#Rodrigue hasn’t held his son in years

[koroart]

Middle of the night Fraldarius fam feels — goodnight everyone 💤🌙

[gallantgautier]

ooc. no idea if my asks went through thanks tumblr hfsjdsd....... i wanted to send a hug meme but i could feasibly send all of them, so...... SURPRISE ME

((Rai says “Surprise me” I say “HOW ABOUT I DO A 5 TIMES + 1 FIC”))

ღ – A hug in greeting

He was so tiny, Sylvain, in all of histhree-year-old wisdom, didn’t know people could be so small. Held securelyin his brother’s arms, Master Fraldarius the younger slept soundly, peacefully.He wonders if Miklan ever held him like that, watched him with such fondnessthat he could warm the entire room.

Larger hands close around his wrists,Rodrigue, kneeling behind him, guiding him to form a cradle with his arms asGlenn settles the babe into them, “Support his head, Sylvain,” he says, quiet,careful not to wake his youngest son.

And Sylvain does, tenderly holding the boyclose to his chest. The infant’s eyes slowly blink open, and he knows enough aboutbabies that they often cry when they wake up, he holds his breath.

But those brown eyes stare up at him,curious, and he breaks into a toothy grin.

“Hi, Felix,” he whispers.

 ❣ –A hug after being separated

It was rare for Sylvain to arrive atGlasagwyn anything less than excitable. Rarer still, for it to be Glenn thatmet him at the gates, only raising his eyes to the older boy at the squeeze athis shoulder.

“He doesn’t know everything,” Glenn says,carefully, leading him away while their fathers conversed in low tones, “youknow how he worries.”

Sylvain nods, subdued. Don’t tell him, hehears, and he doesn’t want to either. The last thing he wants is to make hisbest friend cry.

When they join him in his room, however, hecan’t hold back. He launches himself into Felix’s arms, holding on tight as ifhe’s a lifeline. Felix, clearly confused, pats his shoulder and settles withhim into the pile of blankets Glenn forms into a fort on the floor for them.

He holds on all through the night, fastasleep together, while Glenn keeps vigil.

 ✉ – A hug goodbye

The world has gone to hell, and all he cando is stand and watch.

The Emperor declared war. The professor isgone. Rhea is gone. Dimitri looked to be falling to madness. The Monastery hasfallen. He’s called home.

The journey is the worst part. They alreadyleft Ingrid in Galatea territory, and now, on the border of Fraldarius andGautier, he’s set to make the last leg alone.

“Keep in contact,” Felix tells him, “stayalive.”

Felix.

He doesn’t want to leave him, not now, notafter an entire year at his side, not after everything they went through. Notwhen he’s only just putting a name to the warmth he feels whenever he looks hisway, not when there’s a chance he might never see him again.

He reaches out, grab’s his friend by hisforearm and pulls him into a brief, tight hug.

“Don’t get killed.” Please, please besafe.

✸ – A bear hug

The fifteenth boot shouldn’t be as much ofa surprise as it is.

And it’s not, not really, Felix hasn’tmissed a birthday yet, even after the war broke out, he still found away to have the boot delivered to his home. Some years he got it late, but thatwas always down to his own duties calling him elsewhere, and never for a lapsein his friend’s ability to judge when he should have the package sent.

But this one, the fifteenth, arrives withthe man himself, handed over in person. The last time that had happened, it wasthe fourth one. To say he’s a little overcome is a vast understatement.

And so, he expresses his gratitude in amanner befitting his emotional state, overbearing. He sets the boot downon the table, grabs Felix at his waist and gives no mind to the warning growlhe gets for it and lifts, crushing the other man to his chest as hefills the room with his laughter.

“You’re the best, Felix.”

✢ – An awkward hug

All things considered; Sylvain thinks hissituation is pretty understandable. He’d been carrying this torch for so longthat, now that it’s out in the open, welcomed, even, sort of, he doesn’treally know what to do with it.

And if he doesn’t know, then Felix isutterly hopeless.

Things had been… Weird, since then. That’snot to say he isn’t happy, far from it. At times he thinks back to howFelix had taken his confession and he feels like he’s floating on a cloud. Thisis real. This is happening. That kiss over a week ago had been real. This isall he’s ever wanted. But… Now what?

Felix has never been affectionate, atleast, not in the traditional sense, and he always has been.  Or at least, he was when he was dating anyonewho so much as smiled at him, but this is different, so different, andit has him a little out of sorts.

Thank the Goddess that something about theoverwhelming sense of odd causes Felix to confront him about it, allsharp barbs and biting words, as is his custom. Sylvain wonders what it saysabout him that he finds it endearing.

“I need to know what you want from me.”Sylvain would call it a demand, if it weren’t for the subtle note ofuncertainty underlying his words, the way he doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “Ifwe’re… Agh, I have no experience with this. Look,” when Felix finally doeslook up, he’s predictably scowling, “if you want passionate gestures or amorousletters, you’ll need to look somewhere else.”

He’s infinitely glad he manages to holdback the tiny little laugh that threatens to build in his throat, becauseimagining Felix doing anything of the sort is hilarious.

But this… It clearly took a lot of effortfor Felix, he’s not about to make fun of him for that.

“I don’t want any of that,” Sylvainanswers, “I know that’s not you, and… It’s you I want.”

“Meaning?”

Right. Felix. No experience. No speakingwith implications.

“Well, a hug every now and then would benice.”

“…Oh.” A pause, “That’s all?”

“Well, maybe a kiss or two,” carefulGautier, he tells himself as he steps closer, into Felix’s space, don’tget greedy.

“I see,” Felix says, not moving away, “Thatdoesn’t sound… Terrible.”

Sylvain takes that as permission, he’llfind out pretty quickly if it’s not. He loops his arms around him, gatheringhim close. Felix stiffens for a beat but doesn’t pull away. And that’s fine,Sylvain is more than happy to just hold him, card his fingers through dark hairand allow himself to just have him near.

And when an arm hesitantly curls around hiswaist, he feels like he’s floating again.

 ☄ – A long hug

It’s strange, really. They’ve walked thispath before, said goodbye to Ingrid in the exact same place, stood on this veryborder ready to go their separate ways. And yet, this time is so verydifferent. The war is over, the sense of hopelessness is gone, Fodlan willrecover from her scars much like they will. And yet, once again, Sylvainhesitates.

Now, it’s not fear that has his feet frozenin place. Now, he can’t bear to leave simply because he doesn’t want to.

“You have work to do too, Sylvain.” Felixtells him, exasperated. Sylvain has never been deaf to the fondness underneath.

“Yeah, but…” he shifts his weight from onefoot to the other, shoulder sagging in a sigh, “It’s just, we haven’t beenapart since… And I…” He’s not going to cry. He won’t.

He is. Dammit.

The sound of Felix’s sigh is a familiar onetoo, a frustrated little noise that he’s heard so often that he’s fairly surehe’s dreamt of it once or twice. What isn’t expected is the accompanyingsound of snow crunching under boots, close, and arms curling around him.

“You look pathetic.”

Sylvain laughs through a sniff, it comesout sounding almost like a scoff. He wraps himself around the other man as bestas he’s able, burying his face against his shoulder, warm, safe, the only placehe ever wants to be.

“As soon as I can convince my old man I’mneeded here,” Sylvain begins, half muffled against Felix’s clothing, “as soonas I can, I’ll-”

“I’ll send for you,” Felix cuts him off, “beforeyou do.”

It’s closing in on dark by the time he let’s go, “A race, then.” he laughs into a kiss.

And so began their game of one-upmanship. Itis said that, in their later years, they became so close that they passed awayon the same day, as if conceding that one could not live without the other.

[bae-leth]

Thank you for all the love you’ve been showing Ivan! I’m so attached to him and the Other Dimitri AU (and the AU of the AU), I love my boy! And I’m happy to see other people love him just as much as I do. I’m definitely grateful for all the love Ivan has gotten! As thanks for enjoying my past submissions about Ivan, here’s a little gift! You want Dimitri and Ivan hugging? Here you go! Enjoy!

****************

“Ivan?”

Eight year old Ivan flinched at the call of his name, raising his head to see his older twin, Dimitri, gazing down at him in concern. Ivan wondered how pathetic he must look to Dimitri, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and snot dripping from his nose as he sat on the ground hugging his knees to his chest. Ivan had chosen this spot, deep in the royal gardens with tall rose bushes all around, in the hopes that no one would find him crying, as usual. But, as expected, he should have known better than to underestimate Dimitri.

“Brother…” Ivan hiccupped, frantically rubbing his eyes to stop the tears, to no avail.

Dimitri stared for a second longer before his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a line. For a frantic moment Ivan feared that Dimitri was going to scold him for his tears, just like so many other members of the court did whenever they saw him crying.

“The most spineless prince I’ve ever seen.”

“Honestly, what Lambert must be feeling having such a weak-willed son.”

“How in the world did Prince Ivan turn out so different from Prince Dimitri? Bless the goddess that it’s Prince Dimitri who is our heir.”

“Was someone picking on you again?” Dimitri asked, his voice pushing away all the cruel words Ivan had heard more times than he could count. Dimitri’s eyes blazed as he clenched his hands into tight fists, “Who was it this time?”

Ivan shook his head. He knew better than to name his tormenters. Dimitri would go off to find them and give them a stern scolding, eyes blazing. And then, whenever Ivan was next alone, they would find him again and shame him for crying to his brother. It would just be an endless cycle.

Dimitri sighed at Ivan’s silence before sitting in front of him, eyes warm and the gentlest smile on his face. Without a word, Dimitri held out his arms invitingly. Ivan let out a sob as he flung himself against his brother, burying his face against Dimitri’s chest and his hands clutching his back while Dimitri’s arms circled around him, his face pressed against the top of Ivan’s head.

As much as Ivan hated how easily driven to tears he was, he enjoyed it when Dimitri was the one to find him crying. If it was Felix, he would burst into tears as well, having always been a sympathetic crier, and then the two would fall asleep in a pile, exhausted from the rivers of tears they shed. If it was Ingrid, she would pull out a handkerchief and wipe his face, talking in a soothing tone as she held his hand tightly, before dragging him to the kitchens to share her favorite sweets with him. If it was Sylvain, he would let Ivan cling to him and then spout off jokes or stories of his misadventures until Ivan was clutching his stomach, doubled over in laughter. And if it was Glenn, he would walk off without a word, only to return a short time later with a smug grin and tell Ivan all about how those who had been humiliating Ivan had “accidentally” fallen into a fountain or tripped into a mud puddle.

As much as he loved them and appreciated their methods of supporting him, Dimitri’s methods were always his favorite. He wouldn’t say much, just open his arms and envelop Ivan in a warm hug, allowing Ivan to sob his heart out for as long as he wanted. Ivan especially appreciated Dimitri’s hugs because they didn’t have much time together. As the crown prince, Dimitri was always pulled off for some new lesson or training, always surrounded by important people who want to talk to him. And Ivan would be left behind, the second prince who had nothing of value to offer the kingdom. Besides, Ivan knew too well that in a few years such physical affection would only be a memory. After all, as fellow princes there were rules of etiquette they must follow, even among family…

So, enjoying a rare moment with the brother he loved dearly, Ivan pressed his face against Dimitri’s chest and allowed the feeling of his brother’s fingers gently threading through his hair lull him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

It was yet another night of no sleep for Ivan, nightmares startling him awake.

The Tragedy of Duscur had brought him nothing but nightmares for the past few months. His father, stepmother, Glenn, so many others…All dead…All while Ivan had been safe at home, stuck in his bed with a cold. Unknowing of his family’s brutal demise at the hands of mysterious monsters. Unknowing of anything until Rodrigue had suddenly woken him, voice steady but eyes red as he told a shaking Ivan everything.

Ivan had sobbed when Rodrigue took him to see Dimitri, who was bloodied and bruised, dwarfed by the soldiers and healers surrounding him. He was so pale and still, eyes so dull, that for a moment Ivan thought he was another corpse. In many ways, Dimitri was a corpse. He barely ate, barely slept, barely talked since the tragedy. And, with his room so close by, Ivan knew very well that he wasn’t the only one experiencing nightmares.

But, unlike Dimitri, Ivan deserved the nightmares, horrific visions of those lost in the Tragedy of Duscur covered in gore and damning him for his dumb luck, damning him for not joining them in death. Ivan deserved such visions with how little he reacted to the deaths. He hadn’t cried since the funeral months earlier. He was able to eat even though Dimitri could barely get through a meal without becoming ill. He could easily leave his room and walk around, continuing his favorite hobbies, even though Dimitri confined himself to his bed for weeks and weeks.

“How shameful. Does Prince Ivan feel nothing for his family’s massacre?”

“Look at him. Prince Dimitri is suffering so much and yet the second prince acts as if nothing is wrong.”

Yes, look at how much Dimitri was obviously suffering…And yet Ivan…

Wherever his thoughts were going next, Ivan wouldn’t know, as the sound of his bedroom door suddenly creaking open in the middle of the night surprised him. He wrapped his blankets around himself as a small figure stumbled into the room.

“…Dimitri?” Ivan whispered, recognizing his brother slowly walking towards his bed.

Dimitri didn’t respond to Ivan’s voice. Even in the dark of the room, only lit by the moonlight streaming in from a gap in the nearby curtains, it was obvious how pale Dimitri was, how dark the bags under his eyes were. Ivan’s heart dropped at the dried tear tracks on his brother’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri muttered, voice raspy as he climbed onto the bed.

“Do you want me to get Dedue?” Ivan asked even though he laid down next to Dimitri.

Dedue, a young boy who Dimitri had saved from the genocide of the people of Duscur, had been Dimitri’s steadfast companion the past few months. Ivan was often jealous of how a boy who had only known Dimitri for a few months was so amazing at caring for his brother and knowing what to do when he was suffering while Ivan, Dimitri’s own twin, never knew what to do. But, more than anything, Ivan was grateful that if he could do nothing for Dimitri’s suffering there was at least someone who could.

“No…” Dimitri replied, his eyes beginning to water, “He…He hasn’t slept much these past few days. All because of me…”

Ivan could only nod at that that, the brothers laying down side by side on the bed. Dimitri’s breath hitched once, twice, before the tears began to stream down his face. Without a word, he pressed up against Ivan, burying his face against Ivan’s neck while one arm went around his back. Ivan blinked rapidly to stop his own tears as he returned the embrace.

“I’m sorry, Ivan,” Dimitri’s words were muffled against Ivan’s chest, “I’m keeping you up. I’m so-”

“Don’t. I’m the one who’s supposed to apologize all the time, remember?” Ivan tightened his hold on his brother, moving the fingers of one hand through Dimitri’s hair like his brother had often done for him, “…Do you want me to sing for you, Dimitri?”

“…Please…”

Ivan didn’t know how many hours he hummed and sang for. He didn’t care. If, for once, he could comfort Dimitri, he would sing until his throat bled if he must…

“Prince Ivan, your brother is in a fragile state. He is our crown prince, we can’t have anything happen to him. You must do all you can for him.”

“Prince Ivan, don’t be selfish. Can’t you see how your brother is suffering? As his family and as the second prince, you must stay strong and support him.”

“You would do anything for Prince Dimitri, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. You’re brothers, after all.”

…Yes, they were…

~~~~~~~~

Ivan wringed his hands as he entered the medical wing, where Dimitri was being treated following the incident with those mercenaries kidnapping the lord of a nearby town and his son. A kidnapping that only happened in retaliation for the deaths of both of the mercenary leader’s sons…Deaths that only occurred because of Ivan’s recklessness.

Felix had been right all along. Ivan was a naïve fool who knew nothing about justice…

“Ivan.”

Ivan flinched and stood straight, arms locking at his sides as he stared in the direction of the voice. Dimitri was sitting up in one of the beds in the medical wing, bandages wrapped around his chest. Ivan felt a pang in his chest, recalling how Dimitri had shoved him out of the way of that mercenary leader’s spell, taking the full brunt of the hit.

“Dimitri,” he muttered as he walked over to Dimitri, taking a seat on a chair near the bed, “…Y-you’ll be okay?”

“Don’t worry on my account. The spell stung, of course, but I will make a full recovery in a couple weeks, I assure you.”

“I see…” Ivan looked down when Dimitri smiled at him, “That’s…good.”

When Ivan glanced at Dimitri, he noticed Dimitri’s expression was troubled. The silence between them was tense, the air thick. It had been like that ever since they had their argument a month earlier, both of them exchanging cruel words in the heat of the moment that stuck deep in their hearts. Half of Ivan’s soul was screaming at him to apologize already. That he had nearly lost his brother because of his stupidity, the least he could do was end this feud between them. But…the other half of Ivan kept saying “no”, over and over, shoving the words of apology deep down, invisible tendrils tightening around his throat, keeping the words from coming out.

He wondered if, perhaps, Dimitri might feel the same…

“Your cheeks are red.”

Ivan looked up, an eyebrow raised at Dimitri’s comment, before remembering what happened before he came to see his brother.

“Ah, w-well, the others gave me a stern lecture over today’s mission,” Ivan explained, his hands coming up to his cheeks, “Ashe and Annette nearly cried, Dedue and Mercedes acted like disappointed parents…Ingrid was so angry she started pinching my cheeks hard.”

“I-I see,” Dimitri coughed, Ivan frowning at him, knowing he was covering up a laugh, “Truth be told, I thought Felix followed through on his earlier promise to punch you.”

“…Sylvain was holding him back,” Ivan murmured, “Although, with how angry Sylvain looked, I think he had half a mind to let Felix have a go at me.”

“Is that so?” Dimitri’s voice took on a sterner tone, “Well, what you did was not only foolish, it was dangerous. Acting without informing anyone, trying to handle a battle on your own. You could have endangered innocent people. You could have endangered us because we didn’t have the proper time to prepare. You could have been killed, Ivan.”

He knew that…And the others had already lectured him plenty on that. From the unusually fierce look on Professor Byleth’s face, he was probably going to get another lecture from the mercenary before the day was done.

“You will never do this again,” Dimitri’s voice made it clear that there was no argument to be had, “I am not saying this as your brother, I am giving you an order as the crown prince. If you ever try a stunt like this again, I will not hold back on punishing you. Is that clear?”

“…Yes, Brother.”

Ivan couldn’t maintain eye contact with Dimitri. He didn’t raise his voice once, didn’t do more than glare at Ivan, and yet it felt as if Ivan’s blood had turned to ice. But he deserved it…Of course he deserved it…

All of this was his fault to begin with.

Ivan looked up at the sound of the bed creaking, watching Dimitri slowing maneuvering himself so that he sat at the edge of the side of the bed, fully facing Ivan. Dimitri reached a hand out and Ivan could only stare in silence as the hand came around the back of Ivan’s head, pushing him forward so that Ivan’s face was pressed against Dimitri’s shoulder. Dimitri’s hand moved lower, to the nape of Ivan’s neck, as Dimitri pressed his face against the top of Ivan’s head.

“D-Dimitri?” Ivan finally choked out in confusion.

The brothers hadn’t done anything like this in four years. All the lessons on propriety the court engraved into their brains didn’t allow for them to be as physically affectionate as they had been as children. Ivan couldn’t even remember the last time he had been hugged by anyone, let alone his brother.

“Forgive me,” Dimitri’s voice was so soft Ivan almost didn’t hear him, “Just…let me have this for a moment. Please.”

The bandages were scratchy against Ivan’s skin. There were several callouses on the hand Dimitri kept pressed against the back of Ivan’s neck. And this angle was starting to make Ivan’s back ache…But…

“Please, don’t do something like this again, Ivan.”

“…I won’t.”

~~~~~~~~

The faint light from the moon and the flickering flames of a few torches were all Ivan had as light to guide him as he explored the monastery at night.

He should have been in bed hours ago. He had expected to fall asleep quickly given that earlier in the day he and the rest of the army had been defending against an attempted ambush by Imperial soldiers, trying to stall for time as others tried to clear some space from the blocked off former supply routes so they could escape. Not to mention the sheer mental exhaustion that came from the fact that the stalling was Ivan’s own idea, a plan he came up with after he couldn’t bring himself to follow through on his original idea to use himself as bait.

But nightmares plagued him. Not as often as when he was a child, but often enough that he was considering going to Mercedes and asking if she would help him brew some strong sleeping draughts.

However, a lack of sleep wasn’t the only reason that Ivan was wandering the monastery grounds at a time when only those on night watch were the only other people awake…Or, to be exact, there was one other person who was usually awake at this time, and Ivan wished to see him.

And there he was, standing still in the middle of the courtyard, staring up at the starry skies.

Dimitri…

As Ivan stood and stared at Dimitri, who had his back to him, he picked up on some muttering. Ivan’s heart lurched when he realized Dimitri was seemingly speaking with their father, stepmother, and Glenn, although Dimitri’s gaze was locked on the skies. Ivan had heard enough in the past month he had been at the monastery to recognize that Dimitri was not mentally well. Honestly, his brother hadn’t been well in many years, he was just better at acting when they were younger.

But at some point in the past five years, without anyone to support him, Dimitri stopped putting on a façade. And his condition only deteriorated. Several members of the monastery staff had sent Ivan pitying gazes, speaking in hushed whispers about how “sorry” they feel for Ivan reuniting with his brother for the first time in five years, only for him to be “like that”.

Yes, Dimitri was not as he had expected him to be when Ivan reunited with him. But his wish to keep the peace when things were already tense thanks to the war was the only thing preventing Ivan from fighting those who talked as if they knew everything, pitying the brothers when in reality they were looking down on them and mocking them behind their backs.

Ivan grieved for the suffering his brother was going through, for how he had to face countless terrors all on his own, with Ivan none the wiser in a small house in the woods with a kind old couple who took him and cared for him following his escape from Fhirdiad. He felt sick when he heard of the terrible things Dimitri had said and done over those years, terrible things that he hoped dearly his brother would try to atone for. He felt indescribably happy that his brother was alive, that five years of fearing that Dimitri had been executed or had otherwise met his end someplace where Ivan would never find him were unfounded. He felt relief and love when, following the army’s survival of that Imperial ambush, Dimitri confronted Ivan on his original plan to sacrifice himself and then all but ordered Ivan to live a long life.

But there was no pity…Pitying his brother’s state would be demeaning. He only wished for Dimitri to find the strength to seek help. To accept the help that Ivan, Professor Byleth, and the rest of their friends from the Blue Lions were offering him over and over.

And he wished to understand. How much of the Dimitri who Ivan remembered was still there? How much of him was gone? How much of the current Dimitri was always there, out of Ivan’s sight? How naïve had Ivan truly been about the brother he always loved, despite all those years of jealousy and bitterness of their positions trying to poison that love?

“Dimitri?” Ivan called out as he stepped into the courtyard.

Dimitri whirled around much faster than one would expect of a man his size. Ivan had anticipated the reaction and yet he still jumped. Dimitri was holding a lance that Ivan hadn’t noticed earlier, his grip so tight that Ivan wondered if the lance would break in two. Dimitri’s teeth were bared as he stood in a battle stance, ready to tear apart the fool who dared to sneak up on him.

Ivan stood still as Dimitri made eye contact with him. His brother stared at him, Ivan’s heart pounding as his base instincts were screaming for him to run. After what felt like hours, a flash of recognition crossed Dimitri’s face and he lowered his weapon.

“Ivan,” he said in his rough voice.

“Me,” Ivan replied as he slowly walked towards Dimitri, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“It’s no concern of yours,” Dimitri turned his stoic gaze back to the stars, “Leave. You shouldn’t be here.”

“But you’re here. And I don’t like the idea of you being here on your own.”

Dimitri merely grunted at that. Ivan wondered if Dimitri was paying any attention to how close Ivan was getting with each step. He paused once he was a foot away from his brother. Ivan followed Dimitri’s gaze.

“…Do you remember any constellations?” Ivan asked.

“Such information is unnecessary,” came the harsh reply, “What use would it be in this war?”

Ivan supposed Dimitri had a point there. Well, it wasn’t like either of them had ever been good with constellations. Most of the time they had simply made them up or challenged each other to finding their made-up constellations.

…It felt like centuries had passed since those carefree days.

“You’re not leaving,” Dimitri said.

“I said I don’t like you being out here alone, didn’t I?” Ivan responded as he met Dimitri’s blank gaze, “Besides, I wanted to make sure you’re alright after today’s battle. Mercedes said you didn’t check in with her regarding any injuries.”

“I wasn’t hurt much. I can handle most of my injuries on my own.”

“Oh? Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“…I remembered what you always did.”

Oh…It was such a simple statement and yet it pleased Ivan so much. He was glad that his interest in healing had stuck enough with Dimitri to help him treat his own injuries. Ivan could still remember countless afternoons spent with Ivan rambling on about some new healing techniques he studied. Other afternoons spent reading his fantastical books out loud. And even more afternoons spent practicing his singing or composing. Dimitri had been there for so many of those afternoons, but…

“I…didn’t think you were paying attention,” Ivan admitted bashfully, “A-at least not enough that you’d remember what I said after all this time.”

Dimitri didn’t offer a response, just continuing to stare at Ivan.

“Something wrong?” Ivan asked after the silence went on far too long for comfort.

“…I wondered what happened to you,” Dimitri replied in a low tone, stepping closer to Ivan, “I had heard you disappeared from Faerghus, but then nothing else.”

“Well, I told you the story before,” Ivan replied with a tense chuckle, the memories of his escape still sending shivers down his spine and lighting a fire within him even after five years.

“I’ll make the ones who did this pay,” Dimitri growled, reaching a hand up towards Ivan’s face, towards his scar, “They’ll burn.”

Ivan wanted to tell Dimitri that the ones who scarred burned plenty when Ivan fought them, but his words died on his tongue as Dimitri gently pressed his hand against Ivan’s cheek. Dimitri’s eye had a flicker of warmth to it, something heartbreakingly familiar and dear. It’s as if he’s eight again, sobbing against his brother’s chest in a garden. He’s thirteen, singing sweet songs to soothe his brother’s pain. He’s seventeen, being held gently by his brother after a messy mission.

Before Ivan’s mind could catch up with his body, Ivan leaned his head forward and pressed it against Dimitri’s shoulder. The cool feel of the armor on his forehead and the tickling of the fur made Ivan freeze with the realization of what he’d done, but he couldn’t bring himself to move back. His heart pounded as he realized Dimitri had gone just as still, his hand still pressed against Ivan’s cheek despite the awkward angle.

Ivan counted his heartbeats as he waited for something…After what felt like eternity, Dimitri’s hand moved from Ivan’s cheek to the back of his head. Ivan felt his eyes water as he felt a gentle push against his head, pushing him against Dimitri’s shoulder, bringing back too many beloved memories.

“Brother,” he whispered.

Ivan’s voice seemed to break the spell, Dimitri instantly removing his hand from Ivan’s head. Dimitri instead grabbed the back of Ivan’s cloak and yanked him away, the strength of the pull making Ivan stumble, catching himself before he falls.

“Don’t touch me,” Dimitri stated coldly.

“I…I understand,” Ivan’s voice cracked, too many emotions overwhelming him, his eyes still wet, “I’m sorry, Brother.”

Dimitri nodded stiffly. Ivan walked over to a nearby large piece of rubble and took a seat on it, pulling up the hood of his cloak to block out some of the cold night air.

“Why are you still here?” Dimitri’s voice nearly sounded exasperated now.

“I won’t leave you out here alone,” Ivan chuckled, “So long as I sit here it will be fine, right?”

“…Hmph…Time as made you stubborn.”

“Perhaps,” Ivan smiled softly.

“…Do whatever you want. Just stay away from me.”

“Yes, Brother.”

And so, with Dimitri returning his gaze to the countless stars above and Ivan closing his eyes and starting to hum a song he had been composing recently, the night went on…

[three-houses-text-files]

catherine/dimitri

c-a support + paired ending

*warning: contains minor character spoilers

c

Catherine: Hey there. At it again, are we? It feels like I see you training here every day. Dimitri: It’s my daily routine. I'm ill at ease until I've held a weapon in my grasp. C: Heh. You said the same thing when you were little. D: Hm. Right you are. D: I’ve been meaning to come and talk to you properly for a while now. C: I was about to say the same thing. How long has it been? A decade? More? That was in Fhirdiad, as I recall. C: You were just a little pipsqueak! You really have grown up, haven't you? D: I’m not sure it was quite that long ago. Not really. But it matters not. D: I remember those times well. Particularly your first words to me. D: "Look at that young maiden wielding a giant lance. How adorable!" C: Oh, don't look at me like that. I was thrown off by your haircut, that's all. D: It’s all water under the bridge. Now, back then I was quite furious about it. C: My father did give me a stern reprimand for speaking so rudely to a prince. C: But then I never had a chance to apologize. C: I was always getting into trouble back then. Just like the incident in Duscur... D: Speaking of... D: Do you ever think about going back to House Charon? Do you...Cassandra? C: No. I'm happy with the life I have. C: No offense, Your Highness, but I don't fight for king and country anymore. I fight for Lady Rhea. D: It doesn't bother you? Being labeled a criminal? C: You’re worried about my life as a fugitive from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus... C: Don't worry about me. I'm here because I want to be. C: It suits me far better than the life I'd otherwise lead, as a noble lady of the Kingdom. D: Is that so? C: How about you? You've never wanted to roam free? C: To enjoy life as an ordinary knight, unshackled from all those princely obligations... D: I can't say the thought has never crossed my mind. However, I am the son of a king. D: It’s not possible for me to put my own desires before the good of the Kingdom. C: Ah, you're too serious for your own good. How'd you become such a stiff? D: Don’t worry. I've been working on that. Stretching is a part of my daily routine. C: Ha! If you can joke about it, there's hope for you yet.

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b

C: Another day, another training session, I see. You're quite dedicated. C: And practicing with the sword today. You weren't any good with it when you were little, as I recall. D: And who told you that? C: Lord Rodrigue mentioned it to me. He said you used to swing your sword so hard that you'd break it. D: That was ages ago... I've had plenty of time to improve since then. D: Now I count swordplay as one of my specialties. Care to see for yourself? C: Well, I can't just take your word for it, can I? Let's see what you've got! C: Well! I'm impressed. You're better than I expected. D: I could say the same of you. I suppose we students still have much to learn. C: No need for false modesty. We fought as equals just now. C: You're strong, and your form is excellent. You're clearly an experienced fighter. C: But you're greedy. You can't be so impatient to win. It'll come at a grave cost. D: Greedy? I see. I'll take that note to heart. You have my thanks for the instruction. C: Ah, it returns—the formality, the stiffness. C: Anyway, after we're through here, I might head into town for some food. Care to join me? D: I appreciate the invitation, but I have certain duties I must attend to this evening. C: Of course you do. Never mind about my plans, then. D: I thought you'd say that. You have the same sense of responsibility as I do. C: Hm, you think so? I didn't want to push you to join me. We can just do it another day. C: I'll confess, I'm taking a shine to you. I'd like to talk to you more. D: I would like that as well. D: Ever since I saw you wielding a sword all those years ago, I've been following in your footsteps. D: To be able to stand with you and cross swords is quite a— C: Hey, hey, slow down! Where did all this come from? You're embarrassing me. D: That's enough chatter for now anyway. Let's get back to sparring. This time with lances. D: I won't hold back. Show me what you can do. C: Right! Prepare yourself!

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a (i?)

C: That was delicious. Wow, I'm full. C: Nothing beats a big meal after a training session. D: … C: OK, what's up? You seem distracted. D: Oh! My apologies, Catherine. I was just wondering whether you had any desire to return to Faerghus. C: No. I haven't even entertained the idea. My loyalty lies elsewhere. C: No matter what, I'm going to find Lady Rhea. That's what I'm fighting for.* C: I'll defeat the Empire, and rescue Lady Rhea. That's what I'm fighting for.* D: May I ask why you have devoted yourself to Lady Rhea? C: It's simple. I adore her. C: Lady Rhea isn't just kind, but strong, and courageous... C: I think she's a wonderful, beautiful person. More so than anyone else in the world. D: Wow… I'm not sure I can compete with that. C: Hah! You can't. My reluctance to return to Faerghus isn't about you though. C: Ever since I met Lady Rhea, going back just hasn't been an option. D: That is a shame. I am certain Faerghus could use your help in the near future. D: House Charon is one of the most sterling noble families after Fraldarius and Gautier. D: It would be reassuring to know that you had taken up your position as head of that house... C: Eh... D: Is something wrong? C: You need someone who's like me, but more noble. C: You're so stern and serious all the time. D: … C: Sorry, I'm not going back. Besides, my father is alive and well, fulfilling the duties of House Charon. C: I have plenty of capable brothers and sisters who can take over after him. C: I'll keep serving Lady Rhea here. And you'll bring the Kingdom together at the capital. C: We have to direct our talents wherever they're most useful and most needed. Right? D: Well, I... C: Anyway! Early day tomorrow. Don't want to stay up too late. You better go to bed.

*i’m not sure what happens in the blue lions route so i can’t say when each line is unlocked, but i’m going to suppose it’s pre-event and post-event respectively

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a (ii?)

C: What's wrong, Dimitri? Your swordplay's oddly sluggish today. D: Sorry… C: If you were hungry, I'd get you something to eat. That's not the problem, though, it seems. C: It's not much fun fighting you when you're so far below your usual standards. D: Do not worry. I will be myself again in a moment. C: Are you worried about something? Tell me. D: This war...once it is over, I will have to go back to the capital, and you will remain here as a knight of Seiros. C: Yes. If we're both still alive. D: When that happens, there will not be many chances for us to have these little duels of ours, will there? C: I suppose not. Garreg Mach and Fhirdiad are quite far apart. D: It will be hard to get by without them. I've grown very fond of these sessions.  C: Wow, you sure know how to draw out a conversation. C: Just say what's on your mind! D: Please… Return to the capital with me. C: That's it? "Return to the capital"? Just like that, with no explanation? D: You were the one who told me to speak frankly... C: Yes. I've also told you that I'm devoted to the Knights of Seiros and wouldn't dream of leaving. C: It'd be one thing if you were asking me to return to my family. Why summon me to the capital? D: I just...want to be near you. C: Oh, please! Don't waste your romantic words on me. Save them for a girl you really like. D: I was just saying what I felt. C: Is that so? Hah! I never imagined that brat with the silly haircut would try to woo me some day. D: Do you really still see me as that young prince? C: You take yourself too seriously. But you're not selfish, even if you are a bit greedy with your sword. D: They do say you can tell who a person really is from the way they wield their sword. Maybe it's true. C: I'll think about coming back to the capital, OK? Some day. C: But as for now, don't you have something more important to worry about? D: Yes… I do. C: Stop getting distracted by trivialities. Focus on what actually matters. C: We'll have plenty of time to flirt when the war's over.

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paired ending

Dimitri assumed the throne of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and spent his life ruling justly over Fódlan. Two years after his coronation, he announced his marriage to Catherine. The people speculated wildly about how this union came to be. Some said that Dimitri spent two full years wooing her, while others suggested that the matter was resolved by a duel. In any case, the couple worked tirelessly to reform the Kingdom, but despite their busy days, it is said that they always found time for sparring, and that the clash of steel could be heard throughout the castle at all hours.

[bylagunabay]

Saint Michael’s Sword Prayer

In PLAGUE, WAR and SPIRITUAL COMBAT

In three instances, St. Michael powerfully intervened to stop a plague, save a soldier from imminent death, and assist a priest hasten the expulsion of a demon from a possessed lady through the use of his sword. But before reading this edifying accounts, let us first pray to St. Michael …

 ST. MICHAEL’S SWORD PRAYER

O Glorious Saint Michael the Archangel, to whom was given

the Sword by the Eternal Father of the celestial realm,

fight all spirit of ruin in our country, in our families,

in our minds and in our hearts.

 O Glorious Saint Michael wield your victorious Sword on our behalf

so that we may overcome all destructive spirits that seek to lead us

away from Sanctifying Grace, and lead us to final victory.

 Come Glorious St. Michael, flash your Sword with a ray from the Holy Spirit

so that we may be worthy of the promises of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

 PLAGUE IN ROME 600 AD

During a plague which greatly depopulated the city of Rome, Pope Gregory I (Gregory the Great) ordered a penitential procession in which he himself carried a statue of the Blessed Virgin. As the procession reached the bridge across the Tiber, the singing of angels was heard. Suddenly Gregory saw an apparition of a gigantic archangel, Michael, descending upon the mausoleum of Emperor Hadrian. IN HIS RIGHT HAND, MICHAEL HELD A SWORD, WHICH HE THRUST INTO ITS SCABARD. Gregory took the vision as an omen that the plague would stop, which it did, and so he renamed the mausoleum the Castel Sant' Angelo (Castle of the Holy Angel) in Michael's honor.

(lenarpoetry.blogspot)

 KOREAN WAR 1950

(3.5-minute read)

By his intervention, St. Michael has been protecting many military personnel around the world from harm and death.

 One account of Saint Michael’s protection is that of a young United States Marine, who prayed to him every morning. Separated from his unit after a blizzard during the Korean War, he was caught face to face with seven enemy soldiers who had guns drawn ready to fire. Only thanks to the Archangel did he miraculously survive the ensuing shootout. The prayer the soldier said daily is known as the "Michael of the Morning" prayer:

 Michael, Michael of the morning,

Fresh corps of Heaven adorning,

Keep me safe today,

And in time of temptation

Drive the devil away.

Amen.

 That soldier, who renames nameless, recounted the miraculous tale in a letter to his mother as he recovered in a hospital. I quote verbatim the relevant portion of his letter …

 “We are going to have some trouble up ahead.” (St. Michael speaking.)

 He must have been in fine physical shape or he was breathing so lightly I couldn’t see his breath. Mine poured out in great clouds. There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself, well with the Commies all around us, that is no great revelation. Snow began to fall in great thick globs. In a brief moment the whole countryside was blotted out. And I was marching in a white fog of sticky particles. My companion disappeared.

 “Michael,” I shouted in sudden alarm.

 I felt his hand on my arm, his voice was rich and strong, “This will stop shortly.”

 His prophecy proved to be correct. In a few minutes the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun was a hard shining disc. I looked back for the rest of the patrol, there was no one in sight. We lost them in that heavy fall of snow. I looked ahead as we came over a little rise.

 Mom, my heart stopped. There were seven of them. Seven Commies in their padded pants and jackets and their funny hats. Only there wasn’t anything funny about them now. Seven rifles were aimed at us.

 “Down Michael,” I screamed and hit the frozen earth.

 I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets. There was Michael still standing. Mom, those guys couldn’t have missed, not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to bits. But there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was paralyzed with fear. It happens sometimes, Mom, even to the bravest. He was like a bird fascinated by a snake. At least, that was what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down and that was when I got mine I felt a sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit, now I know..

 I remember feeling strong arms around me, arms that laid me ever so gently on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes, for one last look. I was dying. Maybe I was even dead, I remember thinking well, this is not so bad. Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in shock. But it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again only this time his face was shining with a terrible splendor. As I say, maybe it was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him. He grew bigger, his arms stretched out wide, maybe it was the snow falling again, but there was a brightness around him like the wings of an angel. IN HIS HANDS WAS A SWORD. A SWORD THAT FLASHED WITH A MILLION LIGHTS. Well, that is the last thing I remember until the rest of the fellas came up and found me. I do not know how much time had passed. Now and then I had but a moment’s rest from the pain and fever. I remember telling them of the enemy just ahead.

 “Where is Michael,” I asked.

 I saw them look at one another. “Where’s who?” asked one.

 “Michael, Michael the big Marine I was walking with just before the snow squall hit us.”

 “Kid,” said the sergeant, “You weren’t walking with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too far out. I was just going to call you in when you disappeared in the snow.”

 He looked at me, curiously. “How did you do it kid?”

 “How’d I do what?” I asked half angry despite my wound. “This marine named Michael and I were just …”

 “Son,” said the sergeant kindly, ” I picked out this outfit myself and there just ain’t another Michael in it. You are the only Mike in it.

 He paused for a minute, “Just how did you do it kid? We heard shots. There hasn’t been a shot fired from your rifle. And there isn’t a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill there.”

 I didn’t say anything, what could I say. I could only look open-mouthed with amazement.

 It was then the sergeant spoke again, “Kid,” he said gently, “every one of those seven Commies was killed by a sword stroke.”

 Link: https://ucatholic.com/blog/the-miraculous-true-story-of-saint-michael-saving-a-us-marine-in-the-korean-war/

 EXORCISM 2019

Fr. Michel Rodrigue, exorcist and founder and Abbott of The Apostolic Fraternity of St. Benedict Joseph Labre (Quebec, Canada), recounted his experience with St. Michael during a difficult exorcism.

 "I know the devil because of the exorcisms I’ve done in my life. During one exorcism, I didn’t have too much time because I had to teach a course to the seminarian. With exorcisms, you never know when you’re going to finish. It depends on the will of the Father. Sometimes it can take one day, two days. Sometimes it can be three weeks. Sometimes it can be two years. This is a ministry. When you begin this ministry, you never know when it ends.

 I went to pray to Jesus at the Tabernacle and said to Him, 'You must do something. I don’t have any more time, and I cannot come back again because it is far.' I also asked Saint Michael for his help. I was so tired and didn’t think I could finish. Exorcisms can be very depleting.

 When I entered the room and started the exorcism prayer again, Saint Michael appeared. He was so tall. I SAW HIM WITH HIS SWORD, A FLAMING SWORD, REACHING UP ABOUT FIFTEEN FEET HIGH.

 I said, 'Please Saint Michael, you’re my patron. Help me with this case!' He just smiled. Then I saw him lower his sword coming down and when the flame of Saint Michael’s sword touched this person, the wind of the devil left. [Fr. Michel made a swoosh sound]."

(Jesusmariasite)