confessional.

“You’ll teach me to the end, won’t you?” It’s fonder--softer. Edelgard purses lips before letting the criticism settle, nodding. “Then...yes, Byleth.” Byleth smiles and Edelgard’s shoulders visibly lose the last of their tension when she quietly smiles back. “I...suppose I  would  like to learn. Especially since it’s something you take such an interest in.”

Edelgard slowly unhooks gauntlets about wrists, setting them to the side, white gloves underneath catching the sunlight like melted snow.

“Fishing,” Byleth nods before reeling in the line. “Is a  real  battlefield. It’s long moments of waiting followed by sharp, tense moments of excitement. Everything is planning. You find fish like you scout your battlefield--” Once the line is reeled, she hands the pole to Edelgard, whose nose wrinkles only a  little at the feeling of her gloves getting wet. 

Unlike most nobles, after all, Edelgard doesn’t mind dirt and muck and mud--she had been covered in them for years. Battlefields weren’t glamorous.

(Neither was fishing).

And so Byleth feels her chest swell with... something  as the other woman totes up the rod, ready to learn, like she had picked up a lance in lessons. Not proficient with it, but  willing . 

A challenge.

“So we scout our enemies--what do you see in front of you?” Byleth steps behind her and scans the horizon over her shoulder.

“A pond. I see a ripple in the corner--” A true general starts, “The wind is shifting the current  towards  me, so I’ll likely have to adjust how I throw my line in order to hit my target.” Her chin tips backwards and looks to her professor, who nods, encouraging. “The light is hitting the right side of the pond, and will fade across it in an hour, creating warmth for the fish, and they’ll likely follow it. They’ll stay below the surface because they’ll want to avoid predators. Or my professor’s  infamous rod and net, which catches anything under its shadow.” 

“You approach things like a soldier.” There’s a knowing praise on her lips and Edelgard straightens just a little beneath it, “And a leader of troops. You’ve noted some important things, Edelgard, which are good to trap the fish in this moment...but we need to think of the bigger picture. What else do you see? What do you hear? What do you smell?” 

Light brows knit as an Emperor once more takes in the blue, glistening pit that’s become her battlefield. 

Byleth leans forward to gently wrap fingers around her wrist, guiding the shorter woman backwards so that she can mimic her eyes with her own, listening to the faint gasp of breath that catches on lips before Edelgard seems to focus, determined, now. 

A professor settles her chin on Edelgard’s shoulder, far more familiar in touching this student in particular, these days. 

Rare, but...familiar.

And the way Edelgard eases just a little into her reminds Byleth that sometimes the rarest of things are welcome. 

“What matters to people on a battlefield?” 

“The same as what matters to people founding cities: food, shelter, water, and safety.” Edelgard immediately replies. 

“So what matters to fish? Your goal is to trap the enemy and reel them in--what might stand in your way of that?” 

“I see…” Realization floods that calm voice, Edelgard’s head moving about as she takes in the pond in a seemingly new light. “The monastery. It’s...four o’clock, coming into five, and that path on the left will be tread by the church service let out. They’ll be noisy and their footfalls will probably disturb the pond. The squires like to come here to throw rocks on Wednesdays, and the washing happens in the corner. They’ll be pushed into the middle of the pond, even though the light will be on the West end of it. And I smell…” Edelgard’s nose wrinkles. “...fish soup? How is that relevant? Are they scared of their fate?” 

It’s... nice to hear Edelgard joke.

“Rain.” Byleth offers knowingly. “You can taste the condensation on the air, if you can't smell it.”

“How could you smell that over the kitchens?” 

Byleth shrugs, stomach idly grumbling because she  does smell the kitchens. 

“Is this...how you look at everything?” Edelgard is looking over her shoulder, now, close enough that Byleth smells far more of her hair than the rain and it’s a welcome change. She could smell the clouds over the food, but Byleth isn’t sure anything but Edelgard could ever fill her lungs, in this moment. “Is this how you see battlefields?” 

“Yes.” Hands curve gently over the rod, raising fingers to paint a grid in the pond where Violet eyes can follow, “It’s  real  chess. You’re good with strategy when you’re expecting it. You can plan in advance and are great facing adversity on the battlefield as a soldier--you’re always quick to react--but a battlefield is never as clean as chess. We both know that.” 

She feels fingers flex beneath her own, gripping the rod not out of being corrected, but vigor.

“I see.” And Edelgard  has  always been good with critique--with that infinite urge to  strive further --and there’s that tightness in Byleth’s chest, again. Warm and soothing, pressing herself against the flat of Edelgard’s back. 

She hadn't thought holding someone could be so comfortable.

“You shouldn’t be...picking a strategy to go up against whatever opposing strategy you  think  you're seeing on the battlefield, hoping the one you picked is better." 

“I... should  be thinking of how they respond, and naturally taking in the world and their needs. You’re saying I shouldn’t just assume they’ll react tactically--but...naturally and true to themselves?” 

“Exactly. Everyone has a primal urge--it’s true there’s...math and statistics, and we can always take two strategies and see which path people will be most  likely  to take, because the truth is that  most people are just as skittish as these fish. If I toss a rock into the pond, they’ll flee to the other side, because we know they’re scared of it--it’s something they’ll avoid. But not everyone is as scared as a fish.”

“Many enemies are...noble. Are fighting because they believe in the opposition of your own wants and desires.” Edelgard quietly agrees and Byleth nods. 

“So if you  identify  your enemy’s needs and desires--what they think is important, whether the rain will make them move, whether the light will keep them warm, whether the noise will scare them--you’ll know which way they’ll go, and you’ll know what they do. And then you go fishing.” 

“I see.” Edelgard repeats, quieter, now, watching the pond for a moment before she asks, “Is that why you--” A rare pause and it sounds like she might think over the question before redirecting, or maybe rewording. It’s interesting enough for Byleth to lean back and watch her, fully. “...spared Flayn?” A moment passes before she continues, “We were surrounded by soldiers with the city on fire and I  trusted you, I never hesitated to accept your choice in sparing her, but I didn’t understand, then, that it might have been…” She shakes her head, and this is one of those moments where she wonders if there’s a question behind the words. Edelgard is full of layers, she’s found, and while Byleth has learned so many of them, she feels there’s so many more to be found. A woman of secrets, all tucked away in a hidden box Byleth has yet to fully find. “Was it a tactical decision?”

A bare hand comes up to rest on Edelgard’s shoulder in thought, still pressed against her back as she thinks--lets the question settle before nodding. 

“Yes. And no. Our enemies aren’t the only fish.” Byleth offers, “Flayn...didn’t have to die. Neither did Seteth. The best battles are the ones where you minimize casualties on both sides,” Her head dips to the side, remembering the heat on her shoulders. Her back. Remembering the way she had barely cupped Edelgard’s palm in curling fingers after the fighting in a rickety war tent on the outskirts of the battle, the puckered flesh of hands beneath gauntlets singed through and burnt along the metal of Aymr in the flames. The healing waves from Byleth’s fingertips had turned them into slivers of scars beneath red grieves--two more to match thousands that litter ivory skin. 

She remembers the way Flayn had coughed, the smoke settled in both their lungs, fingers curled and bloodied into the tuft of a Pegasus’ quaking wings, matted with soot and blood. Both of them panting wisps of heat. Weak.

We’re family , she had said once, but looked at Byleth with nothing short of sadness, then. Not betrayal, just...sadness.

Perhaps that’s what family filled in people: hope, sadness, and loss in equal measure. That’s how Byleth remembers Jeralt. It's how she remembers Sitri.

It's how she remembers Rhea.

Byleth mulls over the words--the odd...ache that the memory fills in her chest--the worried gratitude that had settled on Edelgard’s features, after the fight. A look she’d seen several times, over the years, when Byleth had chosen  Edelgard and life over a church’s firm thumb.

The Emperor of Fódlan, cloaked in red and black and on her knees in the soot, didn’t want the world to die (despite what some apparently claimed) and the moment Byleth offered someone might be spared, Edelgard always took the chance with equal parts relief and trepidation.

Just because war had been the only way didn't mean death truly was.

This thought, it-- feels--

“They needed an escape route. They needed to know that our battle was righteous, not  wicked,  I guess. To use...whatever words the Church probably used. If we took them, we took the battle, and we would demoralize the troops. But it isn’t always about killing. If we killed Flayn, Seteth would have been...inconsolable. He would have become a danger to fight, and he was already dangerous--we didn’t  need  to fight him. Some fires are better to...put out quickly, than let them burn and spread. Some fires are  supposed to burn, but...not that one.” 

Her brows knit and she’s surprised when Edelgard turns Byleth’s chin towards her own, something unreadable in her eyes. 

And Edelgard waits, simply holding her for this brief moment, like she knows there’s more, because there is.

“ And  I didn’t want her to die.” Byleth says simply, only to her--only in this safe quiet of a courtyard--and the woman who she intends to spend  all days like this with, who nods as fingertips curl beneath Byleth's chin. 

“How did you know they wouldn’t retaliate when you let them go? That they wouldn’t go back to Rhea?” Edelgard quietly presses. 

“I didn’t, I guess...but I know my fish.” Byleth looks back towards the pond. 

“Which is why we won.” Edelgard surmises. “Our initial strategy was outmatched when we arrived. And your responding strategy on the battlefield to split up and focus our forces around the fire--sparing key combatants... that’s  what won.” And she sounds almost  praising  when she says, a little in awe, “You didn’t just choose a strategy or response, you...went fishing.”

“A tactician’s game.” Byleth’s voice skirts along her ear and Edelgard eases backwards against her enough that she can wrap an arm fully around a slim waist, now.

This information seems to cement Edelgard's drive.

“What do we do next?”

“We take all of that into account and cast the line.” 

And so Byleth shows her the technical aspects of fishing--of how to throw and cast and reel in, despite the elements of noise and wind and heat. Shows her how to tactically assume where the fish might try to escape upon being caught on a line--how to pull it and unhook it without harming it and kill it the quickest way possible. She tells her about bait, and how to read shadows, and how to choose a fishing spot--

“So you just...stand here and  wait for it to bite?”

“Like waiting for a charge on a battlefield. See? The anticipation--” Byleth lightly tickles her stomach and Edelgard chuckles and bats away her hands and Edelgard listens to every word, until she stands on her own and reels in a smacking fish that flops against her knee with no guidance, a few hours later.

Ever the quick study. 

The warmth spreads through a chest still so unaccustomed to it and settles in her lungs and fills her so deeply that Byleth has to pull away to look at the happiness on Edelgard’s face. 

Proud. Edelgard looks proud.

This feeling is...startling.

“I’ve forgotten how marvelous you were at teaching, Professor. Unorthodox, as always, but still so phenomenally proficient.” Edelgard  hums , careful to unhook the fish exactly as shown, shaking away water and the scent from her fingertips before slipping back on gloves. And then turns her attention up to said professor. “You look yalms away.” It’s softer and Byleth slowly looks up from fingertips to familiar eyes, that warmth pressing against her chest...consuming. Distracting.

Her face contorts in confusion and she shakes her head.

Does she look far away?

“...I’m sorry--” 

“Are you alright?” It’s even gentler, barely heard over the wind and the soft sound of the rain starting to gently patter about their feet and the fish in its bucket full of water in deep plops, and the pond where the fish scatter from its cold intrusion. Edelgard steps closer and Byleth nods.

“I’m...fine.”

“What is it?” It’s an invitation and Byleth must visibly hesitate because Edelgard steps closer, still, careful--

“I…” A huff of breath through lips, feeling-- feeling  -- “I just...  felt something, is all.”

“What do you mean?” Edelgard is rare with her affection on the grounds but fingertips raise up to gently brush ragged bangs from Byleth’s eyes. This is the closest she’s felt all month, even a moment ago in her arms, and an ache churns in Byleth’s stomach. It’s a testament to how much a student changed over the years, because she asks instead of assuming she knows the best recourse: “Are you in any pain? Do you want me to call for Manue--”

“No. No, it’s nothing like that. I felt--” Brows still knit and, words failing her, Byleth gently takes Edelgard’s hand and lowers it to her heart, where its weak thud aches (and aches) up towards the warmth of familiarity. Presses a palm of white against the black-cloaked, hidden place that used to be so  still. It stirs like coal simmering beneath ashes, vibrating fingertips and her chest and her throat. It beats so steadily that Byleth might think it would scare those fish away. “I  felt something. New.”

“Oh.” The realization settles deep in widening violet.

“Maybe not  new , just...different. It all feels…”

Different.

Edelgard’s fingers splay over heart and Byleth’s breath catches, looking away.

“Do you know what it was?” 

“No. It felt...like--” A tongue darts over lips before she tries-- “I’m still--” It feels so odd to say--to  admit --out loud.

“You can tell me.” El promises, leaning closer so that it’s just them standing in the soft, gentle rain, neither of them minding. For the moment, at least, their voices barely heard over the sky’s gentle cry. Byleth hesitates. “My teacher…” El whispers in her ear, “They’re  our  problems, remember? You’ve taught  me  so much, the least I can do is help you untangle  this.” 

“I’m…” Byleth eases tense muscles beneath Edelgard’s fingertips, wordlessly lifting up her cloak to shield them from the rain, “I’m still learning what all of them mean. It’s like...waking up and trying to remember a dream. I’ve...I think I’ve  felt  these things before. I’ve just never felt them so...” Her head tilts to the side, “...  strongly.” 

“And what do you feel now?” 

It’s started to rain a bit more, gentle, graceful drops. The kind that makes the grass smell like dew and hides the scent of enemies in a battlefield, even if it helps make their tracks clearer due to the mud their boots will sink into after it's settled, trapped.

The kind that makes Edelgard’s hair stick to her chin, if they’re out in it long enough, framing the curving edges of her smile on the unlikely occasion it’s only them en route to a mission or a skirmish or a battlefield.

Or fishing by a pond in Garreg Mach.

Byleth pulls up her cloak enough to block out the rain from Edelgard's eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Alright.” Edelgard pulls enough away to see her in the shadows of the black cloak surrounding them, looking thoughtful and determined for a moment before she tries, “Then what...did it feel  like ? What were you thinking? What did you want, in the moment?” 

“I don’t know.” Byleth admits, trying to sort it through, calm and methodical, “...it was... good .” A little more certain, mulling it over before she repeats, firmer: “It was good.”

“Good.” El sounds relieved in a way likely only Byleth and Hubert would be able to hear of it in her voice. 

“Warm. I was watching you fish and I was thinking of how much you’ve  grown as a person, and into who I knew you could be, and how...” Her head tips upwards, thinking of the way Edelgard had looked at her own catch, realizing: “...proud of you I am.”

El blinks, rain tickling down cheeks to Byleth’s chin before she quietly...smiles. Beautiful. And the warmth is there but  different  , again. Spreading.  Aching . 

“You felt  proud of me?”

“I...yes. I  feel  ,” Byleth settles on, a little more sure--a little more confident and sturdy--meeting Edelgard’s eyes with her second resolute nod, “  Proud of you.” 

Byleth has read about pride. It’s the emotion that precedes arrogance in novels--the emotion that can heat someone’s palms to war; It’s the emotion that swells up in a lover’s chest when they watch the eye of their heart succeed, or a mother when their child writes a song and defies them to sing it to a nation; it’s many people’s downfall. Heroes. Villains. People.

It’s Byleth’s success, as a teacher. And...the woman who feels for Edelgard as she does.

“Byleth…” El softens and beneath the thin weight of Byleth’s coat, which must seem like safety enough from prying eyes and the scattered fish, she leans up to kiss her cheek, near the edge of lips, and the breath rattles in an Emperor’s lungs before it pushes out between them, steady and warm. Her voice rumbles like quiet thunder in the distance, but Byleth's never seemed safer beneath it, “Who I am, today, is because of you, I think you have  reason to be proud.” 

“You’re giving me  too much credit.” Byleth murmurs, dismissing, and Edelgard kisses her again, near the other edge of barely curved lips, the sound of a fish flopping in the bucket next to them missed beneath the rain.

“My love,” Edelgard doesn’t laugh, but she does  smile in her wry amusement, and that warmth burns and burns and burns in Byleth’s cool chest, “You don’t give yourself enough.” 

Pride

Byleth knows this word, but didn’t understand its meaning. 

Not until Edelgard taught her.

“Next time you feel something new, you should tell me,” El offers, “We can sort it through, together. However confusing it might be, certainly it’s no rival for our combined wits.” Byleth thinks on it for a long moment before she nods and looks down towards Edelgard's first catch. “For now...why don't we cook tonight's dinner?" 

The cloak lowers as Byleth pauses, an almost shy smile tucking up the edges of lips before it smooths into something calm, "Sure. We'll cook it together." 

There's many things Edelgard rouses pride in her Professors' chest. Her passion and compassion--her intellect and deduction--her triumphs and the way she's learned humbled, and with dedication, from her failures--her fishing and, perhaps, most of all...her smile. 

Edelgard seems determined to add  her cooking to that list and while Byleth has a staunch feeling that today will not be that day, she finds herself...excited(? Hopeful? Pleased?) at all the days they can spend finding out.

(Even if she always makes sure the Head Cook sets aside a separate meal for them, just in case).

Byleth leans over to pick up a small little wooden box off the bench and later that evening, slides Edelgard's first hook inside.

----

In truth to their vows to each other in the Goddess Tower, they become a unified front. Although Byleth is unsurprised by the fact that this means not much  changes in their lives (outside of winning a war) because they were a unified front, before.

In strategy, battle, and tactics--in facing their enemies and their friends--but maybe... some things are different.

Like the nearly shy looks Edelgard sends Byleth’s way when no one is looking--or their moments, after the long days have set to night and the war counsel empties to two, that they sit and discuss what future might await them on the horizon, just out of reach but growing closer by the day. 

‘I’ve always wanted to go to Albinea’  ,  El’s wistful hum is lost in the quiet of the room, echoing around them as she leans up against the table they once had lessons on. Byleth’s arms cross as she leans next to her, their hips resting comfortably side-by-side as they have for the past two and a half years.

Byleth wouldn’t be surprised if El insisted the past   eight    years.

Time has passed, since the war, but she’s learned it doesn’t stop. Not anymore. Then again, it never   stopped    for Byleth--it only ever folded backwards in on itself like a rumpled shirt or sifted through her fingertips like sand she’d intended to throw into the eyes of an attacker, but lost to the ground, instead.

‘Me too.’ Byleth’s hand idly scratches nails along her chest and she lets out a small breath when she feels Edelgard’s fingers barely skim along the inside of her wrist, both of them hovering over her heart. ‘Maybe we can go there, when this is all over with.’

‘Let’s.’ And El smiles and that feeling...   blooms    and Byleth’s hand stills along her heart and Edelgard stills along with it. A curious look must have settled on Byleth’s face, because the next thing she knows--

‘...perhaps you’re feeling...hopeful.’ Edelgard boldly offers, shifting a little closer and Byleth’s eyes flick down to her lips. 

‘Is   that  what I feel?’ 

‘That’s up to you to say.’

‘Hopeful.’ She tastes before the summoning bell rings above them and they pull away.

Edelgard’s fingers linger in her own before they untwine, walking down the hall hip-by-hip towards the tower, their knuckles brushing with each step.

The moments are still rare, but they seek them out, now, the light from the sky catching along Edelgard’s ring before a glove is slid over fingertips.

Hope.

(Maybe not all futures must wait until after the shadows are scattered by light).

And hip-by-hip is how they tackle a professor’s removed, textbook examination of her own heart with Edelgard’s life experience (what she  has of it), slowly sorting out the feelings that have begun to stir in Byleth’s chest. 

They’ve both been removed from emotions for so long, maybe it’s nice for Edelgard to find them, too.

What is this feeling? Byleth learns to murmur in the air by Edelgard’s ear, and they’ll arrive at a conclusion, together. 

‘Contentment’ in the early morning as Byleth sets tea down on the soft, rustling white cloth in the gardens, watching the steam curve around Edelgard’s smile like hair caught around her cheek in the rain, their wrists creeping towards each other beneath the chipped porcelain that’s survived far more than a war--something soft and settling like fresh linens on a bed Byleth is still getting used to sleeping on; 

‘Disappointment’ in the moments their fingers touch and are pulled away by duty, the sound of their quiet laughter lingering throughout the stone halls similar to how the cathedral used to catch Dorothea’s voice as it rang throughout--aching and quiet as Byleth watches Edelgard’s smile fade into something serious and resolute; 

‘ Amusement ’ Edelgard wryly comments as Lindhardt successfully spars Caspar by continuously ruffling his hair with a sleepy grin and a yawning, batting hand--fluttering like a bird’s wings against her ribcage, bouncing about bars waiting to break free; 

‘ Sadness ?’ She asks Edelgard in a guess when the Emperor finds her in the courtyard overlooking a great chasm, her father’s and mother’s gravestones stalwart bastions against its empty void, as if they’re holding Garreg Mach’s penetrable walls of stone and lost faith from falling into the endless dark gravel below--muted and constant, a dull ache. It lessens, somehow, when Edelgard’s rare open touch skirts along her hip and rests along her stomach, guiding Byleth backwards against her chest.   

Soon, Byleth has experience to back the names of emotions she’s read about and dully felt and Edelgard, ever one to rise to a challenge, has stepped behind her professor without a second thought, trying to answer the questions of a quiz before her. 

��Joy?” Edelgard tries as Byleth’s fingertips run along the edge of a flower, blue hair spilling over shoulders and head tilted to the side in thought as she calmly regards El’s determination. 

Thinks it through.  No. It doesn’t sound right.

“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head, fingers curving beneath the edge of a flower, not wishing to disturb the small bird fluttering around the surface, lips barely pursing in thought.

She’s been in the Greenhouse for an hour, or so, watching this small little blue bird bat from leaf to leaf of a plant she’s been growing, fingers scratching thoughtlessly at her heart.

Byleth hadn’t asked what the emotion was, but Edelgard took it upon herself to find out, regardless.

“Contentment.” Edelgard tries again, brows furrowed in deep thought, herself, the leader of a ruthless strike force and a now-impervious Empire. It’s a tactical strategy--Edelgard had initially tried to talk it through with Byleth to see what she was feeling, what it reminded her of--

‘It’s a bird. I just see a   bird  , Edelgard.’

‘That’s not exactly helpful, Professor.’

--before talking through some of the more base aspects of what was stirring in Byleth’s chest.

‘ Well...is it positive?’  

‘It’s...good, I think.’

When nothing else followed, Edelgard had sighed.

And then did what any leader might do: try to find a solution regardless of adequate facts, because it simply had to be done.

Peaceful?  No.  Nostalgic?  No.  Analytical?  No.  Joy?  No  --

And finally,  contentment , which like the ones before it, is met with a shake of the head. 

Edelgard frowns, the crease of it barely indenting between brows as she lays a hand against Byleth’s back, easing forward to look at the bird, herself.

At a loss and not admitting it, probably. Now  that  makes Byleth feel  amused . That fluttery little bird in her chest, far warmer than it had been watching Caspar and Linhardt. 

Most things are far warmer when she’s with Edelgard.

A cat by the doorway meows with what might be agreement and fingertips thoughtlessly curl around the stone of the planter’s box.

El hesitates before almost guiltily suggesting:  “...hungry?” 

“Hunger isn’t an emotion.” Byleth pauses, chin tipping up to look for Edelgard’s counsel, “It’s a need, isn’t it?” 

“Hmm, I suppose it is. And I might be disturbed if you wanted to eat a swallow you found in the garden.” 

“Mercenaries don’t have many choices, so I probably could. But if I  had to eat anything here, I’d rather have that squirrel up the tree.” Byleth’s lips barely tip upwards and the leader of Fódlan looks up towards the tree as if taking in the squirrel for the first time with a barely wrinkling nose.

“And I’m  still  disturbed by your sense of  humor  , my teacher.” But Edelgard smiles all the same, a hint of her competitiveness ebbing in light of the softness of the air in the garden as Byleth turns from the bird to brush a strand of hair from violet eyes--it had been tickling Byleth’s shoulder, given their close quarters, and was a little  annoying, but she doesn’t want it blocking Edelgard’s vision, either--fallen from a curving braid, tucking it behind that attentive ear. 

“Maybe some emotions don’t have names.” Byleth’s head tips to the side, palm warmed by the soft blush along Edelgard’s cheek from the gentle touch of fingertips as she leans into a cupping hand like it is both thoughtless and a very conscious choice, all in one. 

Warmth spreads from a clenching stomach to beating chest to curling fingertips, resting against El, who gently circles Byleth entirely in her arms, a little bolder every day.

Warmth.

Is  this contentment? Maybe it is. 

“Well...do you feel differently, now? Or is it still the same?”

Byleth’s head tips to the side, thinking it through before she leans close enough to taste El’s breath, wanting to be  closer , somehow, which makes no sense since arms are wrapped around her and there’s no real way to get closer, is there? Or maybe there is.

Oh, she thinks there  is.

Bergamot. Edelgard’s lips smell like the tea Byleth had brewed for her in the early morning, fingers curling around the ivory of a cup as a humming Emperor inhaled it through nostrils before taking a long, slow sip. The same tea likely sipped even when it grew cold throughout the day for a reason Byleth’s not certain of, and still doesn't feel the need to ask, because there's a certainty to the knowledge. This fact. That Edelgard is more than capable of brewing her own tea, but always seems to favor Byleth’s pot long into the afternoon, even after it grows cold.

Bergamot. 

It’s not the first time Byleth’s had the urge to kiss Edelgard and it probably won’t be the last. Even though they’ve tackled everything together, they haven’t had much  time  like this, alone. Fleeting moments for  months--

“I think I feel…” Byleth smiles--a little wider, however small it might be in comparison--gently guiding Edelgard closer as that blush spreads. “...distracted.” 

And that quiet laugh tastes as nice as it sounds and it dances up into the air like the flutter of the bird's wings below them and it fills all of Byleth’s lungs with it until that  content breath spreads through her and between them. 

Edelgard's laugh is as beautiful as her smile.

Bergamot, she decides, is a good scent.

“Oh, are you, Professor? What by?” A light tease despite that flattering blush, gloved fingertips smoothing out the rumpled collar of a dark cloak; work that’s ruined the moment Byleth’s other hand raises up to gently settle in the small of El’s back, pressing her up closer, and those gloves fist in fabric until suddenly white is engulfed by the shadows spread over shoulders. 

“What...do  you feel right now, El?” It's a murmur--curious and soft, letting out the smallest flutter of a breath when one of those tangling hands falls down to her chest and rests a palm against the skipping beat of a heart. It’s...soothing, now, how Edelgard holds her. It's been so seamless, how hesitation has slowly morphed into...familiarity. How Byleth's body seems to expect it as much as her mind might, heart pattering like soft rain and shoulders easing like knots of a ship that have been unmoored into calm waters.

“Maybe...some emotions  don’t  have names,” It’s a breathless recall, leaning just a little further up into Byleth until their noses brush and the words sink onto parting lips like a welcome drink of water. “But...if this one did, I suppose it would be--”

“Lady Edelgard.” 

Both of them tense, twisting around to see Hubert’s impassive face and devilishly twinkling eyes, voice monotone as Edelgard huffs underneath her voice--

“ Annoyance  .” To Byleth’s quiet chuckle, before she says much louder, “  Yes , Hubert?”

Surprisingly, Edelgard doesn’t pull away, although she does give Byleth a far more apologetic smile as those white gloves once more smooth out the wrinkles they've caused in fabric before facing Hubert and leaning into the palm settled in the curve of her back for just a moment more--just a moment more--before Byleth’s hand dutifully falls, facing the familiar stoic vassal, as well. 

“There’s word on the Slither’s movements on the outskirts of Hyrm.” 

Both of them straighten their spines, then, tender could-have-beens once again tabled for another day. Another tomorrow, brighter than the day before. 

They both have higher priorities.

“They’re heading towards Morfis?” Edelgard surmises and at Hubert’s nod, the Emperor sighs up towards her tactical counsel, something far more serious taking root in features. “It appears you were right, Professor.”

Neither of them take pleasure in this fact.

Those Who Slither in the Dark were not just slithering in Fódlan. 

“But unfortunately there’s been even more...unnerving developments than just Morfis.”

The war room is full within the hour after Edelgard and Byleth have both been briefed, their heads bent and hushed whispers bouncing along the high stone walls.

The map sits stalwart upon the table, crisp and loose around the pins keeping it stapled to the large desk centered in the room, holes widened from half a decade plus of wandering hands shifting it about as eyes took in a war front.

In the center of the map still sits proud Garreg Mach, whose conversion these past six months following the Won War from a Monastery to a genuine officer's school has not changed its current occupancy of forces. It's true that many hearts' hatred eased with each and every day of Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg's steady, firm rule--more compassionate than they had been lead to believe through the mayhem and tragedy that consumed houses for neigh a near decade--but not everyone was pleased.

While The Great Beast (as she's come to be called within the troops, propaganda and pamphlets continuous and circulated, still) Rhea was felled and Dimitri, Deluded King (a term Byleth frowns at in its use every time), put to rest, there is still upset in much of Fódlan. Uprisings and spattered, enraged, frightened villages fighting back against who they view as an evil conquering force, taking away their land and religion, combined with the nobles who clutched desperately to their power and riches and crests, insistent that equality threatened their livelihoods.

“Perhaps if your excess of...livelihood cannot exist with equality--if you believe you require the lesser futures of the men and women you swore to protect and serve as their noble leader to maintain it--then you do not understand the worth of human life, at all, and are not fit to hold your position over them, von Gideon.”

Edelgard had been cemented in history as a fierce leader, but her rousing speech at a large estate set ablaze by righteousness in the North East of what was beneath the Lions Snare, where a noble had tried to fight the Black Eagles by using his peasants for fodder, would likely go down as a key quote to attest to it. There wasn't a scribe in sight as Emperor Hresvelg held a glowing axe to the last noble nephew of Gideon's neck underneath his mansion's towering stone pillars, the disgraced man scrambling backwards in the muck he'd fallen into from the gallop of his dismayed horse, cowering on his back with sniveling pleas as his flee from battle was thwarted...but the story has been told time and time again by every soldier and in every tavern Byleth's been to since. 

All with such a great dramatic flair and liberty to storytelling that she wouldn't be surprised if Alois wasn't the first one to tell it.

Edelgard's amused face as they sat on a carriage heading back towards Garreg Mach a month later after quelling another uprising was well worth the bumpy ride and sitting next to a skew-eyed pegasus. 

'--that's not how it happened at all! Edelgard beheaded him on the spot after he spat on an orphan boy that was working for him!'

'Oh, is that so? I had heard him jailed 'n Enbarr with the rest of the noble filth, waitin' judgment.'

'Oh, yeah--yeah--had a friend there, took his head clean off! He's not jailed, he's a yalm under!'

'You don't have friends, Jaspard.'

Normally, they ride proudly, but given the Slithers’ spies having eyes in   every    hill, it would be better not to be caught unawares by a trap. It was wiser to sneak into a caravan than to take the entire group across the border when Ferdinand would already need to head Northwest and Petra and Dorothea South. At least, that’s what Byleth suggested off-hand to Hubert’s   sighing    assent, all of them breaking off to go separate directions in common clothes. 

Which is why Hubert sets across from them looking   unnervingly    threatening towards a Pegasus that’s just licked his jaw in the back of a rickety, open-top caravan for the next three days. Byleth and Edelgard have settled next to each other far closer than they might have been were anyone else there.

This, for some reason, does not seem to improve Hubert's always dour mood.

‘I’ve never had roast Pegasus before. I wonder, is it a delicacy on the outskirts of the mountains?’ Hubert's smile is something reminiscent of the tales told of Byleth, herself, in the taverns:   devilish . 

Definitely not improvement. If this is how Hubert’s doing, Byleth can only imagine Ferdinand’s fear at riding in the back of a straw-filled cart.

Maybe he’ll think it’s an adventure. Caspar certainly looked excited.

'It seems this new Emperor wants the best for   all    people in Fódlan.' Edelgard pipes up underneath a particularly rough bump, a hint of red that might be indignation or amusement creeping up her neck and Byleth is just glad the farmers didn’t hear Hubert’s dry musing.

The men look back from their conversation and tilt their heads, appraising, and ultimately nod. 

'Y'know, lady...you might be right.'

Byleth's sword easily tips underneath her nails to dig out the dirt, casually shrugging with a serious nod, stilling it underneath the next bump. 'She usually is.'

The red was certainly not ire, now, spreading further upwards and that same, amused smile twisting up Edelgard’s lips as lips brush along the dirt-scuffed cheek resting upon a sword's hilt, paying little mind to the weapon...or to Hubert’s heavy   sigh    across from them, it seems.

Byleth offers a smile, shifting to hold Edelgard beneath the next jostling bump so that she might steady herself against it. Out of the corner of an eye she catches t he Pegasus nosing beneath Hubert's chin as if trying to lift his scowl.

It's not a surprise it doesn't work.

'Oh, Hubert, we're just traveling companions. Wouldn't you say, Jaspard?' Edelgard's voice is practically sing-song over her shoulder and Jaspard, once more paying them notice instead of squabbling with his own companion about just how many nobles Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg has beheaded, furrows brows thicker than the stray dog that wanders Garreg Mach's coat. 

'Uh...yeah, sure?'

The pegasus licks Hubert's cheek and Byleth's head tips to the side, calmly noting:

'I think it likes you.' A thoughtful hum, 'I think you would make a good Pegasus Knight, Hubert.'

Hubert's scowl...thins. And maybe it's a trick of the eye--maybe the trees above them filter out the sunlight until it blinks--but she swears, just for a moment, she might see the hint of a smile.

Or, at the very least, Hubert no longer threatens to cook the pegasus for the remainder of the ride to town.

And thus thanks to word of mouth, the uprisings caused by nobles have been easily dealt with, and few nobles could find villagers to bolster their claims of outrage, these days.

Edelgard was fighting  for them, not against them, and they were starting to understand that. 

The uprisings regarding religion were...trickier, and Edelgard’s interference usually led to  worse outcomes than if she hadn’t shown, at all, something she’d been reluctant to admit, but nodded after their last quelling of an insurrection led to every member of a church being toted away in chains.

Even now, Byleth is aware that had it been Rhea, the insurrectionists in the church likely would have been dead, instead of sitting in a jail, but the indignation of being locked up for ‘believing’ was gaining far too much traction to not be taken a serious threat.

‘It’s my job to lead--we’ve spilled enough blood, perhaps someone else might have a solution.’

‘I agree.’ Mercedes looks hesitant in the corner, but hardly meek. They all agree there’s been too much blood spilled. But Mercedes ultimately looks away before Byleth steps forward, eyes set on a girl she knows well.

‘...I think there’s a solution.’

All eyes expectantly look up save for Mercedes, who nervously watches Edelgard.

At Byleth's quiet insistence, these uprisings have been dealt with with the head of the New Church, Mercedes von Martritz, who has ended many  of them before they started, establishing several Churches underneath Edelgard's  cooperation  , not banner. An organization subsisting  within  the Empire--alongside, not  over.

So far, the most radical uprisings where Mercedes has not been successful in quieting them, Jeritza has settled them shortly after. 

They’re thankfully far less prominent. 

'I might hate this false Goddess and 'religion', but people still have a   right    to it, Byleth. Why would they think I would--everything I have done has been to protect them!' A rare frustration is as clear as a scowl upon lips, highlighted by the flickering candles that fortify the long spindles burning within a restored Cathedral. It paints Edelgard’s features in a soft, passionate glow, but also showcases the dark circles beneath sunken eyes. ‘They’re only prolonging their own suffering.’

'Maybe,' A shrug, gently stepping up behind tight shoulders to gently curl fingers around them. 'People are...protective over things that matter to them.' 

‘That   is  true, isn’t it?’ Edelgard murmurs, shoulders tensing before they relax beneath scarred palms. ‘I  suppose I am protective, as well. I am protective of everyone here--I’m protective of   all    of them. No one else has to die, if they would just--’ 

Byleth’s fingers skim along a cheek that clenches and eases just as shoulders had--dip down a neck that swallows and bobs--before wrapping around Edelgard's waist, guiding those sharp muscles and edges the rest of the way against Byleth's chest. A welcome embrace.

Edelgard sags against her like a sack of flour that’s been cut open, all the air in her lungs puffing upwards into the sky. 

Because here, it seems, just like her muscles, she can hold on only so tightly before letting go. It's a feeling Byleth...can understand, now.

‘All you can do is...lead people, El. You can’t make their choices for them.’ 

Fingers hesitate for only a breath before they smooth along Byleth’s wrists along hips, pulling the taller of them closer so that arms wrap fully around her, twisting to raise her own arms around a craning neck before El's own head falls to rest there. 

El fits so nicely here, like the proudest token nestled safely inside a box.

‘Then I’m glad I have you by my side. What are you protective over, I wonder--’ 

Edelgard’s chin tips backwards and Byleth holds her until a messenger comes shortly after with an updated report on Ferdinand’s slim hold in the Northwest.

It hasn’t gotten better, the two months since.

The war room is full of a tense silence after the news is shared, all eyes in the room focused upon the map of Garreg Mach, and the pins of their strongholds littering its aged surface. To the southwest, a few weeks’ journey away, lay a new pin.

A plague has started to take root in Hyrm, on the outskirts of Ordelia, much to Lysithea’s worry, similar to what had overtaken Remire but far worse. The stronghold borders what used to be the Leicester Alliance and the Empire’s hills--a key position against the annoyed nobles rebelling in the East looking to ride towards Enbarr.

The plagues’ spread is showcased by black pins trending a noted path upwards, adorned by the clean parchment quill of Ingrid’s handwriting.

Names.

“It’s spreading to the  nobles with crests who sided with the Empire.” Ingrid concludes, face pulled downward as if a string had tied to her chin. 

Sided with the Empire’s successful  insurrection , as many people in Leicester would still claim. 

“How could a plague attack someone with crests?” Caspar frowns, eyes flicking up towards the few empty chairs of their usual Black Eagle Squadron. Two notable absences with crests missing: Ferdinand, who has been dispatched to the Northwest of what used to be House Kleiman, whose strategic tactical position near the coast of the continent will be  invaluable if Byleth’s hypothesis of the Slithers’ outreach stretching to their neighboring continents held true. Leonie rides with him, crestless. And the other was Petra, who had returned to Brigid to mend relations between the Empire and her country while assuming rule. 

Dorothea, of course, was with her, but bore no crest, as well, and Byleth’s chin tips downward in thought, fingers tucking beneath a working jaw. 

“Technically a plague  infects, it doesn’t attack. But I suppose those who bear crests  do have unique blood.” Hanneman offers thoughtfully, carefully cleaning a monocle with a handkerchief he tucks back inside his pocket. “It is likely attacking the unique signature of the blood that makes crests so extraordinary.” 

“And if it’s attacking the  blood  , the options we currently have to treat it are, oh...  nonexistent  .” Manuela  pouts in the corner, clearly disturbed, knuckles resting beneath her own chin as she takes in the map. 

“Hmm...yes,” Linhardt perks upwards, either clearly deep in thought...or clearly deep in sleep, “Fascinating, really. It would have taken a good bit of experimentation on live blood samples of someone bearing a crest to create a strand of plague that could infect crest-bearers.” 

Byleth’s eyes skim over Lysithea’s pale features before settling to her left on Edelgard’s stoic ones. 

“Indeed.” Edelgard agrees, darker than any of them know. “Which can serve as a reminder of how dangerous they are--and always will be--until they’re wiped from existence. They’ve ruled by fear and oppression for so long that they don’t seem to know how to fight a war with any other tool. I fear this was likely their contingency plan from the start.” The discontent waters of violet flick up towards Byleth before once more settling on the board.

“So...if they’re going to worst case scenarios--” Sylvain rubs the back of his neck, scowling. 

“It means we’ve got ‘em on the ropes!” Caspar pumps his fist and Linhardt sighs at the mere insinuation of probably how much effort it all sounds like but it’s Ingrid who steps closer. 

“I think we should be cautious.” Ingrid sports furrowed brows and tense lines about lips but she’s grown so much since Byleth first met her.

They all have, judging by Bernadetta in the corner, quiet but present. 

“Agreed.” Hubert nods, “They’re cunning beasts who have not yet revealed themselves to Fódlan for a reason. I would advise against underestimating them.” 

“I concur, as well.” The Emperor herself agrees before leaning up from the board. “I believe you all know your roles. This changes nothing from our current effort to solidify our defenses in key strongholds. Cementing our hold over the continent and against opposing forces by sea is a high priority not for just putting out lingering opposition from the war, but from  defending all of Fódlan. We need to keep an eye on our future as well as our present, my friends. The True War is still upon us. Be that as it may, Hubert, I’ll need you to notify Petra and Ferdinand of this immediately. We do not need to cause panic, but they need to be aware of the situation at hand in case it escalates. I do not want to send anyone to Hyrm until we’re positive the plague cannot be contracted by someone without a crest.”

“As you wish, your Majesty,” Hubert, with his ever-deep bow, departs shortly after. 

“Manuela, Hanneman, Linhardt--”

“Fine, fine,” Linhardt  yawns  , “I suppose looking into this will at least be  interesting  . Let’s go ahead and  solve it so that I can go back to bed.” 

“Not everything has to be about a  bed with you two,” Hanneman huffs and Manuela scowls, hands settling on hips. Indignant.

“ Excuse me--”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant and you  know it, Manuela. I simply meant you were late to this meeting because you were--”

“Alllllright. Let’s stop shoving our feet in our mouth squabbling and go kick some butt!” Caspar, surprisingly, is the one to shoo them out, much to everyone else’s relief.

The meeting that lasts after is another few hours before the light that had graced the garden has fallen and started to rise, once more, faraway on the horizon but close enough somebody might be able to touch the ephemeral warmth of it if they became one with the shadows on the edge of its reach. 

Soon enough, it’s just Edelgard and Byleth left in the thick of those shadows, candelight flickering above the edge of a map that’s slowly been stained red by blood and determination and time. White gloves had been replaced by a lightly-armored counterpart given the generals and commanders sifting in and out of the room and Byleth walks behind her, now, watching the way the light touches the dips of them and disappears in the red bend of knuckles above the map before calmly shifting. 

Knowing fingers slowly undo the left gauntlet, its ply metal creaking loud enough to cover Edelgard’s surprised gasp for any ear but her Tactician's, who’s close enough to feel it warm the air. Fingers run over the scarred ridges of fingertips--and knuckles--and a wrist--before she does the same with the right, fingertips tracing a map she wishes she were far more familiar with than the one of Fódlan and the Empire below them. 

Edelgard’s nose dips down, head hanging as shoulders barely shake and with a rattling, heavy breath. She leans back into Byleth’s arms, sagging just enough for those undressing hands to skim up fingertips to hips to arms to the other woman’s heart, nose brushing along the high rise of an Emperor's cheek. 

She can feel an Emperor sift like that sand of time into a woman left behind in the steady beats of her heart, strong and certain below Byleth's palm. Rhythmic. Soothing. Like a war drum. Like the bob of a fishing line against water. Like the sound of footsteps walking alongside her in the hall.

Edelgard unwinds a little faster against her, these days.

And Byleth quietly kisses the ring on Edelgard’s finger and wishes it was Edelgard, herself.

“I realized what it was, looking at the bird.” Byleth quietly offers in her ear, knowing Edelgard has never been content with mysteries and secrets unless they’re woven by her own hand. “During the counsel.”

“And what was that?” Barely a murmur, the tension still pulling that smooth voice as taut as the string on Bernadetta’s bow, thin and  sharp  and deadly. But shoulders ease a little more as one of Byleth’s arms wrap around her stomach, gently twisting in a slow dance to press Edelgard’s hips against the table and hold her up within the certain strength of her own arms. 

Byleth isn’t Hubert--she has no intention of taking Edelgard’s burdens solely upon her own shoulders so that she won’t feel them. Assuming her future wife is not capable of bearing the weight of her own life seems... undermining , somehow, after all Edelgard has accomplished and faced. No, Byleth is well aware of the Emperor’s strength.

Which is why she lets them stand together, instead, hand on a heart raising up to cup a cheek, instead. 

“Protective.” Byleth offers, thoughtful and quiet. “I had seen a cat out in the garden--I’ve been feeding it, so it followed me. I’d forgotten about it, because I stayed with the bird for...an hour, before you came, and it didn’t feel like it mattered. But it did.” 

It’s funny, that way. The strangest things cause emotions.

“Oh,” Edelgard’s features soften and it’s now that she seems to hesitate before she gently tucks her head in the crook of Byleth’s cheek, resting on her shoulder fully, once more. “You’ve always been far more compassionate than anyone knows. You have a habit of protecting little birds, don’t you? Animals--children-- students --”

“I know the bird can fly on its own, and it’ll see the cat coming.” Byleth wraps her arms a little tighter around Edelgard, then, whose hands smooth up the front of her shoulders, but this time they sneak boldly underneath the black of a cloak, flattening over biceps until the fabric puddles around scarred wrists. “But I couldn’t help but…” Brows knit as she tastes the word that follows, “...worry . I guess even though I had fed the cat, and I  like the cat, and the cat is just...hunting. I understand the cat’s motivations--” Byleth closes eyes and feels Edelgard settle in her arms and--

And it’s...warm.

It spreads through her and settles and eases the tension she hadn’t known existed in her spine. 

“You’ll fight for the bird, even against the cat. That’s...not the first time you’ve felt that way, is it? It’s a little bit of a heavy-handed metaphor, my love.” Edelgard murmurs, pulling away enough to look at her. 

Byleth's read about protection: it's the desire to safe-keep something from harm; it's the emotion that wraps around shoulders like a hug, fierce. Loyal. It's a knight, like Jeralt used to be, if a person could be an emotion.

What emotion would Edelgard be?

“I know you can fight your own battles.” Byleth nods, determination settling in, “But I’d rather fight them with you.” 

“As would I, Byleth.” El’s voice is quiet and her eyelashes flutter against Byleth’s palm, leaning...closer. 

Until her scent once more fills Byleth's lungs and her warmth spreads through fingertips and palms and a clenching stomach and suddenly all she can feel is Edelgard.

“What’s...this emotion?” A breath, leaning down to rest their foreheads together, brows knitting as Edelgard’s fingers hesitantly raise to brush over her cheek--her neck--push up through her hair, as if she’s careful of it. 

It’s the first time someone’s ever been careful of touching Byleth, outside of Rhea. 

(Byleth has a feeling Edelgard wouldn’t appreciate the comparison). 

“Hmm…” A thoughtful note sounds in the back of her throat as Edelgard leans closer in the earliest hours of the rising sun, light starting to creep up their bare hands and scarred necks and El’s soft, loving smile. “Anticipation,” Teeth tuck lips, “I would think.”

“Anticipation.” Byleth tastes with a smile and feels the thud of Edelgard’s heart in her throat and the shifting air between them and the feeling of fingertips growing a little bolder in their curl about her own craning neck, before leaning down and kissing her.

Love--

El’s gasp parts locked gates against lips and Byleth’s heart and the beating bird within as her fingers tangle in her hair and mutter  ‘finally’ against her before they inelegantly clatter against the table and knock half of the scrolls off the top of it, the map tearing a little at one of the pins, both of them giggling and chuckling and--

Embarrassed and Happy and Giddy and Light--

--as they clean up the mess before Edelgard’s teeth tuck her lips and she blushes as she brings Byleth closer, once more. This time guiding her far away from the long table into the corner, sheltered from the kalleidoscope light of the stained glass windows in this shell of a building full of  used to be’s  and slowly heralding  will becomes. 

Neither one of them have had much practice at this, but love is something they can learn together, as well.

“Let’s try again.” 

--Love--

Byleth hums as she kisses El again and again and again underneath the warmth of the sun until both of them part with flushed cheeks and knowing smiles and fingers that link until they’re forced to go their separate ways, a little more disheveled than they had been an hour before. 

Love through tense weeks and months and half a year of a slowly spreading plague and continued fights. Love through stolen moments and kissed rings and emotions offered up into the air and caught by Edelgard’s lips.

“ Love ”--Edelgard vocalizes and offers, herself, as they lay in the grass by the gardens months and months later, tucked away in a corner where no one would think to look save for  Hubert (because anyone who  would look isn’t nearly as bold). Her finger gently, fondly tracing down the line of Byleth’s cheek like a painting, eyes bright and bashful as she leans above her.

“Is that what you feel?” Byleth asks, leaning into that fond finger and wrapping arms around her waist. It’s the first time Edelgard’s offered an emotion of her own instead of being asked--or implying it with an answer of Byleth’s. 

They’re parting ways in a few hours--Edelgard to Enbarr and Byleth to the outskirts of Kleiman to help Ferdinand secure the territory after a surprising uprising in the Southeast of the fortress, near the coast. 

A little  too  close to the coast, and a little  too close to the spread of the plague that they’ve been monitoring since word of it rose. It’s convenient in the worst of ways that they’ve both come to expect, and it’s the wisest decision to send a tactician over the Emperor, however Edelgard desires to be on the front lines.

It was smart to send Byleth, they all agreed.

It’s funny, how time can move so  quickly . She finds it hard to believe Ferdinand has been gone so long.

‘Let me go fishing’ , Byleth had murmured against the curve of Edelgard’s neck above mussed sheets and biting lips before everyone had arrived a week prior, hand curving over her hip and Edelgard’s fingers falling down to her chin and her neck and her heart as she hovered above her, hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight. It was the decision that made the most sense.

‘I hate this --’

‘...I'm sorry.’

‘I   hate    this, Byleth--’

A blink, coming back to the present. Do emotions always do this? Are they always so...heavily tied with memories and moments and the flutter of violet eyes like a blue bird’s wings?

“Yes.” Edelgard looks away--unusual, given she’s the type to tackle problems head-on--and Byleth shifts upwards on her elbows.

Byleth’s read thousands of books and nearly half of them mention love. People were  fascinated  with love and...Byleth was too, in a way. She’d never felt it, and never understood it, and could never quite grasp its importance. On a battlefield she had watched people kill for it and die for it and  live for it--

It’s something so complex to capture that it doesn’t have such a simple definition like the other emotions might--it’s like a...box. A wooden, rickety box tenderly made and nailed, full of emotions that are so cluttered and many that they all have to be contained so that they aren't spilled and lost and forgotten.

A box. Maybe this...cluttered thing made out of the wood of her chest filled with a dozen--a hundred--a  thousand  other emotions inside of it, carefully latched and closed and carried about in a rucksack from campsite to campsite, safely stowed. Hidden.

Yes, a box. This brittle wooden thing with  love  written on the outside of it.  Love...written in an elegant pen by a white-gloved hand. Signed like a letter--like a name--because Byleth would know that hand anywhere it pressed, branding wood and ink and life beneath its touch. A thousand keepsakes of  happiness  and  hope  and  anger and a million other things Byleth knows the definition to but has only recently fully understood tidied within its cramped confines. Love. Some people throw the word around so carelessly--

Manuela, who loves another person every week

--or have never quite found what was nearby them--

Dorothea, whose letters to her professor list Petra more than anything else

--or have never found its purpose--

Felix, who loves training, he claims, but loathes the taste of battle before sniping that Sylvain will waste away if he doesn’t join him

--and Byleth watches the way Edelgard says it as her chin dips. Certain and careful--like the word means more than she might know how to explain, herself, and Byleth thinks of the poems and the operas and the novels she’s read and imagines each of them on El’s lips before she leans up a little further, safely tucking the other woman against her chest. 

She watches the sun dance along her cheek as Edelgard looks up at her through long lashes, blush and nerves tucking up a thin smile.

When Byleth was as tall as his knees, her father crafted her a box, and she thinks Love might be like that.

“El…” Byleth reaches down to curling hand and untucks a glove where a ring has settled for nearly a year, now, hidden away safely out of sight like so many things are. “I asked you to spend your life with me.” She reminds, lips brushing over it in a quiet ceremony. “We’re engaged. You don’t need to be nervous.” 

The blush deepens and when Edelgard tries to turn away, Byleth catches her chin. 

"I--"

“Is it...so hard for you to imagine I love you, too?”

Edelgard is unusually silent for a long moment before her hand raises up to Byleth’s chest, resting over her heart. And she smiles. This broken, hopeful thing that reminds Byleth of the night she had returned from half a decade of sleeping, or something close to it, something she doesn't quite understand yet buried deep in those eyes.

“If you do, then it won’t be difficult for you to promise me you’ll do everything in your power to come back to Garreg Mach. Promptly. In a  month’s  time, not five years. No more  sleeping .”

“It’s not difficult for me to promise that.” Byleth immediately offers, voice calm, watching the way Edelgard’s features twist and contort beneath their own calm veneer like a fish beneath the pond's surface. “As long as you promise to keep up with your training in Enbarr. I would hate to have to come sooner to whip you into shape. No fighting is no reason for your axe work to get sloppy, Edelgard."

“ Professor  ,” Edelgard gripes, though there’s a hint of a smile in her eyes, “I’m being  serious  . You honestly joke at the  worst momen--”

Byleth kisses her, feeling tense shoulders ease beneath her touch as Edelgard’s fingers wind in her hair, pressing them both down into the red quilt they’d stolen from a student’s bed, its hue vibrant and harsh above the green grass that resembles a Goddess's eyes. 

“...I love you, too.” Byleth whispers when they pull away and sees Edelgard’s conflicting shock and contentment in equal measure--her happiness and  nerves-- but her smile seems to make the whole world feel...unimportant, just for a second. A moment. 

An instant and five years, all in one.

"Then I expect you to return to me...my Empress." Quiet so only Byleth might hear, Edelgard's knuckles skim down Byleth's cheek and the empress lets out a rattling, soft sigh.

All of those books had made love seem so  complicated, but it tasted right the moment Edelgard had offered it.

But Byleth doesn't have to ask what  this feeling is. They're both far too familiar with war.

An afternoon later, Edelgard’s fingers lingers in her own amongst the troops as their hands clasp to part--their eyes meeting and staying before they can't, anymore--and the Emperor sees her advisor off towards Kleiman, her own convoy heading the opposite way to Enbarr, a box tucked in her bag and a dagger on Byleth's hip. She leads the charge on a horse at the helm, never one to shy away from the front lines, Hubert’s look knowing and calm next to her. 

"Until we meet again, Professor." Hubert offers before turning about his own horse, both of them disappearing into the light cast off of the mountains as Byleth turns towards the darkness behind her, the beast she rides neighing appreciatively as she dips into the quiet shadows left by cascading trees into the sky.

“You look happier, Professor.” Ferdinand casually mentions offhand, the sound of their horses hooves sinking into mud accompanying them during the daylight. He had met her halfway towards Kleiman, their intent to set up another outpost on the outskirts hopefully not heard by anyone else in the Monastery.

There were shadows in every corner, after all. Or at least that's what Hubert liked to enigmatically drawl knowingly every time they talked about the Slithers having spies. 

“Do I?” Her head tilts to the side, remembering her father once saying the same, long ago. She hadn’t realized emotions could ease the knots of muscles until something softer could be seen underneath. Not until Jeralt had mentioned it. She’s getting a little more used to the idea. “And  your  hair is getting even longer. It suits you.” It's pointed out in kind and Ferdinand preens at the observation, offering a dazzling smile as he sits straighter on his horse. 

“Ah, yes. I had initially thought it was unbecoming of a noble to keep it unmaintained, but I find I like it far more.” His chin tips upwards towards the sun--command looks good on him, as well, their battalion following behind. Well-led and proud. “Edelgard, though my judgement would have been sound without her commentary, did  also  state that it complimented my eyes, a few years ago, and made me seem more approachable to commoners.” Byleth doubts those were Edelgard’s exact words, “It spoke great volumes that we both were of the same thought. There’s many things I never would have assumed I would have enjoyed outside of the nobility. Who knew hair could provide such a cautiously freeing sense of enjoyment? So I've let it grow longer.” 

“I’ll help you brush it once it reaches your hips.” Byleth helpfully offers and Ferdinand laughs, surprised and shaking it over shoulders. 

“That will not be necessary, Professor.”

“It can be very difficult to maintain.” Byleth seriously continues, pointing towards it off-handedly, “In a battle the last thing you need is a handle for someone to grapple you to the floor with, especially from your horse.” 

Ferdinand scratches at his chin in thought, humming.

“Ah, I had not seen that angle, Professor. Perhaps freedom does come with its costs.” He seems plagued by this for a moment before Byleth nods.

“Dorothea arrives next week, we’ll have her cut it for you. She’s cut mine, before.” After pouting that Byleth had let it turn into a mess, anyways. Which is strange because Byleth’s hair has  always been this way.

Was it messy?

‘Edie can’t run her fingers through a raven’s nest, Professor.’

‘I have no idea what that even means, Dorothea.’  

‘ Oh, hopefully you two aren’t too thick-headed to find out.’ Dorothea’s sigh could push mountains to the edge of Fódlan. 'No wonder why she never gives me any of the good stuff in her letters.'

'What?'

'Nothing~~'

"She can keep it long but still manageable. Then you have both freedom and functionality."

Ferdinand perks upwards. “She  does  seem to have a great amount of experience needing to cut her own hair and not having someone to do it for her.”

Byleth sighs. 

He’s making  progress , perhaps that’s the best they can ask of him.

Fondness --she can hear Edelgard murmur in her ear, a phantom’s touch as her smile might skirt along her cheek.

A smile, soft and quiet, graces Byleth's lips, in kind.

“It suits you, as well.” Ferdinand offers and Byleth tilts her head to the side to regard him, a little distracted in her thoughts as they continue on. “Happiness.”

Ferdinand just smiles and Byleth nods after a long moment, realization donning. 

She’s read about Happiness: it’s the thing people lose in war; the emotion that sparks up the edges of their lips into a smile, or fills them with contentment when faced with something they’ve done that’s  good ; it’s the emotion that everyone fights for and searches for as desperately as love, just as elusive and fickle, or so it seems in books and operas and plays.

Happiness is the word she thinks her father would have liked the most to hear she learned.

Happiness. It’s a word Byleth knew the definition to, but never quite understood. 

Not until Edelgard gave it to her.

Love suits me, El  --she can imagine humming along her shoulder, because for now the only emotion she can imagine settling in that sanded, shaped box labelled ‘love’ is the rattling, large one named  happiness.